Reviewer responses:

Anastor: the date, as of this chapter, is 24 Sun's Dawn, 4E200, more than a year before Alduin's return at Helgen. Khepri is retired, but she's still going to have to get her hands dirty a little, before settling down and making damn good artisanal mead for the rest of her days. No more spoilers will be given - you'll have to wait like everyone else - and thanks for your review!

Chicwowwow: This isn't Taylor Hebert. That girl basically died in the Gold Morning. The person you're reading about is Khepri, who has some scattered memories of Taylor's life and just enough of her personality to not want to go home; she did what she set out to do, and got shot in the head for it. Khepri also finds Skyrim extremely fascinating - and everyone is so polite and easy on the eyes - so she's decided to put those scatter memories behind her and reinvent her life. She doesn't remember her mother, or much of Danny; she barely remembers the Undersiders or Winslow. What's a Protectorate? Khepri has all of Taylor's powers - minus the ASSUME DIRECT CONTROL thing - with none of her hangups. If she sees some fine man strutting around being a beefcake, she's going to not only look, she's going to fantasize, mainly because she remembers enjoying sex with someone; on top of that, her hormones are still those of an 18-year-old young woman.

tl;dr It's not OOC if there's reasons for it happening. Thanks for the review, and if you want more in-depth details on this story's development, please visit its thread on QQ! Have a nice day!

Zekses: It's not for everyone, but I did say things would get smutty. In fact, they will be downright lewd in future chapters, but those will probably be QQ exclusives. Thanks for the review!

Wowza, this got popular really fast! Thank you all for your support and feedback! Without further ado, let's continue the story~!

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Chapter 10:

Business and Investigations

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Standing on Khepri's porch, watching the sky change colors as the sun set, Farkas took a look and listen at the town of Dawnstar with his arms folded; the place looked deceptively peaceful, people laughing and going about their last duties for the day.

Amid the pleasing sights were guards patrolling with extra watchfulness, the sound of the smithy almost frantic with both smiths working, and the sight of the older, wiser folk whispering to each other out of the playing children's earshot, their eyes worried and tense.

The Companion understood their worries, having heard the reasons from the source. Frowning, the young man looked back on the day, one of many firsts.

The Chaurus were slaves to the Falmer, hated the waxy scamps for torturing them and killing their young. There was a type of Chaurus above the Hunter, one that allowed the Chaurus to communicate with their distant brethren – but only when they slept, according to Khepri.

Something was under Skyrim, controlling the Chaurus from a distance, ensuring they wouldn't rebel against the Falmer.

A grunt of discontent left Farkas, the young man glaring out into the Sea of Ghosts. The Houscarl, Bori, had taken eight men and women to check out the nearby ruin, to confirm Khepri's claim and, hopefully, rescue some of the Chaurus the Falmer were planning on bringing to the upper levels; according to the Jarl and Guard-Captain Banner-Torn, they'd be joined by a detachment of Vigilants.

Personally, Farkas found Khepri… well, on the one hand, she was a pleasant lass.

She was a fair lady with a kind smile and easy laugh. Not very subtle, though, if she thought Farkas didn't notice her looking him over with an almost hungry gleam in her eye. If he was being honest, the young Werewolf wondered what was in the young woman's head; Farkas was big enough to break her in half, yet she wasn't coming off as scared or worried. More… eager, if he was smelling things right.

And she was kind; honey in Dawnstar, helping bring warm water to the town proper, keeping the streets clean, teaching the children about Skyrim's animals and plants. Khepri was a boon to the Hold, no matter the grumbles of ice-brains. That she admitted planning on moving to warmer parts, later in the year… well, Farkas hoped with a smirk that she settled near Whiterun, help the Companions put the fear of the Nine into the bandits that kept raiding the supply line between his home and Morthal. When she wasn't putting Honningbrew out of business, that is.

But on the other hand… Khepri was fucking terrifying.

Oh sure, the mages could gush and wax poetic all they wanted; yes, her ability to manage four apiaries worth of Pale Honeybees was damn impressive, more so when she could control the Chaurus and Frostbites into being as docile as dogs in Riverwood. But Farkas was a warrior – a damn fine one if he did say so himself – and had been getting Khepri's measure as best he could; that she was a veteran of some foreign war was no secret. What's more, he believed the claim.

Because underneath the smiling, kind front she showed to the world, Khepri was definitely a veteran, a warrior through-and-through, who feared neither Falmer, bandit, pirate, or Daedra worshiper. Hells, she'd probably find fighting a Dremora or Draugr Deathlord a good training exercise, given what she could do.

