This story, like many others, starts on a small island off the coast of Skyrim. This specific island was once a very historical landmark, yet as it was made from history, it remained in history just as well. After the Red Year, the famous erruption of Red Mountain, the island was broken apart into many pieces. Years later, to raise money for the war effort, the Emporer, Tidus Mede II, had sold the land to various nobles, for vacation homes. It was a well thought out move, and the situation had demanded it. This was the reason the once historical island was now known as the Noble Isles. A presumptuous title, but it fit. Although the island had been broken physically apart, the islands themselves retained a beauty only found in islands left alone for so many years, the kind of asthetic beauty only nature can give.

Amina was a normal girl for her age, if a bit gifted. Her noble status allowed her to research the ancient art of fortification, a once well known art, lost to today's mages. Ironic, that said art was still availible in Morrowind, which held the third highest number of mages, next to High Rock, and the Summerset Isles. Amina was gift, certainly, but she didnt do what most nobles did. She was far too kind to pursue the art of bribery and manipulation. While she was beautiful and rich, she was taught it was wrong to be overly open or forward, which meant she would never try seduction, thankfully. She had the keen mind for manipulation, but not nearly as much as some. Of course, as a noble, she knew swordsman ship, and was damn good with it, not to toot her own horn. While she had never fought an experienced warrior, she had also never been beaten.

As she lay on the beach, relaxing, she noticed a somewhat loud groan, and the sound of sand shifting. She was observant enough to remember it was the sound of a boat drifting ashore. Of course, this sound was not nearly as loud as a full ship, but it had to be at least the size of a decent one, one built to carry perhaps ten people for long voyages. Something was wrong though. There was no way any ship could crash here, seeing as it was daylight, regardless of the lack of a lighthouse. They were in the process of building it, but it was not finished yet.

Perhaps it was paranoia, or genuine curiosity, but the sixteen year old noble decided to check it out. Using a simple fortify speed spell, she made it to the ship in a few moments. As it turned out, the ship was about twenty feet long, wooden, and... broken. It genuinely looked like the ship had gone through hell itself, or perhaps a meteor shower. The mast was just gone, there were various holes in the ship, thankfully none at the bottom, and most of the wood was rotted. The ship was old, that much was obvious. If she had to guess, it was almost two hundred years old, though she was not quite sure. As she noted the various aspects of the ship, one thing in particular stood out. No one was aboard. That was chilling. She had never seen death, but to see its left overs, such as this...

She shook her head of those thoughts, before making her way into the ship. Thankfully, the rotted wood was not nearly rotted enough for her to break it by merely stepping on it. As she stepped forward towards the captain's quarters, she heard something move. Ignoring the miniature heart attack for the moment, she tried to get in, but the door was locked. Using a simple strength fortifying spell, she kicked the door down, and walked in. It was small, as most would expect, but it had decoration, obviously from morrowind. Being the curious soul she was, she wandered towards the bed, before her eyes fully adjusted to the light. What she saw was not what she expected.

A dark elf, but he seemed... dead. Not completely, but damned if he wasnt near it. His bones were showing directly under his skin, a lack of fat from starvation, and a lack of muscle from atrophy. Even so, the man was breathing. Unlike most nords, and even imperials, she did not hate the Dunmer. She lived in Morrowind for quite a while, which was how she learned fortification magic and swordsmanship. Even though her parents were away most of the time, it did have upsides such as that. When she noticed the elf was still breathing, though shallow and no doubt near death, she immediately used a long term fortify speed and strength spell combination, before picking him up with her shoulder and charging towards her home.

Thankfully, her parents were paranoid, and had a healer on the island whenever anyone was there. Rotul was a male nord, who had studied restoration to a decent extent, enough to be able to heal nearly any survivable injury. Although he was rather shocked when Amina had brought him the dunmer, he did as instructed and began to heal the poor bastard. The very fact that the man survived such levels of starvation meant either a deity favored him, or he was a very lucky bastard. As Rotul worked, he began to notice oddities. There were numerous little things that just shouldnt be.

