I finished this 3,000 word chapter in a day. So I swear to god, I better have improved stats and more reviews.

Their ride took them through the south of Eastmarch; as Eastmarch is the second coldest Province, it ironically has one of the most heated parts of Skyrim as well. They passed the geyser fields, a collection of shallow water bodies with seismic activity, and a faint rumble can be heard. The steam that rose from the heated water caused a lot of humidity, yet the warmth was satisfying to them; to the Dragonborn, it felt like the warmth of his homeland, Cyrodiil.

Their joy of the natural hot-fountains slowed down their travel, and it would take nearly a couple of days to go through at that rate. But they took the time to rest and bathe in the soothing warm waters of the outer bodies. The bodies going further toward the center would be much hotter and boiling, but the bodies to the outside were calmly heated like a sauna one would find at a spa house in Pre-War Cyrodiil, or a tub that was heated by fiery coal for a Princess to bathe in.

It has been a while since the Dragonborn has taken a proper Cyrodiilic bath, though cleaning himself in a natural body of water isn't necessarily considered refined. He grew up on a farm, however, and would occasionally bathe himself in a creek.

Since he came to Skyrim by order of his superiors, he had to step away from the comfort. In a Legion camp, he would have to go down to one of the cold rivers in Whiterun, and even then he wouldn't have time for too much of it can let your guard down and you can be killed by an ambush. The entire Legion adopted that after the incident at Valtheim Tower, on the east border of Whiterun hold. A Cohort of legionaries had few guards awake and the rest were sleeping in, most of them with their armor and weapons removed. An early morning surprise attack by the White Wolf and her Stormcloaks had caught all of them off guard and they were quickly defeated, and most of them were executed by order of the ruthless she-daedra, as Legionaries liked to call her. The news spread and all Legionaries learned that day to always be on guard in a land torn of conflict like Skyrim.

The Dragonborn now though, he can take a slightly longer rest in a bath now that the war was over, but not long enough for Dragons about. He can take longer baths now especially with the White-Wolf dead, and her slayer in his presence.

The Dragonborn took the time before the sun could set to release his furs and belts from him and set them aside. Now completely nude, he used his toe to check the water. It had a slight tingle to it, but most heated baths had; the condition was fine enough for him to easily sink himself into. When the waters made it past his crotch, the Dragonborn sighed in relief, and slipped farther into the tub like formation until his shoulders were below the surface. He closed his eyes and laid himself up against the surprisingly smooth boundary of the dirt-tub, and he couldn't help a warm smile to stretch across his face.

He could feel the water work his body like it had magic from Aetherius itself; his once aching and tight muscles stressed from physical demand found a sense of calm and they began to loosen from his bones. The knots in his back were uncoiled, as though the water had hands to massage him. He fell into great pleasure, and was on the border of falling asleep until someone cleared their throat near him. He opened his eyes and saw a figure standing close to him.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Was the voice of the dark elf, Jenassa, standing there nude like he, her hands covering her privates and breasts. The Dragonborn, confused he was, ascended slightly out of the water, exposing his shoulders. His face blushed slightly, and he could feel his heart beat race, and blood began to rush to his crotch; thankfully it was hidden below the ripples of the water.

"Uhh…" he stuttered slightly, and the dark elf tilted her head sideways, like a dog would. The Dragonborn, now that she was there in that form, would find it hard to deny her entrance; clever of her. "Come right in," he forced himself to say, and she stepped in, using her arms to elevate herself down into the water, temporarily exposing her privates and breasts. The Dragonborn caught a glimpse before she sank down; she had slight pubic hair atop her vaginal region, and her breasts were small but shaped droopily and lovely as hidden by her armor when donned.

The Dragonborn sighed shakily and laid his head back to face the sky, and he muttered under his breath; "Dibella, why must you do this to me so...?" Jenassa let herself slide in and relax like the Dragonborn did, and he tried to cloud the awkward silence resonating from him. He sunk back in again to his chin and said sarcastically, "I sure do hope Hadvar joins in as well."

