An: I'm back, the exams are over so I should have more time to write. Also I recently read a really good skyrim fic by the name of Elder Scrolls: Renegade of Cyrodiil by corrupted champion. I highly recommend it. It's here on ffn, go read it.
The rest of the dungeon after that didn't really prove to be much different from its digital version. We blasted through it in an admirable time of mere minutes, reducing any enemies in our way to ashes. Every twist and turn, every trap and treasure chest, felt almost exactly like it did when I played the game.
The familiarity made it easy to navigate, and my strategies, honed through countless hours in the virtual world, worked just as well in this real-life scenario. Before i knew it, we had cleared the entire dungeon, leaving behind a trail of foes turned into corpses. Yes, I lost most of my undead, but it's largely inconsequential since I can just find new ones.
As the bats flew in my face, I smirked, recognizing the all-too-familiar cavern. It was a place I had seen countless times before, and the sense of familiarity was almost comforting. The altar in the middle of the chamber was bathed in the cold light of the moon, casting eerie shadows around the room.
However, what I was truly looking for was the word wall just behind it. The glint of it's surface caught my eye, and I knew that retrieving the power within it was the key to truly starting my quest. My heart raced with anticipation, knowing that this was the moment I had been waiting for.
I walked up the cold stone stairs, anticipation burning in my heart. Each step echoed in the cavern, heightening my excitement. It was here, the power meant for me, just waiting for me to take it. The word wall shimmered with a mysterious allure, promising untold power.
This was the first step on my road to absolute power, and I could feel the weight of the moment settling on my shoulders. As I approached the wall, my mind raced with the possibilities of what I could achieve. The power I sought was finally within reach, and nothing could stop me now.
My fingers ran across the lazily glowing part of the script chiseled into the wall. The carvings seemed to pulse with an ancient energy, beckoning me closer. When I touched it, I felt it instantly. Like a jolt of electricity, a multitude of colors invaded my vision, coursing through my muscles and bones.
It was an overwhelming sensation, as if my entire being was being filled with raw energy. I felt it deeply, the power entering my soul, marking the first of my moments of triumph. This was more than just a step forward; it was the beginning of a transformation, the dawn of my rise to power.
Amidst my mad cackling, lost in the exhilaration of the newfound power surging through me, I failed to notice that I wasn't the only one experiencing this force. The room seemed to hum with an energy that wasn't just my own.
Shadows shifted and grew, and a presence began to stir behind me. Oblivious in my moment of triumph, I was unaware that another being was also touched by this ancient power.
Aria
As the weird power invaded her soul, she found unmatched strength suddenly at her command. The energy flowed through her, igniting a fierce determination and a newfound confidence. She could feel every fiber of her being pulsating with raw, untapped power.
Muscles she didn't know she had tensed and flexed, and her senses sharpened to an extraordinary degree. This power wasn't just a physical change; it was as if her very essence had been transformed, granting her abilities she had never dreamed possible.
It was here, the moment of reckoning. She finally could break free of the blasphemer's control, her freedom finally returned to her. The power surging within her gave her the strength to resist the chains that had bound her for so long.
With this newfound force, she felt the oppressive weight lift from her shoulders, and a sense of liberation washed over her. This was her chance to reclaim her life, to stand on her own, free from the tyranny that had dominated her existence. Her heart swelled with hope and determination as she prepared to seize her destiny.
Aria swung her two-handed axe in the direction of her previous captor's head, fueled by rage and the desire for freedom. Unfortunately for her, an unexpected problem manifested in her path to finally rid herself of this tyrant.
The undead captain intercepted her attack. With a swift, bone-chilling movement, the captain raised her own weapon and stopped Aria's axe swing. The clash of their weapons echoed through the chamber.
Erato
Broken out of the trance, I gazed over my shoulder to see my last surviving undead stopping my apparently runaway servant from parting my head from my shoulders.
At that moment, an unexplainable rage manifested deep within my soul. The betrayal, the audacity of her defiance, fueled a fire that burned hotter than any I had ever known.
Before I could do much to quell this idiotic rebellion, a sound of the stone cover of the sarcophagus hitting the ground drew my attention.
The undead ancient warrior, dormant for centuries, stood up and glared in our direction. It's eyes, glowing with an otherworldly intensity, seemed to pierce through the darkness of the chamber.
My attention taken off her, the woman threw herself towards the stairs off to the side. I made to follow after her, but the boss barred my way. I cursed beneath my breath, realizing that attempting to attack it myself would be foolish at best.
With its formidable strength and defenses, engaging it directly would likely result in my own demise. I would need to rely on my undead minion to engage the draugr overlord in combat while I pelted it with spells from a safe distance. However, by the time I managed to kill it, the runaway would likely have escaped.
"Well, nothing for it," I muttered to myself, resigning to the fact that I would have to deal with her later. How hard could it be? Famous last words as they say. With a wave of my hand, I ordered my undead forward to engage the enemy, while I myself slinked off to a corner to cast my beloved flaming skulls.
