4E, 201, 13th of Hearthfire
Imperius made his way down the twisting hallways and passages of the dwarven ruins underneath Fort Dunstad. His breath came out as fog, it slightly blinded him when it flew into his eyes. The architecture of the ruins changed, from the metal and gold of the dwemer to the stone and bronze of previous culture. Imperius and a legionary soon entered a great chamber, the ceiling stretching far above them, littered with old metal chandeliers. He noticed the carvings etched into the walls and columns, ancient compared to the dwarrow ruins that made up a large proportion of the structure underneath the fortress itself, with this room being the only one of its kind. What was this room used for? The chandeliers and the large space coupled with high ceiling suggested a place of social activity, but the ice and the lack of other indicators had led him to believe it a makeshift storage area, likely a rushed reconfiguration due to the lack of indicators for long term storage of other items.
There, in the middle of the room sticking out like a sore, was the ice block, one side appearing to have been hacked at with jagged axes wielded by men of immense strength, the grooves and indentions denoting heavy handed, untrained swings. In the middle of the ice block sat a figure, a man holding a sword that glowed with holy blue energies, the power of the blade swirling around the blue gem in the guard. Imperius was perturbed. What would be gained by digging out a dead man from the ice? Were they hoping to the divines that he was alive? Even if beyond all logic that he were, were the Stormcloaks assuming that this being would help them at all? Granted the humanoid would have been freed by them, but too many variables didn't make any outcome certain in his mind.
"So this is what they were mining for. I had heard reports of the rebels mining for a weapon of epic proportions but, never imagined this," Imperius said.
"Legionary, gather ten men and tell them to bring some pickaxes, we got some digging to do."
The imperial saluted and ran off to do as he was commanded, which left him alone with the frozen figure. He began to study the room and the figure in depth, taking in every detail. The figure's helmet resembled the ancient imperial helmets, back before they were an empire. It had cruel curved slits for the eyes, with a pointed nose protector, with slanted cheek guards running adjacent to each other, their points ending just below the chin. However, that's where the similarities ended, for this helmet covers more of the neck, the cheek guards extending, giving it a sinister appearance. The top of the helmet curved into a crest that gave it a less pompous, but a more cunning visage.
What stood out from its overall bluish hue was a deep ocean blue gem straight in the middle of the helmet, which had a glow around it. As he was observing the armor of the figure, taking note of the blue gems placed in the middle of each piece of it, the ten men he sent for came rushing into the chamber, pickaxes in hand.
"All right men, lets dig," he said, grabbing one and swinging his pick at the block of ice.
Mirmulnir
When Mirmulnir arrived at Broken Tooth Crater, he knew something was wrong from the start. Burnt corpses littered the entrance, some glowed with a sickly green hue. He landed, and was greeted by a foul odor, an odor he remembered faintly, but could not remember fully. As he went forth into the dragon's lair, the smell and the body count increased. When he reached the center, the odor making his eyes water, he found a figure and the dragon battling, flames and green energy were hitting the walls behind them.
The dragon was of the fire spectrum, if the flames coming forth from his maw was any indication. Though, he can't remember what species this dragon is, for its form struck him as odd. It was a red color, light red on the underbelly, and a dark red on top. It had short spines which were a charcoal black, while the claws were a dark red. The flames that spewed forth were of a higher temperature than most, if the glowing stones near the figure were any indication. Sometimes, it shot from its maw pure magma, the hot material creating small flames the more area it covered. The figure it was fighting looked even more bizarre. It stood on two cloven hooved feet, had grey skin, with blood red armor around its feet, legs, and head, which held a single eye, and was swinging a glaive like weapon, green energy blasts firing from the weapon. The air around the alien creature was thick with dark magic, and everything, even the very soil it trod upon, recoiled at its touch, almost as if it shouldn't be here. He felt that surrounding Imperius, but differently, with the lack of dark magic and an almost comforting feeling that came to him when around the mortal suggested that his intentions weren't evil, not like this creature.
The two combatants had bleeding wounds all over their body, the dragon more so than the demon. The demon swung his weapon at the dragon, the blade connecting with the dovah's shoulder. The dragon cried out, snapped its jaws around the midsection of the demon, and tossed him to the far side of the area, rocks splintering into jagged pieces. The two were evenly matched as far as he could see, but the creature seemed to be getting the upper hand, giving more punishment than taking it, and it was starting to wear down on the fire drake. He supposed that by helping, it would make the dov more likely to listen to his offer; if the dov didn't, then he would hold an extremely valuable debt over its head for future use. Either way, his intervention would result in a favorable outcome for himself, so resolved to aid the dragon
"What is your name?" Mirmulnir asked, rushing to the dragon's side. He asked so he wouldn't have to later when he would make his offer to the dragon after this creature had been taken care of.