"Don't mind if I do!" said the raspy voice of Hadvar, as he stepped up naked himself. The Dragonborn caught a glimpse of him, then put his hand up to his face and sighed, annoyed. Not giving any objections, the Dragonborn let Hadvar slip in with them.

"I suppose I should have asked you to bring me my mead…" a glass bottle was suddenly tossed at him, and the Dragonborn reacted quickly, splashing his hand out of the water to grab it.

"Already taken care of," Hadvar said.

"Huh," the Dragonborn muttered, and then began to drink from the glass.

After some time of cleaning, the three friends dried themselves off in the sun and re donned their clothing. Eventually they would make camp in a place much similar to where they bathed, and in the morning they would pack and be off.

They reached the hold of the Rift, a colorful set of woods and soil, much of it fertile to harvest crops, and many of the trees good enough for maple sap. The capital settlement of the hold was Riften, far down in the south east, a once seceded hold like Eastmarch. Instead of passing through the city where they would have to be stopped by multiple legionary guards, they decided to make a cut right through a narrow path, one that would lead them west directly to the former Ivarstead at the foot of the mountain they would have to climb.

At a point along the way, they found it was sunset once more, and they would have to make camp or risk being lost in the dark. The Dragonborn volunteered to be the one to gather sticks for the campfire, and he made off into the woods. Picking around through the fallen leaves, he found many worth twigs and he would gather then into his arm. This went on until he heard a bear's roar.

He froze in his tracks, wide eyed, and looked around. Aside from the bear roar came the loud distant voice of a young man.

The Dragonborn could make out what the man was yelling: "Back foul beast!" he warned. "Or taste the fury of my blade!" The Dragonborn looked in the direction where the scuffle was coming from, and he dropped the twigs from his arm and sprinted. He made his way up a small slope and over it he found a fairly large blonde Nord man in sleeveless Iron armor and a steel greatsword in which he had to wield with both hands. Beside his was the fur of a brown bear lying on its side, motionless, and in front of him now was a live bear roaring at him. The ferocious furry beast would lunge slightly, but would be batted away by a swipe of the man's sword, and he would give a hearty laugh.

"Haha!" he taunted, "You think you can best me, animal?!" And he swung his greatsword side to side, pushing back the bear. The Dragonborn pulled his sword out and was about to run down and help, but the young Nord was able to thrust his sword into the throat of the beast, and it fell at his feet. The young Nord pulled the sword out and laughed in victory, but turned his head and noticed the Dragonborn.

"Greetings traveler!" he said. "I see you have come to my aid; but no need to worry, a mighty adventurer such as myself has yet to be bested in battle!" The Dragonborn stood back, but from the corner of his eyes he noticed a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the shade, staring menacingly at the young Nord. As it revealed itself, it's golden coat of fur, sharp claws at the tips of its paws; a sabrecat! With a fearsome look, it snuck behind the Nord man and the Dragonborn leapt into action the moment that it was about to lunge.

"Watch out!" The Dragonborn said, rushing over and pushing the Nord man down to the ground and out of the way. Immediately, he sucked in a breath of air as the sabrecat reached its claws out for him. "FUS ROH!" And the aura energy of his Thu'um pushed, kicking up leaves and dust and forcing the ferocious cat back with a loud thundering boom. Then, the Dragonborn leapt forward like the sabrecat did and plunged his blade into its throat, twisting it to scramble the bloody meat inside.

It fell dead, and the Dragonborn pulled his sword out and expertly swung it around and sheathed it in victory.

"Woah," came the young Nord he just saved. "That…thing…that thing you just did with your voice! Is that…?

"A Thu'um?" The Dragonborn spoke for him, turning to face the young Nord slowly getting himself up from the ground. "Yes."

"A Thu'um!" he said. "I only know of two people down here that have the power of the voice, and that's the Dragonborn and the Jarl of Eastmarch!"

"Late Jarl of Eastmarch," the Dragonborn corrected him. "He's dead now."

