SUMMARY: "The Dragonborn is sent into a rift by a Draugr's shout. He arrives in the Rook Islands, and learns the true origin of the islands' violence and insanity: the Dragon Priest Hahdrimal. Vaas learns there are people and things far more dangerous than Hoyt... AU"
DISCLAIMER: Far Cry 3 and its characters belong to Ubisoft and respective companies, all rights reserved. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and its characters belong to Bethesda Softworks and its companies, all rights reserved. I'm only playing in their respective sandboxes.
WARNINGS: AU, OOC'ness, Violence, Coarse Language, Character Death, mature subject matter. Possible male/male relationship. Jason/friends bashing, semi-evil!Dragonborn, vampirism.
Posted January 7, 2013.
1. STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND
How long had he been out of it? Minutes? Hours? Days? Mazhe's head still felt like it was full of tundra cotton, his ears rung, and everything just felt... wrong. For the second time in recent memory, his hands were bound—this time up over his head, to some sort of wooden framework... he could feel the scratchy lengths of rope rubbing against his wrists. Opening his eyes brought a wave of vertigo, and the contents of his stomach gave an uneasy turn. Whatever happened, it had thrown him for a loop. What was the last thing he remembered... something back at Saarthal.
His vision was beginning to clear, as was his hearing—though the ringing sensation still persisted somewhat. He could hear someone speaking, and although they were speaking in the common language, for a moment, he believed the individual might be a Khajiit, an intelligent beast race with feline features. He knew a few Khajiit personally, both at the College of Winterhold, and in other places.
Attempting to focus on the speaker, he was surprised to find he was instead human. He had a strange instrument in his hands that seemed to cast a bright glow from it.
"...jumping out of air planes, flying like birds? Fuck, that is crazy," the stranger on the other side of the cage was saying. His vision much clearer now, he realized he was inside a cage, with two others.
'Air... planes? Fuck?' Mazhe thought to himself. Neither of those words were in his vocabulary. Of course, that wasn't the biggest issue of contention. No, that was the individual on the other side of the cage. He had to be about six feet tall, also wearing strange clothes—a red shirt with no sleeves, and pants with a bizarre pattern on them. He had black hair that was shaved off on both sides, very much like Mazhe's, save for the fact it was really short and stood on end. A terrible scar crossed the left side of his head, stopping just short of going into his eye. He was speaking again.
"So who do we have here?"
He pointed to a guy opposite Mazhe. He wore strange clothes (come to think of it, all of them did)- a shirt with text somehow written on it in white letters.
"Grant..." and he pointed to the second captive, "...and Jason. From California, huh? Well, I hope your mama and your papa really love you, because you two white boys look expensive. And that's good, because I like expensive things—I'm sorry, what did you say?"
The captive named Grant had grunted something unintelligible through the gag over his mouth—Mazhe now realized he had one as well. It nullified one possible method of escape, at least for the moment. He closed his eyes, and opened them again, at once picking up the various living forms in the immediate area.
Being a champion of the night did have some pitfalls, but more often than not, the benefits far outweighed them. Having a form of predator vision was most certainly one of those benefits. His senses growing sharper, he could also now pick up the much more potent smell of blood—human blood, and lots of it. This place had saw the death of many, as it seemed the scent of blood drifted back for years.
The reasons behind this killing field could be explored at another time. For now, Mazhe simply focused on the living forms around him. Importantly, there were three others outside the cage, including the one who'd been speaking up to this point—obviously the one with some sort of authority. Mazhe would have some very direct questions for the individual... just before he drained the bastard dry.
The speaker had moved to the corner of the cage. "What did you say?" he repeated. That earned more grunts from Grant.
'The fool's gonna get himself killed,' Mazhe muttered, as the speaker knelt down beside the cage.
"Do you want me to slice you open like I did your friend?!" The explosion of rage came from nowhere. It was as if the individual were a completely different person. "Shut the fuck up, okay!? I'm the one with the fucking dick!"
'Perhaps he has been touched by Sheogorath,' Mazhe guessed, as the speaker demanded, "Look at me! Look me in the fucking eye—hey! You fuck! Look me in the eye."