The ring that he wore, for instance, would not come off. While the tattered clothes he had been brought in came off easily enough, that ring would simply not move. Each time he even touched it, he just felt wrong. It was obviously daedric in origin, or at least it was tied closely to a Daedra. The moon and star suggested Azura, but only Amina noticed that.

Then there was the man's right arm. It was certainly not normal. While his muscle had atrophied, his right arm remained normal. All along the arm, there were various runes than neither Amina nor Rotul understood. Them man had obviously seen or been a mage, and a damned skilled one too. It helped explain how the man had survived. Most didnt know, but in dire situations like starvation, the body will filter magicka to keep the body alive, but the process puts such a strain on the magicka reserves that it decreases the amount of magicka able to be handled exponentially. As it was now, the man had higher than average magicka reserves, which meant before the starvation, the man had absolutely immeasurable magicka reserves, enough to overpower any mage either of the two had ever seen.

When Rotul saw his eyes, making sure the man wasnt blind, he was disturbed. Most dunmer had dull red eyes. This particular dunmer had sharp red and black orbs, which seemed to, even in unconsciousness, pierce his very soul. Rotul had never met anyone who could be considered intimidating even while unconscious, but now he had. Those eyes unnerved him, and he had seen surgeries that would make most people insane.

It was a good week before the man looked anywhere near healthy. Even so, the damage to his body had obviously put the man back at whatever he had done before. Rotul nearly had a heart attack when the man darted upwards, apparently unaffected by the sore body. It was obvious by now that whoever he was, he had been heavily injured before. Restoration helped give the man back the average muscle for a normal person, though Rotul knew it was nowhere near the norm for warriors, or even thieves and mages.

The man was breathing heavily, though Rotul didnt know why. Unlike Solstheim, The Noble Isles was out of reach of the ash from Red Mountain. "Where am I, how long have I been out, and what year is it?"

The voice of the dark elf was different from those on Morrowind, who had adapted to the ash. It was deeper, but not nearly as scratchy. Rotul blinked once before nodding. At least the elf spoke the same language. "The Noble Isles. You crashed here a week ago. The year is 200 of the fourth era. Now then, I am Rotul, the one who healed you."

Rotul saw a flicker of confusion in the man's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. "I am Kuro, and you have my thanks." Kuro stood, before stretching.

Rotul chuckled. "I only obeyed my mistress, I probably wouldnt have healed you unless she told me to." That wasnt entirely true. Having been part of the great war, he hated death, and feared it for anyone, even dunmer. He was a bit racist, but at least he was truthful about it.

"Id like to meet my saviour." Kuro had a suave grin on his face, the kind that held confidence and power. Although most of it was probably gone now.

In the end, Rotul went and told Amina that the man had woken. Kuro was rather impressed when it took her only a few seconds to reach him, considering Rotul had gone to the other side of the manor. Now that he saw his saviour, he was glad. The girl was young, with long black hair, and a noble warrior's outfit, mostly white. Though, there was no way she should have been able to lift that large sword on her back, when she was so small. That outfit of hers was no doubt made of ebony and silk, meant for both protection and a status symbol. That sword though, it looked... different. Kuro had seen everything from daedric to wooden, but that sword was just different. It had a tiny bit of energy in it, but it was certainly not daedric. It felt... timeless. Kuro's eyes widened momentarily, before realizing he had probably come off as some pervert for letting his eyes wander, though she should notice that he mostly focused on her armor and sword. Even so, it probably wasnt the best greeting to size someone who saved your life up.

When Amina first saw Kuro on the ship, he looked small, weak, and helpless. Now? She was surprised to see that the man towered over even Rotul, who was tall by nord standards. Most nords were around six feet five inches tall, while most dunmer were around eight inches shorter. This man was different, being at least as tall as any high elf she had ever seen. Kuro's hair, which had oddly not grown out, was black, and wild. Then she saw his eyes. Seriously if this guy got any creepier, she was getting the fuck out of there. Those eyes of his which seemed to pierce the very soul had wandered on her body, but before she could so much as twitch, she saw his eyes focused on the armor and sword she wore, rather than her frame. This man was an experienced warrior alright.

