I have to admit, I'm excited for this. Spent a long time trying to plan out this story right and I hope I impress.

ACT I: Blood of the Dragon

Hands Once Idle

The hand around his arm threw itself forward and he was taken along with it. Felwinter felt himself fly and fall, his knee scraping against the rough stone as he hit the ground face and stomach first. He pushed himself up, clutching at his aching torso before he regained his bearings. "Wait…" he huffed, still trying to catch his wind knocked from him. He turns towards the cell gate. "Wait!" he cried again. Felwinter scrambled to his feet, limping on his hurting leg but running the best he could for the still open gate.

It slammed shut, hard and in his face. Felwinter grabs the bars and pushes. He pushes and pushes with as much strength as his body could give and succeeding only in barely rattling the bars. "Why are you doing this?" he asks. "I didn't do anything! It was just an accident!"

The guardsman who locked him in the cell tells him to shut up, walking away. Another, sitting on a bench against the wall, barely pays him any mind. "It was an accident," Felwinter pleaded again. An accident that happened so quickly. An angry old man calling guards down upon him. A ball through an ornate glass window he hadn't even thrown. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged away, his arm clutched so tightly, he thought it broken.

He recognized the Stormhaven prison, given how many times he had passed it when walking with his mother. A tall building of hard stone, black wood and an ominous air, it was never the best part of the trip. Now all he had learned was that the inside was much worse. Rows and rows of ugly, dark cells stinking of something wet that maybe he could have placed if he was in a better state of mind. Some were occupied. Most of those occupants stared as he was dragged past. Others spoke. Loudly, jeering. Said things he didn't know the meaning of and was certain he never wanted to.

"Please," Felwinter begged. "Please. I don't belong here!"

"Shut up."

"I didn't do anything!"

"I said shut up!" The other one is looking at him now.

"My mother," Felwinter suggests, wrapping his hands around the iron bars and ignoring the stinging cold. "My mother, she'll help. Or my grandfather." The guardsman who had locked his cell door was now walking back. Instinctively, Felwinter pressed closer to the bars, as if he could slide through and escape. "Just tell them what happened," he said, his voice already going hoarse. "They'll help fix it. Or help pay the man back, just...I don't belong here. I don't. I-"

The leg comes up before Felwinter can see it. It connects to significant effect. Felwinter finds himself flying and falling again, sent down and sprawling onto his back, the knee thrown up at him so forcefully, it rang his ears like bells and exploded with pain.

The dark, imposing silhouette of the guard leaning against the bar blurs in Felwinter's eyes. His hands clutched his nose, wet and stinging so terribly, he could feel it behind his eyes. The other guardsman, still back against the wall, watching them, chuckled.

"When I tell you to shut up, you shut up," the first one said. Felwinter's vision blurs even more so. The guardsman cocks his head, a cruel smile curling on his mouth. "You gonna cry, little man?"

Felwinter tries not to. He tries and he tries but he fails and drops of water begin to leak out from his eyes. The smirking guard stops doing so. His ice-blue eyes burn holes into Felwinter's head. "Speak again. Just once more, boy. I dare you."

He turns away, leaving the cell room with the other guard standing to follow. The tears spill over when the door is closed. Felwinter's ears are as red and hot as his nose and face. Now every part of him was hurting and he felt every bit of it as he tried to stand. Even as he did, thin, shaking legs could not hold him up for very long. Felwinter resorted to crawling towards the back wall, curling into a ball as soon as he was against it.

His nose was still stinging, badly as well as his left eye. He sniffs, bringing a hand up to wipe away the wetness. He looks at his hand after he does and sees the dark streaks. Across the way, a trail of droplets, black in the low light follows him from where he had fallen and red splotches dot his shirt. Felwinter's eyes begin to wet again but nothing falls. He just closes them.

It was night and Felwinter woke to the sound of voices. Moonlight was streaming in through the grating on the wall too high for him to peek out of. His stomach gurgled and Felwinter put a hand to it. He had been here for hours.

The voices are distant but loud, almost shrill. Someone was shouting. The responding voice was much deeper, that of the guardsman. Felwinter flinched at the thought. But he began to push up to his feet, using the wall for support until he felt strong enough to venture out towards the gate on his own. The closer he got to the exit, the more Felwinter was spurred on by the voices, recognizing one much more than any others.

