Jon and Lydia stood outside the door to Shroud Hearth Barrow. They had woken up in each others comfort again, this time in an even smaller bed the Graybeards thankfully had in lieu of their typical stone ones. There wasn't really a choice like the night before given the cold of the monastery. There was only so much even Nords could take. Jon didn't know where this relationship was going, he just wanted to keep waking up in this Doom-Driven woman's arms, unnaturally so. Was there a blessing involved? Was Irileth being literal, past his bodily quirks that she didn't know about when she said it or the joke about being a demi-god, which he was? That wasn't the relevant question right now.
Jon turned to her and said, "What do you know about ghosts? All I know is myth from another world"
Lydia said, "They're weak to lighting magic, and can only be felled with special weapons. That doesn't necessarily mean rare however. Regular iron and steel won't fell one, but my Sky-Forged blade will, even without enchantments. Enchantments on any blade will work. I suspect what cleaved that frost troll apart would, your dragon bone probably, definitely your bow cast, other metals that are somewhat rare as well. Silver is the go to. They're not the most dangerous threat out there, but can be if you are caught unawares."
Jon nodded. Just as he was about to enter Lydia said, "My Thane, please let me go ahead of you. I have the heavy armor and my blade can handle a ghost. There could be other undead as well, archers and such."
Jon thought a moment. Then said, "Alright, keep your head down and that shield up. I'll have a bow cast ready, be right on your six. You do not charge ahead to meet a foe. You let them come to you useless I say otherwise."
Lydia nodded, and entered the crypt first on the stack. Jon was crouched as low behind her, one hand on her firm shoulder as they advanced though the door way. The entrance hall ended in a winding wooden staircase. Jon gently pulled back on her shoulder, and took a moment to observe what he would see down it. A small landing with a bit of loot to take. He have Lydia a couple light taps, and had a knife-hand forward beside her head.
As they slowly descended, Jon's hand now had a ghostly arrow nocked and ready to pull back and fire at any threat that presented themselves. They got down to the bottom of the stairs and Jon took the loot there. Lydia shifted slightly, but said nothing. It did not escape Jon's notice once again. He would have words with her about the issue.
The was little except a few bodies strewn about, having bits of ancient coin and gems on them. At the end of the passage deeper into the crypt lie their quarry. Jon pulled back once again on Lydia as they got to the intersection. She knew the score. Slowly, she peaked around both corners, checking the areas for threats. Ideally they would both be checking corners, but the entrance was only a man wide, and he wasn't clearing a room with speed surprise and violence of action here. He didn't want to alert potential threats to their presence yet.
Lydia turned her head back to her Thane and nodded towards the right, where she saw the ghost. Jon pulled back again on her shoulder, and took over her place on the stack. He peaked out quickly and fired a shot at the ghost though the cast iron gate enclosing the entry to the ghost's lair. Jon didn't know why ghosts had to cook, but It didn't matter as the arrow connected with the back of it's head, killing the thing.
Jon and Lydia stacked up on the door, and Jon gave her a motion to wait. He pulled the chain to the gate, and it made a horrid sound as it went up. He waited for a moment for any other ghosts, and none presented themselves. They both went in and inspected the room.
Lydia said, "Something isn't right here."
Jon said, "What kind of Skooby-Doo bullshit is this. Living quarters for a ghost?"
Lydia found the ghost's journal, "I see, he was insane. He couldn't find the claw, and concocted this potion here to make himself into a ghost. He wanted to keep the townsfolk away from 'his treasure' and then later get payback for 'conspiring against him.' The potion is probably what drove him insane, and he finally declares himself the 'Guardian of this Barrow.'" She didn't need to serve in the guard to read and solve a case.
Jon spat, "His treasure. He had no right to it. I can feel the wall now that we are in here. It's mine, and mine alone!"
Lydia was taken back, "Jon?"
Jon snapped out of it. He said, "Sorry. I'm a literal gold hoarding dragon now, the fact that I'm almost rich doesn't help. I don't know if that's because that's what dragons are, or because of my perceptions of them from stories back home. You don't like me looting this place, do you?"
Lydia shook her head, "Not personally. But you are my Thane."