Grant grunted again and cast the most hateful glare he could muster toward the speaker.
"You're my bitch," the speaker continued, getting to his feet, "I rule this fucking kingdom. Shut the fuck up. Or you die."
While he turned his attention back to Jason, Mazhe again closed his eyes, semi-tuning out the conversation. Whatever this was, it was different. How had he got here? Where was here exactly, come to think of it? Everything felt... different. The flow of magical energy was... odd. Faint, virtually non-existent.
For now, a plan of action. Escape the enclosure was obviously the first objective—but not with this many guards. If it were just the mad one, he could easily cope... but not with three. After that? He needed information. Perhaps the mad one could be... coerced into cooperation.
At that thought, another unsettling realization set in. When was the last time he fed? At least a day, if the sensations he was getting were right. It wouldn't be too bad, then. His eyes would look redder than someone completely blitzed out on some high-grade Skooma, but, better that than his true condition to be discovered. Vampires were hated creatures in Tamriel, and to be discovered as one guaranteed a quick death. Perhaps not one against one or two, but against an entire town or settlement? No, that sort of confrontation never ended well.
"Vaas!" came a shout from across the room, pulling Mazhe out of his thoughts. A man was standing in the doorway, dressed in even stranger clothing. Mazhe couldn't make out his features. "Stop scaring the hostages. I need you to take care of the rejects."
'Vaas. Definitely not a Nord. A fellow Breton? No, definitely not,' Mazhe thought, as the man got to his feet. He glanced over to the new speaker, then turned around again.
"I just hope that you two pieces of fucks are more entertaining than your friends. Ta-ta, bye-bye."
He walked off, and did something Mazhe didn't see that clearly startled one of the other guards. He then joined the other man at the door, as did the second of the three guards. That left only one. Perfect.
Mazhe glanced over at Grant, who was already trying to wiggle out of his restraints. Making sure the guard was not paying much attention, Mazhe simply set fire to the bindings with a simple flame spell. It was one of the first spells he'd ever learned. The bindings were off within moments, and Mazhe was free. He jerked the gag off his face, and quickly crawled over to Grant, doing the same.
"Common language?" Mazhe whispered.
"English, yeah, we speak English," Grant answered, "Get us free."
"Mmmph..." Jason grunted.
"Shor's balls," Mazhe muttered, "I will deal with our guard first. Be silent, the both of you."
Glancing around, he cupped both hands together, and aimed for the single guard, an orange glow immediately forming. The fireball spell was significantly stronger than the simple flame spell, and dual-cast, it caused double the damage, at the cost of taking longer to charge up.
He let it fly just as the guard turned around, and had to smirk inwardly, as it hit the man square in the face. He let out the most pitiful "Uhhhh..." before collapsing in a heap, his hands not reaching his face. He was dead, his face having been destroyed in an instant by the intense, concentrated heat. The adrenaline was now pumping, and Mazhe was completely focused and aware of his surroundings. Combat mode, he would play for keeps—and perhaps work a meal into it on the side. The blood craving was rising, he could feel it—and smell it.
Pushing that aside, he helped Grant to free his brother, and the three got to their feet. Mazhe then quickly searched his back pouch.
"Thank you Nocturnal," he whispered, finding his lock picking tools in the place he expected them to be. He knew better than to try and bust through the wood bars... they looked to be several inches in diameter. Mazhe was a strong man, but... not that strong. Besides, there were always simpler ways around the situation. He inhaled a deep breath, and set to work.
Less than a minute later, there came an audible click, and Mazhe was yanking the chains off the gate.
"Pretty slick, man," said Grant, impressed.
"Thank you. It's Mazhe."
"Grant, and this is..."
"Jason," Mazhe finished, glancing around. "We should get moving."
"Agreed. Look, pair of you stay behind me," said Grant. Mazhe arched an eyebrow, but inclined his head. 'His funeral,' he thought. Jason, meanwhile, seemed to be frozen in fear, eyes locked on the now very dead guard.
"Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," he was muttering.
