Magic of a Different Kind
Adam sat in his chamber, looking at the stones on the opposite wall. He had done so much and Lydia had chosen to have all of his deeds inscribed in stone for him. The wall was covered in the tale of the Dovahkiin; High Elf prisoner, Arch-Mage, Nightingale, Listener, Harbinger, an agent and champion of several if not all Deadric lords and Divines. He had been living a life of continuous action for three years now and he was growing tired. Even now the Thalmor threat approached, and the Dovahkiin could not bring himself to think to hard about them. He day would come when they asked him to deal with the threat they possessed, and he would do it.
Sighing to himself, Adam stood from his throne, his Realmshatter armor groaning as he did so. He had done so much, and it was time to leave. He had done it before, after Martin had killed himself fighting Mehrunes Dagon he had left Cyrodiil for a while, travelled the world. Holding the dagger that had been given to him by the lord of change he sighed, change was something that was needed in life. He needed change.
Walking to the antechamber of his tower he pressed a button and walked out the front door. He watched as his tower collapsed into its own pocket dimension. He hoped Lydia and Serana wouldn't mind the change in scenery. They never seemed to but the change he was thinking was far more drastic than anything he had done before. They had both expressed the wish to exit the never ending conflict in their land.
"Od-ah-viing!"
The shout burst from his mouth with a great expelling of air, followed moments later by the return call of a great dragon. Odahviing fell from the skies in a steep dive and saw the Dovahkiin standing in the center of a clearing, waiting for him. The great dragon gave a huff and landed in front of the impetuous mortal.
"Why have you called Dovahkiin?" it asked in a voice that boomed even in a conversation.
"I require your aid for one last journey," Adam told the red beast in front of him, "I have grown tired of the constant battles and feel that I could use a bit of peace in my life. So I am leaving Tamriel."
Odahviing blinked several times at what the elf in front of him had said. The thought that such a stalwart individual had chosen to leave was confusing to a large degree. Leaving was such a strange idea to the dragon that it had never thought of the possibility himself. Shaking his head he refocused on the Elf waiting patiently for his response, "Where do you wish to go?"
The Dovahkiin took a strange knife from his belt and held it to his eyes. Still looking at the blade he said, "Mehrunes Dagon has agreed to take me to a place more peaceful than Tamriel in exchange for his dagger. Any place can be better than here."
Odahviing nodded and lowered his neck, "Then climb on my back Dovahkiin, and we shall be off."
Re-seething the knife, the Dovahkiin climbed onto Odahviing's neck and arranged himself into a comfortable position. As the dragon ascended into the air the sun began to set. His armor gave off a slight purple glow, acting as the only light source once the sun disappeared along the horizon. Taking a deep breath of Tamriel's air, Adam realized he would soon be gone from the land he had called home for his whole life. A smile crept along his face at the thought of finally being granted a bit of peace, he was not foolish enough to believe that the Deadric lord would give him perfect peace, but anywhere a bit more peaceful was better than Tamriel at the moment.
The flight was a quick one, but it gave time to think. As he began his descent Odahviing asked a question he had wished to ask for several moments, "Is it possible for me to accompany you? I have grown weary of this world myself."
Adam had time to contemplate the answer as they coasted down to the shrine. After some time he said, "Possibly, the change to whatever we arrive at would be even larger with your arrival, he may accept."
As they approached the landing sight a great pulse of magic erupted from the statue on the shrine. The great stone figure stood and looked at the descending pair. Raising a hand above its head the figure created a massive orb of swirling, pulsing magic that grew larger with every second. Odahviing attempted to pull out from his dive, but the statue simply hurled the ball of magic at the slowing dragon.
The ball slammed into the red dragon and his rider, causing shrieks of pure agony to rip through their bodies and souls before dissolving them into ash. The statue turned back to its resting place, stopping only to pick up a small knife that had fallen to the ground. A dark chuckle escaped the Deadric Prince's lips as he whispered to the wind, "Safe travels Champion."
Fus-Ro-Dah
Harry Potter took a deep breath in order to calm himself; he was not having much luck. The cheers of the crowd outside the tent were playing havoc on his nerves and making the entire experience a whole lot worse. Thank whatever god there was that Professor Moody had gotten him to think of an idea, granted it would probably get him killed; but it was an idea.
"And last but certainly not least, HARRY POTTER!"
The sound of Ludo Bagman's voice was grating on his nerves, but he couldn't do much about it now. Taking another breath, he held it in for a moment before exhaling and stepping through the exit of the tent. The light was blinding for what felt like an eternity before his eyes grew accustomed to the shine of the sun. Standing at the far end of the arena was a Hungarian Horntail, staring at him in a way that made him feel like a juicy steak ready to be eaten.
Gulping audibly he intakes and says, "Acio Firebolt!"
He then put his wand away and waited. The crowd soon became restless, hoping that their savior would fight the dragon in an epic fashion befitting the boy-who-lived. The wait lasted a minute before some of the crowd began to point at an approaching figure in the sky, Harry's Firebolt broomstick. It was coasting through the air without a person on it and eventually stopped in front of the incredibly relieved champion. Hopping on his broom, Harry took several practice swoops around the arena and the increasingly angry dragon.