Kuro was the first to speak. "Thanks for saving my life back there. You could have left me there and no one would have cared, so thanks. However, I must get to the imperial city as fast as possible. I need to see the Emporer."

Amina was rather shocked when the man wanted to see the Emporer. Not because no one wanted to, but because who the fuck was HE to get to directly meet with the Emporer. "Why would the Emporer see you?" It was meant to sound curious but it sounded rather hostile if Kuro narrowing his eyes was any indication. "Sorry, I just meant that well... not even my parents, who are pretty famous nobles, speak to him often."

Kuro nodded, figuring she would ask something like that. "Considering how long its been... Im not surprised you dont know who I am. I wonder if they still tell my story in Morrowind... I digress, I am Kurokon Shikyo, Vvardenfell's Knight of the Imperial Dragon, Grand Spymaster, Former Guild Master of the Thieves, Mages, and Fighters guilds, Former Arch Magister of the House Telvanni, Factor of the East Empire Company, Ancient of the Aundae Clan, and the leading expert on the Dwemer language. Now, who are you?"

Amina took most of it in stride. Claiming to be a "Grand spymaster", former guild master of the thieves guild, and belonging to a clan of vampires was outrageous, but looking at the man in front of her, she shouldnt be surprised. He had the magicka reserves to be a decent mage as it was, she couldnt imagine the sheer power he had before. Vampirism wouldve helped with that as well. His control surprised her, seeing how utterly still he was, even when moving, it showed he was at least a very skilled thief. Then his muscle mass, which she had little doubt was extensive before, showed he could take a lot of pain and keep going. All in all, if her assumptions were correct, he was not a jack of all trades, he was a master of them. Even so, the surprise was evident in her voice. "A vampire, spy, and thief, while also being a diplomat, mage, scholar, warrior, and Knight Of the Imperial Dragon? You must be the..." Amina's eyes widened. She had heard many legends of him during her time in Morrowind. Even with the erruption, it was said that the Nerevarine protected most of the country by magic, predicting the erruption and preventing it from destroying most cities. It was how Vivec survived. It was said that House Telvanni helped so much during it that nearly everyone began to support the great house, leaving Hlaalu and Redoran in the dust. Hlaalu was mostly on the mainland now, whilst Redoran still had several bases on Vvardenfell, and Solstheim.

Kuro chuckled. "Well I didnt think you would know about me, but yes, I am." Honestly he had expected her to kick him out immediately after saying he was a thief, spy, and vampire. The fact that she knew of the Nerevarine legends was surprising, but if she had visited nearly any city in Morrowind, they had either statues of him, although he would be unrecognizable due to the lack of armor, then she would definitely know about it all. How he heroically saved the island from the power of Dagoth Ur, sealed Lorkhan's heart away, and killed Almalexia. Though they only knew the overall story, and not the actual details. No one knew how he had sealed Lorkhan's heart away, or killed Dagoth Ur before doing so, though Almalexia's death was well known by now. When he proclaimed he had killed Almalexia, people were shocked, and at first claimed him to be insane, but considering Vivec even agreed that both Almalexia deserved to die, and that he killed her. Poor woman had gone insane by losing her godhood. Too bad he never got to save Sotha Sil though, they would have gotten along.

"That explains the ring." Amina shrugged, trying to look as if she expected it, but frankly, learning you saved the life of a national hero who had beaten deities before was just too shocking.

Kuro raised his eyebrow, before glancing down at his hand. His features softened the moment he saw the ring. "Moon And Star... she still favors me... Right, well if you have a boat and map I can borrow, Ill be able to repay you." Kuro looked rather sheepish at that moment.

Amina had a glint in her eyes. "Oooh no, definitely not. You just woke up from a coma, you are in no shape to travel that far."

Kuro chuckled. "I heal fast." Amina had to give him that. Even with Rotul's help, Kuro shouldnt have been able to walk, let alone move with the control he did. "Oh, you never gave me your name." Kuro pointed out.

Amina shrugged. "Amina Hoshira, my parents are advisors to the Elder Council. Youve missed quite a bit while you were gone, speaking of, how did you end up like that?"

