The Elf and the Dragon

by NIallR

A retelling of the events of Skyrim in the format of a journal. Tirisi Tilvur is a dunmer, who became famous in the Empire as the Champion of Cyrodiil. Two Hundred years later, he's a bitter vampire who lives for fighting and travelling; captured on his way into Skyrim and embroiled in the return of the dragons. Come along for his story, through the MQ, Dawnguard and Dragonborn!

6. Chapter 6

Fifth Sun's Dusk, Two Hundredth and First Year of the Fourth Era

I cleared out the vampires from the cave, and was recompensed, alas, nothing particularly interested happened for the rest of the day.

Seventeenth Sun's Dusk, Two Hundredth and First Year of the Fourth Era

It has been some time since I last wrote in this journal, though that has had more to do with the lack of anything truly interesting happening. While I am content in Rorikstead, there is little in my days that would suitably fill these pages. Today, however, that changed. I visited Whiterun, as I do often, and was greeted by another bandit raid. While bandit raids are not unheard, of, this one was on a totally different level. There was a minimum of a hundred bandits, all of which were capable warriors.

Despite the scale of the incursion, the city guard and I managed to defeat them, though there was considerable damage to the city. I confess that I had not realized that something was wrong until I had initially passed by the city. In truth the sight was something that would, not be out of place if the Stormcloaks had decided to attack the city.

I am now home at Rorikstead.

Twenty Fifth Sun's Dusk, Two Hundredth and First Year of the Fourth Era

Today, I fear, I have felt the first signs of age. I was deep under Skyrim, in the vast cavern fashioned by the Dwemer that I had described in this journal, as I was searching for the Elder Scroll. I confess that I'm unsure if I had mentioned the manner of mer that inhabit the seemingly abandoned deep dwemeri cities. I believe them to have once been the snow elves of myth, now twisted and deformed into beings unlike any I've seen in Tamriel. It was at their hands that I began to feel that my strength was failing, though I must explain an event which occurred prior to that fight first.

I was attacked by a dremora. At least, it wore the armour of a dremora, though it was half again my size, and wielded a mace that should have torn its arm from its socket when swung. It was a small mercy then, that the beast was slow enough for me to fell it before it could crush me. Upon its death, I took the club and found it to be lighter that my sword though it was much longer. It was that mace that I turned to when I had been all but defeated by the snow-elves; they had taken my sword and dagger from me, and my shield arm was too feeble to either bear my shield or grasp my claymore. So I clamoured for the mace, and swung wildly at the nearest elf. Though they appear blind, it seemed to know well enough the size of the weapon and though it dodged the first strike, it did not try to attack me again. My second strike connected, and though it was weaker than the first, the creature was sent flying back as though the mace were a ballista. That demonstration of power both strengthened my resolve, and by extension, my limbs, and seemed to terrify the elves. Most fled, though two more remained. The first was easily dispatched, as his comrade had been; a single strike was enough, though the second survived the blow, and the flight that came with it. It took a second, downward strike to bury its head into the bedrock, leaving no more than a bloodied neck in a small crater.

It was then that I was overwhelmed with the desire to feed. I had found myself in the wilderness because of starvation, and in this cavern to flee the sun. The sight of the blood on the rock was the straw that broke the mule's back, and I fed. Blood from corpses is never pleasant to drink, though that was one of the best feeds I'd ever had, it filled me with strength enough the find the beasts that had taken my sword and dagger, and crush them, and then to leave the cavern.

Whether I was overcome by this weakness because of my hunger, or because my arm has not yet healed, I do not know, though I will certainly attempt to feed more often from now.

Twenty Sixth Sun's Dusk, Two Hundredth and First Year of the Fourth Era

This mace is dangerous. I know not what god it is associated with, though I feel it is not of the Imperial pantheon. I have decided to avoid using it, but despite that decision, I've found myself turning to it rather than my bastard sword in fights. It is an artifact of immeasurable power, and should be destroyed or buried in a way which befits that danger; but it an artifact nonetheless, and one unlike any I've ever seen before. I confess that I'm finding it difficult to persuade myself to part with it.

As I progressed toward Whiterun, I was beset upon by a pair of dragons. These days dragons are no rare sight, but they are mostly solitary creatures, and to see two working together is worrying. I fled, and was pursued, to the northern watchtower, where the guards and I attempted to fend the beasts off. In desperation, I called upon Odahviin, the dragon I had enlisted in my campaign against Alduin, who came and rendered his assistance, which proved enough to fend the beasts off, though I had a hard time persuading to guards to stay and fight at the appearance of a third dragon. I cannot blame them for fearing it.