Jon nodded, "Sorry Lydia. I won't be able to help it, if for no other reason than we need coin and resources. Looking at that claw? The last one I saw called to me at an instinctual level. Now with my dragon eyes? Damn near sexual pleasure, and I am not joking. Treasure, one of my top concerns. I need it, it want it, I'm going to rob these dead cultists assholes for everything they have for collaborating with the enemy. If there's a word here, the Draugr worshiped the dragons, and something tells me the people inured in a tomb of 'honored dead' weren't unwilling participants, especially whatever overseer is here with his lieutenants. They definitely deserve to be killed and looted. Might as well do the rest."
Lydia nodded, "I understand Jon. We are talking about the end of the world here, and we cant be fussy about were the coin comes from if we need it to defeat the dragons. Even I understand that things cost coin. I've also seen you give enough that I know you aren't really hoarding it. The loot here will be well spent."
Jon and Lydia continued down the passage they had not yet traveled after looting the bandit apparition and his room to completion, notably taking his alchemy ingredients, food, and a bit of coin. In the other room there was a double gateway with the first gate open. The second was closed. Three levers were next to the trap, and murder holes pointed straight over where anyone would pull the wrong lever.
Lydia said, "One in three odds of getting it wrong, not the best when death is on the line"
Jon said, "Especially where Sicilians are involved. Classic blunder, that is. Look closely at the middle and last lever, perhaps we can even our odds."
Lydia got a little closer, wary of the trap. She said, "I see now, the first one hasn't been pulled in an age. The ghost would never have reason to pull it if he knew which ones worked the door, you can even see a bit of his goo."
Jon motioned her back. If he was wrong, he preferred to test his strength against the ancient poisons rather than hers. Plus he could shout any arrows away. With confidence in his reaction time, he pulled the middle lever and the second gate heaved itself up into is housing. Jon looted the room before moving on, finding coin, gems, and a book about illusion magic, Before the Ages of Man.
Though the now open hall, there was another intersection of passages, one leading to a wood and iron gate, the other a door. Jon could just sense it was locked, and could sense it other times as well. When he looted the towers he already had lock picks out when he approached the chests. The first time he did it, he didn't even notice it.
They took up the locked door, and Jon picked and opened it. Lydia began to advance on instinct, but was halted by Jon's closed fist. He gave a knife-hand down to the floor, and Lydia saw it. A pressure plate for a trap. She internally cursed at herself for making such a rookie mistake. He gave her a closed fist, then to his eyes, then to the gate opposite the door. Lydia nodded and Jon advanced.
Once stepping over the pressure place, the room had several Urns, and one rigged chest. He stepped over to it and carefully disarmed the trap, the chest had various bits of ancient armor, weapons, some coins and more gems. Raiding the urns yielded even more coin and gems. He already had more than he walked out of Bleak Falls with, and that was just from the first couple rooms.
Happy with the haul of the room, he and Lydia proceed to the iron and wood gate, with Lydia back on point. Spying no traps, Jon pulled the gate chain, and it was pulled up by its mechanism. Lydia didn't simply try to walk forward this time, and was rewarded when spears came from the side of the doorway to impale any eager explorers or mindless Draugr that accidentally pulled the chain.
Down more passageways was yet another intersection, Jon was on point, and a quick peak down both sides cleared them of hostiles. On the one door, there was a tripwire trap connected to it. It was easily disabled, and no doubt triggered to the opening of the door. That was possibly the correct way forward, and if it was he would check the other door before proceeding. Lydia took to rearguard while her Thane checked the door.
He disengaged the trap, and heard the gout of fire slamming against the door. His superior dragon eyes saw much further into the infrared spectrum than his augment ones. He saw the heat rise behind the door before he saw the glow of the iron door. When the gout was over, he carefully opened the door, and only found the two gems that made the trap. They can obviously be used as a magic power source, he thought, and that was interesting. He would learn more about it at the College.
Opening the other door led them into the hall of the puzzle door. Once again the braziers spontaneously lit, and once again Jon only understood that dragons were above all in the motifs. He pulled the Sapphire claw out, and was again almost lost to it's vibrancy. Jon entered the combination into the door, moth owl wolf, and twisted the key to open the ancient door.