Kuro frowned, before sitting down. Amina sat as well, knowing this would be quite the tale.

"After the Bloodmoon prophecy, I wandered around on Morrowind for a bit, before becoming a vampire, although Corpus altered it significantly. I went on to Yagrum Bagarn to learn the Dwemer language. It took me a full ten years for that. I know about the Oblivion Crisis, but only barely. After that, I set sell to Akavir, with a crew of my trusted friends. When we got there, we met up with a group who was rebelling against some new empire on the continent. we shared values and joined up with them. One hundred years of exile... another seventy or so of imprisonment. When I finally escaped, I was alone. My friends had died, and I had been but a single man against an army. They had things I cant explain, constantly sapping my magicka reserves. I was too dangerous to be killed, apparently the backlash my magicka would unleash in the event of my death while those things sapped my magicka would destroy a city. They couldnt transport me, so they simply imprisoned me, waiting until I died of old age. I dont pretend to understand why they did half those things, but they did. I escaped, barely a tenth of my former self. Almost lost my sanity, but I never had much to begin with. You really cant when you constantly deal with daedra, divines, and false deities, not to mention the sheer politics of my positions. In any case, I spent about three days at sea, before I lost consciousness, next thing I know, I woke up here." Kuro chuckled with mirth. His life had always been fucked up.

Amina looked interested for details, but she didnt pester him. "Either way, you arent going to see the Emporer alone."

Kuro raised his eyebrow at the girl. "You wish to come with me." It was rather obvious.

Amina nodded. "You think I would give up a chance to meet the Emporer, let alone have a bit of adventure? My parents wont even notice that Im gone, Rotul will make sure if they come back early, they know Im safe." Rotul, who had been silent up till now, simply nodded.

Kuro shrugged. "Very well, I suppose I could use the company, being alone for so long makes it kind of boring. Though if you are coming along, you had best be prepared. When I meet with the Emporer, dont speak unless he motions for you to. You have a high position, but not high enough to be rude to him. I hope he has the same sense of humor as old Uriel, I miss that old goat."

Amina was annoyed, but she knew he was right. Her family was considered royalty, but she was far from being able to be rude to the emporer. It could get her killed, but a warrior like Kuro would be protected due to three things. His status, his age, and his sheer power. Each of which could be of use against the Thalmor, who the Dunmer didnt like in the least. However, she was a damn good warrior in her own right! She would be damned if she let someone walk over her!
_

Hundreds of miles away, in a castle off of the coast of Solitude, an event was happening. One which could change the entire world.

Harkon was a calm and collected man, with power beyond most mortal's dreams. Even so, he was outright laughing when this new pure blood challenged him for his lordship. Everyone else was shocked, but Harkon was laughing. It was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. That was, until the newblood, Kenjiro Nakamura, had shattered a table with his fist. Harkon stopped laughing, knowing no one but him had the power to do so in human form. The other vampires were strong, sure, but only as vampires. Without the numerous boosts vampirism gives, none of them would be a challenge. Harkon, on the other hand, made sure to made his power as solid as possible. Even in human form, he was a force to be reckoned with. He was far too paranoid to let himself be weak in any state.

Kenji obviously had strength, enough to shatter a stone table with his bare fist. Kenji was a blonde short haired nord, with those orange eyes that newbloods often had, though these were different. Kenji had brought Serana to Harkon, before demanding a reward. Apparently, pure vampirism wasnt enough. No, he wanted the whole damn castle, and Lordship. Harkon would be damned if the brat had it, but he had to admit he was intrigued. Serana pleaded with Kenji to stop, but he didnt listen, so she simply sat and watched, with everyone else. Harkon knew she hated him deep down, so it was no surprise she didnt directly protect him, hell she only pleaded because she wanted Kenji to live.

