1-New Kalpa and the Servants of the Bad Ends.
Oblivion is a very big place.
We are talking of hundreds of thousands of planes intermixing with the others, entire dimensional gaps the size of the milky way, chaos spirals, small dimensional holes, islands, realms, systems, whatever. It is massive and infinite, meaning that you can wander it forever and will always encounter something new if you seek it out long enough.
At the same time, Oblivion is the kind of place where; if you are powerful enough; you can find a small corner of existence to hide and be at peace for a few millennia. It was something that practically all deities, or other entities of power, have done at some point in their lives, seek out a small pocket dimension where to unwind in peace. Also, it served as the perfect place to migrate when the world where you live becomes cardboard.
It is the most common case with recently born demigods, entities of power of all kinds, people that accidentally blasted their country to Oblivion, cretins that hammer the heart of a god just for the laughs, and all kind of events that should have been forever filled under: "This can not ever happen", but fate, Akatosh, the Draedric Princes, luck, or the flying spaghetti; a very funny lad, once you managed to know him beyond all the sass tomato sauce and snark of the meatballs; conspired to make something happen and the world had to deal with the consequences.
Such is the tale of the Last Dragonborn.
Way back in the Mythic Era, the Tongues managed to shout Alduin into a rift, supposedly getting rid of the blasted worm forever, alas, Alduin is the firstborn of the Divine of Time, Akatosh, and that means that he can travel the time currents at his leisure. It only takes a lot of time. Four Eras to be precise, alas, it happened, and thanks to a prophecy, the Last Dragonborn will rise to the challenge, and prevent Alduin from devouring the world.
Now, there is a small addendum to this entire debacle that must be addressed to understand the kind of mess that Alduin has provoked with his appearance in the Fourth Era.
The truth is that Alduin HAS to eat the world, allowing the next Kalpa (world) to be born. The world must be destroyed to be reborn anew, sad as it sounds, it is the way of life. Something must die so others can live, but at the same time, Alduin screwed it up and came way too early. His destiny as World Eater was not supposed to happen during the Four Era, in fact, the entire Dragon reign over the populace should have never happened as well, but with divine entities, logic can go cry into a corner.
The poor schmuck tasked with the very ingrate task of facing a World Eater was a Nord lad that crossed the border of Skyrim at the worst possible time. The man was already an old man, but due to his half-Altmer heritage, even in his eighty winters, he still looks as if he was in his prime. A former, and very disenchanted Battle Mage of the Imperial Legion. Bram accompanied the Forgotten Hero when he donned the armor of the Emperor and won the Battle of the Red Ring. Gold brand, the golden katana of unknown origin, had accompanied Bram since that day.
A devout Talos worshiper, Bram saw the White and Gold Concordant, as a spit to the face of all the warriors that fought and die during the Great War, not to mention the innocents that suffered at the hands of the Thalmor and their Daedra pests during the infamous sack of the city. The abominations that took place in the Imperial City can not be forgotten, much less forgiven by some petty treaty that did nothing but spread even further the ass cheeks of the Empire for the next Thalmor fist fucking.
There was no need to be a strategic mastermind to see that there will be a second Great War, for Talos's sake, the Thalmor called the Great War, the First War against the Empire. With such a name, what is to be expected?. That they will learn their lesson and pack their things back to their islands?.
Sure, and Molal-Bag runs a nursery in the Black Marshes.
Sick and tired of the pathetic state of the Empire, Bram went back to Skyrim, as soon as the Battlespire let him go. The Shadow Legion, the name of the Battlemages of the Empire, was not all content with the massive disaster that has been the Great War, and how it has dwindled their numbers, not to mention how the Synod was now more a political organization that a true school of magic, but nothing can be done about it, with the rampant corruption of the Empire, and the tiredness of the Emperor, that did not care troll dung about anything, anymore.
Perhaps that was the straw that broke the camel's back. How little the Emperor valued the sacrifices that all have done for the Empire, after how he practically begged the Forgotten Hero to wear his armor and lead the Empire to victory on the Battle of the Red Ring, just to spit in everything they did by signing the accursed treaty. The Emperor completely ignored the blood of the hero and the comrades of Bram that died on that accursed battle.