On Harry's fifth pass the Horntail finally lost its patience and lunged at him from some twenty feet away. Harry smiled to himself and performed a move that would make professional players jealous, he flipped his broom upside-down and few along the underside of the dragon and snatching the golden egg from the nest. Pulling up immediately, Harry looked behind him to see the dragon glaring at the egg in his hand and following his swaying with every movement it made.
The Hungarian Horntail let out a massive roar of rage and hate and leapt after the boy. The degree to which it had been enraged had risen to the point where the heavy chains that were used to secure the dragon gave a audible groan before snapping, allowing the dragon the chance to take flight after the human that had stolen one of its eggs.
Harry saw the dragon fly towards him and took off up into the air. He flew so high that eventually the air became so scarce that he had trouble breathing. Taking a look back he saw that the dragon was far behind him and he decided to take a gamble that might actually let him escape the sky with his life.
As he was about to angle downwards a pulse of magic nearly threw him from his broom. Holding on for dear life he looked around him and saw that Horntail had stopped as well, looking at something to his left. Looking in the same direction as the dragon, he saw a giant ball of magic coalescing in mid-air. It seemed to be forming into the figure of a massive dragon, easily twice the size of the Horntail.
As the dragon became clearer Harry saw that there was a figure on the massive dragon's back, dressed in armor that glowed a feint purple and spike with bone and tusks that looked to be more than just for show. As the pair finally materialized fully they began to fall towards the ground. Hoping he could do something to help them, the boy-who-lived dove after the falling dragon.
Lok-Vah-Koor
Adam woke to a great roar. Shaking his head he looked about himself and saw that he was still on Odahviing's back. What he did not expect was the enraged dragon barreling at them from bellow. The strange golden dragon rammed into Odahviing's belly and woke the still dazed dragon fully, as well as knocking the Dragonborn from his perch and out into open air.
The two dragons began their battle in earnest; the small spiked one making up for size with sheer ferocity and Odahviing using his millennia of experience to play with the annoyance while searching for the now helpless Dovahkiin. What the old dragon saw surprised him even more than the strange dragon attacking him, a small boy of what could only be fifteen seasons at most was diving towards the spinning Dovahkiin on a broomstick.
Adam saw the boy hurtling towards him and blinked, was that a broom? Now he new he was mad, no being would use something as silly as a broom to fly! The young Breton flew close to him and said in strangely accented English, "Grab onto my broom! Hurry!"
The confused Dovahkiin looked at the young Breton in confusion and asked, "how in Oblivion would grabbing a broom help?"
"Just grab on if you do not want to die!" Harry yelled in exasperation. The ground was growing ever closer; the man had perhaps thirty seconds before he was a bloody stain on the dirt. So it was with incredible confusion that Harry watched him flip over in mid-air and look at the ground.
"This is a good opportunity to test something I have always wanted to try!" the man yelled at Harry as he fell. Harry realized there was no way to talk the madman out of killing himself and pulled up at perhaps the last sensible moment.
Adam took a deep breath and held it for a few precious seconds, before expelling it in a great shout, "FUS-RO-DAH!"
The shout left him mouth and pushed against the ground, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. The crowd watched in terrified silence as the man fell into the brown cloud and many had to turn away as they did not want to see the bloody mess that there would be when the dust settled.
Those that kept their eyes upon the cloud watched as it slowly dissipated, and as enough fell to reveal what was in the middle of the arena many of them gasped in astonishment. The people who had turned away were made to look through sheer curiosity and saw to their and all other's astonishment the man who had fallen to earth perfectly unharmed.
Joor-Zah-Frul
Odahviing became annoyed when the little dragon did not stop attacking him. It had been entertaining for the first few minutes but after that it had become an exercise in patience. Growling in frustration the great red dragon finally lost any illusions of playfulness and swatted the little golden pest to the ground.
It crashed onto the far side of the arena, hurt but still alive. Almost as soon as it was down beams of red light sprang from the surrounding mortals and struck the dragon. It fell to the ground fully, unconscious. The humans who had shot the red beams at it aimed their little wooden sticks at Odahviing and he growled, "I would not threaten me if I were you mortal! I have ripped my fair share of Bretons in two."
The Bretons with the sticks slowly lowered their arms and stared at the giant red dragon in front of them. It glared at them in turn and huffed, turning to the man who fell. It spoke again, and said, "I will be near if you need me Dovahkiin. I will be taking my much needed rest."
The apparent human in armor nodded his head and the great dragon took to the air towards the forbidden forest and the mountains after. The crowd let out a collective cry of panic, waiting for the great red dragon to try and eat them. When no such event occurred all eyes returned to the armored individual in the arena that the four champions were facing their dragons in not five minutes previously.
The armored man looked about himself and saw the collective eyes of a thousand people staring at him, he sighed and reached for his head. Everybody watched in rapt attention as the man removed the hood like helmet to his armor. Underneath was a mane of ragged white hair reaching down to golden shoulders; the face was of a man nearly as scarred as Mad-Eye Moody, with a golden right eye and a long scar intersecting his left making it a milky white.
Adam looked at the crowd, who stared back at him, and cursed in several languages never heard on earth.