Chapter 1: A Sea Stained Red
As the age of the Dragons reaches its peak within Skyrim, the shroud of mists that surround the lands of Nirn begin to waver and weaken. There tells legends of a mighty king that had set these mists to obscure the land from invaders or from the Draemora of Oblivion. Yet as Brothers clash across the snow swept lands of Skyrim and the dragons once more reveal themselves to the world, the mists begin to waver and weaken in time with the coming calamity that is to follow. This is a tale of wore, of heart ache, and of mighty deeds done in forgotten planes of existence. The land of Nirn is to once more appear within the mighty East Blue once again. Pirates and the World Government having forgotten about the land filled with unknown treasures and creatures.
Small snippets of information exist within the world but most have forgotten about the things that dwell within the Endless Fog Islands that are said to take up a mighty proportion of East Blue or did. As the veil begins to lift and it begins to fall around them the other powers of the world will soon take note of these new lands, these new places of resource, and these new chances at extortion from the local populations. Only they will not find their enemies so easily beaten. In the time they have been away there have been much change to the world that became Nirn as has the outside world. Nirn is no longer bound by the same rules and restrictions as the rest of the world and has developed new ways to wage war. This is the story of the One Piece of the Tamriel Legend. Our story begins during the events of Skyrim and the Stormcloak Civil War. We follow our Hero as he prepares to leave Dawnstar.
14th of Mid Year: Turdas
The wind swept down from the hills along the shores of Dawnstar as a lone Nord slowly stepped out of the Windpeak Inn and stopped to close his eyes. The sun had barely begun to rise from the depths of the ocean to grace the new day as his eye closed and he breathed out happily. His fingers flexing and a soft rumble slipped from his mouth as his one eye, his right eye in fact, slowly opened back up again and he took in the sleepy little capital city that he had been staying the last few days. His name was Ófærr Strongarm, a Nord of the Companions, a Nord of the College, he was many things, for in his line of work he had been forced to become many things. Such was the lift one was expected to lead when presented with as many challenges as he had been.
His was a body of sound mind and of power, standing over six foot eight and weighing in over three hundred pounds of raw muscle but not to the point of being obscene in any form or fashion. His body was a coated slab of marble with scars that ran across the exposed upper body and even poked out from about her waist. A full head of bright, chestnut brown hair flowed in the wind and slowly lapped away as if a Wind Atronach was currently running its fingers through it at that very moment. His left eye was closed, forever sealed from scar damage from a troll when he was but a babe and his sister had decided to go off and play in the stream near their home. It hadn't attacked so much as came to inspect him when it was frightened by his sister and left behind its reminder of guilt.
Ófærr would slowly stretch his arms high above his head, even as the many braids that made up his chin slowly flapped against the breeze and the salty scent tingled his nose something fierce. He looked out towards the early risers within Dawnstar, the fishermen whom had already set out to begin setting their nets for todays catch. His father imparted into him the understanding of hard work and as always he was grateful for that as it had served him and his family well since he became a Hunter. Though times had changed, his smile slightly dwindled as he remembered the news of the Empire's Loss to the Dominion and his blood slightly boiled, he still despised the Elves, and as he turned back towards the interior of Dawnstar he picked up his things and made his way off towards the bathing house to prepare.
All the while he continued to feel it, eyes gazing upon him, he was no stranger to attention, even before he had become what he was today he had earned a reputation as a warrior amongst the Companions and the factions of Skyrim with his bow and blade. A Falmer invasion had seen him set himself between them and a Raider party of two hundred and forced to hold them while the village fled behind. It was a miracle he managed his first Ice Lance the week before or he would have presumably been dead by the time any reinforcements had arrived to aid in the battle. That aside as he slowly meandered his way up and out of town, the young women tittering behind closed doors as he passed, Guards saluting, and Men nodding their heads in greeting towards the man, he smiled, a mere smile.