Packing the few possessions that Bram had, he left the Empire. If they wanted to choke on their own stupidity and corruption, fine, so be it, but Bram will not be part of such travesty. Other countries have flipped the bird to the Thalmor, proving that the Thalmor were hardly the omnipotent beings that everyone and their mothers believe they were. Bram knew it well, he has personally butchered enough "Superior mages" of the Thalmor to found the entire spiel of the Thalmor about their superiority incredibly stupid.
Skyrim was the destination of Bram, crossing the borders and falling into an Imperial ambush, that put him in the same cart as Ulfric Stormcloak, straight to execution in Helgen. Sure, Bram could understand why the Empire wanted Ulfric dead, but the thing is that Bram was innocent in all this mess, he even had the license papers, that the legionaries that ambushed than at Dark Water Crossing left behind along the rest of his belongings.
A very understanding captain listened to Bram's tale, nodded, and shouted to Bram that she did not care troll dung about who he was, that he went to the block as the rest of the rebel scum. Bram's scarce faith in the Imperial Legion pummeled after that. Make it double when Bram saw the Thalmor presence on Helgen.
The very opportune appearance of Alduin sent it all to Oblivion and started the tale of Bram, Bram of the Many Blades, the Last Dragonborn.
But that was a tale that did not affect Bram anymore.
After saving Tamriel five times in a decade, and discovering that he had to be extra cautious to do not break the world around him by accident. Suddenly empathizing with the Greybeards a lot more than before. It was not only his voice, as the Thu'um of Bram was already superior to any Dovah on the surface of Tamriel, but his magic, his physical might, his very presence was suffocating to most people. An unfortunate after-effect of slaying Alduin, and absorbing the soul and power of the World Eater.
That should not have happened, but Bram took the power of the World Eater and make it his own. Bram was now a demi-god of sorts, the kind of power that has not been seen on the surface of Tamriel since the Mythic Era, and his mere presence was a menace to the balance of the world.
After Paarthurnax suggested he step out of Tamriel and into another Kalpa, Bram decided to do exactly that, and taking a page from the book of Galudur and the Mysterium Xarxes, Bram went to an abandoned corner of Oblivion and built himself a small refuge there. Nothing flamboyant, more oriented to practicality than ostentatious, the building of the homestead entertained Bram for years.
Well, it was certainly impossible to calculate the passage of time, in a spot on Oblivion where there is no time. The best one that one could do, is to bring a mechanic trinket from Dwermer to count the hours that one has passed into the creation of Bram, and then calculate how much time has passed. And even then, it will not an accurate method, as Bram was a master of Shadow Magic, along the Thuum, and that allowed him to move back and forth in time in bursts.
Shadow Magic allowed Bram to actually move through time, but Bram made an oath to Never mess up with the time stream, so another "Alduin has come way earlier than it should", the situation arises and screw Tamriel more. The world is already screwed as it is now, they do not need more apocalyptic scenarios.
All in all, Bram was enjoying his retirement. After saving Tamriel, again, and losing some very important companions on the way, Bram was already way too much powerful, a danger to the place, and he just wanted a small respite to mourn the losses. Practically crafting a small island in the middle of the eternal planes of Oblivion was something that makes Bram proud.
In fact, Bram has gone way and beyond and has even summoned wild animals to make things interesting and to have a source of nourishment. Other Archmages like him, crafted isolated houses and towers, but Bram picked up an abandoned island of the Sea of Ghosts and moved it to Oblivion. Keeping the island environment as close to his homeworld as possible, Bram wanted a reminder of his home. To never forget his humanity.
Of course, keeping things as natural as possible, had the consequence that Bram had to do all the maintenance of the manor by himself, but that was a welcome source of entertainment. The more tedious chores around, like cleaning, dusting, dishwashing, laundry, and the such, were made by half a dozen Animunculis than Bram picked up from Kagrumez, the Dwarven ruin in Solstheim. The mechanical spiders and two spheres took care of such chores, leaving the more complex task for Bram to do. Like fixing a door, building furniture, crafting potions, enchanting, forging, cooking, and other tasks.
In one of those slow days, Bram was humming "The Dragonborn Comes"; the poor man was painfully conscious that his singing was similar to a duck farting in the mist; as he fixed a small spot of the wooden walls of his manor. One of the bears that lived around the manor had a scuffle with a bunch of Frost Spiders, and they have crashed one of the wooden posts as consequence.
Armed with his trusty hammer, some freshly forged nails, and a carved wooden post, Bram was calmly fixing his property. It was one of the many unexpected tasks that were the consequence of Bram's decision to kept his small kingdom as close to his beloved Skyrim as he could.