"You have no right," he hears his mother shout.

"I have every right. He broke the law."

"It was a window! He is a child!" His mother practically shouts, "And you threw him in a prison full of dangerous outlaws. For a window. A window!"

Felwinter calls for her. At least, he tries to. All that comes out is a croak, his throat drier than sand. Still, he tries and with every attempt, his voice comes a bit closer to the surface.

Felwinter pulls in a lungful of air, ready to shout; the arguing was getting worse. Then a bark of a command, sharp and almost violently loud and final. Everything went quiet. Felwinter most of all, his legs taking step after shaky step away from the bars and back into the safety of the shadows. The following words are low, quiet but powerful. And behind it was anger, one that was both terrifying and familiar.

Grandfather.

Felwinter wakes with a start, shooting up before something against his chest forces him back down. He blinks to clear the sleep from his eyes until a worried face comes into focus.

"Apologies, thane," Jordis says, pulling her hand back, "I've seen Argis' nose."

Felwinter irritably pushes her away and rises to sit. He rubs his head, aching from where he had laid it. Then, against his will, he rubbed his nose. Still bumpy, still crooked.

Their ship drifted slowly towards the docks. Most of the sails had been lowered to slow their approach. More and more, Solstheim came into view. The reports and stories hadn't been exaggerating. The sun shone brightly but the area was still a dull, cloudy brown. The ash from Red Mountain's eruption stayed high in the sky. By magical means, he recalls. There was little worry of breathing it in here.

Their captain calls their arrival, clearly unhappy about it. Felwinter couldn't blame him. The place was making his already sour mood worse.

The ship pulls into a stop and Felwinter stands, bending his back in a deep stretch, complete with unnecessarily loud groaning. Jordis is now properly annoyed. That alone was enough to lift his mood.

"Gregor?" He calls out and Jordis nods towards the back of the ship. Felwinter turns to find him sitting on a bench along the stern, near the helm, intensely focused on the piece of wood he was whittling down with an old knife, too small for anything else. "Gregor!" His head shoots up and he looks around as if for the first time in hours. Pocketing the wood and tucking away the blade, he grabs his shield and stands, strapping the heavy thing to his back.

Felwinter takes one step off the boat as soon as it's stopped. One step; he counted. It was usually all he needed before something ridiculous happened that ended with him in the middle of it. A beheading. A brazen attempt at extortion. Racial harassment. Cold-blooded murder. Whiterun was the only exception to this constant rule. Was it any wonder he made it his home?

"You there! Stop!"

There it was. Felwinter, surprisingly, did as he was told and went no further. A Dunmer man was coming down the docks towards them. Draped in fine clothing and flanked by two guards in strange bonelike armor, he must've been of some importance. Or probably liked to imagine himself as such. "I recognize the ship but not you," he states, his tone clipped and already out of patience, "What is your business here?"

"Looking for work," Felwinter lies. He wasn't willing to give his hand so quickly. He jerked a thumb behind himself, "Hired guards. They're with me."

The Dunmer man scoffs. "Strange place to come looking for work but if you're feeling lucky, by all means. I am Adril Arano," he introduces, "I am the second to First Councilor Lleril Morvayn and on his behalf, I ask that you remain on your best behavior while in Raven Rock. We are dealing with enough trouble as it is."

"Anything I should be aware of?" Felwinter tried.

"Not if you're not already involved." Adril stepped back and out of Felwinter's way, "If you'll excuse me, I'd like a word with the captain."

Felwinter took the hint as well as his next steps. The more he did, the more he was sure of what he was feeling upon waking. This place was off, in a way that was not natural. Like a hand grabbing at the back of his neck or a weight on his shoulders, like ill-fitting armor. "Gregor. Jordis. Come here." He stops at the edge of the dock and turns. "Try not to raise attention," he ordered. "We're visitors here and I don't doubt that the cultists have people watching this town. Keep your eyes open and leave the questioning to me."

"As you say, Thane." Felwinter was almost surprised Gregor didn't salute with that enthusiasm. They all started so eager. Then they got to know him. When Felwinter began to pull away and take off on his own, Gregor moved to follow. Jordis pulled him back. She had been with him long enough to know that their Thane never enjoyed being babysat.