Going down the twisting stairs, they came to a hallway lined with coffins, about a dozen all in all. In the middle of the hall was the door to the next room. At the end was dais with a spell tome on it. Jon didn't like it. He could see the gate in the doorway frame ready to fall and trap them in the room as soon as the stepped though.
Lydia silently insisted she take point by forcing herself in front of Jon. She stood at the ready, waiting for her Thanes command. He gave a couple pats of her shoulder and they both advanced into the kill-zone. She knew to stop after a single step inside, to wait for any kind of reaction from the Draugr that will no doubt meet them. None presented themselves. Yet.
Jon and Lydia made it to the dais on the other end of the room and stood for another moment in anticipation of reaction. Jon spied no traps tied to the pedestal with the spell tome on it. He knew in his hardened bones that the coffins would open as soon as he took the spell. He took the spell, oakflesh, cracking its seal as it sat, and the coffins indeed opened.
Lydia was already back to back with her Thane, ready to defend him as he takes what is his by right of being the Dragonborn. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a pull back to his rear. She knew exactly what he was going to do, and she did not want to be in the way. Jon gave a moment for the offensive creatures to exit their coffins, but not their graves. He gave another moment for them to orient themselves and begin their offensive. He wasn't going to get a better opportunity in terms of controlled live combat situations.
"FUS RO DAH!" And nothing stood before the Laat Dovahkiin.
Blue force did not just sweep away the Draugr in front of him, but completely disintegrated the front of the lose formation, quartered the middle of it, and crushed standing the rear of it. One Draugr remained, and it immediately took a knee before its' god. Anyone with Thu'um that powerful must be one. The Draugr heard the boots of the god marching to it. It looked up with pleading cold blue eyes, glowing with the hatred of its existence, and met the equally cold dragon eyes of its' Lord. If but once he could be blessed with the Thu'um of his god, granted relief from its' living undeath as its' shield brothers and sisters had been. If but its' god would grant the request of its' pitiful moans.
"FUS RO DAH" Were its' last thoughts. Would it go to Sovngarde? It didn't know, didn't care. It was free now by the will of its' god and the force of his Thu'um.
"FUS RO" And sent asunder was the closed gate impeding his progress in the dungeon.
Jon turned to Lydia, divine power leaking from his lips, and said, "Septim for your thoughts?"
"For Whiterun?" And she lazily pumped her sword in the air at the display of her Thane's Divine power. She didn't really have any other words. He blew part an ebony post like it didn't exist, and yet there isn't a scratch on the floor where that Draugr was, his control obviously precise despite no real training. She saw him as man, as he wanted, as everyone really should, but sometimes awe must be properly given.
Jon laughed, and the halls of the crypt shook in response. He caught himself, and had the look of a child caught. Lydia couldn't help her own laugh now. Maybe his control wasn't as precise.
The blown gate opened to stairs deeper yet into the Barrow. In the room they came too there was an obvious grate trap in the center of the floor. They both easily avoided the thing, and the room yielded some loot in coin and gems. The way out though the dungeon was actually up stairs this time.
At the first door they came to, Jon picked the lock quietly instead of battering it down with the Thu'um. He looked back to his companion and gave another knife-hand downwards. Lydia nodded and they both steeped over the trap that sat just before the downward sloping stairs.
As they descended, Jon put a firm fist up, and they both came to a halt. Jon could hear the creaking of Joints at the bottom of the steps, and around the corner from the pressure plate. A small whistle, and the creaking got louder as the skeleton drew steel and rounded the corner. Fortunately it stepped on the pressure plate. Unfortunately the trap was rigged for things traveling around the corner into it, not away from it. The log swung into empty air, well behind the charging skeleton, its eyes too glowing with blue hatred.
A burst of Sparks put an end to its charge, and the bones disassembled themselves onto the floor. Lydia whispered, "Careful. Sometimes they still have a little life in them as you step over their bones. They'll get back up, and you'll have to fell them again."