Indifferent to the cold around, Bram was only wearing work pants, a tool belt, and a hairband to kept his red hair out of his golden eyes.
Bram was an eight feet tall titan, with the kind of muscles that are used to strangle dragons without breaking a sweat. It was one of the most peculiar traits of Bram. Despite his title as Archmage of the Winterhold College, Bram was the furthest thing imaginable from a stereotypical wizard. Rough, masculine facial features, longer fangs, golden eyes, red hair, pale skin, and the size and muscles to make an orc berserker look like a feeble milk drinker.
One can not call Bram attractive, as he was not handsome in the most accepted definition of the term, but he was far from ugly. It was simply that the harsh life of Bram has forced him to have the kind of body that warriors would sell their souls for. And on a side note about that, the most surprising trait on Bram's body was his apparent lack of scars. The truth was, that between his natural healing, his mastery over the Restoration school, and the mastery of the flesh sculpture that Galathil taught him, he had complete mastery over his own flesh.
Still, if one had sharp enough eyesight, lots of white lines can be seen in his pale skin. Mementos of the thousands of battles that Bram has fought. From the bandits that roamed the wilds, to the Dovah that ruled the skies, to the Dremora that dwelt in Oblivion. The latest are the only ones that from time to time came to the small corner of the woods of Bram seeking trouble.
Bram appreciated the exercise, it was refreshing, and a method to kept his battle skills ready. Not to mention how the dremora themselves are almost like pigs, everything can be of use, for those that know what to do with the supernatural race bodies, along with the gear that they carried with themselves.
Holding a nail between his fingers, ready to nail the last steel piece in the wooden wall of his home, Bram lifted his hammer, a smirk on his lips, and when the hammer swung down, the wooden post disappeared, along with the nail that he was holding, and instead, Bram hammered his own fingers against a stone that was not there a second ago.
Blinking, Bram eyed his throbbing fingers, paying little attention to the pain that was knocking at his brain, and raising an eyebrow observed the stone that was not there a second ago. That was a good stone, but of a quality that he had not seen in his island, and that was a problem. Also, raising his head to observe his surroundings, Bram found himself staring at his home from a vantage position, a hundred meters from the wooden walls that delimited his home, at the top of a small hill with the stone that he had hammered, crowing it.
"What in Oblivion?". Mussed out loud Bram, watching the surrounding lands.
The snowy forest around him and his manor was similar and completely different from the lands that he cultivated for his Oblivion refuge. They shared the surface appearance, but it was obvious for the senses of Bram, superior to those of a normal Man or Mer, that dozens of smells should not be there.
Somehow, or most likely, somebody, has transplanted the manor of Bram into a realm. Who?. Why?. For what?. Those are some of the questions that Bram was making to himself, as he channeled a small healing spell into his hands and fixed his crushed fingers. Magic worked, that was a relief.
"Lass". The world of power, a whisper with enough strength to sweep hundreds of meters around, show Bram that he was not the only living being around, but none of the echoes that he felt revealed a sliver of power.
Typical forest critters, birds, insects, a wolf in the distance, a bear half a kilometer to the east, lots of fish on the nearby lake, or sea, as Bram did not see the coast at the other side of the sudden mass of water that has surged to the northeast of the woods of his manor. Even the snow was different, less dense, less cold than the frigid and harsher winter that Bram took from the edges of the frozen Atmora.
Sighing quite loudly, Bram turned into a flock of bats that cover the distance between the vantage post that he had found himself standing, and the gate of his manor. One of the most useful powers that he blatantly stole from the vampires of the Volkihar clan. It was not their Vampire Lord blood magic, but a facsimile of it. Bram was possible the most versatile mage of Skyrim, able to analyze, dissect and replicate any magic that Bram found during his travels and adventures.
Also, Bram was a vampire once, never liked it, so he cured himself, but they kept replicas of the powers that he once holds as Vampire Lord. They were very useful, and Bram needed all the edges that he could find for his fated confrontation with Alduin.
Leaving the tools on the tool shed outside of the main manor, Bram walked into his home left his clothes on the laundry box to be cleaned by the aunimuncili that he kept as servants for those domestic chores, and walked into the baths that he built on the manor. A good soak was always welcome, especially since Bram used runes and enchanting to keep the baths always clean, and with hot and cold water at will. The idea showers were something that Bram picked up from all the Dwarven ruins that Bram explored during his adventures in Skyrim, and in other planes of existence in Oblivion, so he copied the structure of the baths that he found on that ruins, but an unmistakable Nord aesthetic.