Harkon smiled softly at Kenji, mocking him. "Oh yes, how impressive. Tell me, have you delved into the ancient arts? The forbidden magics? The lost ones? No? Have you studied-" Harkon was interrupted by Kenji swinging the overly large warhammer he held at Harkon, one handed. He dodged it easy, but was surprised when the wall it struck simply collapsed. Maybe this could be a challenge after all. "Very well!" It took but a second and both went into their Vampire Lord forms. Kenji's form was larger, which annoyed Harkon.

The two vampire lords charged at each other, claws shredding anything in their path. For a moment the fight looked even, but the smaller vampire was begining to wane. Feeling the distinct need to not die, Harkon pushed Kenji back, before ascending to use night magic. He fired multiple health absorbing orbs at Kenji, which hit. Harkon immediately felt better, but noticed Kenji did not even seem out of breath. Two voices spoke out in Harkon's mind, one telling him this was going to get fun, while the other was telling him he would lose. Harkon, being arrogant as he was, listened to the first voice, ignoring the fact that his claws only scratched Kenji, while Kenji's claws seemed to shred anything in their way.

Kenji's vampire form shifted its mouth into what seemed to be a grin, before he once more charged at Harkon, this time at nearly twice the speed. Harkon barely had time to blink before Kenji was on him, clawing away. Kenji stopped after a moment, leaving Harkon descending to the floor unconscious, before both of them reverted to their human state. Harkon looked half dead, but Kenji looked no different from when he marched in there with Serana. Kenji laughed outright, as everyone, even Serana, gaped in shock. Harkon was insanely more powerful than any of them, able to beat them all at once, unless Serana joined in. Serana could by no means defeat him on her own, but if she added the power of the rest of the castle, Harkon would lose. The fact was, While Harkon was powerful, he was also lazy. The bastard had relied on his vampirism to keep his body in shape, even if he had once trained to perfection. Even with vampirism, Harkon's lack of real combat had made him weak, compared to a truly powerful warrior. The truth was, everyone in Castle Volkihar would lose easily if they fought someone like Kenji, who had trained his entire life, fought in a war, and various battles. Truth was, Kenji was one of the most powerful warriors in Skyrim, so Harkon went down like a dog. Even Serana, who had trained before she had been sealed away, wouldnt want to fight him. Fact was, while Serana had trained, she had then been sealed away, losing the training which had made her a real threat.

Kenji cackled. "Anyone else want to challenge my authority?" Silence was his response, the answer being obvious. The fools had thought of Harkon as a god, so it was understandable that they were shocked that he had easily been beaten. For Kenji, life was going to get good.

A few days later, Harkon was healed and subservent to the new Lord Kenjiro. The fact that he had been beaten was humbling, and while he was arrogant, he had no wish for death. When Harkon had asked Kenji for his plans, Harkon expected to be punished, but Kenji simply called everyone to meet in the dining hall for a meeting. To his surprise, no one dared to mock his failure, which meant they still understood they were weaker than Harkon himself.

When everyone was in the dining room, Kenji stood before speaking. "Listen closely. I know some of you are nervous about my ascension, but let me explain what my plans are, perhaps then you will gain some understanding for me." He had everyone's attention. He wasnt a bad speaker. "Earlier in the day, Harkon asked me what my plans are, and that made me think. I conquered the strongest vampire in Skyrim... but why stop there?" He paused briefly. "Ladies and gentlemen, I propose we go forth with haste, and conquer ourselves a country, or even the entire continent." Needless to say, everyone was shocked. "Therefore, I give this order. I want half of you to go forth into Skyrim and transform as many people as possible, so long as they are worthy, into pure blood vampires. This will make our army larger. Understand this, the more people you turn into purebloods, the higher your position. The other half will train. Every month one half will switch with the other. If you find any vampires, bring them to me, do not turn them unless I say so. Does everyone understand? If I find out you are trying to cheat me, I will kill you without a care in the world."

With that, everyone dispersed, half to train, the other half to find worthy candidates for vampirism. Kenji grinned as Serana went out of the castle. Oh he knew what she was planning, he knew without a doubt, but he didnt care. She could run off and live fantasies of being a princess, he couldnt care less. While she was powerful, he knew she didnt have the same hate for him that she did for Harkon. She would only try to live in peace, rather than blatantly attack him. Besides, who could she possibly recruit that could be able to kill him?

