Hello! This will be my first posting on , I've had the thought of this story bouncing around for a while, so I've put together the first chapter. I'm fairly satisfied with it, but if anyone wants to do me a favour and critique it, I'd deeply appreciate it.
Chapter 1: Adrift
Landon looked up from his bags as the clatter of metal on stone and a startled yelp reached his ears from up the hill. A quick glance found the cause, as M'rissi twisted around a guard who had opened the door from Understone Keep, almost catching her with the swinging metal. A few words passed between them before she darted down the stairs towards Landon, holding up a clattering satchel. "She is back! These potions are not heavy at all for her. You were right to send her." She came to an easy halt next to him, her armour like a mirror of his own, if a bit lighter; and replacing the dragons that adorned his, with sabre cats. The dragonforged steel plates were light enough to leave her natural swiftness almost unimpeded, and hardy enough to protect her from whatever blades she rushed into.
A glance in the other direction showed that Carerane had finished at the marketplace, the elf stood out from the crowd, standing near a foot taller than most of the nords and reachmen around her, with the thick cloak she wore over her armour making her stand out even more. Her lips lifted into a slight smile as she caught his eye, and she tapped a small scroll case on her hip. The nords around her split slightly to allow her passage through, though not without the occasional glare or muttered curse at the altmer in their midst. Ignoring them, she quickly made her way to meet with her companions, "From what I can discern, the scroll should work as Calcelmo told us, point to point teleportation, through a dwemer edifice. I've noted down the details to send to the college at a later date, but for now, I believe I am ready to cast, if you are both ready."
At her words, several of the nearby nords took a few hasty steps back from the group; even as M'rissi's ears flattened to the top of her head, "Mreow! Why do we have to practice this witchcraft, she would much like to walk!" Her dramatic arm waving sent several passersby dodging out of the way with muttered curses and exclamations. Landon quickly raised a hand to placate her, "M'ri, it's only a one time thing, just to get us back to Solitude, it's pulling double duty, remember? Back to Solitude for the Burning, and testing the magic for Calcelmo and the College. They're paying us, remember? Fifteen hundred septims, just to test a spell." M'rissi calmed down quickly at the mention of septims, before waving an arm at Cae, "She thinks we should go then, back to Solitude, where Kasia can make us all the nice fishies."
Cae gave her a slight nod, opening the scroll case and removing a long piece of shimmering brass, thin as paper, and nearly as flexible. The last few stragglers around them beat a hasty retreat and several guards began to head in their direction as Cae lifted up the scroll with one hand, and began to recite the ancient dwemer words engraved on it; gesturing towards Landon and M'rissi with her free hand, bathing them in white light. The glow intensified, blotting out their sight of each other as the incantation reached its conclusion.
A sliver of blackness appeared in the uniform glow, spreading through the sphere of light like the roots of a rotten oak, swallowing up the pristine light, bit by bit, before the entire sphere broke apart, revealing blood-slick stone and cracked cobblestones, littered with the rotten corpses of man and mer alike. Cold, dank mist flowed around the three of them, obscuring any view of the sky, as Cae dropped to her knees, gasping from the magical backlash. Landon knelt beside her, while M'rissi ripped her bow from her back, nocking an arrow as she spun around the desolate courtyard, finding nothing but scattered bodies and viscera.
The deathly quiet of the plaza was broken only by the slow drip of mist and blood, and the laboured panting of Cae as she caught her breath, pushing herself back to her feet. M'rissi's silent patrol around her two friends slowed as they all began to take stock of their surroundings, "Cae, where did that scroll send us?" Landon spoke quietly, resting his hand on the handle of his blade, rubbing his thumb against the carved dragonbone that held the pommel stone. Her response was to shiver, before turning to look down the courtyard with her mouth ajar, "I… don't know… Not on Nirn, the magic is all wrong… It's so… strong, but… it's cold, like the touch of a corpse. We need to leave, we shouldn't be here." Landon gave the magic-user another look, her skin had turned pallid, but small sparks arced between her fingers as the magic around them vented itself through her.
"She thinks she sees a gate!" M'rissi called out abruptly, pointing towards a darker portion of the mists; the group sprang into movement, Landon taking the lead while M'rissi took up the rear, weapons drawn and ready for any surprises.
"You should not have been so incautious as to use suchs magics so close to my shrine; ah, but the foolishness of mortals is an ever-present constant, even in the realms of Oblivion." The gate that M'rissi had seen appeared through the mists, sealed with a portcullis, but standing before it was an immense horned figure, a long scaled tail lashing behind him, even as he slowly stepped forwards, two crocodilian creatures taking up positions behind him, even as his own maw twisted into a wide smile as he looked down on the three companions, "You have trespassed upon the realm of Molag Bal, I have been expecting you, Dragonborn, and your servants, Once-Bound, and Once-Broken."
Landon paused for only a moment, "Joor Vah-" The third word died in his throat as green light sprang up around him, a weight of magic slamming down on him like a lead blanket, slowing his movements to a halt, even as his eyes flicked back and forth. He was not alone in acting though, as an arrow sang over his shoulder, swiftly followed by a blast of lightning, but both froze before they could reach their targets; and the stifled gasps from behind him told him that Cae and M'rissi had suffered the same fate as he had.