The dragon looked at him and said, "My name is Vulthuryol, and will you help me fight this abomination?"
The two turned to the demon, who was dusting off bits of rock and stone that got lodged in him, slowly walking towards them. It muttered something in its dark tongue, the sounds guttural and harsh, grey hands adjusting its grip on its weapon, a horrid two handed glaive with dried blood of unnatural origin caked on the blade of the weapon, teeth jutting from its jaw, pointed and sharp like a razor. Mirmulnir suddenly had this incredible urge to completely destroy this creature, to burn it to ash and destroy all it had touched, cleansing the area with the heat of his flames. He would act upon parts of this urge, but not fully, for even with his vast knowledge this feeling was foreign to him, and resolved to delve further into it later.
Mirmulnir nodded, and together they charged the foul creation, one shooting flames at the alien creature while the other sneaking behind it. The creature cried out in pain and used its forearms to try and shield himself from the dragon fire, but his efforts were in vain as his skin was slowly being turned to ash by the drake, the dragon slowly pushing it back to where Mirmulnir could attack with greater ease. Once Mirmulnir was in position, he leaped into the air, flapping his wings to gain altitude, and tucked them close to his body as he barreled towards the creature, slamming it onto the ground, ripping its back out with his teeth, exposing muscle sinews and bone. The blood tasted vile. So much so that he immediately wanted to rinse his maw clean in a large river once this was over with. The creature screamed in agony, a high pitched grating sound that felt like spears piercing their eardrums, and struggled to free itself. Before it took its final breath, it uttered "Sargeras," in the common tongue and fell limp, its green lifeblood seeping from its mouth and back.
"I thank you for your assistance, but why are you here?" Vulthuryol asked, his head tilted to the side.
Mirmulnir moved to explain, but stopped and suddenly took a few steps backwards, shooting a large gout of flame with an angered roar over the alien creature, turning it and the area around it to ash after a few minutes, the body was difficult to burn and took the longest. After that, he went on to explain Imperius's plans to conquer Tamriel and that he needed an army to accomplish this. He was tasked with finding another dov willing to support his cause and to join his army. While it hurt his pride to be asking the dragon at the behest of another, he was loyal to his master, and would carry out his orders.
"So you serve a joor. Never thought that the mighty Mirmulnir would bow to a mortal, even if he is the dragonborn," Vulthuryol said, chuckling lightly.
Mirmulnir shook his head. "This mortal has great power, greater than my former master Alduin."
At this admission, Vulthuryol went silent. Mirmulnir went on to explain the battle between him, the dovahkiin, and Alduin, telling him of how Imperius imprisoned the black dragon beneath the earth with celestial chains, and channeled the voice of Akatosh. He was still in disbelief that his father, his creator, chose this mortal to conquer the world, and not one of his sons. He didn't know why Imperius was chosen, but knew that he was chosen nonetheless. If his duty was to aid his master in this endeavor, then he would do so.
"I never knew a joor could have that much power. The mortals are becoming powerful, even matching us dov in strength. Yes, I will join your little band of misfits, if only for my own security. These abominations are attacking with more ferocity each time they return," Vulthuryol said, sneering at the blackened earth where the creature had once been. "What is the next step in your plan?"
"Follow me, we go to Bleak Falls Barrow, that is our temporary base for now. These creatures are frequent?" he said. If this was only one of many incursions, it did not bode well. They needed to find where these abominations were coming from, and either slaughter them to the last, which was what he wanted to do, or to destroy the method in which they came to Taazokaan. He would mention this to Imperius.
"Yes. They wish to end my life. But why, I do not know. All I know is, they were becoming more and more numerous with each attack, which means they must be coming from somewhere, somewhere beyond this world."
The two took off into the air, the flap of leather wings filling the area, neither of them noticed a little demon wreathed in green flames had listened to their entire conversation.
"Must report to master, important information," it said, scurrying through the underbrush.
Krilkahjot
The blue dragon flew to Lost Tongue Overlook, the air currents keeping him aloft cooled his scales to a comfortable temperature. He dove to the ground below to pick up a snack on the way, snatching a large boar from its herd, a pregnant sow, the squealing cut short with a snap of his jaws. As he licked the blood clean from his maw, he saw the dragon lair, but smelled no dragon. The dov had a unique scent that only they could smell, each one different for each dragon. The air around the ancient nord structure smelled foul, as if a bunch of corpses were left in the sun for a week.