Jon nodded and they continued down the stairs. Stepping over the bones of the skeleton yielded no other life from it. Eventually the passage turned sharply and opened to a larger room in the barrow. A quick peak showed Jon he was on the second level of the room, and there was a skeleton archer on the other side of the dug in room impeding his progress. He could also hear more skeletons milling about below, and smell the oil slick they waded around it.
Jon gave Lydia the signal to wait and hold the corner. She nodded and he crept forward, using the large tree trunk posts that framed the empty fourth wall of the room as cover and concealment. There was only one skeleton across the way, and dozen more in the slick. The tome on illusion magic taught him how to quietly cast a spell, and he tested its theories. If it didn't work, he would just quickly Flame the slick from cover and then deal with the single remaining archer. If it did work, he would kill the archer and then Flame the slick.
The theories were sound. His bow materialized in his hand with nary a sound. The dull ethereal glow of it also gave no ambient light in the dark of the Barrow. He strung the bow back and the archer fell in response. The skeletons down below suspected no folly. The only just saw their doom approach as a gout of Flame connected with the slick they were standing in and set them aflame. He waited, observed, ate, for a few minutes to see if the chaos stirred anything.
None presented themselves, and Jon gave a small whistle for Lydia moved up. He looted his way thought the room. On the upper level of the other side was another iron door opening it triggered a tripwire tied to a swinging blade trap. The Draugr at the end of the hall swung around to meet the intruders, and charged straight into the swinging blades.
Jon said, "Wait here. I could sprint thought this, easily, or I could WULD"
Jon now had a feel for the balance required to stay afoot. He also had a feel for the intent required. He stopped just where he wanted too, past the trap, just like how the Draugr kneeling before its god, a mistake in his presence, was the only thing damaged by the full force of his Thu'um. Who's bright idea was it to give an Augment this kind of power? Akatosh's apparently.
Jon pulled the chain, deactivating the swinging blades. Lydia quietly jogged though, only really the mail on her helmet making any noise. The next hall was filled with Draugr, milling about and more no doubt ready to wake. Lydia and Jon were stacked on either side of the door. He gave the signal to wait, and silently cast his Atronach well into the room behind him. The lesser daedra twirled out of the purple maw of magical energy. To Jon's surprise, he could understand what the single pulse of fire and magika meant. It seemed Meridia pushed more than just the local letters into his head.
She said, "Master."
Jon held an eyebrow up a moment, and then held up a closed fist, pulled it down, and then shot a knife hand into the next room. She charged forward at the command of her master, and fiery death followed in her wake. The Draugr would moan, and they would be cut off by her bolts. Thew would swipe at her, and she would swipe back with her own burning claws. An archer would fire an arrow, she would kick it out of the air with a backwards twirl, with contemptuous ease. None survived her wrath at the command of her master.
When her slaughter was done, she glided back though the door. "Master." She said before dispelling herself with a twirl.
Jon said, "Okay, not going near that one."
Lydia said nothing, not questioning her Thane. The room was some kind of cistern, using an underground stream to create it, that would then continue along its path once it had originally filled the well. A wooden drawbridge, pulled up, sat at the other end of the room, waiting to cross it. On the second level of the place, was a puzzle tied to two pressure plates.
Jon saw immediately what would happen. There was a pressure place for the totems at the head of the bridge, and in a side room another tied to rotating stones that would reveal the combination. After looting the surrounding area, he hopped onto the second plate to get the combination. Whale, Eagle, Snake, Whale.
Imputing the combination, the draw bridge fell and opened the gate into the great hall. Slowly following the passages, only one Draugr stood in their way to the hall. In it was a chest, no doubt with treasures grand, and surrounding it was two dozen coffins. Every one of them stank of final corruption. Behind the chest sat one on a pedestal, more ornate then the rest, the overseer obviously. Behind the coffin was the wall of words, an epitaph of a friend of beasts. The word that began ragefuly chanting to him on the wind was the name of Kyne herself. Of course the name of a Divine was power in the dragon tongue, Jon thought.
He picked up a stone and tossed it again the overseer's tomb, warning it of its' approaching doom, but putting it exactly where Jon wanted it. The unmasked dragon priest awoke and left its coffin, but not its grave. Every other coffin opened at the same time as well, and Jon gave them a moment to orient themselves, then another moment to begin their charge. The priest held up its sword and took to the head of the pack, gliding over the ground. Jon stood at the top of the steps, hands at his sides. The pack had begun up the steps, and almost reached Jon with Lydia behind him.