Alex was a Khajiit mercenary, who protected the trading caravans for a time. After killing a giant in whiterun, he began to ponder his purpose. What did he want with his life? What did he want to be known for? It certainly wasnt trading. He was one of the most skilled archers there was, yet he protected a bunch of caravans who didnt need it, seeing as each Khajiit among them had training on how to kill. Elswyr was a strange place these days, if you didnt know how to kill someone, you didnt survive long. Personally, Alex never felt at home there. It was all about trading and speechcraft. He was a warrior, he knew that from when he was first born!

He liked the caravan travelers well enough, but he longed to do something with his life. He was young, only in his twenties. Khajiit had long lives, though not as long as mages, or elves, it was certainly longer than most humans. Most Khajiit who died of old age had lived to be over a hundred. He had plenty of time left, but he was bored of this. He wanted honor and glory, not a few meager bandits. He wanted to be regarded as a hero.

That was why, when Aela the Huntress, of the Companions, suggested he join, he jumped at the chance. The Companions were well known, and it would give him passage into any city unless he did something to ruin his reputation. Considering he was never good at thievery, he didnt have to worry. The guards were nervous about Khajiit, due to the drug trade that happened, but if a Companion with as high status as Aela vouched for him, he could pretty much waltz into any town he wanted. Granted he mostly wanted to buy some nordic armor, as his own armor was nearly broken.

Strangely, it seemed the feeling about Khajiit extended only towards guards. Even the nords of Whiterun who loathed elves didnt treat him too bad. Sure, there was a joke or two, but it was meant as a joke rather than direct insult. Alex had to laugh at some of them, if just to ease their nerves. Alex was an understanding person. Nords were stubborn as hell, and for them to speak to Alex in a joking manner like that meant that they would at least tolerate him. Though, the merchants were friendly as hell, probably trying to get on his good side because of his ties with the caravaners. Well, that woman who worked the shop directly in front of the gate treated him neutrally, more from her own apathy about him than any hatred of his race.

Alex had spoken with the Caravan leader, and they were still on good terms. It was rather obvious that Alex only got into the city because of Aela's position. He wouldnt ask her to do the same for the entire caravan, he just couldnt. He knew without a doubt there were a few in there who were too addicted to moonsugar, or thievery to hold themselves back while in a city. That would ruin his own credibility, along with Aela's. He had a unique sense of honor, which meant he would not betray Aela's trust.

So he did what anyone would do. He went through his trial to Dustman's Cairn with not a complaint. Farkas was an enjoyable guy, with a good sense of humor. He was a kind soul, and Alex got along with him great. Only that "Strong-arm" girl harbored any hate for his race, the rest of the companions just didnt give a damn. True warriors had honor and cared nothing for race, so far, the Companions had been everything Alex had ever wanted. Becoming a werewolf was a great deal as well. It was unfortunate that Skjor died, but it was even worse when the Harbinger died as well. Thankfully they had cleansed his soul of lycanthropy, freeing him from Hircine.

It was a great life, and Alex loved every minute. Then he got arrested, and nearly excuted twice, first by axe, then by giant black dragon. One of his jobs had been near the border of skyrim. It was simply bad luck that the soldiers happened to be fighting there and mistook him for a stormcloak soldier. Then he went and only survived the destruction of helgen thanks to the combined efforts of Hadvir and Ralof. Right now, they were all in the keep, talking.

Ralof and Hadvir were both untrusting of the other, but they agreed that the dragons returning was more important than any war, especially since that giant black dragon had called itself Alduin. The very thought of him frightened the two.

"Alright, Ralof, if we come to any stormcloaks, convince them to let us through, Hadvir, if we come accross any Imperials, do the same. Point out that neither General Tulius nor Ulfric Stormcloak were responsible for the dragon, whoever was wanted to kill everyone there, meaning there is a new side to this war. I have little doubt it is the Aldmeri Diminion." Alex stated, knowing it would calm both of them enough to think clearly.