He made his way to the wall written in his tongue, the corpse of a dragon at the center. The dragon was purple, with curled horns that looked like a goat's, with eyes more akin to those of arthropods, and had green liquid oozing from some of the wounds on its side. All around it were the corpses of alien creatures, some bitten in half, while others were ripped to shreds, and a few were reduced to smoking spots of ash. Suddenly, a creature with leathery bat like wings, black cloven hooves for feet, and had curled horns adorning its head stepped onto the scene. It started chanting in an alien language that grated on his ears. It sounded vile and unnatural.
The corpse of the dragon began to glow green, the body twitching and moving little by little until it stood up before the being, and bowed its head. Fetid saliva dripped from its maw, green liquid dripping to the ground mixed with the saliva. Its scent was one of rot and death. A horrible combination for the highly sensitive senses of a dragon. He hid behind an outcropping of rock to observe what was taking place. He would report this to Imperius.
"Rise my pet. You will serve the Legion and help us conquer this world," it hissed, its voice sending shivers up Krilkahjot's spine. A horrid sound, akin to nails on a chalk board, grating on the ears yet sickeningly smooth and persuasive, a far cry from its chanting only a few moments ago. He shook his head to rid himself of the demon's influence, and in doing so accidentally hits his head against a nearby rock, the noise like thunder in the quiet little canyon.
The demon turned, spotted him, and grinned.
"My pet, this is your first task. Destroy this creation of the Titans!" it said, flying into the sky.
The undead dragon roared, an unearthly screech, its undead vocal chords tearing apart, green spittle flying from its sickly maw. Even in death, this thing was still a dragon, and had issued him a challenge, a fight to the death. Krilkahjot answered the challenge with his own and blew an ice storm at the undead dov, icicles pinning its wings and legs to the ground. It roared with rage, its eyes had a milky fog covering the irises. It ripped itself from its icy containment, leaving behind some leathery membranes of the wings and parts of its feet.
Krilkahjot nearly heaved on the spot, disgusted beyond his own comprehension of disgust, but swallowed the bile and rammed the dragon with his bulk, sending it tumbling into the word wall. It roared and tried to get onto its feet, but Krilkahjot pinned it to the ground and blew ice onto its head. It thrashed and squirmed, trying to break free before it met its demise, but it was no use. The undead dragon's head was frozen in a solid block of ice, which Krilkahjot smashed with his tail, sending parts of the head in all directions, the body slumping to the ground.
"No matter how little I care for other dov, no dragon should have to endure this humiliation," he said with a shaky voice. He took to the air, intent on reporting this disturbing news to the others.
Fort Dunstad
The imperials dug for what seemed like hours, slowly but surely breaking away the ice. Until at last the being was free of its icy tomb, and promptly fell and face planted, leaving a small face shaped indention in the stone. The men rushed to pick up the being and quickly placed him on a cot in Imperius' tent, and went back to their regular duties. Imperius quickly took notes on the being, with many notes on his physical attributes and his armor and weapons, noting how the designs were nearly forgotten to time, from an age long since passed.
The first question in Imperius' mind was how tall the figure was. The man or thing measured about 8 feet tall, its feet resting on the cold ground as he was too long for the cot the legion had provided. The other questions on his mind weren't that easy to figure out. Upon entering the room, Imperius noticed a book that had been dropped and decided to pick it up, he loved books and was wanting to read his collection of books when it was over, he lost count at one thousand books in bookshelves around his villa in Solitude. He was brought out of his musings by a low groan coming from the being, and mutterings in a foreign tongue, flowing and lyrical in tone and sound.
He kneeled by the humanoid and put a hand on its shoulder.
"Hey, are you all right, what's your name?" he asked.
The being suddenly shot out his hand and touched his forehead, and he felt a draining feeling from his mind. He grunted and tried to pry the being's hand from his forehead, but couldn't match its enormous strength. For what seemed like hours, the being drained something from Imperius's mind, with him helplessly pulling on its hand. Finally, the being pulled his hand away, and sat up in the cot. Imperius was flung back by the lack of support, and he scrambled to try and right himself. His breathing was quick and shallow, his irises all but pinpricks with terror.
"Okay what was that and what are you?!" he shouted, the being turned his head to look at him.
Its eyes glowed a pure white, like the beams from a star. He had a confused look on his face.
"I am unsure of what my name is, nor am I sure of what I am. I extracted information from your mind so that I may be able to speak to you without butchering your language," he said.