He wasn't or at least he didn't see himself as some gallivanting hero off to set maiden's hearts a flutter while capturing the fantasies of young men to grow up to be like him. He was a simple man, a simple man that enjoyed simple things. Even if he carried with him where he went many things. One of which hung from his back in the form of a monstrous Ancient Norn Great sword which was easily as tall as he was in terms of height. He never left his camp or the Inn he was staying in without it for fear of some child trying to play with it and end up with a need to use a Resurrection Spell of some kind, to which he was Very bad at attempting in any form or fashion. He preferred to keep his fighting simple but the Aldmeri Dominion had punished him time and time again for thinking of way and fighting in such simplistic ways and fashions.
He stopped though and looked out over the breath of the Skyrim landscape and breathed in the plains air before he slowly looked about before walking towards a near by slab of stone to which he pressed down upon it. He had discovered this little sanctuary when he had been a Mercenary and was happy to have kept it hidden for this long. His hand filling in the cracks as a soft prick of blood flooded down the needle in the center of the dais before he pulled his hand back and watched. The stone began to softly rumble as the blood caused the Nord Runes to begin lighting up and then slid away as the stone chamber opened and slid down to reveal a stairwell bathed in a layer of mist as well as brushed past him.
Marine Point of View: 14th of Mid Year: Turdas
As always he slowly shifted, he couldn't help but feel that eyes were as always upon him, but he paid it no mind, there was always something or someone watching him given his status and actions but that was once more besides the point as he began to descend down the passage and into the depths of the earth while his ears remained attuned to the surrounding sounds and the mighty churn of stone. Though he doesn't quite pick up several feet shifting through the grass behind him as individuals come out of hiding. Each were wearing strange white hats which were printed with a blue word which was hard to read if not downright impossible. Their bodies were covered in light fitting clothing and a blue neckerchief about their throats which didn't quite close their shifts. Their lower bodies were of course clad in blue pants and boots.
All in all these individuals seemed like they weren't suited for warfare even if they all carried standard cutlesses or single edged blades. Yet some of them as well held elongated wooden and metal contraptions that one could be reminded of Dwemer creations. They lined up as sets of two outside the entrance where their target had gone in, all while a larger man with a cape stood before them and frowned before he turned to regard his men and speak. The others showing their distain for where they were. They had been but a scouting party for a guardian of a Celestial Dragon when news of a Great Veil of Mist began to ascent off the water and reveal a mighty new set of lands. Of course the Celestial Dragon had been itching to inspect this land and wasted no time in sending a scouting party ahead to judge this land for potential new slaves.
They found that these beings were as diverse as they were still primitive, the few that they had come across were speaking about Gods other then the Celestial Dragons and that they were speaking of Magic. They had easily dismissed and killed the few that they had come across after making land fall and as such had sent word back to the three Battleships moored outside of the detection of the natives to prepare. They would show these primitives that the might of the World Government by making an example of this village. While it didn't sit well with the Marines they were quickly reminded that they had justice on their side and as such weren't committing anything above bringing a new set of servants into the Grand Fold of the Celestial Dragons. They all prepared and followed what their Captain of this expedition believed to be the leader of this village, as was with primitive people, it is the largest that lead and the others follow.
Upon following they found that the man had left the village and was on his way outside of it, watching as he seemingly placed his hand upon a stone, to which one of their members thought that he was doing something akin to a prayer of some kind. Only for the stone to begin glowing and slide back and reveal the depths of the earth. As the man stepped inside a light burst forth and began to slowly sweep down the sides of the passage and into the earth before they lost sight of their target. They now prepared, the assassination of their leader would lead to a loss of moral when it was revealed and this in turn would lead to them easily subjugating this village and creating a beach head for the forces of the Celestial Dragon to sweep into this new land.
