Fahdon
Chapter One: The Man with no face
Blizzards. If there was one word to describe the northern corners of Skyrim, that one word would come to anyone's mind. And as the rider atop the shadow black stallion cantered quietly into Winterhold, he was inclined to agree.
The destitute little town was beyond saving, no matter what anyone did for it, but it struggled on anyway. The Jarl's longhouse, barely bigger than the Frozen Hearth inn, was all but powerless among the larger and richer Capitols, while the few money makers, the aforementioned inn and a small shop, did little to attract travelers. With a minuscule populous, ruins dotting the town, practically indistinguishable from the buildings in use, and the lack of a wall sending a veil of snow throughout the single main road that cut through the town, made for an unappealing home.
However, towering over the frigid town, silhouetted against the aurora borealis in the night sky, stood the college. Three might towers, an imposing arc marking the borders of college grounds and a crumbling, barely stable bridge would meet man or mer to look upon the mighty structure, and the grand College of Winterhold would stare endlessly down upon the tiny hold it was named for.
Dismounting his horse with a clattering of metal as the weapons sheathed on the horse's saddle rattled in the wind. A black cloak draped over his shoulders and a hood covered his head. He crossed the broken bridge without hesitation, seeming not to notice the abyss below, and set his eyes upon the imposing college as he drew near. Word had come to the striding man of an 'odd goings on' in the hall of the Elements and, as the Arch-Mage, it was his duty to investigate.
Technically, he could have let it be, but given the climate of how the locals felt about the use of magic, he felt it prudent to contain thing before he had another 'incident' on his hands.
The wind picked up as he walked, sending the cloak whipping in the winds, a flash of bone white and icy blue revealed to the world for the briefest of seconds. Boots thudded upon the stone bridge and gauntlets steadied the Arch-Mage as the wind tore at him. A wave of his fingers, layered in a plated, dull ivory, sent the gates to the college swinging open, and the wind ceased as he stepped past the boundaries of the college.
The courtyard was deserted, only the impressive statute of someone the Arch-Mage wasn't sure of the identity of kept him company. He felt it odd, but not unpredictable, given the missive. He glanced around as he walked, the blizzard raging just beyond the college grounds, but inside it was still. Tranquil. The Arch-Mage had always found it a little unsettling.
A pair of doors swung open at his silent behest, only to be greeted by a pair of mages.
"We should get rid of it. Gods only know what this could be, and I refuse to have to deal with another angry Jarl" exclaimed the high elf. The other, shorter and much older, held his hands up, palms out, in a placating gesture.
"Yes, yes, Faralda, of course, but we should let the Arch-Mage examine it first. He has much great experience with such things" he replied firmly, like a grandfather explaining something; gentle, but with no room for argument.
"And what, exactly, will I be examining" the man in armor asked as he pushed through the door. The two mages turned to face him, one's face lighting up.
"Ah, Arch-Mage, it's good to see you" the elderly man greeted, taking his gauntlet in hand and shaking it gently. The taller man sighed.
"Must I remind you every time we meet Tolfdir? You needn't call me that" he explained as he shrugged his cloak off and tossed it onto a coat-rack that wasn't there, the hood hanging on an invisible peg. Tolfdir chuckled.
"And what would you prefer? Harbinger, Dragonborn perhaps" asked with a smile
"Or perhaps Listener or Guild Master" Faralda mumbled under her breath as she turned away. Lightning crackled between the taller man's fingers before he clenched his fist to dispel it.
"Maybe one of my other numerous titles" he grunted, hands on his hips as he shook his head "no, Remus will do just fine" he replied.
"As you wish Remus, shall I show you why I summoned you here?" Tolfdir turned away as he spoke leading the Dragonborn into the main hall. Remus had to admit, he'd expected the Eye Of Magnus to reappear, or a gate to have torn from the ground.
"Well...can't say I was expecting that" was all the most worldly and powerful mage in the college had to say on the matter.
It was...well, it was an arc. Inside the curve of the arc, however, was a burning, swirling portal that leaked fire and spat sparks now and then. Granted, Remus had never actually seen an Oblivion portal before, but there were numerous tomes on the subject, an none were described like this.
Remus strode around the room, Tolfdir breaking off and trotting over to the students, all new faces, while the Arch_mage performed his examination.
"What in the name of Sheogorath's balls am I looking at" he mumbled. A portal, yes, but to where? And why had it appeared? Where had it appeared from? Too many questions, and not his area of expertise; he'd been through a bunch of them but he'd never taken the time to study them. Portals were doors, and one rarely stopped to research a door.
Around the room, the other mages of the college were gathered. The spectral form of Arniel Gane studied the arc up close, the spell most of the college had cast to prolong his stay on Mundus sticking it seemed, while the senior mages were gathered in group off to the side, muttering and discussing between each other. Tolfdir was giving the students a quite lecture, ever a teacher first, while three old friends sat in a row on the steps.