"Be silent, or end up exactly like him!" Mazhe hissed dangerously, "I will not be slain on account of a fool!"
Grant gave Mazhe a look of fury, but turned to his brother. "J. Listen to me. He's right. Keep it together, and keep quiet." He pushed the door to the cage open, and the three of them were out into the room. Seconds later, they had already passed through the door they'd seen Vaas leave by.
Mazhe was still very much confused by the surroundings. The darkness was somewhat of a blessing, but equally a curse, since they were in a way having to blunder around in the dark. Twice already, he'd prevented Grant from leading them into a throng of bandits—his predator vision easily picked them up... and after the second near-disaster, Grant relented and let Mazhe take the lead.
In a medium-sized room, Grant became excited, drawing the group over to a workbench up against a wall. There, Mazhe found his dagger, along with a few other personal affects the bandits had collected from him. Everything was quickly stowed where it belonged, while Jason pocketed the strange device Vaas had been toying with earlier. Two other strange devices were also stowed away, and Mazhe made a mental note to ask about them when an appropriate opportunity presented itself. He was also very curious, seeing a paper with a near-perfect drawing of a woman, the detail more life-like than any he'd ever seen before. He caught himself reaching out for it, deciding not to bother. He could ask another time. For now, it was time to move on.
They soon came to what was best described as a crawl-space, with there only being enough room for them to get through crouched low to the ground. Through a screen they could see the yard, and it was there Mazhe and his fellow captives were treated to another horrible scene.
Five captives were all lined up on a platform, bound and gagged, with Vaas pacing in front of them, some sort of weapon which Mazhe had never seen before clutched in his hand. He held it up to the chest of one captive, there was a strange pop-like noise, and the individual crumpled to the floor.
"What... what is he doing?" Mazhe whispered, confused.
"He... he shot him," came Jason's alarmed response. They couldn't make out what was being said at the other end of the yard, but one by one, the rest of the captives all fell, victim of the strange weapon Vaas wielded.
"C... c'mon, let's keep moving," Grant prompted.
They moved through a small opening, into yet another crawl-space. This time, through the screening, they saw three rather vicious dogs. Mazhe simply hissed, showing his teeth, silently thankful his companions were behind him. The dogs, which had began to growl as they approached, whimpered and scuttled off, immediately intimidated by the much more dangerous predator.
Silently emerging from the crawl-space, Mazhe realized their way was blocked.
"Balls," he cursed quietly.
"J... throw a rock over there," Grant whispered, pointing toward the other side of the area.
"Throw a..." Jason was confused, and the look on his face said it all. He was terrified.
"We need a distraction," Mazhe clarified, "Toss something over there to make the guard move."
"Can't you just... light him on fire?"
"No," Mazhe answered, "There's at least three others nearby. Just create a distraction."
Still doubting the wisdom of it, Jason picked a small stone off the ground, and tossed it toward the wall on the opposite side of the area. It landed with an audible clunk.
"What was that?" the guard muttered, eyes immediately drawn to the source of the noise. Weapon at the ready, he made for the fence to investigate.
"Good to know the bandits here are just as clueless," Mazhe muttered, "Let's keep going—no no, this way." His senses picked up the three others in the next area. They instead veered off to the left, through another crawl-space.
Now Mazhe could hear Vaas talking again, though some of the words were in a strange language. The man was ruthless, this was an absolute certainty. Perhaps completely mad, but ruthless. It was equally clear, he was most definitely someone who carried authority in whatever plane of Oblivion Mazhe now found himself in.
They crept on by, with Jason casting a weary glance back at the scary man, as they entered another crawl-space—there seemed to be a lot of those.
"How... how do you know where they are?" Jason finally managed to ask, as they come out from under the crawl-space, and into a small field with strange plants in it.
"It's an ability I have," Mazhe answered honestly, "I can pick up various life forms for about forty to fifty yards in all directions."
"You're talking thermal imagery," Grant guessed.
Mazhe shook his head. "Thermal? I... I don't know what that is. All I know is, I can sense living things. We'd best keep moving... I think we are getting close to the edge of the camp... there are fewer people around and I'm starting to pick up wildlife."