It was hardly the first time that Bram experimented with such dimensional movements, but usually, it was only him the one affected by the sudden displacement. It was the first time that his entire manor has accompanied him. This time the manor, and maybe ten meters extra of the terrain that surrounded his home, had accompanied him in his travel.
Not long after Bram finished his home outside the home, Sheogorath came to pay a visit. Bram has not been more confused in all his life. The familiarity of Sheogorath, calling Bram his favorite nephew was something that unnerved Bram, but considering who was he talking to, Bram went with the flow and started to call Sheogorath, Uncle Sheo. That seemed to make the day of the Prince of Madness.
Anyhow, things got even weirder, when Jyggalag in person came for a visit with Uncle Sheo. Now, Bram was not a deluded milk drinker that believed that after killing and usurping the powers of Alduin, he was now the top dog of Oblivion. Sure, Bram ranked high, but against Jyggalag, the Prince that had the others scared witless, and Sheogorath?. Nay. Bram can find lesser painful methods to suicide.
The thing is that Jyggalag was a fan of Bram's decade of work in Skyrim. From the victory over Alduin to the mess with the Vampire Prophecy of the Volkihar Clan to the raise of Miraak to the resurgence of Potema to the exterminating of the Altmer fleet in the Sea of Ghosts. According to the strongest Daedric Prince, I was a beacon of order in the middle of a sea of chaos.
Bram took that as a compliment.
With the approval of the two Daedric princes, came the occasional dimensional travel, but it was short expeditions to whoever knows what corners of Oblivion, pick something for Jyggalag, or eliminate a dangerous monster, or tore a new one to an aspiring Dremora Lord with ambitions, hunting down a rabid Beast Blood that has slipped out of the Hunting Grounds, and things like that. The longest time was a year in a nasty world where the heir of a noble family had to conquer a dark dungeon filled to the brim with all kinds of abominable things.
Bram had to make a triple take at the vampires that he saw in that world. They were more mosquitoes acting as humans than anything else, with a massive slug thing as Countess or something along those lines, along with those abominations, the collection of pig-men that were worst that the Reikling and the Falmer put together, and the undead that plagued the entire manner. Not to mention the occasional thing beyond the stars that made the brains of the people around melt into puddles.
Good people died trying to conquer that horrible place, but in the end, Bram managed to eviscerate the dark thing at the deep of the dungeon, fully embracing the power of Alduin, and going full World Eater on the blasted thing. Since then, Bram's shadow magic has grown leap and bounds.
Drying himself after a good shower, Bram picked up some comfortable clothes, similar to the ones that Bram saw Balgruuf wearing whenever the Jarl was in court, but on black and golden colors and embroidering. Bram was never all that keen on the matter of "dressing the part", as one of his lovers in the past told to him, Bram has already made peace with the fact that his dressing choices are going to call the attention unless the world is similar to Tamriel.
On the central spire that Bram built for his manor, Bram built an Alchemy station. On the lower floor of that spire, Bram put a temple to the Divines and the Daedra that Bram liked. Bram was hardly the most devout follower, after slaying what can be considered a god, and seeing first hand what the Divines and Daedra did all over Skyrim and beyond, Bram's faith lessened quite a lot. However, that does not mean that Bram did not pay adequate homage to those that had earned, if not his trust, at least, his respect.
Bram knew that something was afoot the moment he entered the temple, and saw the red circle engraved into the stone floor. The basis of the circle seemed to be a summoning of some sorts, but the circle and the symbols were not from Skyrim, instead, they look like something that he once found in a world overrun by zombies, when Bram had to slaughter the sliver of an ancient Lich-like thing.
The languages of that world were similar to the ones that Bram knew from Tamriel, and the circle was akin to the conjuration methods that he has seen in other realities. Conjuration was not Bram's favorite. But magic of all kinds was Bram's favorite toy, and conjuration was a branch of his home realm magic after all.
The statues and altars of the Divines and Draedra stood at the sides and fronts of the room, leaving quite the space between the circle and the walls. A very interesting rune array covered the ceiling of the room and went down the temples at the walls of the room. The symbol of Oblivion, the hallmark of the conjuration school, was predominant on the array, but lots of phrases and symbols of all kinds stood up as well on the complex matrix.
