Ideas for Dragon Age II/Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim crossovers… Let's see if any take.
The second of three redo/reworkings for unused ideas before I pick one and start writing it over on Achieve of Our Own.
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Partial redoing of my earlier DA/Skyrim crossover idea. Just more polished really.
XX Whiterun Hold XX
Across the open plains of Whiterun Hold a pair of figures moved. The pair, who had left from the Hold's capital several hours ago, where making good time towards their destination. The leader was Farkas of Jorrvaskr, champion of The Companions and member of the Inner Circle, clad in the heavy steel plate he tended to favour over the more common Wolf Armour of the Companions was setting the pace.
"Come on, keep up pup." Farkas yelled back at his travelling companion.
"Don't worry about me, old man." Drangeir called as he cleared a stream in a bound, the young Eastmarcher's eligibility for membership of the Companions was to be tested by Farkas – who seemed to be stuck with the job more and more these days.
While he waited for his young charge to catch up Farkas surveyed the land. They were still some distance from Dustman's Carin and the sun was still somewhat high in the sky, which suited Farkas as he wanted to reach the tomb at sunset… Let the twilight cover their approach and hide them from any sentries.
Bandits had taken the tomb as a base of operations, raiding townships and caravans throughout the region and Jarl Balgruuf wished for Jorrvaskr to deal with them… The price negotiable once the exact number of bandits was known. It would be a pretty simple job, Farkas had killed countless brigands in the past and Drangeir had proved himself an accomplished axeman before journeying to Jorrvaskr.
Hunkering down against an outcropping of rock Farkas pulled some bread and horker loaf from a small bag hanging from his belt. Drangeir dropped down beside him and pulled some seared slaughterfish out of his own hip bag. A half empty bottle of Alto Wine soon emerged and was offered.
With a grunt of thanks Farkas exchanged a chunk of bread for a large gulp of wine. Waiting and resting, the pair sat in a comfortable silence for some time as they awaited sunset and the cover of twilight's glare.
Sometime later, as the sun set, Farkas and Drangeir moved towards the small hill that marked the entrance to Dustman's Cairn. The sound of steel scrapping against steel rang out as Farkas drew his greatsword.
Up ahead, standing atop the hill, stood a man. It was hard to make out his features, distance and the twilight glare obscuring the finer points of his form, but his arms were clear. Man had what looked to be a simple straight sword at his side and a shield slung over a shoulder… Weird thing was he also had a battleaxe ready, was leaning on it actually. Now most bandits barely knew how to swing one weapon so the fact this guy was carrying multiple weapons was odd.
"Sentry, lookout watching for victims on the roads." Drangeir offered as he drew is axe and readied his steel shield.
"seems to be looking that way." Farkas agreed. "If we loop around, we can take him from behind – kill him before he can alert any of the others."
"Alright, let's do this." And with that Drangeir was off, running low to the ground as he moved in to attack.
With a muttered curse to the gods Farkas gave chase, adjusting his sword so he was ready to bring it around and cleave the bandit lookout in two with his first attack. Any hope of killing the bandit in one strike vanished when Drangeir, young and full of battle lust, bellowed his war cry before attacking.
Fast as lightning the bandit shifted his grip on the battleaxe, pivoted in place and slammed the axe into a hastily raised shield. The blow didn't kill, but it stunned and knocked Drangeir off-balance. Increasing his pace, Farkas roared himself and swung his mighty greatsword.
The bandit looked up, seemed to freeze momentarily, and then ducked under the sword. A step forward and the bandit was within Farkas' defence. An upward flick and Farkas nearly lost his nose.
"Shit." Farkas spat as he saw his foe adjust, the axe's blade arcing down with the force of an orc-swung Warhammer and splitting the ground where Farkas had been standing. Drangeir, having recovered his footing, roared again and moved to attack from behind. Their opponent, Farkas wasn't thinking of him as a bandit anymore – far too skilled - reacted by thrusting backwards and driving the pommel of his axe into Drangeir's gut. A quick flick and the pommel was up and slamming into Drangeir's jaw.
"Son of a horker!" Farkas spat as me re-engaged, trying to draw their foe's aggro away from the younger man. Rushing up Farkas feinted high before swinging low, catching their foe a glancing blow that failed to pierce his armour but got a grunt of pain and a hearty chuckle.
"Not bad Brother, the Whelp needs more training though." The man laughed as he planted his axe, pommel first, into the earth and leaned on it.
"… Ysmir!?" Farkas gasped as he looked closer in the fading lights of the evening to see his friend and 'sort of leader'. The Bruma born Nord formally known as Jormun Loptsson was Dovahkiin – Dragonborn! – and had assumed the title of Harbinger over a year ago.