As they slowly crept forward the echoes of what could be accounted to water overflowing from a container that had been filled too high would be heard as the men slowly started down towards the depths of the earth and their target, they found that as they stuck to the darkness they came into a chamber filled with a large amount of circular pools of heated water and the man was slowly relaxing down into one of them. The sheer heat within the room was somewhat suffocating as they prepared to go in, yet the Captain remained unweather as he withdrew his blade and stalked up towards his target with a slight grin. His hand was wrapped about the hilt of his cutlass as he drew it high and with one motion dropped it down atop the seemingly unsuspecting man. Though instead of metal biting through bone and flesh it was met with metal screaming against metal as the Ancient Blade that the man had been carrying was hefted over one shoulder to block the attack.
"That's...that's impossible! No primitive could hope to block a Blade of Justice..."
Ófærr's Point of View: 14th of Mid Year: Turdas
"Yun, tobal ba tunoa! Ya tribula fratha grath ba Grathi tra Venspa..."
Ófærr merely looked back, their attempts at subterfuge were laughable at best and a complete mockery at worst, they were so loud even without the need of armor that when they had entered his chamber he knew right away the number of men sent to deal with him, and it merely made him sigh out in frustration at the fact that someone else had come to try and take his head. He was enjoying his early morning bath and as he slowly sat up and turned to regard the men before him he found that some of them were rather pale faced at what they saw, or perhaps what they perceived they saw. Without the leggings he no longer covered himself with, the Nord was revealed in his unmatched splendor and it easily put the men before him to shame if one were to go along with their faces and the way they were reacting to the sight. Their Leader seemed to speak in some foreign tongue and as he tried to thrust down with his blade Ófærr merely looked at it.
What a simplistic and ugly thing to have crafted, he felt no attention to detail, no love went into the shaping of this blade that now fought to break his own. With a leg now planted firmly upon the edge of the spring he would huff out and proceed to put his foot against the strangely garbed man before kicking out with his full might and sending him flying across the breath of the room to land against the wall. With that being done he was allowed a few seconds before the other five rushed to attack him in retaliation, screaming in their fancy flowery tongue before he spat off to the side and swung Gore in a one handed swing which shattered blade and flesh alike while painting both himself and the springs within the room red with blood and gore. It needed no fancy name, no elongated tale of what it was or where it came from, for in the end it did it's purpose and it did it with almost fanatical devotion. To coat the world in the Gore of its Masters Enemies.
The five were cleaved in some form, some at the wait, one caught at the leg and fell with the blade as it slid through his body due to his lack of resistance all the way up to the left shoulder before passing into the head of the shorter man beside him. Gore continued till it become embedded in the wall beside him and the five bodies fell into crumpled heaps of blood and gore that soaked the ground and stained the pools. Flesh bobbed upon the pools top as Ófærr growled under his breath in relative anger before stepping out and stalking over to the only remaining man within the room. He could barely understand the words he was saying but he looked as if he was praying to some kind of god, in the form of a snail of some kind. Well if he was calling his god then he would have to do better then that. The old man proceeded to drive the tip of Gore through the back of the Nail like creature and through the back of the man's head as he impaled the tip into the wall.
Gore billowed with energy as their souls, their dark and corrupted souls would bleed out of their bodies and into the blade itself, even as he tore it from the wall he looked down, the blackest of souls usually had that thin film of filth that covered them, men who think themselves just as they murder and plunder. Ófærr had no such views, he was a killer, he killed to survive, but that was only when it was needed. Six men in three seconds, this was either a new record or they were incredibly weak. He was shaken from his thoughts as the ground shivered and screams began to echo from the land above. Several resounding explosions following as the ground shuddered from some mighty impact, this broke his concentration enough to begin getting dressed again, sadly he only had his blade and Gore though this would have to be enough for now.
