The Dragonborn awoke to an intense throbbing sensation in the back of his skull. Slowly he opened his heavy eyelids and squinted slightly in the sunlight that slowly began to fade beyond the horizon. The clouds steadily parted to reveal an almost dazzling full moon as night took up its mantle in the sky. A full moon. One solitary moon. His eyes widened in amazement and a slight tinge of worry. What in Oblivion have I gotten myself into this time? A new world indeed.
With his head still rather groggy he attempted to pick himself up off the wonderfully soft and comfortable ground, with his body feeling as if it was laden with stone. After what seemed like an age of protesting limbs later he managed to stand upright. Stretched out his arms and legs they steadily loosed as he regained command of his body. He took a deep breath of fresh air to clear the fog from his brain. He had done it, feeling overly proud at achieving the simple act of standing up. Vaguely he became aware of a faint whistling sound that was rapidly increasing in volume and intensity until…
Ping!
It seemed he had asked too much of the twisted entity know as fate. The Dragonborn fell flat on his face, the ground all of a sudden becoming hard and unforgiving. Dazedly he got up and the throbbing sensation had returned with a vengeance. Not throbbing he realised. A heartbeat. Spotting a nearby pool of water he rushed towards it and gasped at his reflection. Staring back at him was a golden death mask with tusks pointing outwards on either side. Konahrik. Warlord.
He took in the rest of his reflection. He wore robes blacker than Alduin's scales and embroidered with gold. Over the robes he seemed to be wearing a set of golden armour that covered his torso, went down his arms and legs and bore a striking resemblance to dragon scales. His mind was reeling as he tried to figure out why he bore the raiment of a dragon priest. If he recalled correctly he had taken the dragon priest masks to the shrine in Bromjunaar and left them there, including the wooden mask so that no one would be able to misuse their immense power. The dragon priests counted among the deadliest foes he had ever faced and he did not want their most prized possessions falling into the wrong hands. The dragon priests worshipped Alduin and by extension Akatosh. It made beautiful sense considering he had been tasked to save his children, the dragons, what better outfit to wear than that of a champion of Akatosh.
Lifting his hand to his face he removed the mask. He regarded his features. It was as he expected, his skin was no longer as white as fresh fallen snow and his once glowing orange eyes had returned to a striking hue of sapphire. He felt a pang of loss at the absence of his vampirism, it was his only remaining connection to Serana and now it was gone. On the other he was relieved that he no longer felt the constant need to drink or the weakness and searing agony of sunlight. He never asked Serana to change for desire for power or longevity. In his experience immortality was only ever a good thing if you had someone to spend it with and there was a distinct possibility that he would never see his wife again for they had parted on bad terms and add to the fact that he was no longer in Tamriel. He decided that no longer being an undead creature of the night wasn't such a bad thing, for now his fond memories of the Daughter of Coldharbour would suffice.
Pushing thoughts of Serana to the back of his mind he took a look around. He had landed in a clearing in the middle of some forest mostly made up of oak trees. His eyes fell to an object by his feet that looked completely out of place. The same object that had the audacity to fall apparently from the sky and knock him to the floor. He picked it up and glared at it as if daring the object to try and strike him again. It was a bizarre thing that looked like a glossy black stone with veins of red, gold and blue webbing its surface. It was about a foot long and had an oval shape like an egg and The Dragonborn had a sneaking suspicion that it was exactly that. Though dragons were more akin to the daedra in that they were immortal and had no offspring, the way his dragon soul and all the countless others he had devoured that seemed to sing to him as he looked at the object told him that it was more than possible that dragons were different here. Regardless of the difference, Akatosh had tasked him with saving them but that also begged a question as to what sort of threat would warrant the need to save such a mighty race.
He was snapped out of his contemplation by a rather violent tremor that shook his body originating from his stomach. It seemed that one craving had been replaced with another. Tucking the possible dragon egg into his robes he ran a hand through his slightly unkempt raven hair and down his neatly trimmed beard. He turned away from the pool and put Konahrik back on his face, the mask somehow resting perfectly on his features and remaining put. It did nothing to impede his breathing despite being a solid chunk of metal nor did it obscure his vision even though the eye slits were no bigger the sowing needles. In fact he could barely feel it on his face at all.
As he walked through the forest in search of food he noticed his senses were sharper than normal, sharper than when he had been a vampire or werewolf. He could see clearly despite the forest being shrouded in twilight. He could hear all manner of nocturnal creatures as they scarpered to and fro. A light breeze blew towards him and that was when he noticed his sense of smell.