Khepri revealed, over lunch – the woman could cook; that horker loaf was fit to make men cheat on their wives and betray their Holds, or he wasn't a Wolf – that not only did she not need line of sight to control every insect in her range – which she admitted changed every day, but usually encompassed Dawnstar and the surrounding crags…

Khepri could manage every single bee in the apiaries individually, while directing swarms of butterflies in the flowery fields south of the town, and both control and direct all of the twenty-plus Chaurus that treated the black-haired woman like she was a Jarl's princess or something.

Wasps, Pale Flies, centipedes, ticks, lice, mosquitos, hells, the woman could control mudcrab!

If she wanted to, Farkas mused with a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold, Khepri could siege and take any of the Hold capitals by sheer dint of devouring their food stores; and if that didn't work, she could bury whole guard companies under swarms of insects. Morthal, Falkreath, Riften and Whiterun wouldn't stand a chance against the woman. Which made Farkas wonder something else.

Who the hells had the Talos-sized balls to fight her?

She was a veteran, lost her arm in battle if the evidence was any judge. What in Ysgramor's name had she fought against, this mistress of swarms, who Farkas was sure could take on entire armies by herself?!

For a very brief moment, Farkas almost pitied the Falmer. Then he came to his senses; Khepri was dead-set on freeing the Chaurus, who she likened to the extinct Skyrim Guar. A fine and noble goal, worthy of legend if she could pull it off. Not that Skyrim's sons and daughters would stand by and let her go into some deep dark without an escort, no. That'd be dishonorable, standing by while the fair, foreign lass dealt with an enemy the Nords had fought for thousands of years.

For countless generations the Falmer had gnawed at Skyrim's roots; to not stand and fight against a threat to their way of life, when it was finally possible to exterminate them… well, it'd be shameful, it would.

Jarl Skald twigged to this, and sent out warnings to the other Jarls, along with a call to arms: the Falmer were preparing a push to the surface, to the end of killing Khepri, as she was a threat to the Falmer's underground empire; the little shits would likely kill and enslave anyone near her as well, which was no good for Dawnstar or the surrounding landscape.

To counter them, Skald advised the other Holds check and secure their ruins; meanwhile, a Muster of all the Holds willing to fight, and every organization capable of providing men-at-arms or specialists willing to dare the deep under Skyrim, was proposed by the ruler of the Pale; the deadline for the Muster was set on the 14th of First Seed, twenty days away. Any brave enough to answer were told to gather at the Dwarven ruin of Mzinchaleft, a few miles away from Dawnstar.

Farkas intended to be there, and he'd sent off a bird to the Harbinger to that effect, suggesting he check the Falmer den north of Whiterun, and to send a couple Shield-Brothers, preferably Vilkas and Skjor, who were better versed in Skyrim's history than he was.

If there was some word, on the cavern under Skyrim Khepri told Farkas and the elf mage about, the Companions would know of it; if not, then Faralda's letter to the Arch-Mage might result in some progress.

The click of the house's door shook Farkas from his musings. Looking over, he found Khepri, green eyes and black hair, smiling at him, "Would you like some mead, Mr. Farkas?"

There was only one answer to that, especially if you were a Nord, "Much obliged, Miss Khepri." And he loped into the house, doffing his steel helm and removing his sword, placing both next to the door while looking around the upper house.

A simple bed was pushed against one wall, one meant for that Callidus fellow if the reams of paper and pots of ink told right. The rest of the setup was standard: fireplace directly across from the main door, trapdoor leading to the basement, a table with two chairs – the mead bottle sat next to a mug, with a teapot and cup next to them – and the walls were decorated with simple banners and woven disks that depicted bees and other useful insects.

It was nice. Homey and warm. No one'd suspect it was the house of a former Daedra worshipper.

After shutting the door, Khepri stepped past Farkas to sit at the table, saying calmly, "Make yourself at home. I was also hoping we could discuss an errand I need to finish." And she sat in one of the chairs, smiling and gesturing for him to join her.

Farkas did, though carefully; he was still in armor, and didn't want to break her chairs, "If it's got somethin' to do with the Falmer, just say the word," assured the Companion gruffly, pouring himself a mug while Khepri prepared her tea, "And not 'cause of the Chaurus, either. Those waxy things have been pests for long as anyone can remember."

Humming around a sip of tea, Khepri's smile vanished, replaced by a flat look, "So I've gathered, from the history books the Jarl's wizard gave me. Four thousand years…" she shook her head with her eyes closed, looking a mite nettled; but then she smiled at him again, "But enough about them. I actually need to deliver the last of the first pots of honey, but, for whatever reason, the East Empire Company is… reluctant to deliver to the places they need to go."

Oh? Well… "So long as I'm back in time for the Muster, I think we can come to an arrangement," allowed Farkas, pausing to take a quick pull of mead; it was pretty damn good, and he said so, adding, "This your brew?"