In front of the circle, a sturdy stone altar with a leather book called the attention of Bram. This entire thing was suspiciously similar to the daedric forge that Bram found deep into the bowels of the Winterhold College, alas, with enough differences to make it different enough. Anyhow, Bram makes a hand gesture, and the book opened, revealing a series of images. Some kind of knights, armed with different weapons, and explanations about a "Servant" and how they represent the apex of humanity.
Uh. Now Bram was interested but the thing that made him raise an eyebrow was an addendum; who obviously came from Sheogorath, as it was glued to the pages in a very haphazardly way and with pictures of cheese wheels; specifying that the "Servants" were people in serious need of a second chance at life. That was an interesting addendum to the summons, meaning that Bram was calling extraordinary individuals; from an unknown amount of worlds?; who, somehow had ended up in "bad ends" and needed a second chance.
Bram was quite confused about the whole thing, especially with the "Servants" thing. Why would he need any magical slaves of any sort?. Technically speaking, the Servants are something akin to an incredibly powerful familiar. Bram has seen something like that in the past, never saw much the appeal, but a lot of mages of all kinds had a variant of the familiar concept.
Reading the book, Bram felt the knowledge and the skill to perform the Servant rite perfectly imprint into his brain. In fact, the entire thing can be quite modified to actually mix with the conjuration school that Bram knew, and the result can be quite interesting. The problem was the "catalyst". Technically, Bram could perform the rite, but the result will be a "compatible" Servant, and that's not even a guarantee.
On the other hand, Bram had a lot of trophies and mementos from his adventures in Skyrim and the other Kalpas that Jyggalag and Uncle Sheo had him exploring for whatever missions they have for him. Maybe some of those could be used as catalysts, but then Bram will be summoning extraordinary people from their world into this unknown Kalpa. On a side note, this Kalpa is remotely familiar to Bram, it was very close to the Russian and Siberian lands that Bram once visited to hunt down a dangerous Dremora cult that was about to make themselves known to the primitive humans of the surroundings.
Closing the book, and closing his eyes, mentally indexing the information on the book and adding it to Bram's impressive arcane knowledge, Bram memorized the ritual to the minutia details, and after being sure that he had it down to a T, Bram observed the summoning circle and wondered about who would be the "bad end" individuals.
A blade from the armory wiggled its way out of the weapon display and fly all the way to Bram. The armory was on the right wing of the building, due to how many weapons has Bram collected during his adventures, Bram had quite the collection of weapons. Blades mostly, as Bram was called Bram of the Many Blades for something.
The Akaviri katana was a weapon that Bram took from the new fortress of the Blades after he put his foot down and let Delphine and Esbern know in crystal clear terms, that Paarthurnax was a revered teacher and a respected individual, and if they even dared to look funny at the peak of the Throat of the World, Bram himself with make them choke on their own hearts.
The weapon floated in front of Bram, as he observed the weapon with a critical eye. One of the many replicas that he made to perfect the forging of blades of that style, the quality of the blade was beyond doubt, but Bram had to admit that it was not his magnum opus. Still, it was of enough quality to act as a catalyst to maybe a Saber Servant or a servant with an affinity for blades.
With a hand gesture, the blade moved to the center of the summoning circle, resting over the stone floor with a small metallic clink. Out of paranoia, Bram read again the ritual, making sure that he had it all covered and no potential hazards were lurking in the corners. The last thing that Bram needed was to summon a bloody monster and wreck his own home in the resulting battle.
Channeling a lot of magicka into the summoning circle, Bram ignited the whole thing, already ignoring the chanting part due to the runes all over the walls and ceiling. The circle erupted in red light as the magic behind the entire ritual brought forth an entity that needed a second chance after a "bad end".
With a dense smoke explosion, a figure manifested in the middle of the circle. Bram waved the smoke out of the room with a simple breeze spell, and the moment that he saw the figure, Bram cursed in loud voice and ran to help the collapsed servant.
The figure was female, dressed in nothing more than skimpy underwear; ah, one of those bikinis, Bram remembered; and a cape. She was an exceptionally voluptuous woman of fair skin, of Akaviri lineage of some sort, dark blue hair, and green eye. Her skull was cracked and her left eye was shattered as if it was crystal. Her mechanical legs seemed damaged and broken, and she had a nasty wound on her torso, a sword wound, a straight cut, a professional cut, Bram noticed after a quick examination on the wound as Bram sent a powerful healing spell to the body of the mangled girl.