Mazhe was right. They had then entered another crawl-space, and this one passed under a road. At one point, something really noisy passed overhead, making the ground vibrate for several moments. They all stopped for a moment, as Mazhe tried to understand exactly what it was. More questions he wanted to ask, but also knew this wasn't the time. The world he found himself in was confusing, to say the least.
The passageway they were in was cluttered with debris, garbage, papers, and knick-knacks. From the terrified looks on Jason and Grant's faces, whatever this stuff represented was not a good thing. More questions for later, then.
"You're really not from this world, are you?" Grant whispered.
"Not the best time to be having this conversation. We're at the edge of the camp, I am certain of it."
"Doesn't matter either way. My brother and I owe you for getting us this far," whispered Grant, as they got moving again.
"Don't thank me yet, we'll want to put as much distance between us and the bandits here—"
POP. The sound was deafening from that close, as Grant crumpled to the ground, and Jason rushed to his side. Mazhe was still hidden by the crawl-space, and he cursed himself for not being more vigilant. Three shadows were visible now, standing above the exit.
"What, you want to run? Huh? You want to run, you want to disrespect me? You want to fuck with me? I mean, you come here, with your... with you pretty boy face, right, and your pretty boy phone, your dimwit brother, and you want to fuck with me—"
Mazhe had crouched down, trusting the enchantments on his gear would do their job in making him difficult to see. There was no room for a mistake... whatever kind of weapon Vaas had, it was lethal. Still... there was one thing Mazhe could do that these... monsters... could never counter.
"You want to fuck with me..." Vaas continued, "I like that. No, I respect—"
"Fus... RO DAAAAH!"
The shout echoed with that of a clap of thunder. Vaas was caught in the outer edge of the blast, and was sent into the partition about six feet behind him. The other pair were hit by the full blast of the shout, being launched into the night sky such as a rocket leaving a launch pad. Of course, neither of them realized the peril of their situation, given both were knocked unconscious by the blast.
"What... Fuck... holy fuck, what was that?" Jason dared question, though he still held his hands over the wound on his brother's neck.
"What... what ever... he did... Mazhe... get my b-brother away from here," Grant wheezed.
But Mazhe didn't hear. He was expertly scaling the small embankment to the platform overlooking their supposed escape route. It was as if this were all planned somehow. For now, he quickly found his target—Vaas had crumpled in a heap against the partition, and although he was conscious, not a whole lot was going on at this point, given his dazed expression. Mazhe knelt down beside him and smiled.
"Well, Mr... uh, Vaas... it looks like you... and moi... are going to have a lot of fun together."
Mazhe smirked, and reached over, and ever so gently pushed the man's head slightly to the side, and he sunk his fangs into the jugular artery. Vaas was only slightly aware of what was happening, having been completely caught off guard by whatever the strange individual had done. He could feel the strange, but oppressive energy pulsing through him, and it was as if part of his life force were being syphoned off. For the first time in his life, he felt completely helpless, at the mercy of a monster.
Then, the sensation stopped. He was at the brink of losing consciousness, now feeling terribly drained on top of being knocked silly by whatever force the monster had used on him.
Mazhe smirked again, feeling the bond forming between them. It was nearly intoxicating... perhaps better than an orgasm—or... well, let's not go that far. No matter, it was a tremendous surge of energy, a tremendous reward for his effort.
"Mazhe?!" came Jason's alarmed voice, breaking him out of his thoughts.
"Just finishing some business," Mazhe answered. He leaned down, and picked up his captive, slinging him over his shoulder like a heavy sack. He then carefully picked his way back down the embankment, to where Jason was still trying to stop Grant from bleeding out.
"What... why did you..." Jason was both frightened and confused, seeing Mazhe had brought Vaas with him.
"Look. We have to go. The rest of the bandits are already on the move," Mazhe said, his eyes flicking back toward the camp. Indeed, his vision was already picking up more than a dozen shapes headed in their direction. Of course his use of the Thu'um would attract a lot of attention.