Twenty Eight Sun's Dusk, Two Hundredth and First Year of the Fourth Era

It would appear that my anti-Thalmor actions have not gone unnoticed. I was beset upon by a group of five justiciars in the forests north-east of Rorikstead. The battle was easy enough, due to the dense foliage, and I found an execution order on one of the bodies. Fortunately, they do not have the permission of the local governance to kill me, and so I should be safe in cities and those towns with a reasonable guard contingent.

Twenty Ninth Sun's Dusk, Two Hundredth and First Year of the Fourth Era

Dawnstar is gone. While there, a miner saw through my guise of humanity for a moment, and started screaming that I was a vampire. The townspeople attacked, and I was forced to defend myself. Numerous as they were, few were armoured, and most were on the verge of starving.

My vampirism is becoming a problem; I'm considering taking shelter from the one faction I've known to harbour vampires; the Dark Brotherhood. I've already heard rumours of a child in Windhelm performing the Black Sacrament; that would be a sensible place to start, though before I even consider strolling into that city; I need to acquire an Eastmarch guard's uniform.

Thirtieth Sun's Dusk, Two Hundredth and First Year of the Fourth Era

I acquired the uniform from a guard who was posted on the bridge which leads from the city, and with it, I made my way into the city and found the child that I was seeking. He mistook me for an agent of the Brotherhood, which is understandable; and I offered to carry out his contract for him, that being an old woman who ran the orphanage he had lived at. The orphanage in question is in Riften, and the contract should pose no difficulty.

Second Evening Star, Two hundredth and First year of the Fourth Era

The old woman is dead, all that remains to do to return to Windhelm and tell the boy that the contract has been completed. As for what will happen then, I do not know, perhaps the Brotherhood will have noticed my actions and will offer to take me in. If, as I suspect, they no longer have a way of detecting murders, or the Black Sacrament, then it is entirely possible that they will simply not hear of it.

Seventh Evening Star, Two hundredth and First year of the Fourth Era

While leaving Riften, I heard rumours of a vampire hunting cult known as the Dawnguard based nearby. I decided to investigate, and have made my way into the organisation. No real trickery on my part was required, so perhaps they know that I am a vampire and simply have yet to act upon that knowledge. Nonetheless, I have been told to search an old ruin, Dimhollow, with a vigilant of Stendarr. Such a task seems to be trivial, though I'll begin my travel there in the morning.

Interestingly, the leader of the Dawnguard told me to avoid sleep, upon inspection of their castle, it appears they do not have any sleeping quarters; it will be interesting to see if they truly do not sleep, and if they do not, how they do not.

Eighth Evening Star, Two hundredth and First year of the Fourth Era

Much has transpired in the past day. I left Fort Dawnguard for Dimhollow and once there, I found that the vigilant sent ahead of me had been murdered by some resident vampires. They attacked me on sight, and I was forced to fight through them until I reached a subterranean lake with a small, artificial island in the centre.

Some playing around with pedestals caused a sarcophagus to rise from the centre, which contained a woman that appears young, but who can know how long she has been in that cave, and for that matter, how long she's been a vampire. She came to life when exposed to the air. She immediately recognized me for a vampire, and asked me to ferry her to her home to the northwest of Skyrim. Ordinarily I would have refused, but she had an elder scroll with her, which intrigued me. She also wished to know how long she had been asleep, and attempted to judge that time by asking who the current High King was. When I mentioned the empire to her, she had no idea what I was talking about, even to the point of being surprised that Cyrodiil was the seat of power. This means she is older than the Septim Dynasty, making her at least 500 years old, though (and I am no historian) I am sure there were other Cyrodiilic empires prior to Tiber Septim's, making her probably even older than that.

When we reached her home, a rather stately castle in the sea of ghosts, we were greeted by a hall filled with vampires eating the flesh of men and mer. She spoke of her father, a man named Harkon who then spoke to me and offered to make me a vampire in return for returning his daughter to him; naturally I told him I already was, and he said:

"You have contracted a disease, but you are no vampire, take me up on my offer and you will soon learn the difference."

I accepted and Harkon transformed into a beast unlike I have ever seen, almost like a bat, but with legs and arms. He then took my head and fed upon me, something that I acknowledge I haven't experienced before. When Vincente gave me the gift all those years ago, he did so as I slept. It was not a pleasant experience.

When I awoke, I found myself in a locked room with him, and he explained to me how I might utilize my newfound powers. That which he didn't explain would come with time, apparently.

He has given me a task, along with permission to use the human cattle he has for feeding stock, though he seemed to infer that I would no longer rely on feeding as much as I had.

He gave me the task of taking a chalice to a font in the Rift and filling it.