"Y-Ysmir." Drangeir grounded as he tried to sit up, the Harbinger's blow having driven all the air from his lungs. Eyes filled with fear, awe and hatred the potential Companion accepted Farkas' hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Drangeir was from Kynesgrove, his family had been loyal to their Jarl Ulfric… He'd lost friends and family in the fall of Windhelm.
To be this close to the man who'd taken Jarl Ulfric's head, to be in striking distance to the reason Skyrim still bent its knee to the Imperial City… Drangeir's thoughts must have shown on his face because Farkas gave a firm squeeze in warning.
"Well met, Lord Harbinger!" Drangeir called out, pushing suicidal thoughts from his mind, and stepping around Farkas. "Seems the stories of your prowess are true, you tossed us around like children, Hehehe."
"You're lucky I was swinging this old lump around, if I'd had my sword at the ready you'd be dead." Ysmir laughed as he waved the battleaxe, which up close Drangeir realised to by Wuuthrad itself, around lazily. "I've no idea how Farkas manages to swing that lump of iron around and actually hit anything… It's actually impressive!"
"Lump of Iron?! How dare you, this blade is some of the finest steel Eorlund has ever forged!" Farkas snapped as he sheathed his greatsword. "And you're the one who's lucky, if I'd been fighting seriously you'd be a dozen pieces all over this barrow."
Farkas' boast got a snort of amusement from Drangeir and a barking roar of laughter from Ysmir himself… Farkas himself managed to keep his face straight for maybe six seconds before he joined in the laughter. "So what has you out here anyway? Checking in on The Proving?"
"No." Ysmir said simply, resting Wuuthrad across his back and turning to stare out across the Plains of Whiterun. "Waiting on Legion support before I go in… You should take the Whelp back to Jorrvaskr, what's down there isn't fit for a Proving."
"WHAT!?" Drangeir roared stomping forward. "I may be young but I've earned my right to join The Companions! I've faced brigands and thieves by the score, I'm not afraid of a few restless dead! "
"Brigands, thieves… Draugr… Oh if only that was what we'd face." Ysmir growled, the sound rumbling up from deep within his chest. The light had faded completely now, both Drangeir and Farkas relying on their night-eyes to see him, but Ysmir's eyes stood out in the darkness. What had once been icy blue now burned a deep gold, shinning and shimmering with raw power. Before them was not The Harbinger of the Companions, advisor and arbiter of Jorrvaskr. Nor was it a Commander of the Imperial Legion, Conqueror of Windhelm… No, this was Alduin's Bane! Volkihar's End! Solstheim's Saviour! Before them stood the Last Dragonborn, and he was afraid.
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Just a rough redo of content from chapter 5… Just adding extra detail and trying to get back into the swing of writing… Not a lot to say for this.
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Another Elder Scrolls/Dragon Age idea I had ages ago but never did anything with.
XX Temple Of Sacred Ashes, Frostback Mountains: Western Ferelden XX
Corypheus' servants, the Venatori mages, held the withered old woman on stasis as he prepared. Ignoring Divine Justinia V pleas and prattling Corypheus readied the Orb of Destruction – that which would allow him to return to the Black City and take his rightful place as the New God of Thedas – for the ritual.
"Now is the hour of our victory." Corypheus announced, an arrogant smirk twisting his already warped face into something truly revolting. As he reared the Divine Corypheus ordered his Venatori to keep her in place, lest the ritual to altered or fail.
Ignoring the Divine's cries for help Corypheus pressed the orb to her chest and began the process of draining her life-force to fuel it. As the orb pulsed and shuck, its dormant power resonating and awakening, the doors to the hall burst open and one of the fools from the little Conclave barged in demanding to know what was happening.
Corypheus and his Venatori paused momentarily, caught off-guard by the interruption, glaring at the interloper. In their moment of distraction Justina acted, with one last rush of strength she lashed out and knocked the Orb from Corypheus' hand.
Corypheus bit back a curse of rage as he saw the interloper crouch down and scoop up the Orb. With a snarl Corypheus rushed to retrieve the Orb before the fool ruined everything… Alas it was too late.
The Orb pulsed once, the eldritch aura around it flickered, and then everything went to shit. Eldritch power, best summarised as looking like 'lime green lightening' tore through the interlopers body and lanced upward – tearing through the roof and creating a pillar into the heavens. Corypheus was blown ass overhead, as were the mages. Justina was flung back, striking the wall with a loud thud, and lay unmoving on the floor.