The stench of unwashed and sweaty bodies drifted to his nostrils. Someone or rather a large group of someones were hiding in the woods and he guessed that he had stumbled across a group of bandits waiting to ambush someone though he doubted it was him. His hand instinctively wend to his hip and his pleasant surprise found the pommel of Dovahstrum. Quietly drawing his sword he cast an invisibility spell and stealthily began to crawl to whatever was laying in weight.
As he continued along he sighted a moonlit road and crouched either side facing away from him were band of particularly brutish looking creatures. They appeared human except for a pair of horns that sprouted above their ears and curled above their heads. They faced away from him confirming that he wasn't their quarry but curiosity bode him to stay and find out who it was they were after. Another breeze wafted towards him and he picked up a new scent of crushed pine needles. Looking down the road he heard a familiar clatter of hooves and spotted three horse mounted figures. Elves. His dragon soul bristled in fury.
Observing the three elves they were unlike any type of elf he had seen before back in Tamriel. Their forms were as lithe as any bosmer and yet their movements bespoke the grace of an altmer. Two of them seemed to be guarding an elf maiden who held an air of nobility and authority. She clutched a pouch on her lap like a new-born and he found himself wondering what it was that she was holding onto so dearly.
He pondered as to whether or not he ought to get involved. Even though his dragon soul still hated their kind, three elves hardly seemed worth the effort especially since they seemed to be riding headlong into a well laid ambush. Helping them was out of the question he wasn't quite ready to start forgiving just yet. His mind flashed with an image of the elf child dying in his arms and he sighed. He was aware that it was the Thalmor who had wronged him not the whole of elven kind and he was aware that his view on the species was tainted but whenever he looked upon their angular features, slanted eyes and pointed ears he was always reminded of the arrogant and mocking visages of the Thalmor justicars that jeered at him in the streets of Solitude when he saw the strung up remains of Lucia and Sofie.
The wind changed direction and blew in the direction of the elves along with the stench of the horned creatures that the horses picked up on. As the equines halted in alarm the ambushers let loose a volley of arrows that veered precisely towards the leader's companions slaying them instantly, it seemed they wanted to take the leader and likely what she was carrying intact. The elf maiden cried out in dismay at the deaths of her companions and darted off into the woods in the direction where he was hiding. That was when he saw her clearly with emerald eyes and ebony hair. She just had to look like the child. He thought irately, cursing the twisted entity known as fate and its deranged workings. Now he had no choice but to help her as his conscience had once again overruled his soul. As he prepared to cover the elf's retreat a beam of ruddy light speared through the air and striking the horse down sending the elf maid sprawling. His eyes followed the spell's trajectory to the point of origin. A tall man with sickly pale skin, maroon hair and crimson eyes. He stared at this new figure who was oblivious to his presence. There was something unnatural about this person that felt simply wrong, that it did not belong in the world and should not exist at all. The Dragonborn felt something ominous radiate off the being as it strode forward with a cruel and sadistic arrogance that bespoke something that was wholly evil. Definitely should help the elf.
As she turned to flee a group of the horned creatures rushed at her their swords raised. This was when The Dragonborn made his presence known. The creature closest to the elf howled in agony as he melted the flesh off its back with an incinerate spell. The second creature barely had time to turn as he reduced its cranium to ash with a quick lightning bolt. He rushed the nearest creature and plunged his sword into its stomach, withdrawing drawing the blade and spinning for momentum he severed its neck sending its head a good two feet skywards. Ducking underneath the blade of another one he swiped low at the creature's feet sending it down he raised Dovahstrum in a reversed grip and brought the point down through the creature's chest pinning it to the ground. He then elbowed another one in the stomach brutally when it tried to get behind him driving it to its knees. Leaving Dovahstrum in the corpse of the previous one he seized onto the creatures horn with his left hand tilting its head back he slammed his fist into the creature's throat the sharp scales making for excellent weapon in unarmed combat as he utterly pulverised its neck.
With no immediate threats he recovered his sword and regarded his handiwork. Be it through mundane or arcane means it was no mistake that he was considered one of the deadliest individuals to walk the face of Tamriel and one of the things he was feared for was the carnage he left in his wake. For all his skill he left truly messy kills, he chuckled darkly and waded through his latest tapestry of gore towards the rather bewildered looking elf maid who regarded him wearily with her leaf shaped sword in hand. "Do you require assistance fahliil?" She flinched at the venom he put behind the Dovahzhul word for elf, in truth he would have trouble putting more venom into the word child-molester. The newly dubbed fahliil remained put.