"FUS RO DAH" And none stood before the Laat Dovahkiin.
The priest was the first to die, and half of the pack followed him. The rest kneeled before their Lord.
"DIE!" Jon said, with the power of the Thu'um dripping from his Tongue. The Draugr complied with their Lords command, the eyes fading, their armor and weapons clattering to the ground, never to be picked up again.
"Are you sure you're not a god, Jon?"
Jon shook his head, "I don't fucking know, and that terrifies me. Take whatever is in that chest, I'm going for the word."
He accepted the knowledge of the word, but didn't have true understanding of it. Lydia was heaping piles of ancient coin and gems into her pack. She said, "Even if I hadn't desecrated the rest of the tomb, I would have taken this for sure. That's just expected, once you clear a dungeon that you get some kind of reward for it."
Jon smirked. They went though back passages that lead them back to the ghosts quarters. Form there it was a simple matter of exiting the tomb. The afternoon was beginning to get late, and Jon decided to go back to the inn for the night. Both to tell Wilhelm that the Barrow was cleared, and to talk him into another free night in his companions arms.
Jon heard a roar, and saw the source flying towards Ivarstead. Another couple of seconds and it would begin destroying the town. Jon heard the cries and shouts. The scrambles for cover. The praying and preparing in equal measure. He would stand by no more.
Lydia was pale beside him. He said, "Stay in cover. You don't have anything to fight it with. FUS"
Combat, debate, conversation, the distinction was meaningless to a Dovah. The rumored Dragonborn had challenged him, and he held no fear. Lord Alduin would reward him greatly for charring this opponents corpse. He turned around just as the mortals arrows began to rise to meet him.
If he wanted to debate the Dovahkiin, he would have to find him first. The forest below was thick and hid him well. Every so often an ethereal arrow would rise up from the canopy in different places. On would fire and miss, another would fire and hit from a different spot, another miss, and so on. It mattered not a couple arrows had damaged him, there was never a battle between Dovah that did not result in scars for its participants.
He finally spied the Dovahkiin, running across a clearing in the canopies. The dragon slammed into the ground to properly meet the opponent in debate. He quickly oriented himself glanced around with his dragon eyes to find the hidden Dovahkiin, needing to find him to start the conversation properly, with the elder speaking first.
"FUS RO DAH" and the younger's Thu'um smashed into the side of the dragons head, cracking some of his scales, and crushing his dragon eye in its socket.
The dragon was right where Jon wanted him in the so far short engagement. In a small clearing Jon purposely revealed himself in to bait the dragon close. When it crashed though the forest canopy, he only cut off his room to maneuver and gave up his advantage. Jon had already gotten around to it's side and put the force of his Thu'um into its head. The dragon was roaring in pain, Jon was sprinting, and the beast didn't see Dragon'sbane pulled from its sheath and shoved into his ruined dragon eye. The dragon only barley felt the twisting of the blade. The dragon didn't feel his soul being ripped from his slumber and poured into the Laat Dovahkiin for his own uses.
Jon heard the guard running up behind him to where dragon landed, to face the beast in the name of Ivarstead. He heard the platoon sized force stop in their tracks when he took the soul of the dragon.
Before they could kneel, he turned around, the truth of his eyes on display, and said, "What ever you're about to do, whatever you're currently thinking, don't do it, and stop thinking it. I am Jon, of house Noonien-Signh, Thane of Whiterun and I have slain this dragon in the name of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater and his Hold's war against them."
The guards hesitated just a moment, wanting to pay the proper respect to the blessed man, but they also wanted to heed his every holy word. He did not want to be seen as the Dragonborn, as holy, and that was his prerogative. The all yelled, "Yes Thane!"
Jon nodded, "You are brave men and maidens all, who didn't hesitate to charge forth against this beast for your people. The glory tonight is yours. Tell any who ask, I moved on after slaying this beast. Tell any who ask I am not to be worshiped or revered."