Upon strapping on his belts, three of them and the leather studded leggings he wore he rushed out to assess the damages and to see if this was a dragon attack. Upon reaching the outside world he began to wish it was. Dawnstar was under attack, the houses burned, the bay burned, the ocean burned, and all the while, three massive ships, dwarfing anything he had ever seen before even at the Blue Palace, stood anchored out in the bay as they seemed to disgorge a frightening amount of those men from before. Thankfully the Dawnstar Guard were already setting up a defense as best they could though it wasn't going to last long as the enemies seemed to possess some form of Crossbow that didn't shoot any form of bolt he could see. Their shields barely held against barrages of these attacks and as it-
His thoughts were broken once more as a roar echoed from the ships docked out in the bay as a puff of smoke from the front of one of their elongated objects blasted a group of Guardsmen through a wall and obliterated what was once the Windpeak Inn. Thankfully the enemy soldiers were susceptible to things like projectiles and the like and as such Bows and Crossbows were made excellent use of against them. Then he saw it, a young woman of the village, her dress stained with dirt and blood, pressed against the wall of some far off home, one of the soldiers attacking Dawnstar grinning as he tore at her clothing and aided in revealing what was rather a splendid view, the woman's firm bosom. Ample, robust, and quite plentiful, it was a spectacular view for any man.
Though this case it was the cracking point and with a roar Ófærr rushed into the heat of it, his arrival drawing the attention of the Guards and the Soldiers. The soldiers merely chuckled as one of them motioned for a gunmen to put down the rabid dog and with a puff of smoke his Dwemer device launched a projectile towards him. Which would have surly hit if it weren't for the years of training, the older man easily slipping to the side as he rushed towards the first collection of the enemy and a leap and a throw, sent Gore impaling itself through the forehead of one of the men, Ófærr landing atop him and crushing him under his mass before using one hand to tear out the blade and the other becoming enveloped in a blistering heat. A sort of molten flame and stone settled over his hand in the shape of a three fingered claw which he proceeded to shove through the chest of another Marine.
As the battle became much more close quarters the Dawnstar Guards broke cover and rushed forward to join in the Melee, as the arrival of the man had done much, but he merely caused a distraction as he broke through the lines, his eyes dead set upon the potential rapist before he jumped into the air and with a mighty clap of sound, drove a knee into the Marine's chin which shattered it and knocked him away. His eye turned towards the woman as she tried covering herself up before he pointed off to the side, down the coast, saying nothing while swinging Gore in an arc that lodged it in the side of a house and the top half of a Marine Captain's head atop the blade itself. With a stifling cry she rushed off, two Dawnguards, potentially friends or family given how they set themselves to the task of protecting her, moved up to both sides of her and escorted her away.
The echo of reverberating blasts filled the streets of Dawnstar as these new enemies of Skyrim fired blistering bolts of some kind into the Guards whom retaliated with Arrows or Crossbows, then there was Ófærr, rushing towards the front after having put a young woman on the path to leaving the town. A group of ten of these Invaders as he had come to dub them in his mind rushed towards him. They continued to shout in their same foreign tongue that confused him but he shrugged it off and continued with the process, Gore rose as he met the first blade and like the others that had tried to stop it, the Ancient Weapon of War shore right through it as it were made of fabric. The blade continued on to travel down to the head of the man before passing through to the groin. His left hand, still wreathed in that magical claw, rose and impaled itself through the chin of another and out the top of his head where it would cause the muscle, skin, flesh, and bone to melt away and fall backwards.
Celestial Dragon Yonta Ibino's Point of View: 14th of Mid Year: Turdas
This was merely ten minutes since the siege of these Invaders had begun and already they were taking casualties, the battle was against primitives that relied upon such archaic means as belief in Magic for His sake! How...How could they continue to resist his men for a whole ten minutes. This was to be a stain upon not only his family but the World Government if he didn't end this soon, he was tired and needed something to indulge in sooner or later. He might take a few of the women from this village, train them into proper slaves actually, that might be enjoyable, the women here weren't as robust or profound as the women of, well how they must look at it, outside world, but there were some here that could be enjoyed. Even if they couldn't what did he care, they were just slaves!
"All Forward Guns, wipe this village off the map already! I want to go find some good slaves."