"A fair response, I suppose, to try and go down fighting, rather than kneeling before your Lord, but, of course, such transgressions cannot go unpunished." With a careless flick of his wrist, the arrow and lightning reversed course, passing back over Landon's head to be met with stifled grunts. A low laugh echoed across the courtyard, "Oh, such fear, you mortals are such fun to torment, I would so enjoy teasing that fear out, piece by piece, until you are nothing but more Soulshriven servants for my realm."
The bestial prince strode forwards, his two daedroth servants keeping their position by the gates as he leaned down to inspect Landon, "The Last Dragonborn, servant of Kyne, a one-time pet of Hircine, a warrior who fights for the empire that once tried to take his head. You even sent a great many of my servants back to me, when they grew too ambitious on Nirn; how is Serana, by the way? Does she speak of me?" The wide furred lips split into a vicious grin, as a forked tongue flickers over his jagged fangs, "I remember her well… such a sweet little thing." Molag Bal leaned up, stepping past Landon and out of sight, though his voice still carried well, "The Once-Broken, oh what joy it gave me to watch what was done to you, it warms this cold heart to see some mortals who understand the delicate art of inflicting pain, all types of pain, not just the physical, like so many crass fools do. I have to thank you for sending such an expert to me, your Isael has even managed to teach my Xivkyn a few things about the intricacies of mental anguish…" A quiet hiss of breath came from behind him, "So offended by my touch? What about your friend, the Once-Bound. Yes… I know of you as well; the bird in the gilded cage, your father spoke against the Thalmor, so you disappeared into the highest room of the tallest tower… Oh… And then when your father passed away, what was to be done with you… Shipped away on a boat to the frozen north, where better to store a prisoner than in a land where all of its people hated the very fact that you existed? Oh, the gentle touches of Hraggstad's jailors and their whips must have been great comfort after your long time alone in that tower, mustn't it?"
Landon's eyes widened slightly as he began to feel a tingling in the tips of his fingers, and with a concerted effort, he felt them begin to twitch and move, even as Molag retreated back towards his servants, looking over the group with a calculating eye. "But… I think I have better uses for you than simple fodder for the chambers… A land, far distant, where Boethiah spins her plots and schemes; fostering treachery and spite; but… I think, with the right push, the right bodies in the right places… All her conspiracy and deceit could come tumbling down, and bring order down with it, chaos could reign, and it would be either dominate, or be dominated… Yes… I think the three of you would serve well."
The tingling spread across Landon's face, as his other extremities began to loosen from the magic, "We… would never serve you." The stilted voices of his fellows called out their agreement, even as Molag's face widened into a grin once more, "I never said I needed you… I just need the right bodies… Whether you wish it or not, all flesh eventually dances for the Father of Coldharbour. Now, begone with you, let the ice take you all."
The Prince extended his hand, and a dark, pulsing light appeared around the three of them, each pulse consuming more of their sight, and shooting bolts of pain through their stiffened limbs as they desperately fought to break free of their paralysis.
The pain grew stronger and stronger, the agonised spasms trying to force the air from their stilled lungs, even as the darkness fully eclipsed what little light existed in that realm. A sharp, piercing voice broke through the pain like a blaze of light, "You have overplayed your hand, Stone-Fire, or did you think I was not watching? Champions! Look to my radiance for salvation!" A furious roar tore through the air, loud enough that even the cries of the dragons were little more than mewling babes in comparison; and then there was silence.
Light came back without warning, a dim glow, revealing ice and rough stone; sound returned as well, the howling wind of a blizzard and the crunching of snow underfoot as Landon staggered slightly, his head snapping back and forth as he took in the new terrain around him.
They had appeared in a dim icy cave, already he could feel the chill of it seeping into his bones; behind him, M'rissi groaned in pain as she tugged on an arrow, sunk deep into her shoulder, Landon turned to aid her, even as Cae ran her hands over her own wounds, glowing golden light spreading over the raw burns that must lay under her gloves as she clutched her hands. As Landon turned though, he immediately raised his sword again, stepping past M'rissi to bark an order, "Drop your blade, now!"
A man clad in all black stood behind them all, a steel blade in one hand, while the other was clasped to his side, blood leaking between his fingers to freeze on the snow beneath. Behind him stood a plinth of marble, and upon that, an immense statue of a robed and winged woman, holding her hands over her head as if in praise. At Landon's words, the sword slipped from the man's fingers, and he turned his grey eyes towards Landon, looking between the man before him and the statue he stood before; before lifting his free hand to push back his hood, releasing ragged black hair, knotted and matted with filth. "By the old gods and the new ones…" The man staggered a step forwards, and Landon tightened his grip on his own blade, but a second step pitched the man towards the ground, groaning as he clutched his gut. Landon stepped forwards quickly, pressing a foot down on the man's discarded blade, before leveling his own at the man's throat. "Name yourself." He demanded, with a quick glance towards his companions; Cae had finished with her own wounds, and was quickly restoring M'rissi to fighting fitness. The black-clad man grinned up at him with bloody teeth, "Stark. Benjen Stark."