"If you have a safe place in mind I suggest we move fahliil." He said with less venom, rather annoyance. This was not the time be stubborn. "Now!"
Seeming to have got the message across The Dragonborn and fahliil began to sprint north east at full pace. Gods she's fast. Indeed fahliil seemed to be running faster than what most people could achieve on horseback. Despite matching her speed with ease The Dragonborn was silently hoping that the rest of her kind did not possess the same incredible physical abilities. The two skidded to a halt as the path before them erupted into flames. Turning around he came to face the maroon haired man who carried a long thin sword with a single scratch running the length of the blade.
"Hand her over," he spoke confident in what he expected to be an easy victory. The Dragonborn did not doubt that this man would be a formidable opponent but he had no idea what the son of Akatosh was capable of. "You cannot stand before me."
The Dragonborn looked between the man and the fahliil unsure as to which one reminded him most of the Thalmor. "Innumerable people have said those exact words to me." He replied to the red eyed man "I have broken them all."
The red eyed man raised his hand and uttered something in a language that sounded vaguely familiar. He braced himself for the impact of a spell. Just as the ruddy light appeared it vanished. The air around The Dragonborn seemed to shimmer and distort and he felt a surge of magicka course through his body, once again he was glad that he studied alteration. He rushed at the red eyed man. Their swords clashing together with an almighty clang. As they pushed against one another hoping to shove the other off balance The Dragonborn was impressed with the man's strength though he was hardly alarmed, nothing short of a dragon could knock him on his arse in combat. Swiftly he withdrew his sword and swung the man again who parried the strike. Again and again he repeated the process holding both hands near the base of the hilt for speed and precision his body was a blur of movement as he relentlessly drove his opponent back. The man having realised that he'd underestimated The Dragonborn called on his horned allies for aid.
The Dragonborn was vaguely aware of fahliil as she darted around him cutting down the horned ones with contemptuous ease. Unfortunately he was surrounded on all sides and fahliil could only do so much to keep them off him. One of the horned creatures made it past his companion and he impaled it but the creature held onto the crossguard with a death grip, he could not bring his sword to bear as the red eyed man struck back. Knocking the man's sword aside with his wrist he brought his fist across the man's jaw in a savage right hook. He pried his sword from the dead creature and raised in time to meet the red eyed man's blade and they locked blades once more. He elbowed the man in jaw staggering him then he proceeded to backhand the same place sending him reeling. The Dragonborn finished off by performing an Akaviri style snap kick to the exact same place sending the man sprawling from his pulped jaw.
The Dragonborn was about to move in for the kill but then the fahliil raised her hand and began chanting in the oddly familiar language. Held in her hand was a sapphire coloured stone that sent his dragon soul singing. His eyes widened at the sight of another dragon egg. Out of nowhere the red eyed man brought his sword slashing across his unarmoured side. He gritted his teeth in agony and cursed the elf for distracting him.
A blinding flash of emerald light engulfed the egg and he all of a sudden felt the ground give way beneath him. Carefully he picked himself wincing as he clutched his wounded side. He made out the prone form of fahliil seemingly unconscious. The red eyed man stood between him and the elf with a mask of pure rage as for the dragon egg there was no sign, he realised that the elf must have cast some form of transportation spell. Holding his side that was bleeding profusely he wouldn't have time to cast a healing spell before the man was upon him leaving him in no state to stand up to him and thus rescue the elf. This left him with only one other option.
"Unslaad krosis, fahliil." He turned away and mustered his thu'um.
"Wuld Nah Kest."
The Dragonborn sped off into the night leaving the red eyed man to vent his fury on the horned creatures and the surrounding countryside. Flames billowed around him as The Dragonborn ran. The red eyed man seemed intent on burning the entire forest. Coming across the clearing he first landed in he darted straight to the pool a healing spell in one hand and a waterbreathing spell in the other. He dived headlong into the water and waited for the magic fuelled firestorm to run its course.
When The Dragonborn resurfaced it was already late morn and the light of the sun was obscured by clouds of ash. The once quiet forest had been reduced to a sea of ash and cinders in a never ending expanse of grey. He cautiously picked his way through the barren wasteland reminded of his wondering of the southern ash wastes of Solstheim. He have expected an ash hopper or burnt spriggan to appear from the ground. He came across the blackened husks of the horned creatures their scorched features almost unrecognisable. Looking around he saw no sign of the red eyed man or fahliil. Most likely he had taken her prisoner as she was probably the only one who knew the location of the sapphire dragon egg.