The powerful spell of the Restoration school fixed enough of the damages to the woman to save her life, but that was not enough. It was just patching the worst of the wounds, but not dealing with the hemorrhages, the broken bones, and the strange mechanical legs that the woman sported.
It has been a while since Bram saw anything remotely similar, rumor said that the Dwernmer had people with metallic implants and that some of their race was half animunculi, but Bram had only seen crude versions of the metal that woman was sporting. Shelving the analysis to the corner of his mind, Bram levitated the body of the woman and touching her arm, check out his pulse.
A sharp pain erupted on his right hand, ah, aye, the Command Seals, the tattoos that acted as a method to force the Servants to obey some orders, no matter what. Personally, Bram found the entire thing very disgusting, too similar to slavery and mind control, and Bram had more than enough of both of those when he destroyed the Volkihar Clan of vampires.
Carrying the woman to the small infirmary that he had in his manor; made out of a whim, as Bram lived here alone and did not really need such a place; and praising himself for his foresight, Bram tended to the wounds of the mysterious woman. The lass was battered and bruised. The broken bones of her arms, the bruises over the edges of her animunculi legs, the chest wound, and the broken skull, along with the chaffed crystal of a fake eye.
Bram huffed at the collection of wounds, this lass looks as if she had gone some rounds with a Darwen Centurion and lost all of them. Badly. Whatever enemy she was facing was a professional, Bram's experience with these kinds of wounds was more than enough to allow him to recognize the kind of professional strikes that a master swordsman would inflict on a body.
If all the summoning is going to come to this Kalpa in such a state, Bram is tempted to do not even attempt to summon them. It was fortunate that his healing skills were adequate enough to save the life of the mysterious lass. But it was quite rude from whatever brought the Servants to his home, to drop them in such a state. Supposedly, they appeared at their prime, and with enough knowledge about the world to move around it and to complete the purpose for what they have been summoned.
Also, they are supposed to make a pact with their "Master", to get "mana" from them, and allow them to fight for whatever purpose. Frowning at the Master-Servant thing, slavery was a big Nay in Bram's books, Bram deducted that his natural; and practically limitless magicka reserves; would be a more than adequate substitute for the mana that feed the servants usually. The magecraft that was the base of the ritual was very different from what Bram knew about magic, but he was a very adaptable individual and adapted quickly to the system presented to him.
Still, the wounded lass was a bloody surprise, and something that he did not expect, an oddity that should have not happened, but considering how Sheogorath was involved in all this, Bram simply chalked the oddity to the interference of the demented quasi-deity and went with the flow.
Operating the lass was complicated, but Bram was quite the healer, and with just the adequate mixture of a sharp blade, a steady hand, and a liberal application of healing magic, Bram managed to heal the woman, although, Bram had to remove the animunculi pieces off the woman's body. The eye was cracked and the plastic and metal pieces had pierced the skull of the woman, with fragments inserting themselves into the brain of the lass. And the legs had their entire internal mechanism screwed, between cuts, charred cords of metal, and electric generators of some sort that have melted inside.
"Lass Slen Vokrii", shouted Bram to the body of the woman, letting the Thuum infuse her body in a protective blue mist and start restoring the woman to her prime. Judging from the speed at which the shout was working, it is going to take quite a while to fix the woman. Not only regrowing the legs and the eye but whatever extra damages that Bram has not found in his initial prognosis and operations.
Life Body Restore would be the simplified translation of the shout that Bram has used, another of the many, many shouts that are now part of his arsenal. Thu'um came to him as something natural, the words of power, the voice that can shift the world to the will of the speaker was magic, and like all magic that Bram has encountered so far, it bent completely to his will.
Covering the body of the woman with a clean blanket, Bram left her on the healing room; taking mental note of improving the room quickly, if any other summoning goes the same way that the one the dark blue-haired lass; and stepped into the main hall of the building and levitated to the second floor of the main hall, landing in front of the door of the alchemy station that he had built over the temple.
Quickly rummaging through the potion cabinets, Bram sought out the last bottle of the Torpor that he made after the clusterfuck with Vaerminia in Dawnstar. Technically speaking, the moment that Bram experimented with the Dreamstride, a byproduct of the potion, he could replicate the alchemy-induced dream experience through Bram's own arcane mastery.