"J-j-jason... go. L-leave m-me." Even in the dim light, Mazhe could see Grant now looked ashen. The wound was fatal, that was certain. Given he was already burdened with a load, there was no way they could take him along. Come to think of it... Jason didn't seem to be much use either. Considering he would have all the answers he needed thanks to Vaas, perhaps it was just best to leave Jason to his own devices.
"I'm leaving in ten seconds... nine... eight—"
"Jason... p-please! Save y-yourself."
With a sob, Jason tore himself away from his brother, and the three of them set off.
"Stay on my left. You know how to use a knife?"
"What?"
"I'll take that as a 'no'. Crossbow?"
"A what?"
Mazhe mentally sighed. 'Useless farm boy,' he muttered in his head. The boy would be of absolutely no use to him. Perhaps he should have left him behind. Now, of course, it was a bit late... though, not too late for an unfortunate accident. He again sighed mentally, then shifted the dead weight over his shoulder. It would be much easier once his captive was able to walk on his own.
For several hours they hiked, easily avoiding any pursuers and other predators, thanks to Mazhe's sight. It also helped that being considered 'undead' put him near the top of the food chain. Most animal predators tended to give him a wide berth—other than the odd wolf or sabre cat. But generally, the wildlife knew better than to cross paths with him. If only it worked that way with bandits... or necromancers... or Forsworn...
They reached the edge of a deep gorge, with a narrow footbridge as the only way to cross. A strange thumping sound filled the air, and this confused Mazhe somewhat. It was much louder than the strange sound he'd heard just before they left the camp, and now his predator vision picked up four shapes, hidden by the walls of the gorge—though somehow they were rising in the air.
Then: blinding light. Mazhe nearly dropped Vaas, startled by the sudden brilliance.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jason swore, as the strange contraption twisted about.
"What is it?!"
"Chopper—helicopter!" Jason shouted back, "Fuck, fuck—duck!"
Mazhe followed the suggestion, and was more than thankful for the timing, as the branches and trees behind them seemed to be riddled by some sort of projectile launched from the strange machine. Mazhe dumped Vaas on the ground (he let out a rather ungraceful 'Oomph' as he landed) and immediately cupped his hands together, charging up a thunderbolt—a very potent shock spell. It had been rather effective against Mirmulnir and a few other dragons he'd faced. Against this bizarre contraption on the other hand?
Feeling it charged up, he let fly, and gave a vicious grin, as the powerful attack instantly crossed the distance, to slam into the machine. It was rather spectacular, as the machine lurched, an electrical storm surging across the outside of it. It swung around, pitched up, then down... back around again, as though possessed, the thump-thump-thump becoming less and less. To Mazhe, it was as though the beast were in its death throes. It began to lose height, rammed the bridge, its ropes and wood slats immediately becoming entangled in the strange rotating blades. And then...
BOOOOOM. A giant fireball ballooned out of the gorge, and Mazhe had to smirk again. Yes, the spell most certainly worked against the strange contraptions here.
"Fuck... fuck, fuck..." Jason was still muttering, a terrified look on his face. The vegetation up the side of the gorge was catching fire, illuminating the area somewhat.
"Shut up. Let's keep moving." Mazhe was already lifting Vaas back up over his shoulder.
"What... what was that?" Jason dared ask, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I mean... how can you do that?"
"I'm a mage. That was a strong shock spell, while the others I cast back in the camp were fire-based. That's not to be shared with anyone. For your safety and mine."
"I... this is so fucked up..." Jason muttered. They were following a path alongside the gorge, considering their way across had been cut off by the helicopter's crash.
"You are not the only one so out of place, boy," Mazhe whispered, "And stop blundering about. Rather not run into any more bandits than we have already."
"Sorry. But it's not like I can help it!" Jason hissed back.
He was inwardly shaking like a leaf, considering the events of the past few hours. Not helping matters was the fact that the one likely responsible for their predicament was casually slung over Mazhe's shoulder like some trophy. At least the crazy fucker wasn't conscious—he'd spoke too soon.
"Ah, look who's waking up," said Mazhe, happily.