Raven Rock was not lively. People moved slowly and silently, spoke quietly when they spoke at all and seemed overall to pay him little attention. Even the markets and those who attended the various stands kept their voices low. Felwinter pushed down the desire to call his armor to his person and kept moving.

A blacksmith's shop was the first stop he made, just a bit past where the dock ended and the trail began. Head down towards a steel sword and a working grindstone sat one of the only other Men in Raven Rock. Despite the noise, the blacksmith kept a sharp ear out, hearing Felwinter approach and waiting for him to stop before speaking. "Either you're here to get showered with sparks or you want to buy something." He lifts the blade, examining the edge. "So what is it?"

Felwinter nodded down. "How much will the sparks cost me?"

"A waiver of responsibility." Now he looks up. His eyebrows rise. "Don't get many humans here in Raven Rock. You Redguard?"

"Sure." The blacksmith raises an eyebrow and Felwinter just grins. "What type of people usually come through here?"

"Raven Rock doesn't 'get people through here'." He says, "Solstheim, in general, doesn't 'get people through here.' Not unless they have no other choice." With his free hand, he points north, towards a steep rise of earth that overlooked the rest of the settlement. "Skaal traders visit from the north." He pointed northeast. "A Nord mead hall in that direction." His hand moves a bit further. "Some weird mage tower to the southeast."

Dunmer mages. Not much of a lead but it was something. The blacksmith continued talking, "What are you in town for, stranger?" He asks, standing up from the grindstone.

"Work."

"Strange place to come for that.

"So I've been told."

"And hard to believe." The blacksmith pointed towards the rocky rise, towards old wooden doors, shut close. "That place was the best for work," he says, but that was before it was closed down."

"How did the town take it?" Felwinter took a seat on a ledge near the forge.

Big shoulders jump in a shrug. "As well as you'd expect. It was a long time ago but the people are still struggling. That mine put Raven Rock on the map and brought plenty of people here for work." He picked up a wooden axe with a black metal head from his workbench, sitting down and starting the grindstone again.

Felwinter turned back to look at the northern rise again and at the sealed gate. "Any news on the mine reopening?"

The grindstone stopped. "A dry mine? I doubt it," he scoffed. "Another human, an Imperial whose been here for a while, has been trying to get inside with no luck. Just getting in. Not reopening."

Felwinter hummed, his disappointment barely hidden. Another lead gone dry before he could follow it. Desperation makes people do unfortunate, stupid things. Things that cost them their heads. He stands up again. "Thanks for the info…"

"Glover."

Felwinter gives his own name. This man isn't with the cultists. There's no danger. He leaves the forge behind and continues his walk about the town. He finds Jordis and Gregor at a stand, selling what he hoped was sujamma or shein. Jordis was examining the smiling Dunmer's wares. Gregor, on the other hand, looked about ready to piss himself, probably on the lookout for his thane.

"Are we drinking on the job now?" He calls out as he approaches and tries to keep from smiling when Gregor nearly flies out of his own skin. Jordis was taking a small cup of the drink from the merchant to sample and paying him little mind. Felwinter nods to the merchant in greeting. "Sujamma?"

"Sujamma, my friend! Best in town." He's already taking out another cup when Felwinter puts up a hand to stop him, his other fishing out a handful of septims. The merchant beams even more, Gregor looked dumbfounded and Jordis still paid them all little mind, except to mutter that she told him so.

Felwinter takes the small bottle and claps a hand against Gregor's shoulder. "Walk with me for a minute." He leaves without waiting for a response. Gregor dutifully follows. Pulling the cork out with his teeth, Felwinter takes a pull and nearly hacks his lungs out through his throat. "This shit could strip paint!" He practically howls. Then he takes another. "Oh, I'm gonna buy out this man's entire store."

Gregor leans back when Felwinter offers him the drink. "You don't partake?"

"Not...on the job," he says, "It's not professional."

"Pffft." Felwinter pulls a flask from his hip, opens it and drains the remaining contents. Then carefully, he pours the Dunmer liquor in its stead, topping it off before pushing it towards the Nord. "Consider it an order then. Decide if disobeying one is less professional."

Gregor's eyes darted from him to the flask then back. He nodded and accepted it. The tiniest swig left him in a coughing fit and left Felwinter cackling. "Right? Put some chest on your chest!" He crowed, taking flask back as well as another pull. Felwinter tucked the flask away and said, "I realize we never got much of a chance to talk before this."