Hadvir frowned, while Ralof nodded. "I am unsure if I will be able to, but so long as we travel together we should be able to at least get passed anyone." Hadvir pointed out.

Ralof chuckled. "Well both sides think the other side is dangerous, just imagine if the two teamed up."

Hadvir sighed at that. "Yes, but lets face it, the Great War took its toll on the entire empire. If the Aldermi Diminion is acting now, the only course of action is to team up with the stormcloaks. Once the Thalmor are gone, Talos worship will no longer be outlawed, and the civil war will not longer be. Its a good course of action in theory. However... I have the feeling that whatever we are dealing with here isnt the Aldmeri Diminion."

Alex nodded. "Whatever caused this dragon to appear wanted both sides dead. The Aldmeri Diminion's goal is to show that elves are superior, not wipe out humanity. The only ones in the past who could effectively tame dragons were the Dunmer, and the Akaviri. Morrowind has remained neutral through this entire thing, so I doubt it is them. If it is the Akavir... we may very well have to work with the Thalmor."

Both Hadvir and Ralof looked annoyed at the idea of working with such barbarians, but didnt speak against it. The Akaviri were not to be trifled with, they knew that. As they continued through the keep, looking for the way out, they began amassing followers, both Imperial, and Stormcloak. Only one person fought against teaming up with the Stormcloaks, and it turned out to be a Thalmor agent in disguise, oddly enough. It was the captain that had ordered Alex's death, which made him concerned. If they could mask their race like that, who knows what else they could do?

When everyone finally got out of the keep, they went their seperate ways. The stormcloaks went towards Windhelm, while the imperials went towards Solitude, both to warn their people and leaders. It was an unofficial truce. Hopefully it would become official.

Meanwhile, Alex, Ralof, and Hadvir went to Riverwood. Ralof and Hadvir visited their families, while Alex was going to head to whiterun to warn the Jarl. Alex decided to trade in a few items while he was there, which led him to hear about a golden claw being stolen. Alex felt compelled to help. He hated bandits. It wasnt like there was a lack of jobs in skyrim, so there was no point in becoming a bandit. It didnt even pay well, so the only point of it was the kinship one felt with fellow bandits. It was similar to the Companions except without any trust.

So, Alex made his way towards Bleak Falls Barrow, killing the wolf, troll and six bandits that stood in his way. When he first entered the barrow, he was mildly annoyed by the stench of death. Khajiit had good noses, and being a werewolf just made it that much better. He listened quietly to the two bandits talking. He wasnt stealthy, but they werent focused towards him so staying hidden was childs play.

"I dont care, if the damn dark elf wants to go ahead, let him." The male spoke.

The woman rolled her eyes. "You do realize that Golden Claw is all our loot? We didnt get anything else, he literally has all our money with him."

The man shrugged, right before an arrow pierced his skull from behind. The woman had a brief second to turn before the same happened to her. Alex walked down the steps, before reaching a puzzle. It was ridiculously obvious, but it was still a puzzle. He had to laugh when he noticed the bandit dead on the floor. The puzzle was literally the easiest thing he had ever done. The only possible way to get it wrong was to put the symbols the wrong way, but the bandit hadnt even tried, just ran up to the level and killed himself. Alex wasnt one to laugh at death, but holy hell how stupid could you get?

In any case, he killed the three rats down the stairs, before running into the thing he and Farkas hated most. Giant fucking Spiders. He got through the webs easy enough and grinned. The spider descended from the ceiling, hissing at Alex. Alex threw a potion at it. Right as the potion was at the spider's face, Alex shot it with an arrow. Immediately, an explosion blew the spider away, and killed the dunmer bandit caught in the webs. Thankfully, Alex had immediately taken cover. That potion was oil, his arrow simply caused a spark when it hit the bottle, causing the explosion.

Alex moved on, killing draugr, before he finally came to the main burrial chamber of the barrow. He noticed the giant wall, and tried to read it. It was similar to the most primitive version of the Elsywr language, before the Imperial language because universal. It was made by claw marks, that much was obvious. Alex wished he had a scholar with him, so he could read it better, but all that spoke to him was one word. Force. He didnt know why, but he could read that specific word.