They stopped for a moment, as Mazhe realized it had been several hours since they'd left the camp. It was more than enough time for his captive to recover somewhat, to at least a coherent level. He set Vaas down and knelt down beside him.
"Injured in any way?"
"No."
"Pain anywhere?"
"Fucking everywhere..."
"Balls." Mazhe reached into one of the numerous pouches on his armour, and pulled out a bottle. "Drink all of it. It'll help."
Vaas accepted the bottle, and quickly consumed the contents. A look of surprise crossed his face.
"Didn't think it would work?"
"What was it?" Jason dared ask.
"Strong potion of health. Good for relieving pain as well. Given he wasn't exactly conscious earlier, I couldn't give it to him then. Now though..." Mazhe turned his attention back to Vaas. "You okay to stand?"
"Yeah."
Mazhe got back to his feet, and offered a hand, helping his captive to his feet. Jason visually took a step back, now noticing Vaas still had his pistol in its holster.
"He won't hurt you," said Mazhe, seeing his fright, "Magic has so many uses. That... is also strictly confidential, by the way. So much as a peep out of you about any of this to someone who doesn't already know, I'll roast your face off."
He turned back to Vaas. "Get us someplace safe to make camp for a few hours."
They came to an abrupt stop sometime later. Mazhe glanced around a moment, then flicked his wrist up at an outcropping of rocks, and a bright sphere of light anchored itself there, bathing the immediate area in ample light. It would make an ideal shelter, out of the way. And, it looked like the location had been used before.
"Perfect. Some wood. Jason, find us some materials for a fire."
"I'm not your bitch."
"No, but I can make your life very short, and very painful. Now go." Mazhe was already kicking material around, clearing off the spots that had clearly been used as sleeping mats. "Sheltered farm boy. Wouldn't last five minutes outside the city gates where I come from."
That got a laugh out of Vaas, and Mazhe had to grin as well. No, Jason Brody wouldn't last too long in the wilderness. If the boy had any sense, he wouldn't stray too far.
"I can assume you and your bandit friends found me," said Mazhe.
"We thought you were dead. Laying face down in the water after some fucked up loud noise."
"Like a clap of thunder." At Vaas' nod, Mazhe said, "Last thing I remember. A brilliant flash of light and the sound like a clap of thunder. I guess I should say thank you... though I know that likely you and your friends didn't have charity in mind when you collected me."
"Still hadn't decided what to do with you, amigo. That's some strange gear you're wearing..."
"My Guild armour. Not the most appropriate equipment. Not used to this sort of heat."
Mazhe began to remove the bandolier, and set it down. Another set of straps were undone, before he was finally able to remove the top part of his armour, revealing a simple rough-spun cotton button-up shirt under it. It was soaked with sweat.
"Here's your fucking wood." Jason had returned with an armload of wood for the fire.
"Excellent. We'll need it in the morning. Sit."
Mazhe indicated one of the cleared off mats that had likely seen better days. Meanwhile, he began to dig around in one of the pouches on his belt, then his rucksack. "Balls. Must be in the other container."
"What other container? You grabbed everything from—"
"No, I recovered everything they took from me," Mazhe said, dismissively, "I have another container I can access. It's just... a little more complicated."
Mazhe began to make a gesture with his left hand, a purple orb of energy instantly forming. He slammed it toward the ground, causing a rather loud CLINK noise, and immediately after, a ghostly shade of a chest appeared. To both Jason and Vaas, it looked like an old-fashioned steamer trunk. To their further amazement, he opened the lid, and began hauling out a few items that by the normal laws of physics would never fit: namely, two bedrolls, and two pillows—at least, Jason assumed they were pillows. He slammed the lid closed, and the trunk vanished.
"It's not the first time I've slept under the stars... though I will appreciate it being warm for a change. Having the snow blow into the tent with a bitter cold wind is not an experience I particularly enjoy."
"You come from some place cold," said Vaas. It was not a question.
"Yes. Most of it, anyway. I grew up in a place which experiences warmer weather for a brief time, but... not like this. Here." Mazhe passed over one of the bedrolls and a pillow.