Gregor kept facing forward, though his eyes turned towards him. "It is nothing I can't handle, Thane."

Felwinter wasn't convinced. The man was jumpy, sticking uncomfortably close and remaining over-alert for any attack on his Thane. Again, Lydia, Argis and Jordis had started off the same way, doing their best to be his servile and obedient bodyguards. All of it began to lax as they realized Felwinter needed little of their protection and wanted even less of their servitude. Lydia's even bloodied his nose on more than one occasion. Nothing he didn't deserve. "Have you always lived in Dawnstar?" He tied, hoping to get him talking.

"Aye, I have. Lived a small life. A guard of the Pale, my Thane." His shoulders began to drop as he spoke.

"And what caused the promotion?" Felwinter eyes two people near the entrance of Raven Rock's mine, arguing. A Dunmer woman and the Imperial man Glover mentioned before.

"Helped root out a bandit camp that had been causing problems," he answered, sounding just a little proud. "Jarl Skald originally cared little. The bandits rarely targeted us, mainly traveling merchants on the roads."

Felwinter grunted. "Khajiit?"

"Mostly, my Thane," Gregor sighed, "I convinced the captain to let me assemble a force and he did. It was when Jarl Brina took over that I was recognized for my service and elevated to housecarl."

Felwinter brought up a hand and clapped the Nord's armored shoulder again. "Bandit camp aside, I promise things won't get too exciting around me." He shrugged. "Assuming you can handle a dragon. Or three."

Gregor stopped walking. Felwinter didn't. "Fighting, Thane?"

Felwinter turned back to him with a smile. "That too!" Gregor shook the nerves of his head out and rushed to try and catch up. A simple upheld hand stopped him. He was talking to someone else now, an elderly, Imperial man. Behind them was the entranceway into the rocky wall towering above their heads. A mine shaftway. A Dunmer woman stands off from the pair, crushing plants in a mortar, overly forceful in her work.

Gregor turned back towards the central market, where they had left Jordis. She had moved on as they did but in the opposite direction, making her way towards a short stone spire in the distance, one with people moving around it. His Thane was still occupied, so he goes to follow.

Felwinter watches as he does and takes note of his destination. Crescius had finished talking. "So you think the East Empire Company is hiding something," he asked, turning his attention back.

The short and slight older man turned his focus towards the entrance to the mine. "I do. It just makes no sense how he died. I may not have much but I have a minder's instinct and those tunnels," he said, "They're solid. Very solid. They would never collapse like that."

"Hard to say when you've never been inside."

He turned back, brow furrowed and shoulders raised. "There's nothing wrong with respecting your wife's wishes and there's nothing fair about-"

Felwinter put his hands up. "Peace, old man. I'm not making fun of you," he assured with a small smile. He'd have little place to if he was, given how his mother can still cow him into eating his vegetables from a province away.

It was clear none of this has anything to do with him. No "true Dragonborn", no zealots. He had little time or interest in going on a treasure hunt for a corpse right now.

"Look, I don't have much." Crescius started to fish into his pockets before he could walk away. He pulled out a small booklet and a bronze key. "But you look strong and capable. You'd be rewarded." He passes the items over, using his other hand to wrap Felwinter's fingers around them.

Not his problem, he repeats over and over. They become insults and curses as he says, "I can't do this now. When I have time. Before I leave for Skyrim."

Crescius let out a shocked breath. "Thank you, sir! I...I promise, I'll do my best to make it worth your time."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." Felwinter struggled to pull his hand out of his vice grip. "I can't promise anything, though. Not a body or anything that will even help."

And at that, Crescius huffs a laugh. "I'm not looking for remains at this point, young man," he said, "Just some peace of mind before my time here is up. My great-grandfather was always a source of inspiration for me. I want to know what happened."

Felwinter's mouth opens and closes, unable to find a proper response. Instead, he just nods and watches as the man leaves him. Felwinter turned his eyes back towards the stone structure. His housecarls were still there, eyes on the structure more than anything else, even the people moving around it, who seemed to pay them no mind. As he made his way through the town, he noticed that they weren't alone in their observations. A mage, he could tell that much. Dunmer, like the rest of the town but in red and gold robes; flowing, ornate, too fine to belong to just anyone. The mage wasn't a commoner. Felwinter knows nobility when he sees it.