"Oh, no," that smile could replace the sun, it could, "No, that was brewed by the person who gave me the steps to making mead. Cristus, a Legion veteran, he helped me put down my first barrels, though they're rather small. I'm experimenting," she added with a sly smile, "trying to make mead that heals, cures diseases, and bolsters stamina."

Well now! That got Farkas' eyebrows up, "If it works, send a letter to Jorrvaskr. Shor knows the Harbinger would wanna buy a case or two," the young lass blushed and quietly assured him she would; warmed by the mead, Farkas got down to business, "How many pots, and where do you want them?"

Khepri straightened, putting on her own business face, "There are five pots. Each one has a uniquely carved, Chaurus-chitin lid, and is labeled as 'Khepri's Dawn Honey'; a note will be with each, dictating who they should be given to. These are the first pots, and are therefore gifts to certain important people around Skyrim," and she rolled her eyes a little, that sly smirk coming back, "Some are more deserving than others, but I intend to live in this province for the rest of my days."

"So you're goin' with cordial. I can respect that," nodded Farkas, sitting back and gesturing for Khepri to go on.

"The recipients are: Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm," and that explained why the EEC didn't want to deliver the pots, "Jarl Lalia Law-Giver of Riften, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun, Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath… and the Greybeards of High Hrothgar."

Farkas' hand froze before he could sip his mead; then he set down his mug and said evenly, "The Throat of the World?" she nodded, looking honestly apologetic. He huffed out a sigh, thought about the route he'd have to take, then looked Khepri in the eyes again, "Yeah, that's doable. Should take about a fortnight. Won't be cheap, though."

She nodded, looking like she'd expected such, "I'm prepared to pay you fifteen Septims for delivering all the pots intact, as well as providing the Companions with a five-year contract when I begin making mead in bulk; Jorrvaskr will receive preferential deliveries."

Farkas may not have been the smartest Nord out there, but he was no ice-brain, and knew how to negotiate. Khepri turned out to be the cleverest bargainer he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, though, and was generous as a Priestess of Mara.

The negotiations for the contract still took nearly an hour to wrap up, during which time Farkas poured himself a second mug, which went down slower than the first. In the end, Khepri would pay Farkas twenty Septims for a successful delivery of all five pots, with written confirmation from each deliveree – Farkas insisted on that point; no one would accuse him of half-assing a job. Farkas would accompany Khepri to Whiterun, once the Muster and resulting exploration were over and done with, to introduce her to the Harbinger and eke out the contract on the mead supply, as Farkas didn't have the authority – or the business-sense – to make that decision. Finally, Khepri would provide copies of her notes on the Chaurus to the Companions of Ysgramor; in the event the creatures became wild after her eventual death, it was common sense to let the ancestral guardians of Skyrim have the knowledge on how to defeat them – Khepri didn't think that would come to pass, the Chaurus attacking the people of Skyrim unprovoked after her death, but agreed all the same.

After the contract was drawn up and sealed – it would be sent by courier to Whiterun in the morning – Khepri invited Farkas to sit with her on her porch. The Werewolf didn't mind – it'd be the last time he'd see Dawnstar for a fortnight, and the sky-lights were dancing over the sea, a rare sight so close to spring… and Khepri was good company – and followed the fine lady outside, mug of mead in hand.

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Mzinchaleft

The upper floors of the ruin were just as empty as when Bori was last there. The last time, it'd just been a walk-over, clearing out the bandits and putting heavy stones in front of the Dwemer machine hatches.

Unlike last time, Bori could hear the chattering and screeching of Falmer further in.

Pointing his mace down the incline, Bori asked the Vigilant captain who commanded the group with them, Tolan, "Any idea what it's like further in?"

The bald Nord grimaced, the haft of his warhammer creaking in his grip, "Been twenty years since we ousted the vampires holed up here… a hall, I believe. Raised walkways around the outer edges, rubble all over."

Bori nodded while Lafka grumbled, "Suppose it'd be too much to hope the bandits cleaned up," a few chuckles and remarks on the lack of discipline amongst the warbands hummed through the gathered Hold guards and Vigilants.

Keeper Carcette wasn't with them, but she'd sent four of her best to aid Dawnstar's investigation of Khepri's claims; twelve men and women, all sober and ready to defend their homes, was more than enough, in Bori's opinion, to deal with the waxy hunchbacked Falmer.

Stepping forward, mace ready, Bori told his fellow protectors of Dawnstar, "Shields in front, bows behind, and try not to shoot the Chaurus unless they try to attack first. Khepri says they shouldn't come at us, but be wary," nods and grunts were had by his fellow Nords, all of them looking at the young Houscarl with respect; he was still getting used to that, being a Hold knight.

As they formed up, Tolan spoke up, "Keep your spells ready, Vigilants. Don't let any of the accursed creatures run back to their pit."