"Yes, but then that must make you…are the stories true!?" His voice was rather, he would say, sounds very light, almost childish coming from a mouth with thick facial hair surrounding it.

"Dragonborn? Yes, you can say that."

"Oh, sir!" The young Nord grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. "It is such an honor to finally meet someone like you!" The Dragonborn looked at him confusedly, noting the speed and force he puts into his hand shakes. "Oh I'm sorry, we should probably introduce ourselves more formally; my name is Erik, Erik the Slayer, and I'm from Rorikstead."

"Arminius Constantine, I'm from the farmlands of Eastern Cyrodiil."

"Eastern Cyrodiil? You don't look like an Imperial, what are you doing way up in the north?"

"I'm half Nord; and I could ask you the same thing, you being from Rorikstead and out here fighting large animals in the Rift."

"Well I'm an adventurer, and it seems like you are too, are you not? Being the Dragonborn and all, I bet you have seen some great adventure!"

"If fighting and killing in a civil war is what you consider a great adventure, then sure."

"The Civil War? Ah, I wanted to fight as a mercenary but I was held back," Erik said with such glory yet dissatisfaction in his voice; the Dragonborn almost found it pathetic how eager someone had to be to want to kill in a war. Erik seemed to display a lot of the traits of a storybook Nordic hero, or at least tried to be. It seemed more like it was just his inexperience, his young age, or just his ignorance; or maybe he was just a Nord, itching to fulfill his desire of a good adventure. He couldn't blame him; as a child in an orphanage, the Dragonborn wanted to travel the world, even to the savage land of Akavir.

"Trust me," the Dragonborn said. "You didn't miss anything worth experiencing." He then heard the footsteps of two people crunching through the leaves, and over the rise in the ground, Hadvar and Jenassa came. Jenassa had an arrow latched on the string of her bow already and was ready to shoot.

"Arminius!" she exclaimed.

"We heard your Thu'um from the camp!" Hadvar said.

"We came as quickly as we could!" The Dragonborn raised his hand.

"Relax, friends," he said and then motioned to Erik. "This is Erik; he was just out here fighting some bears and I saved his hide from a sabrecat."

The two friends lowered their weapons, and Hadvar said, "Well at least we have dinner for tonight."

By nightfall, they were able to gather the twigs needed to make a campfire, and they were generous enough to allow Erik to join them for dinner. Like before, they munched on the bear meat with their swords as forks as they listened to Erik tell his stories of all the things he has slain.

"…and once the beast fell slain at my hand, I collected its toe as a reward!" Erik exclaimed, and then bit off a piece of bread.

"No kidding?" Hadvar said through chews.

"I have it with me right now," Erik said, and then he reached into his bag and quickly pulled out a large grey toe the size of their heads, large slimy, moldy and greasy toe jam in its dirty chipped nail, and the smell of fleshrot stunk the air.

"Oh for Talos' sake!" Hadvar complained, trying to hold back vomit. The Dragonborn only held his nose and looked down as he continued eating, but the smell would only choke him, and Jenassa surprisingly felt little about it and continued to eat like it was nothing. Erik only held up the Giant's toe like a trophy until he put it back in his bag, and with the same hand that he used to hold it with, returned to eating his bread.

"If you could fight all of those creatures," Jenassa said. "Then is it possible you could fight dragons too?"

"Oh, well, people I've met have considered me to be…uhhh…headstrong, but for good reason," he explained. "I may have no experience in fighting dragons, but as I like to say: what I lack in experience, I make up for in courage!"

Hadvar leaned to the Dragonborn and said, "He does have good morale."

"Well, I bet you have slain some dragons yourself!" Erik said to the Dragonborn. "Tell me, please, what are they like and how do you slay them? I'm sure it's a great tale to tell."

"You want to know about Dragons?" The Dragonborn asked, and Erik shook his head eagerly. "They're beyond dangerous, and fighting them should not be taken lightly. In fact, it's best to avoid conflict with them if you can."