No one reacts to his arrival, least of all the people working around the structure. The thing is bigger up close. Sharp point at the top, standing at a height of two of him. He can't at all figure out what is being made around it. Arches made of brown stone, strange spirals etched into them that are almost familiar. The workers are silent, though the occasional mutter leaves their lips.

Not at each other, he feels. To themselves, then? The gods? He can feel something coming off the stone. He isn't sure he likes it.

"Is there something I'm not seeing? Hello?" Only his housecarls turn to face him. The mage pays him as little mind as the workers. Yet, he doesn't seem nearly as dronish as the workers ignoring them. He had a finger to his chin, red eyes sharp and alert, focused on both the stone and the people working on it.

"Apologies, Thane." Jordis is blinking her eyes, as if clearing off sleep. "Do we have a lead?"

"We don't." Felwinter jerks his chin at the thing and moved closer to it. "You've spent all this time here. Do you know what it is?"

"We call it the Earth Stone." The Dunmer's voice breaks through the sharp, heavy quiet and any doubt of his status is erased as soon as he speaks. "The Dunmer have little use for it but the Skaal, Nordic tribes to the north, consider it to be one of their 'pillars of creations' and all that nonsense," he continues with a snuff. "Though, I admit to a sense of magic about it."

Felwinter looked around at the workers. None were Men, let alone Nords. "Why are Dunmer working on a Skaal religious artifact?"

"It has magical properties," he said again, "Though, they are different from the ones causing...this." He gestures to the workers with a wave of his hand. Then, he twists his head to catch Felwinter's eyes.

At the same time, Felwinter feels something bump into him. He turns to find Gregor, stumbling back and shaking his head as if he was hit. "My Thane, I am...so sorry," he says, his eyes still glassy and hooded, "I did not see you there, I…"

"You didn't see me walk past you to get a closer look?" Felwinter turned back to the stone.

The Dunmer had also turned back. "If any of you feel a pressing need to touch the object, please, go right ahead. I'm sure it will prove enlightening for at least some of us."

"You're welcome to take the lead," Felwinter says back and the Dunmer scoffs, as if the idea of doing what he suggests to others is beyond him. Whatever was off about this place, whatever he felt as soon as they pulled into Raven Rock's tiny port, it rolled off in waves here. But this pull the Dunmer mentioned, this unexplainable desire to touch the stone, Felwinter felt nothing of.

But it is there. Jordis is staring at it. Gregor bumps into him walking towards it and again, followed it up with an apology for not having seen Felwinter in his way. As in character as it would be for him to do, Felwinter didn't feel safe touching it.

"You feel nothing?" the Dunmer asks, "Nothing at all? Not even a little bit?"

He does not. "Dunmer-"

"I have a name," he interrupts, his brow furrowing. The first sign of emotion he's shown all day.

"Fine. What do you know about men and women in masks, Dunmer with a name?"

The brow tightens further, then loosens entirely. His eyes dart back and forth across Felwinter's face. It was very clear he knew something and that he was terrible at hiding it. The magic started to build in Felwinter's marked arm. The Dunmer's eyes shifted in its direction before returning to his face.

A scream echoed from far away and reached both of their ears. Felwinter spins around to find the source, looking back towards Raven Rock. People are yelling and running, guardsmen towards the town gate, civilians away from it. The cause, Felwinter cannot make out.

"Human." Felwinter turns back to the Dunmer, his magic still at the ready. But the Dunmer pays it no mind, already in the process of walking. "My home is southeast of here along the coast. Meet me there if you wish to talk further."

Felwinter watches the Dunmer make his way away from the Earth Stone and the town, hands clasped behind his back but a sense of urgency in his steps. Felwinter wanted to follow. To detain him and make him talk.

But Gregor bumps into him again and in a huff, Felwinter grabs him by the wrist and begins to lead him down the hill and towards the town, as quickly as he could manage, leaving the Dunmer to disappear into the distance. Jordis, slowly and hesitantly, follows behind, her eyes and attention still being tugged upon by the Earth Stone.

The workers around the stone remained where they were hauling lumber and stone around their worksite and muttering all the while. Raven Rock devolved into chaos below and they, as they always did, paid it no mind.