As the fiery projectiles erupted from my palms, I watched with grim satisfaction as they streaked towards the undead foe, their flames engulfing everything in their path.
The draugr swung it's rusting sword with reckless abandon, each strike met with deft blocks, parries, or nimble dodges from my undead construct. With calculated precision, my minion countered every blow, her movements fluid and coordinated. Meanwhile, I remained in the safety of the corner, casting my spells with focused intensity.
The room crackled with magical energy as my flaming skulls soared through the air, their fiery explosions illuminating the chamber in bursts of light and heat. Despite the ferocity of the obsticle's attacks, it seemed powerless against the combined might of the undead and my arcane abilities.
Its HP steadily fell until it reached zero, the ancient warrior crumbling into a pile of now lifeless bones. I looked up, but as I expected, she had already escaped. I couldn't help but sigh in frustration. "Of course," I muttered to myself.
I walked over to the body, liberating it off the stone tablet. I would need to drag it over to Whiterun for further study.
As I searched through the remains, I found some other knick-knacks—a few gems, an enchanted weapon that I would soon reverse engineer—but nothing too important.
"Abeloth, what happened?" I called out to my dear companion. My voice bounced off the walls of the cold cavern, creating a reverberating echo. Yet, there was no answer from my system. The silence was unsettling, and a knot of worry began to form in my stomach.
Abeloth had always been reliable, a constant presence at the back of my mind. This unexpected silence was unlike her, and it made me uneasy.
"Abeloth?" I ventured once again, hoping to hear her voice in my mind. The silence lingered, amplifying my unease. Just as I was about to call out once more, I heard, "Give me a second." With those four words, my growing anxiety was rapidly put to the sword.
Relief washed over me, and I felt a reassuring sense of calm return. Abeloth was still with me, and with her around my path to ultimate power was more or less clear.
"The system seems to have been overloaded by the draconic power, frying some of it's functions. For one your ability derived from Molag Ball is shot. The other thing is that your powers also seem to have morphed."
I pondered the information in silence before looking up again. "Could you elaborate on that second part?" I asked, leaning against the word wall.
"I believe showing you would be easier."
!Warning!
The gamer system has been effected by an unknown power. The following changes have taken effect.
The skill point system has been voided, stats are further increased through practising adequate skills. Magicka from magic skills, health from warrior, stamina from thief.
Stats can also be increased by completing adequate activities. Magicka by casting spells, health by taking damage and healing from it, stamina by exercising.
Corpse system voided, user can't raise corpses as they are. Instead, user can raise specific types of undead from specific corpses and using specific items.
Status
Name: Erato
Title: The False Dragonborn
Level: 6
Health: 110
Magicka: 120
Stamina: 100
Class: Necromancer 2
Necromancer slot filled:?/10
Skills:
Conjuration: 9
Two-handed: 6
Destruction: 2
Illusion: 1
Speech: 1
The moment I was done absorbing Abeloth's explanation, I heard my only remaining undead clatter to the ground, though her body stayed intact. I approached her, curiosity and caution guiding my steps.
Kneeling beside her, I extended my hand, focusing on my newly morphed necromantic abilities. I channeled the altered energy, feeling it course through me, different yet familiar.
Avilable types of undead
Skeleton infantry I
Required: corpse, one handed weapon
Skeleton infantry(shield) I
Required: corpse, one handed weapon, shield
Skeleton infantry(great weapon) I
Required: corpse, two-handed weapon
Zombie I
Required: corpse
Skeleton archer I
Required: corpse, bow
Grave guard II
Required: corpse of a melee fighter, heavy armor, sword, shield
Grave guard(great weapon) II
Required: corpse of a melee fighter, heavy armor, two-handed sword
I looked over the options presented to me and raised an eyebrow. "What do the Roman numerals next to the name mean?" I asked, curious about their significance. They seemed to add some extra layer of information that I didn't quite understand. My mind wandered as I thought about the possibilities, wondering if they indicated a rank, a version, or something entirely different.
"That's their rank and the cost. The ranks signify their general usefulness. As far as I can see, there are three ranks."
"I see." I replied shortly, choosing the grave guard option. The second I did the body before me started being covered in some red viscous liquid. After a moment the shape underneath visibly morphed. I stood up and took a step back.
The form stood up, the presumed blood dripping away to reveal the visage of an undead knight in black armor. The armor gleamed with an eerie sheen, and the sword and shield held by the knight were both covered in intricate patterns, seeming to spiral into oblivion and back.
Her eyes shined with a malicious blue glow, piercing through the dim light of the chamber. As she rose, it became apparent that she was standing straighter and a bit taller than before.
Grave guard captain(unique unit)
Special effect: deathly aura, friendly undead units in range gain plus 2 to attack.
"Unique? What makes a unit unique?" I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity as I observed my newly reanimated minion.
"To gain unique status the corpse would have to be in some way the only one of it's kind."
"I see, well I suppose I wasted enough time here. To Whiterun we go."