He had been so lost in the wall, he only barely heard the crack that symboled the corpse walking again. Alex sighed before turning and firing into the Draugr. Damn things were persistent. He was mildly surprised when it didnt immediately die, or redie, as the case may be. He narrowed his eyes before firing repeatedly into the draugr, scoring both the eyes and forhead. The draugr finally slumped in defeat, and Alex checked its corpse. Perhaps it was paranoia, or just plain curiosity, but he found a strange carving, and he kept it, perhaps he could sell it to the caravaners, who would then sell it to the College of Winterhold, he could get a better deal than anyone.
-

When he finally reached whiterun, he was rather surprised when a strange boy greeted him. Well, he thought of him as a boy, but in reality the man was seventeen years old, and claimed to be a skilled mage. He was willing to buy the strange carving, but Alex suggested they speak with the Court Wizard about it. The breton, Demetri, agreed. After warning the Jarl about the dragon, Alex ignored the arguing between the two servants, and instead went to the Court Wizard with Demetri. Apparently Demetri was a well known mage, because Farengar treated him with respect, something not even the Jarl had.

Farengar smiled at Demetri. "Its a pleasure to finally meet you, Ive read your spellbooks on Anti-magic, wonderful piece of work that, but what can I do for you?"

Demetri chuckled sheepishly, apparently nervous with the attention. "Yeah, anyway, Alex here found this ancient carving in Bleak Falls Barrow, he was wondering how much it could be worth. Im more of a practical mage, so I wouldnt know."

Farengar laid eyes on the Dragonstone and stared dumbly. "You have to be joking."

Alex blinked. "What is it?"

Farengar sighed. "Ive sent about ten people into that barrow, just to retreive this, none of them returned. Look, I know you were going to sell this, but please, let me buy it, Ill give you one thousand, this information is necessary for preparing against the dragons."

Alex nodded. "Sure, and maybe Demetri here could help with whatever it is you are doing."

Demetri nodded. Alex walked back to the Jarl, who looked annoyed, likely due to his two subordinates arguing. "A detachment is on its way to riverwood, you have my thanks, all towns and cities in my hold will be protected, but these are dragons, and our buildings are made of wood."

Alex nodded, knowing this to be true. "Any dragon which attacks whiterun will have to deal with the Companions."

Balgruuf smiled slightly. "well then-" He was interrupted when his housecarl ran into the room, and spoke.

"Sir, dragon at the southwest watch tower." She panted for breath, and by the time she looked up, Alex and Demetri were already gone. "Azura help them..." She whispered, wondering if they were brave, or arrogant.
_

A dunmer male, young for his race, wandered towards Whiterun, hoping to have some fun soon. Looking at the piles of dead bandits near him, it was just too boring.

An average nord stood near him. "Ive heard reports of dragons attacking north, near whiterun. It is likely the next target. You want to go, Plague?"

The dunmer chuckled with glee. Dragons eh? "You shouldnt have to ask, Zane, maybe we will run into him again, eh?"

The nord seemed to exude apathy, but his eyes showed curiosity. "It was too long ago, and we barely escaped with our lives. I doubt he fared much better."

Plague snorted. "You know better than to underestimate that man. He is crafty, and smart enough to escape, do not doubt that."

"Perhaps so... but holding onto hope like that isnt the best idea. He probably thinks we are dead, even if he is alive." Zane's tone did not change, nor did his incredibly annoying apathetic nature.

Plague shrugged. "Its not a hope really, I can feel it. The bastard survived, he has too much to do before he dies."

Zane's eyebrow rose, before he spoke in amusement. "Like taking over the world?"

Plague nodded sagely, going along with the joke. His amusement faded into a strange expression. "How long has it been since we escaped?"

"Two years."

"Has it really been so long? I suppose time flies when you dont age." Plague chuckled.

Zane merely shrugged, not knowing how Plague felt about it. "Lets be off." Plague nodded, and both began their treck through skyrim. Unfortunately neither of them had a good sense of direction, so they wound up at a dwemer ruin first. Either way, they were going to have fun.