None stepped forward to argue, for who would argue against a Dragon? No one in their right minds that's who! As he watched the triple barreled cannons affront the battleships slowly shifted and aimed towards the town, before one after another, as if time slowed down, they laid down a withering fire that tore through houses and buildings alike, they ripped through the structures of the town that had once been Dawnguard and currently set about demolishing each and every building. Thankfully Nightcaller Temple was saved from such wanting destruction as the cannon balls plowed through the many forms of homes that once were. Marines and Guard alike, they were impacted, torn, slaughtered, they were ripped and butchered by the cannons of their own ships as they tried to find cover. Shields did nothing to stop the mighty projectiles as Yonta merely bellowed out with laughter, even as he smirked, he could feel the anger of the woman behind him boring into his eyes.
"Oh are you sad? Why? Does the Slave want to be among them? Oh but you can't, you are my plaything after all...even if you once were a Great Merperson, you were sold to me and now you belong...to me."
Shyarly would growl, the massive woman, kept within a bubble of water, her bottom half that of a mighty shark while her top half was that of a beautiful woman, a chest as expansive and robust as any other, no, reaching into the realms of those whom would be considered goddesses in terms of natural splendor and size. She had been taken some months ago from the Mermaid Café during the end of the Great War between the Navy and the White Beards when Fishman Island was an unprotected section of the New World. She was sold to Yonta as a means to buy the trust of the Celestial Dragons from a now dead Pirate Captain. At the moment he merely looked upon his newest toy and smirked towards him, slowly motioning for her to be brought as the fat slug of a man turned on his heel and walked towards the Gangplank to descend towards his first conquest of this new land.
Ófærr's Point of View: 14th of Mid Year: Turdas
Pain, it blossomed within himself, it ran rampant through his body as shards of stone and wood pierced through his figure and frame and tossed him about. Even with the Oaken Skin enchantment he was fairing little against such an onslaught of death and destruction as those strange ships were delivering upon the former city of Dawnstar. With a roar and a heave he thrust a hand up, broken at the wrist, and tossed the chunk of wood off himself and exposed himself to the world. His body was a mess, riddled with lacerations and burns from the fighting of the last five minutes. Gore was lodged in the sand near his figure as he spat off to the side before snarling and attempting to rise once more, only to fall slightly forward and roar in pain from the shattered right side of his ribs and his arm which was twisted in a sickening angle.
His eye blurred as he looked around, the dead now outnumbered the living and as it stood he would either join their ranks or not. His ears still ring from the strange attack that obliterated the land but he looked up he found himself watching some..rather strange individuals coming off the large ship. The first was a rotund man which reminded him of a noble of the Empire, too fat for his own good and looking down upon all those around him while he himself was no better then a Slug. Two sets of working eyes met one that still worked and he motioned towards the now kneeling man. Ófærr had little strength within him for a fight, most of his energy was being displaced to heal his internal injuries as he gazed upon the two of the more interesting individuals. The woman to the right of the short fat man, chained and wrapped within cuffs. Her body was the upper half of a bountiful woman, lavishing black locks that obscured one half of her face and her bottom half that of a great predator.
Ófærr would not lie to himself, this woman, had most assuredly caught his fancy from the moment he set eyes upon her and as he now was being forced down on the shattered remains of both his legs he grimmiced in pain before looking up in defiance towards the man before him who smirked so callously even as he stepped on the half mutilated corpse of a Marine from his own ship. He stopped before the only remaining survivor from the battle and his face seemed to be drawn into a sneer, the mangled bodies of at least seven Marines laid about him, blade thrust into the last, a captain, from the top of the head out through the back of it. So this was the one whom was being talked about amongst his men, even for a mere ten minutes of battle this was quite the butchering even for the standard for Devilfruits, some thirty men if one were to include the ones sent to kill him before the battle began. This one would make a fine addition to his slave ranks as he conquered and subjugated this new realm.
"So you are the little fighter whom runs this village? Well I should say it's more like a graveyard now, either way I saw you save that woman before, how lovely, oh whoops, I meant slave meat, she was quite feisty when I first got my hands on her. Now what to do with this worm?"