"Yes Thane!"
Jon nodded again, "Please organize this skeleton for transport. I will be going to the bank to arrange for it, like a mortal man. Whiterun needs it to experiment with so they can figure out how to hurt the beasts more effectively."
"Yes Thane!"
Lydia had stayed in cover, net never far away from her Thane. She came up though the forest to meet him. She knew she would be fighting dragons, but she didn't know what to fully expect. She expected fear, but not near bone shattering. She didn't know if she could fight next to her Thane if he had ordered it. Thank the Divines he told her to stay in cover, which was all she could do.
Jon could smell Lydia's thoughts. He said, "That fear? Use it. It keeps you alive."
Lydia only nodded, not saying another word. They slipped into the town thought a side ally. There were cheers and sounds of merriment everywhere they went, and it provided effective cover for their movements as they weaved in and out of the crowd.
They finally entered the doors of their destination. The branch operator was dutifully filling out his paperwork. He said, "Ah, Thane Jon. Welcome. I am happy to say that the Silver-Blood Bank of Ivarstead remained open for business during the entirety of the recent crisis. We even had an uptick in new customers looking to open accounts. It was profitably marvelous, sir, and only proves the honor and courage of our operations. How may I help you?"
Jon kept his laughter controlled this time, at a chuckle. He said, "I just slayed that dragon. By the ancient rights of both conquest and salvage, its bones are my property. I would like to have them shipped to the Jarl of Whiterun, with a personal note."
Bankerson nodded in respect, not only for slaying the dragon, but at clearly establishing legitimate claim to a questionable item before asking to have it transported at possible risk to the bank. One look in the man and his eyes spoke of the truth of his claims. Guards were sent to try and meet the beast, and they would no doubt confirm the claim as well.
He said, "Of course, sir. I can arrange for transport immediately. Here is a small card, and a quill. It will be kept in the crate with the beast's skull. That certainly seems appropriate. I also have discretion to use bank funds, within reason. The Bank will cover all transport costs. The Clan will not question that in the slightest. They would probably be honored that they were trusted with such a task."
Jon thought a moment about something profound to say for a warrior culture in a war for their very right to exist, let alone be free. He wrote, "Death or glory, both is fine. CC"
He sealed the envelop with the bank's instead of his own and said, "If possible, nail this to the fucker's head. Spare no expense on material required. Cover those costs from my account, and deposits these fund. Also, the sender is A Concerned Citizen. Balgruuf will know who it's from."
Bankerson nodded in respect again. He would nail it personally, with an ebony dagger he had picked up as a younger and more adventurous man, before he met his wife on one of his jaunts. That should do it, and cost nothing for the customer. With a low tone he said, "Of course, sir."
Jon gave him another ten measure to put in his account. And they both made their way back to the inn, once again weaving the celebrating crowds. If there was a Jarl's mead hall, Jon knew for a fact that there would be a grand feast. The Vilmyr was thankfully filled with the normal town crowd, all lively, but not crowded like everywhere else.
Wilhelm smiled widely at the approaching man in robes. He leaned it a bit for a more quiet conversation and said, "You know, funny thing I heard a few hours ago, from one of my usual drifters. Word sometimes ain't the fastest in this part of town. There was talk about a dragon-slayer from Whiterun. A man in robes just like yours, and about your size, oh and a Thane. Then a dragon shows up the day after you do, and dies right before you walk back into my inn. What in the Oblivion can I get you. Your coin is no good here."
Jon smiled and looked him in the eye. Wilhelm wasn't phased. He knew what the man was from the other rumors, but figured if he was a Dragonborn he wouldn't want everyone keeling at the sight of him. He would want a little bit of privacy. The man was a man, not the second coming of Talos.
Jon said, "Same deal as last night, same room. Food for three men each, and enough of that horse piss to get me and her drunk, I assure you it will be a lot."
Wilhelm nodded eagerly. He'd like to see Maven try to question him giving the Dragonborn free mead. Jon continued, "And just in case you think I forgot, the barrow has been cleared, as we agreed. We had just came out when the dragon flew overhead."