"They're a pain in the ass to kill too," Hadvar added. "You can't just slice and dice like you can any other animal, their skin is like an armor of its own, and their bones are nearly indestructible."

"But you have slain some, right?" Erik asked.

"Yes, I have," the Dragonborn replied. "The first time I had fifteen with me and nearly all of us were killed. The second time was with these two and someone else, and we barely got away with our lives."

"But we did kill it with your strategy," Jenassa said. "And there were no casualties."

"That must be a good story to tell," Erik said. "But regarding dragons, why do you think they are returning?"

"Someone we were with said that they were coming back to life and a big black dragon we believe to be Alduin is involved in reawaking them; from where Alduin came from, I don't know, and neither do any of us."

"Alduin?" Erik gasped. "No…"

"I had the same reaction…" Hadvar said.

"You mean what the bards sing of? The eater of worlds?!" Erik got close to the Dragonborn and grabbed him by the shirt. "The bringer of end times!?" Erik shook him. "THE SCORCHER OF MAN AND NIRN!?"

"WOULD YOU CALM DOWN!" The Dragonborn demanded, his voice rose annoyed, and he pushed Erik off of him.

"It is, isn't it?" Erik said. "And you have to be the one to vanquish this great evil?"

"Unfortunately," the Dragonborn replied. "But someone has to do it, who better than the Dragonborn?" Erik was silent for a moment, and it seemed like he was thinking to himself.

"That is a great and noble crusade, Dragonborn," Erik said. "Easily worth a story to tell your descendants, and for others to tell theirs." To the Dragonborn, he noticed that Erik has mentioned stories twice; did he have a fascination for stories? "For all my life I dreamt of embarking on a great adventure that is worth a story to tell in my time; but this…your crusade to defeat Alduin, the God of Destruction, the Bane of Kings! That is worth SONGS to be sung forever in the land of the living and in the halls Sovngarde!"

The Dragonborn nodded, and watched as Erik went down on one knee and bowed his head.

"Please, Dragonborn," Erik pleaded. "I beg of you this: to take me on this journey with you so that I may help you reach your victory over the Eater of Worlds, and that you may lead me to my dream of glory and an adventure worth a story to tell my descendants." The three friends looked at each other, and then back down to Erik who continued to bow. "Please."

The friends stepped away and huddled together.

"He's a little dramatic isn't he?" Hadvar said, chuckling.

"But like you said, he is worth the morale," Jenassa said.

"But he's barely out of his teens…" The Dragonborn said.

"Well you were too when you first came to Skyrim," Hadvar said. "To fight a war, nonetheless." The Dragonborn gave a sigh.

"I don't know…I'm not sure I should just bring him into all this; he's obviously bright and has a lot more to live for than to risk his life with us."

"And would rejecting him from this crusade not risk our lives?" Jenassa asked. "Think of it, it will give greater morale to our group and a new type of fighter in our ranks. If we accept him, then we'll have the Dragonborn, a seasoned soldier, a quick archer, and a slayer of beasts; and a slayer of beasts is what we need to slay beasts like Dragons. Plus, it will make our group larger, and we'll then have a likelier chance of killing a Dragon than last time, which if I do recall, was your plan to begin with, right? Find capable fighters to aid you on this quest?" They stopped and looked over their shoulders to see that Erik was still bowing. "Remember that speech you gave us nights ago, Arminius? That flame of the campfire, you compared it to a fire that would burn mundus at Alduin's command, and then you asked where would the heroes be to stop it from happening, the heroes of man and mer to prove their worth?" She pointed the Dragonborn to Erik and said, "He is only the first."

The Dragonborn thought long and hard on it and said, "Yes, you make a good case, Jenassa. I think now, maybe he will be good for us."

"Well, after all you can't crush his hopes and dreams of having a story to tell," Hadvar said and chuckled. They each laughed, and then turned to face the bowing Erik, and he looked up at them.

"Erik the Slayer, you are welcome to join us in our mission against Alduin."

With that answer, Erik's face brightened, and a smile stretched across it.