While this strange man had been speaking, Ófærr attempted to get a better understanding of the situation as he scrutinized both the woman and the man before him. The woman he had already viewed and taken into consideration her current state, the man on the other hand was different. Strangely dressed, a large bowl of some kind, no wait, not a bowl, a bubble. That was what it was, a bubble that surrounded his head for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps it was the pain of several limbs being twisted in ways they weren't supposed to be or the blood loss, perhaps it was a combination of the two, but Ófærr was sure he could hear something as the man rambled on while the woman gazed upon him with pity and remorse.
Pity...that was something that Ófærr hated being on the receiving end of, and as he shifted to glare at her first then the other, he heard the sound again. This time it came more clearly, a soft thump of air in the distance, like the wings of a bird. In his pain fueled mind he tried to place the sound, even as the two others looked about in an attempt to find it. The man had ceased his ramblings and had produced a strange wooden and metal object like the other men had, pointing it down towards the wounded warrior while the woman banged upon her cage of strange glass that was filled with water but refused to break upon the impacts. The sound came again but it did little to draw the concentration of the one who was preparing to pull the trigger, even as Ófærr's remaining eye finally widened and it struck a cord, of fear.
Just moments before a bellowing roar ripped through the surrounding area and snuffed out the fires that still had managed to linger following the bombardment from the titanic ships in the bay. All heads looked up and found five eyes set upon a streak of black that thundered across the sky towards their position mere moments before it become visible. The other two tilted their heads, even if the woman had stopped her pounding upon the barrier that kept her trapped. They were transfixed by the creature approaching them but could barely make out immediate details before a set of scalding red eyes bore down upon them both. Anger, that was the only means to identify the emotion that was radiating out of the eyes that locked with their own.
More specifically the one with the object pressed against Ófærr's forehead as the finger had moved away. The man would have attempted to crack the skull of the one threatening him but right now his movements were too sluggish, barely able to breath due to a collapsed lung and the fact that he knew it would mean nothing in the next few seconds. He recognized that roar, he recognized those eyes, he recognized the dark tone and texture of what was coming and he knew that their time was at its end. If he had been in a stable condition he would have loved this, to meet his end in a dignified manner before traveling to Sovngarde upon his demise. This wasn't what he wanted, weakened, bloodied, crushed before an Invader and his mortal enemy.
Then the creature flew overhead and with a single resounding roar the sky began to grow dark and shudder as lights condensed and wrapped about themselves within the clouds above. Mere seconds before a flash of flame which pulsed through the clouds and a stone of immense proportions streaked across the sky and smashed into the superstructure of the center ship which it proceeded to gut halfway through and then as it is known for, it detonated. The stone sheering in half the entire ship as its stores of gunpowder were lit within moments and they added to the continuous explosions that followed the initial impact. Blood, bodies, limbs, steel, wood, nothing was spared as the thousands of Marines still aboard were ripped and torn asunder from the mere impact of the massive falling stone. Then the secondary eruptions of power came and the damage was exacerbated to an extent not thought possible.
A body slammed down upon the ground as all eyes had been watching the titanic display of death and destruction upon the beach which had distracted them from the cause of it. Wings of ripped leather gripped the ground using forward legs that served as the wings as well. A sloped and elongated head sat upon a lengthy neck while the beak like mouth opened slowly. Black scales, as dark as a moonless, starless, night, glinted in the hellfire that the creature had wrought upon the beach and the shores of the village that was once Dawnstar. Spines covered most of the body with the tail ending in a mass of crooked and barbed spines meant for impalement and death and nothing more. The beast raised up and looked upon them, sheering eyes filled with malice and hatred gazed down upon the strangely dressed man and, in an act that surprised the other two, it spoke.
"Jul, tuv no pila. Human, that is my pray. Ton'tial tota tu Dovah, eqie Poltas!"