Onmund, J'zargo and Brelyna had note books on their laps and quills in their hands, faces buried in the pages. His only friends from his days as a student here, with the rest of the apprentices bitter at or jealous of his success. Walking silently behind them, Remus peered over their shoulders to look at their notes.
J'zargo's deft paw was working away at a sketch of the portal, capturing the chipped marble, clumsy stone masonry and the ugliness of the craftsmanship. Remus hoped that this was not the best work of the blind man or fool who had carved this.
Onmund and Brelyna had taken notes, both jotting down their observations of the marble portal and their intuitive remarks on the subject.
Looking upon the portal, I feel an odd wave a magika emitting every minuet or so. According to my teachers, this phenomenon is similar to an effect the Eye of Magnus had on the more seasoned wizards on campus, master Tolfdir in specific. Here, however, even I can feel it.
Brelyna's note's intrigued the Dragonborn, and he looked up at the arc again. Focusing, lowering his magical defenses, he too could feel an odd, rhythmic pulsing now and then. With a frown, Remus cocked his head in thought. A portal that emanated pure magicka? He was sure that such a thing would be noted by scholars if they'd felt something similar with the Oblivion portals, but he'd read no such thing.
Running his gauntlet clad fingers down Brelyna's back, she gasped in shock as her spine straightened suddenly.
"So, what do we think" he asked quietly. The three younger wizards looked back to find him, the three of them deflating when they realized who it was.
"Remus" they said at once, Brelyna a touch breathier than the others. He glanced left and right at the Nord and Khajiit, nodding to them, before returning his attention to the Dunmer. She glared at him, and the Dragonborn laughed quietly.
"I will turn you to dust, barbarian" she told him, trying to be angry. Remus only laughed again.
"Maybe, but then you'd have to hear Tolfdir's lecturing about the dangers of magic again" he reminded. The two men chuckled at Remus's remark while Brelyna turned back to her book. "Anything interesting" he asked, motioning at the woman's parchment, glancing at the guys.
""Fraid not. Never seen anything like it before" Onmund said with a shrug.
"This one has never enconutered such a thing either...but J'zargo feels his fur stand on end looking at it. I believe it to be dangerous" he warned it his thick accent. Remus grunted; if J'zargo was weary, then Alduin himself had cause for concern.
"I can feel magic pouring from it but...I'm not sure what it means" Breylna admitted, tensing a side of her mouth in frustration "no tomes I've ever read speak on the subject of other worldly portals entering Tamriel at great length" she mused "and certainly none of this..." she looked back at the portal "design" she finished weakly, the horrendous craftsmanship taking the wind from her sails.
The Dragonborn merely hummed in thought, stroking his hand down the chin of his mask, where his beard would have been. The three students were looking back at him, questions in their eyes, but they dren't interrupt his thoughts; calm, wise and focused as he was, he had a knack for getting distracted and going on wild tangents at the worst of times, and they were loathe to get him started on what was going through his mind.
Breylna's eyes snapped between the Arch-Mage and the arc, and while she couldn't see his icy blue eyes behind the pitch black cloth he wore under the mask, she knew he was staring at it intently; he had a sense of curiosity that knew no bounds, after all.
"I suppose you've all been scouring the Library" he asked suddenly. The three students glanced between each other again.
"Well...this one made an attempt, but was quickly cast out by your brother" J'zargo replied uneasily. A sigh escaped Remus's hidden nose, his head dropping as he rubbed its concealed bridge with his gauntlet-clad fingers.
"He's here" he asked, voice low and annoyed. With a slight swallow from the Nord, all three nodded. "When did he get here?"
"A-a little before you did. Said he felt some kind of 'magical disturbance' in the area while fishing in Dawnstar" Onmund replied. Again, the Dragonborn sighed; one, because he'd have to have words with Tolfdir about keeping him informed of his brother's whereabouts, and two because he wished Onmund would realize his potential and proceed to grow a spine.
"Guess I'd better check on him" Remus grumbled, standing straight, running a finger through Breylna's ebony hair as he did. Striding from the room and up into the Arcanaeum, when he pushed through the door Remus was met with but one thing: pandemonium.
Books lay littered across the floor, in far-too-tall stacks and floated around the room, orbiting the few figures in the room. Raised voices could be heard and the distinctive hum of the telekinesis spell filled the air. He walked forwards calmly, silently, and stood behind one of the three people in the room, the rest having likely been cowed by the argument. A small girl, sat curled up in a wooden arm chair, sweet roll being pulled apart by her small hands as she watched the roaring contest before her.
Leaning against the stone shelves with his arms crossed, Remus glanced down at the small girl absently.
"So...what're they arguing about?" The girl shirked, bolting up right, he hand latching to the dagger on her belt as she looked around, eventually behind her to find the towering monolith of dragon bone, Stalrim and ebony stood behind her, his very presence humming with Magicka, the goliath's face hidden behind an eerie mask of more dragon bone and ebony, Nordic and Akaviri patterns lined with more of the enchanted ice. Hollow, black eyes, trapped in an eternal slumber stared at her, tusks jutting from the 'maw', while the chin was covered in tentical-esqe patterns, giving the mask an otherworldly appearance, something alien and cruel.