"What about me?" Jason protested.
"I've only one extra bedroll. My... companion... must be comfortable," Mazhe answered, dismissively.
That earned a hateful glare from Jason, and a vicious smirk from Vaas as he began making his bed. As much as Jason was terrified of Vaas, he was becoming more and more weary of Mazhe. The spell-casting and supernatural shit was really pushing his coping skills as this point. Now, to be dismissed and marginalized further... he felt no less helpless than when he'd been in the cage. At least back there, Vaas was on the other side of it!
Mazhe glanced up at the sky. Already, it was beginning to get light on the eastern horizon. Dawn would be on them soon.
"Right. Let us get some rest. It will be light soon."
Jason huffed, questions still running fast and furious through his mind, but settled down in the rather uncomfortable mat. Vaas, on the other hand, obediently climbed into his bedroll, and got comfortable. It was one further burning issue for Jason: why was Mazhe treating this... psycho... so kindly? And how was he keeping him under control, for that matter?
Mazhe also settled down, and closed his eyes.
"No arguing. No fighting. Better, no talking." Now settled, he inhaled deeply, and clasped the amulet of Talos which lay against his chest, and invoked an old prayer his father used to recite:
"Talos watch over me with a ready sword;
Plant the seeds of doubt and defeat in the hearts my enemies;
Bring strength and courage to my allies;
And may there be a place held for me in Kynareth's realm, should I part this day."
He quickly found sleep, but not rest, as the events from much earlier came flooding back in brilliant clarity.
Two days prior: 8 Hearth Fire, 4E201
Saarthal Excavation
It was the forth such magical disturbance the College of Winterhold had been forced to deal with, following the incident with the Eye of the Magnus. Mazhe had been at the College, this time searching for information on the possible location of an Elder Scroll—a legendary item he required, according to Paarthurnax. While Urag Gro-Shub had been somewhat helpful in providing the next clue in the puzzle, Mazhe had been met by Tolfdir as he was leaving.
Now, here he was, trying to seal yet another physical tear in the very fabric of time and space, thanks to the ongoing backlash from Ancano's meddling. Of the four he'd now faced, however, this one was proving to be the strongest—and the largest.
It had opened on the hill directly west of the excavation, with more than a dozen magical anomalies swirling about. They'd already laid waste to a group of skeletons which had been roaming the area, as well as a pack of wolves, and a small skirmish involving Imperial and Stormcloak forces. The swirling mass that was the rift now towered over the terrain, perhaps three storeys high. Something was influencing it. It wasn't doing this on it's own. Not something this big.
Mazhe dual-cast a thunderbolt spell on the first of the entities. It was best to eliminate those first, since they would attack the moment he attacked the rift itself. It simply exploded on contact from the power of his spell. One down, a dozen more to go.
In his zeal to eliminate these less difficult threats, however, he failed to account for other possible threats in the area, having seen the wide-scale destruction already unleashed. So, he barely had any time to really focus on the new threat: a Draugr Death Overlord. They were quite distinctive, with their helms with tall horns making them seem about three feet taller. And they were powerful enemies.
"Fus..." Mazhe turned around, only to be blown into the rift by the powerful shout.
AUTHOR NOTES: The inspiration for this came after hearing Citra tell the story of the monster and the warrior, and it was further cemented during the fight with the monster later on. Seeing his mask, it reminded me of the Dragon Priest masks-specifically, that of Miraak (from the "Dragonborn" expansion). I got to thinking, "What if the Rukyat legend was in fact founded on something from Skyrim? More specifically, something banished to the islands from Tamriel-though not intentionally?"
So, we have Hahdrimal-"Mind - destroyer" in the common language, and his foul magic which has ensnared the islands, bringing with it violence and insanity-until now. The Dragonborn has arrived, if perhaps by accident, to clean up yet another mess brought on by the ancient Nords. He's fought a few of the powerful Dragon Priests already... question is, how will he deal with Hahdrimal? More importantly, how will he get home from this strange place with violent people, strange weapons, and strange contraptions? After all, he still has a destiny to fulfill.