Making his way to the road he found her fallen steed remarkably untouched by the flames. Searching through the saddlebags he found a coin purse that jingled with a satisfying weight. Further rifling through her belongings he found some dried fruits and nuts, a bed roll, some camping equipment and a single glass orb containing a blossom of black morning glory. He wondered at the significance of the flower before placing it into the elf's woollen travel pack, figuring that she longer had need of it. Eating some of the dried fruit in order to alleviate his empty stomach he savoured the sweet taste after having spent so long living off blood alone. He walked up to the remains of the fallen elves also unmarred by the red eyed man's forest fire.
Examining the nearest of the two he took interest the bow made of a type of wood he had not seen before and a silvered leaf shaped sword that appeared too thin to be practical. Looking through bags he picked up some more money, some more fruits and nuts and a map of this alien land, something that he would no doubt need there was also a beautifully ornate six string lute and flute. On the second elf was an elegant spear and dagger, an exquisitely wrought helm of amber, yet more dried fruit and nuts, another weighty coin purse and a glass orb containing a single blossom of black morning glory identical to fahliil's. Once again he contemplated the meaning behind the flowers wondering if the two elves had been close friends, family or lovers. It would certainly explain why fahliil was so distraught seeing her companions cut down. Digging further into the saddlebags he found a folded note. Opening the note he realised with a start that the language was not all too dissimilar to Elfonhex, the language spoken by the aedra and the daedra. Looking over the glyphs noting a few differences as if Elfonhex had altered over time, as most languages did.
Fäolin-…
I am aware that you and my daughter Arya have … and though she and I are no longer on good terms it would ease my heart if you were to … her foolish endeavour as she carries out her duties as … for our people. Should prove … I shall consider approving a … between you and Arya.
Queen Islanzadi.
May the stars watch over you.
It seemed he had been in the presence of elven royalty. He placed the items into his travel pack but left the weapons on the bodies. They would hinder his travels and it was unbefitting one who fell in combat to lose their weapons living or no. If he needed any other weapons apart from Dovahstrum he would simply conjure them.
He opened the parchment map and frowned as he stared at the unfamiliar landscape. Thankfully one of the elves had seen fit to draw a dotted line marking their route, going from a place called Ellesméra in the vast forested region called Du Waldenvarden to a place called Farthen Dur in the south-eastern Beor Mountains. If he was looking at the map correctly the mountain range he could see towards the west was the Spine. Therefore the nearest inhabited region was Palancar Valley.
Turning back to the elves he muttered a quick prayer to Arkay and bathed the two in flames giving them a warrior's funeral. Turning westwards he began to make his way towards the Spine.
The air was cold as night fell when The Dragonborn set up camp, but he was a nord and was used to far worse not to mention that there were still lingering elements of his vampiric and lycathropic attributes including his resilience to the cold as well as a resistance to disease and poison if his unusually healthy body was anything to go by. He withdrew the black dragon egg and took a moment to admire its polished surface. He recalled how fahliil, Arya according to Fäolin's note, had fought hard to protect the sapphire dragon egg as well as the rage of the red eyed man when she had cast the transportation spell. Putting the egg down by his side he set down his bed roll and turned in for the night.
The Dragonborn awoke some ours later with a start and if he was to guess he would say it was roughly midnight. Straining his ears he was able to make out a faint squeaking noise. At first he thought it was just a wild animal but dismissed the thought quickly. He could still smell the burnt out forest despite having cleared it some time ago. The animals would have fled far and wide to escape the flames. He tried to pinpoint the sound as it steadily got louder. He brought his attention to the dragon egg that was rocking about and shaking violently.
With a sound like splintering stone out popped the dragon sending shards of broken shell in every direction. The first thing he noted was a pair of front legs. As if they weren't dangerous enough already. Though he doubted that this dragon was too dangerous. The words "cute" and "scaly" seldom met in the same sentence. He would especially not think to attribute the "cute" to a dragon. The hatchling peered its head in his direction its golden regarding him curiously. He noted that the hatchling's black scaled had a very pale blue tinge like ice. Then the spaces between the scales seemed to glow red like embers, reminding him of heartstone. He gasped as he realised that the colours of the new born dragon were identical to Dovahstrum.
At that moment he had no idea what possessed him to reach out and touch the dragon with his right hand. The moment his palm made contact with the little dovah's snout a sensation rushed through him that he would never forget. Icy rivers of fire coursed through his veins and his dragon soul sung with such mind numbing passion it was almost deafening. Dovahkiin. Dovah Zoriik. Dovakiin. Dovah Zoriik.
Dragonborn.
Dragon Rider.
The words resonated through his soul as he blacked out.