But Bram was curious and taking into consideration one of the secondary aspects of the servant summoning called the Dream Cycle, Bram wanted to be in control of the dreamscape and at the same time, show the Servant his memories with a narrator that can explain what on Oblivion is going on.
Bram was, according to the rules of the servant ritual, a Foreigner, a servant that drawn strength from an extra-dimensional being. It will be something akin to be summoned as the Champion of Hermaeus Mora. A servant connected to an extra-dimensional monster with its own agenda. And Bram was sure that a lot of contexts will be needed between the two dream cycles to make any sense of what both of them will be experiencing.
With a triumphant huff, Bram found the last bottle of Torpor on the deepest corner of the potions cabinet, and store it in his pocket. Bram had something extra to do before he could sit at the side of the healing woman, drink the Torpor, and took control of the Dreamstride, to make any sense of the dream cycles.
The wooden door of the watcher tower on top of the central spire; all three spires had watcher's spots like that on their tops; opened by a mental push of Bram's telekinesis, possibly the spell that Bram used the most in his time in Tamriel. The Alteration School was the original specialty of Bram when he was part of the Shadow Legion of the Empire. Levitating through the open spot, Bram stood at the top of the spire, with a very nice vision of the surroundings of his manor.
"Lass Yah Niir". Shouted Bram to the open air, and an invisible wave of magic emanated from him, covering kilometers of distance around him in a second, revealing all life forms present in the surroundings of the manor.
Aura Whisper was one of the most practical shouts that Bram had, and due to how little taxing it was, and how useful it was to detect everything around, it easily became almost a custom before entering anywhere to mumble the shout under his breath and see if unwanted surprises are waiting for him at the other side of the wall.
Sadly, the shout did not reveal anything beyond what Bram already knew, that this was a Kalpa of Oblivion, that his entire manor has been translated to an unknown Kalpa, that the world was pretty similar to the Russian and Alaska Kalpa that he visited once, and that he was supposed to call servants who had suffered a band ends to help him do something.
The absence of clear instructions irked Bram. With Jyggalag being the one that usually gave him instructions and missions of any sort, the lack of explanations, and the disgruntled words badly patched to the book explaining the ritual, was very out of character of the Daedric Prince of Order.
Taking a deep breath, Bram focused his will, and shouted to the skies, calling forth one of the most dangerous and powerful shouts that he had under his command. It was a spell that allowed Alduin to trap the entire Sovngarde into a dense mist that doubled as soul snare.
"Ven Mul Rik". The Words of Power shocked the skies, and out of everything around the manor in kilometers, an impenetrable mist erupted, covering the manor and kilometers around of forest and water in its white blanket.
Soul Fog. A trap that prevents any poor sod that steps into it to escape, and snared the souls of those that die inside of its borders, feeding the souls to Alduin. Now, the souls will fortify Bram, which had all the powers of the fallen aspect of Alduin.
Bram's paranoia came from how ignorant he was of this world, something that he hated, and now that he was going to be attending the healing mysterious woman that he has summoned, he preferred to kept a strong defensive measure, just in case some bastard with ideas walked right into his home and started wrecking his belongings. Bram was proud of his manor and wanted it clean and in one piece, thank you.
With the thick and dense fog hiding the manor, Bram snorted in satisfaction and levitated back into the manor, closing the wood port behind him. Floating all the way down to the infirmary, and taking not of maybe expanding it, if all the future summons is going to be like this, Bram picked up a comfortable chair from the main hall and took a seat at the side of the unconscious woman.
The shout was already healing her, regenerating flesh and bones, and cleaning up any nasty surprises on her blood or organs.
Even under the blanket, Bram can appreciate the incredibly beautiful woman that he has summoned. She was not very tall, five-seven in height more or less, but she was toned, athletic, and showing the kind of womanly curves that can provoke wars. Her natural beauty, now that the wounds have been cleaned and she was out of her cloak, was in the open to Bram to admire, and Bram recognized that the lass was gorgeous.
Taking a comfortable stance in the chair, near the unconscious woman, Bram uncorked the Torpor, downed it in one gulp, and close his eyes, letting the magic of the potion do its thing, and sent him into the Dreamstride, overriding the usual dream cycle of the servants, and allowing him to have a civil conversation with the servant, showing each other memories.
"What a bloody mess, uncle". Though Bram before the potion put him to sleep.
And the poor sod had only begun to scratch the clusterfuck that his favorite uncle has sent him into.