"Just make sure you don't hit us," Grimvar growled, earning a glare from Bori; if the young man was honest, he'd rather have mages on his side than not. Falmer were known to have shamans, and their cruelty was the stuff of legend.

A little further, and they found the Falmer; the waxy creatures looked like they were just getting set up in the hall, chest-high walls forcing any advancing opponent into choke-points, only a single hut high up on the back wall…

And a Chaurus pen on the left side of the room, a Hunter chrysalis against the wall guarded by four mid-sized commons. An adult Hunter was just outside the gate, near a Falmer shaman, which screeched a warning for the other Falmer in the hall.

All ten of the armored, armed Falmer in the hall.

"Kill 'em!" Bori yelled, catching an arrow on his shield; shafts and fireballs flew past Bori into their enemies as he, with three guards and two Vigilants, rushed in to take the fight to the Falmer. A heavily armored one rushed right back at him with a growling screech, an antique glass longsword in one hand and ice in the other, its cuirass tanking the steel shot thrown against it.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Bori saw the Hunter lunge at the shaman from behind and ram one of its barbed forelimbs through the creature's skull; its death-cry distracted the rest of the Falmer platoon, the little bastards surprised and angered at their cattle fighting back.

Bori wasn't an ice-brain; he broke the spell-arm of the Falmer in front of him, then brained the fucker before rushing at its friend, who'd just been splattered by a Chaurus' spit and was wailing in pain, "The White take you!"

The fight that followed could barely be called such, as the Falmer clearly weren't used to fighting the smarter races and their own 'pets'. Directing Lafka to check the Chaurus over – they were more dinged up than the ones Khepri brought to Dawnstar, and the chrysalis couldn't be moved, so they'd have to post a guard until it woke – Bori and Tolan, with two others, followed a hallway further into the ruin, looking for the source of the infestation.

There were crude sacks and chests – made from Chaurus shells – scattered throughout an atrium of some sort, and a pit in the back of the hall…

Where shrieks, chitters, and the sound of crackling spells were getting closer. Running up to the edge and looking down, Bori's eyes went wide on seeing a Falmer in what looked like ebony plate trying to keep the three commons and two Hunters at bay with its shield. Its back was to the exit…

Glancing at Tolan with a raised eyebrow, Bori's fellow Nord smirked darkly and stepped back. Smirking himself, Bori raised his mace and, right as the elevator reached the top, brought his hammer down right on the Falmer's skull, bashing its head into its ribcage.

The Chaurus watched its corpse fall to join the other five Falmer corpses on the elevator, then looked at Bori. He stepped to one side and waved his mace, saying, "Go, find your fellows."

They glanced about and, warily, started moving past the guards and Vigilants; all of the Chaurus had terrible scars all over their chitin, and one of the Hunters was badly injured, leaking ichor and whimpering in pain. One of the Vigilants stepped up and held up her glowing hands, at Bori's direction; there was only a brief moment of suspicion on the Chaurus' part before they let the woman heal the Hunter's wounds. It clicked its mandibles in thanks and rushed after its friends.

Which left Bori looking over the Falmer's corpses, which Vigilant Tolan was examining closely. The bald man held up an old enchanted glass axe, saying, "This model hasn't been used in Skyrim since the early Third Era. Likely scavenge, from adventurers who've tried to explore the ruin and failed."

Ormund, one of Bori's fellow guards, held up a coin, "This'un's got ol' Reman Cyrodiil's name on, Houscarl."

"So Khepri was right," grumbled Bori, glaring at the blood and pale, corrupted flesh, "There's an old Falmer settlement somewhere down there, probably with Eras worth of failed expedition's gear and loot."

"To say nothin' of the Chaurus," pointed out the female Vigilant, preparing a fire spell while the men looted the bodies of anything valuable, "For them to bring ten topside, there must be hundreds in the deep, 'specially if they're preparing an invasion to get the ones they lost to Khepri back."

Bori nodded; no doubt whatever Khepri was sensing in the deep could sense Skitter's change, and decided the big girl was too much a threat, that Khepri was too much a threat to the Falmer, to allow them to live. Their job was done…

Then he remembered, from when he was a lad… a story his Pa told to him.

The deep… where few return from… and those that do have broken minds…

The lair of the Falmer, the blackest of – oh, hells and demons.

"Tolan," growled the moustached young man, drawing the questioning gaze of the Vigilant, "What do the Chosen of Stendarr know of Blackreach?"

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A/N: The next chapter will move away from Dawnstar to touch on a few of the personages who will answer the call, some of whom you'll remember from certain quests. Like the Dawnguard, or a certain Forge, or a fetch quest... and one OC from another of my stories, reworked to fit the setting and nerfed to make him less Old Man Henderson-y.

Until then!