"No… No, no, no!" Corypheus screamed as he rose and tried to get close enough to reclaim the orb, shielding himself from the arcs of power that leapt from the Orb with magic long forgotten by others. Reaching deep into the unseen magic that surrounded them Corypheus banished the interloper knocking the orb from their grasp.
The Orb hit the ground, bounced twice, and seemed to splutter – the eldritch energy and aura changing from light green to a deep violet… lightening became flames and the aura warped into a sickly miasma.
InTeReStInG!
The voice was a paradox; both loud and soft, near and far. Screamed all around them and whispered into Corypheus' mind. It came as the violet flames raced from the Orb skyward. Staring up through the great hole in the ceiling Corypheus watched as the Rift – a great green tear in the sky – was slowly 'infected' by the flames. The green energy seemed to fold in upon itself, attempting to trap whatever strange energy the interrupted ritual had unleashed, while ugly veins of purple strained against it.
So MuCh To SeE. The voice came again. WhAt WoNdErS AwAiT? WhAt SeCReTs To GlEaM?!
As the voice sounded again the rift ruptured, like a boil bursting , and for an instance the sky was illuminated by a violet sun before the Fade itself screamed and Corypheus collapsed.
XX Haven Chapel, Frostback Mountains: Western Ferelden – One Week Later XX
Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast – Right Hand To The Divine – and Leliana – Left Hand To The Divine – sat together reviewing the reports… Neither in good spirits.
One week ago the Divine Justina V had been murdered not an hours walk from where they sat and all of Thedas thrown into chaos. The 'Dark Sun' burned high above the Frostback Mountains, a constant reminder of the failing of the Conclave… Templars gone, having accused the Mages of the murder. The Mages fled, refuting the claims with accusations of Templars killing her in an attempt to seal Mages off from the Fade.
Only a handful of either remained to try and help fix the problem… A problem growing worse if the reports were true.
Blackened Rings suspended high in the sky, thick black chains anchoring them to the earth, guarded by armoured monsters had begun to form all across Thedas. The very ground around these rings growing corrupted and warped.
In other areas twisted arches of charred rock, seeming to house masses of twisted hellfire, had sprung up… Again the dark warriors, although with their armour marked by deep red streaks, poured out and slaughtered all they could. The few brave, or foolish enough, to pass through the gateway describing a molten hellscape dotted with black iron towers – of course this is only if the travellers return at all.
Other reports, not relating to these armoured fiends but just as worrying, concerned a rise in the number of werewolves roaming the lands and the reported sightings of other 'Werebeasts' raising panic. Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons had lost an entire company of troops, the few survivors having been savaged by claws and raving about 'bipedal lions', only to themselves become such beasts after several days of fever and rampage through their saviours. Dalish whispers, supplied by the Lavellan clan through the Keeper's Apprentice warned of 'Bear-Beasts' prowling the forests and savaging anything –game, hunter or traveller – for sport.
All was worrying, all was uncertain – no scholar, theologian, mage or educated man could explain what these things were or where they came from.
All The Hands of the Divine had to go on was the ramblings of a madwoman who'd wondered into Haven ranting about the Oblivion beyond the Fade and how "the Children of Padomay" hungered for dominion of our world.
All seemed lost; No Divine, the Templar/mage ceasefire broken, invasions of unknown demons and beastmen… No solid answers, no real leadership and the only person who might know what happened left in a coma so deep their best healers couldn't say for sure if it would ever end.
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So the idea here is, when the Inquisitor arrived and grabbed the Orb of Destruction it screwed up the Ritual even more than canon. The orb tearing through the Veil and actually bunching through the Fade itself and drawing the attention of the Deadra… I guess I'm making Thedas a realm within Aetherius and the Maker either an Aedra or one of the Magna Ge (one who followed Magnus away from Mundus and Nirn) who made its own little realm.
Core idea is take away the Breaches and Demons, swapping them out with the Dark Anchors of Molag Bol and Oblivion Gates of Mehrunes Dagon. Also adding in roving bands of Lycanthropes released by Hircane to hunt and kill (warbands broken down along racial/species lines) for trophies and the trill of it… Unseen but also there are the more subtle Deadra like Boethiah, Mephala, Clavicus Vile and Hermaeus Mora acting in the background whispering and manipulating mortals (both high ranking and commoner alike) based on their own desires and ideals.
If anyone wants to take one of these ideas, or any of the ideas from my Randoms, and run with it just give me a link to read it and a mention in the AN.
I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in spelling or grammar [I spell things the way they do in England and Ireland, so some things may look off to Americans]. Please leave your opinion via review or send them via PM, I'd like to know what you think. Well, I think that's everything I've gotta say so, hope you enjoyed the chapter.
This is Highvalour saying bye and thanks for reading.