Wilhelm said, "Well thank the Divines you were there. Thank you, really. That could have been so much worse, I don't even want to imagine. Take a seat and the servers will get you what you ask, when you ask. Your room is there anytime you need it."
Jon and Lydia took their seat, and ordered to their fill in then some. Despite the boast undercutting Jon's words, it was mostly a quiet affair with a quiet drinking competition undercutting it, hours long. Lydia unfortunately didn't stand a chance. With a nod, she retired to the room to sleep off her drunk.
Jon was still going, seeing if he could at least get a buzz from the alien booze. He was about to give up when a man took a light seat behind him, a darkly ornate mug in his hand. The man had shoulder length hair, a good beard, and was wearing black wizard robes. Real robes, not the gi pattern that his 'robes' were.
Jon decided to let the man speak first, suspecting what he was. The man said, "Sup. I'm Sam, Deadric Prince of debauchery and merriment and hedonism and revelry and Blood-Made-Pleasure, but I assure that one is only for those that are into that kind of thing. You would be surprised."
Jon said, "I wouldn't actually. Sam? Seems a little milquetoast for a Prince. Especially seeing as how the last one seared her name into my fucking brain."
Sam nodded and took a swig of his brew. It smelled of juniper berries to Jon. He said, "Yeah, sounds like Meridia. Shes not like evil or anything, but she is a little forceful with her followers, thinks its part of the deal for her warm touch or some mammoth shit. Technically my name is sanguine, but I like Sam. I'm Sam! The Prince of fun, man!"
Jon asked, "So, those Dragonfires, huh?"
Sam laughed merrily. He said, "Yeah, you are indeed what I heard you were. Sharp as a dagger. Caught wind that Meridia actually had to bargain with you. Piqued my curiosity. Then the biggest party of the age happens shortly after. Now you have my interest. Tried to get you in Whiterun, but that wasn't happening with you in that Dunmer the whole time. Now here's a slightly smaller party that I can get your attention at. Lucky me, huh?"
Jon pushed the attack, "You still haven't answered the question. I'm willing to be reasonable, but I will not tolerate dark gods doing as they please in the land of mortals without challenge. If you're here, then other actually evil Princes may be as well. I will not tolerate them either."
Sam took another tentative drink. Yeah, this guy was fucking terrifying, and thinking along the right lines given his blessing and its history. Divines help a Prince if he sees them as worthy of his interest. No wonder Akatosh picked him. Sam said, "A couple, literally two, of us know some back-ways. Dagon's realm is sealed permanently, fucking bastard he is. All you have to do is not be a 100 foot tall walking megalomaniac and maybe not everyone will hate you. Anyway, the rules are we don't tell the other what we know, we tell no one else, if you do figure it out, don't do anything that has Akatosh spank us again and we wont spank you before they have the chance."
Jon nodded, "Fair enough. I will allow for some surprise on who the other is. So, what would you like to speak of?"
Sam said, "I'm naming you my Champion. Alduin needs to be stopped before he eats us too, and you need all the help you can get. Simple as that."
Jon nodded again, "Enemy of my enemy. Meridia offered a sword. I will take it when my travels take me west. What do you offer, Sam?"
Sam smiled, "A staff. My staff. The Sanguine Rose. It summons a Dremora Lord, my personal attendant in fact. Guy handles a broadsword that weighs as much as you like its a fencing blade."
Jon said, "I will take that. Thank you, Prince Sam. So what's the deal with Lesser Daedra anyway?"
Sam spit his drink and couldn't contain his laughter. It eerily infected the whole room and they laughed as heavily as he did at a joke they didn't even hear. Sam contained himself once again and said, "They were created to serve, my man. Divines did their thing in their Plane, Mundus, and Daedra did our own thing in our own Planes, creating Lesser forms in our images. Little more complex then that, but that's the gist. The Lesser Daedra were made to serve, and that's what they do, one lord or another. Sometimes they're the lords, and it warms my old soul every time I see it. Stick it to the man, man. Its a deep cultural thing that goes back to before even the Divines did their thing. Where do you think they got the idea from? They would have just been all powerful energy sprites doing nothing if it wasn't for the Princes, one of us sacrificed themselves to convince them. They'll never admit it though. That's really why we all hate Dagon. It was so fucking boring when everything was a void with nothing in it. Eat a dick too Sithis, no one cares if you're the oldest of everyone, everything is still mostly a void anyway, with some cool bits scattered in."