Imperius calmed down to a level where he wasn't going to lose his cool, and started to look for the book he found in the cavern. He wished he didn't just leave the book somewhere he didn't remember, he really needed it right now and he cursed himself for carelessly putting the book somewhere and not remembering where. It didn't help that he had so many books in his possession to sort through.
"What are you doing"? the being asked, looking curiously at the frantic pace he was tossing out books from his chest.
"Looking for a book that may help find out what you are," Imperius said, tossing book after book out of his chest.
'Why do I keep so many books!?' he thought to himself.
Finally, he found what he was looking for, the book called "The Guardians ". He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. The page read that this guardian was of the tougher subclass of Guardian, known as Custodians, having great mastery with manipulating the earth to serve its purposes and needs. Be it constructing massive fortresses or creating vast armies of earthen automatons, the Guardian was skilled in either field. The Sentinels, on the other hand, were manipulators of life itself, capable of spawning legions of specially crafted soldiers, creating vast, thick forests to serve as bulwarks to enemies. While they were more agile than their Custodian kin, they were weaker in comparison. The book went into extreme detail describing the looks of each variant of Guardian, down to their musculature and average height and strength. While he didn't believe such nonsense, it was getting harder and harder to deny the existence of such beings with each passing second. But he didn't have time to debate whether such heresy was real or not, he had a speech to make.
Imperius suddenly left the tent to the confusion of the being, and made his way to the center of the encampment, stepping onto a nearby podium reserved for speeches. The centurions sounded the horn, and the imperials came rushing to the stand, wanting to see what was going on. Soon, the entire legion, along with the centurions, were standing before the podium Imperius stood on, waiting to hear what their leader has to say. Imperius knew that if he strengthened the position of the imperials in Skyrim any more than he has already done, it would make dislodging them more of a fight than the sweeping campaigns he has planned out for the various holds in Skyrim. While the imperials had gained more territory than they would have if not for him, it wouldn't be enough to stand up against his soldiers, his legion, which had grown fond of him, but he wasn't sure of their complete loyalty. But now, he decided, it was time to begin his plans, to put them into action and finally begin his quest to unite all of Tamriel under his banner. He wouldn't have a better opportunity like this if he delayed.
"Men, the time I have been with you has been has been the best in my life. We have conquered more than any legion has before, and we are currently the only undefeated legion in the empire!" he yelled, the soldiers cheering.
"Now, we are at a crossroads. I have business that needs attending to, but I will need a loyal army by my side. I know of your loyalty to the Empire, but they don't care about any of you. To them, your names and stories don't matter, they merely see you as bodies to help swell the legion's numbers, numbers on a sheet of paper, unfeeling and mechanical in nature, made only to serve the will of the Emperor. But I don't see you that way. I see all of you as individuals, each with your own stories, personalities and needs. I care about you, more than you all will ever know. I have ensured that your time in the legion was the best that any soldier could ask for. I have bled, fought, and suffered with you. I am willing to give my life for any of you. Now, I ask of you all the same. Will you join me, and aid me in my quest? Or serve the weak minded generals and emperor that have, many times, sent us to our doom?" he asked.
He stared at their faces, looking for any sign, any indication that his words were having any effect. To his concern, he couldn't find any. He sincerely hoped that he didn't just condemn himself to death. While he was dragonborn, and a skilled warrior on top of that, he didn't fancy taking on an entire legion of soldiers.
The soldiers became quiet after that proclamation, muttering to themselves on where their loyalties lie. It was true that most generals generally lost the entirety of their legions when dealing with a foe. It happened so often that they started to expect death when in the field against anyone, even the stormcloaks. But now, under Imperius's command, they had experienced victory without tragic loss. They had a commander who treated them like actual soldiers, actual people instead of numbers and tools to be used and disposed of at will. For once, they had hope. They believe in someone. Someone they can rely on, someone who can and will lead them to victory, someone deserving of their loyalty.
One legionary shouted "Fidelitas ad Mortem!", and soon nearby imperials took the cry, then all of the legion was chanting the phrase "Loyalty to Death" in the ancient language of the empire. Imperius beamed with pride in his legion and quickly ordered his legion to make for Bleak Falls Barrow. He had much planning to do, and not a lot of time to act upon them. The empire would soon realize what has just happened and will send a force to deal with him. They would be crushed nonetheless but still, it would make him waste time that could be spent better elsewhere. But for now, he would focus on one thing.
'It is finally time to begin my quest. To rid this world of internal strife and conflict will be my life's work. Now, where to start?'