Hi guys, I'm back with a second chapter for you. I was, quite honestly surprised that this story has read and so I decided to make another chapter. if you guys think I should keep going with this, or have any questions about it, let me know.

Also, I thought I should mention, the Dragonborn in this is a Breton, and focuses mainly on one Handed and Destruction magic.

And finally, I forgot to do this last time, so here goes. I'm only going to do it once for this story, (because really, how many times is it needed?)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you might read here, unfortunately, just the souls of everyone who reads this disclaimer.

Forever Fall forest

The Dragonborn woke slowly. He didn't want to get up, the ground was surprisingly soft and warm and- wait warm? It was never warm in Skyrim. His eyes shot open, but he didn't expect what he saw.

He was in a forest of some sort, surrounded by trees with the most curious red-coloured leaves on them. It reminded him of autumn back in high rock when he was a child. So, he must be back in his home country. But how did he get there? And why was he on the ground? Those questions weren't going to answer themselves.

Shifting into a sitting position, he felt something hard beneath his hand. He looked. It was his sword, Dawnbreaker. The deadric artefact glowed slightly, and its gentle warmth gave him some comfort. Standing up, he looked down at his body. The Dragonborn was wearing the armour of Ahzidal, the ancient Nord armour he had uncovered on the island of Solstheim. He spotted his satchel leaning against a nearby tree, with the Elder scroll poking out of the top of it. He scooped it up, reassured by its great weight. The bag had been enchanted to hold anything that is placed in it, but at the cost of having to have the physical strength to carry it all.

He spotted a path among the trees and started down in. If it lead to a town, then he could ask for directions about where he was. He had only got a few hundred meters when he heard something moving in the bushes nearby. His hand went to Dawnbreaker's hilt and his fingers tightened around it, before drawing the holy weapon.

"Hello? Who's there? Come out. I'm warning you, I'm armed." There was no reply. The Dragonborn started to lower his blade, when suddenly an enormous… thing burst out of the bushes. He gave a yelp and jumped back, simultaneously raising the weapon. He took a good look at his opponent, and was surprised. It was a werewolf, at least at first glance. At second glance, he noticed several bone spikes protruding from its shoulders and a white bone mask on its face.

"Whoa brother," the Dragonborn cried. "I too carry the beast blood. You would attack your fellow?" The werewolf before him either didn't care, or was so lost in the blood that it didn't recognize speech. It howled before leaping forward, arms outstretched. The Dovahkiin's sword swung and the werewolf hit the ground, headless.

More howls sounded from the forest and an entire pack of the… things surrounded him. He raised his sword and dropped into a combat stance. One made the bad decision of attacking him and paid in blood. The others lunged at him, but all meet the same fate. The bushes moved again and an enormous bear creature leapt out of the bushes. Acting on instinct, he shouted the first thing that came to mind. "RII…VAAZ ZOL!" A wave of soul-tearing power swept over it and… did absolutely nothing. The creature didn't even flinch. It roared and lopped forward. The Dragonborn, desperate cried out "YOL!" A burst of fire shot out of his mouth and engulfed the beast, the all-consuming flames making short work of his adversary.

The Dragonborn lowered his weapon and looked at the carnage he had caused. A giant scorch-mark lay on the ground, a tree had been cut down in his violent flurry, and of course, the corpses that littered the clearing. But wait, something was wrong. The corpses. They were, evaporating? What. As he bent over to investigate further, he almost missed the creature that had come up behind him. He spun around but was too slow to react.

But someone else wasn't. A loud BANG resounded through the clearing and the monster fell dead. Standing behind the bear was a man with grey hair. He was wearing some sort of black outfit, with a sash of green cloth around his neck. He lowered some sort of cane and placed it on the ground, leaning on it. "Well. That was impressive. Not many would dare travel through such Grimm infested woods alone. Might I ask who you are to travel with such confidence in such a dangerous place?"

The dragon born scowled "I am Finn Redbreath, the Dragonborn." He paused. "Who in the name of the Nine Divines are you?"

The old man smiled. "I am professor Ozpin of Beacon Academy. And I have a proposition for you."