Jon asked, "You are aware of my origins?"
Sam nodded, "Some kind of super-soldier from another world. Don't know how you got here, kid. Meridia would not shut up when she had to explain why she was bargaining, which no one actually asked about, by the way. Just a snicker from Vile about it. 'My champion's will is singular!' she screamed. Good job. Takes a lot to sap her sails."
Jon snickered himself. Fuck em, he thought. He said, "Place called Earth. Do you know if its still in Mundus? Or am I in a whole new Plane?"
Sam said, "Again, Don't know. Princely influence is limited to this world in Mundus, our Planes are a different story. You would have to talk to a Divine, and good fucking luck there."
Jon said, "Thanks Sam, unless you have something that can get me a good buzz, I should probably retire."
Sam smiled wickedly. He said, "Usually I would shark you into a drinking contest, then watch the hilarity unfold. This time I'm just going to give you the bottle and tell you to take it slow. Good luck, Jon!"
Jon put a single drop of the daedric concoction into his mead, and was satisfied with the buzz that followed, the juniper berries were good too. If he was on Earth, he would need half a handle of pure grain liquor to get to where he was. Deciding that was enough, he returned to his rented room, and Lydia's waiting arms.
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The Guardsman walked ahead of his King in the mist. The King now fully had control of himself. He spent months in the mist, its presence heralding Alduin's returned. Then the beast finally showed, and his mind cracked. He could only thank the Divines that the Whiterun guardsmen held firm. It was only though his strength that the near-mad King was continuing.
Up ahead was another lost soul in the mists of Sovngarde. Both men hesitated, but only a second, when they saw the deep blue guard armor. Torygg jogged up to the man, fighting the exhaustion gnawing on his very bones. The guard was without helmet, his face buried into his knees, and rocking back and forth like Torygg had spent weeks doing.
King Torygg said, "It's okay, guardsman. We're here. You are alone no longer."
The guard looked up, and his tears only got stronger, "K-King Torygg? Wh-What have we done? I know in my bones we're the cause of this. I-I am so sor-"
Torygg shook him a bit, "Get it together, guardsman. The past has happened, and nothing can change it. Our honored afterlife is sullied, not by you, but by the beast which vexes us. I will not welcome my fair Elisif into the maw of Alduin when this place beckons her. The Dragonborn will come for us, and we must hold firm guardsman."
The guardsman steeled himself. There was a reason he was in Sovngarde, and it wasn't because he was a milk drinker. The Dragonborn would come for them. He nodded, and joined the party making their way though the corruption. He said, "My King, if I may ask, what's the plan?"
Torygg said, "We're walking towards that mountain. Its the only thing we can reliably see. Called it Shor's mountain, we did. Maybe there's a cave or something that can give us cover from this foul mist. If this place is anything like home, there will be."
The three followed though the mist for another few hours to get to the base of the mountain. They would have to stop for rest every so often, and more often the further they traveled. They would also hear the Alduin crying in the distance, the forest around them thankfully giving them cover from him at least.
Just when the three men were finally out of energy, about the collapse, the Whiterun guard spoke, "I see it. I see it! A cave entrance!"
Each one heaved their legs with all their might thought the infection of their honored afterlife, and finally entered the cave. It was clear of the mist, but still damp and moldy. The place was empty and barren save for the fungus growing around it it.
Torygg looked around with his hands on his hips. He said, "Not too bad. Some long tables, torches and brazers to drive the damp out. I would say a grand fire too, but I don't know if smoke ventilation is a problem in the land of the dead."
Everyone chuckled a moment before Torygg continued, "What do you think gentlemen? Shor's Cave?"
They both nodded. The Whiterun guard said, "I declare a moot. And I nominate Torygg of Solitude as High-King of Shor's Cave. It is only though his leadership that we got here."
The Stormcloak nodded, "Aye, I second."
The High-King nodded with a few tears in his eyes. He said, "Thank you, my friends. I accept this title, and your trust."