"Uncle Remus" she beamed, twisting unto her knees as she made a valiant attempt to wrap he short arms around the colossal figure. Suddenly uncomfortable and awkward under the small girl's affection, Remus simply patted her back gently as he spoke, his tone rigid and his words obviously chosen.
"Well met Sofie, how are you cub?" She released him immediately, sitting back as she looked up at him eagerly.
"I'm great, I love coming to the college, and father never lets me come here. But he said it was an emergency today, but wouldn't tell me what was going on." She looked back at her warring father for a moment before motioning Remus to lean in. "I think it's about the pretty arch in the hall down stairs" she told him in a loud whisper. For several reasons, Remus was glad of his mask hiding his face, mostly however to hide his badly restrained glee at Sofie's description of the presumably hand-less sculpter's work downstairs. Saying nothing more as he tussled her hair (not as gently as he'd meant) he turned to the arguing duo.
One was an elderly Orc, muscles rippling under his robes despite his age in fury, as he stood near nose-to-nose with the other.
A Nord, like no other. Similar to Remus he was wore a mask, however, that's where their similarities ended. He wore a flowing, fluxing robe, sometimes green and sometimes purple, golden scales trailing from the shoulders to the gauntlets. he had an aura of magicka about him, intense and powerful, and when he looked to the last dragonborn, his mask betrayed a twisted visage, that of twisting, clasping tendrils obscuring his old face.
There was a short stand-off between the three men, one panting and enraged, the other silent and radiating malice and the last stood with his weight on his heels, arms crossed over his chest casually.
"Urag" he began, nodding at the Orc before he turned his gaze to the Nord. "Miraak" he continued, less easy. Again, the two shared a stand-off, both masks staring at each other without emotion, silently, intently.
"Zeymah" came Miraak's reply. Again, silence.
Minus the quiet munching coming from Sofie.
"Arch-Mage" Urag began, his tone sharp, angry "I thought I'd made it clear, the Arcanaeum is my domain, and I don't care who you are" he turned to Miraak once more "disrupt my Arcanaeum-"
"And you'll have them ripped apart by angry Atronachs, yes, I've heard as such" Remus interrupted, hands on his hips as he shook his head. The Last Dragonborn turned to Miraak. "I thought you of all would have a deep respect for libraries" he mused, much to the first Dragonborn's aggravation. Miraak crossed his own arms, his right hand gripping his left bicep with enough pressure to crush the muscle as he glowered at Remus from behind his mask.
"Ag hin vum" Miraak grumbled, turning away. Remus simply laughed at the weak insult from his weary friend. He took a moment to look around himself; Urag was still stood, standoffish, while Miraak had simply gone back to his books, the situation apparently defused for now. With a gesture, the books that had been floating around the room and strewn across the floor snapped back to their places among the shelves, much to Urag's gruff gratitude. Remus looked to the old Orc, raising his hand in a placating gesture. "Perhaps we should share our finding in less..." the last watched as Urag stalked back to his counter, where he looked at the books that Miraak had taken from the glass case behind him, the more valuable books in the library, with an angry aura around him "agitated company" Remus finished, trying to further defuse the situation before the fires of hatred flared again.
"Very well" came the metallic echos of Miraak's voice "come Sofie" he called behind. A small 'yes father' was his reply, and a small twitch snapped at Remus's neck at the word leaving her mouth.
How the unorthodox bunch Remus called family had gained its two most...mismatched members was the likes of a tale that demanded a full tankard and a roaring fire to tell. Needless to say, Akatosh had been watching Miraak since his first days on Nirn, and looked for even the briefest of glimpses of him during the first Dragonborn's time in Apocrapha. Upon his defeat, not even the near-insurpassable might of the last Dragonborn could contain the sheer will and power of his soul.
As Remus climbed the stared to the stairs to his quarters within the college, watching Sofie trail after her father, he recounted with bitter fondness the days of death-like illness he'd spent in his bead, incapacitated by Miraak's efforts to free himself. And then, the morning when the sweating and pain stopped, and the first Dovakiin, of the mythic era, lay next to his bed.
With a relationship brokered on a tense respect and a broken pride, the two had been an odd pair for a long while, Miraak's devastation at his defeat and near vegetative state broken only by the unpredictable hand of Sofie. Remus had long suspected the Sheogorath had taken part in the odd chain of events that had brought Miraak out of his shell.
He had little time to ruminate on said thoughts, however, as he had reached his dimly lit chambers and found Miraak staring over the small garden that dominated the room.
He stood next to him, Miraak's stance of his hands clasped behind his back complemented by Remus placing his hands on his hips. One quite, one bold, they made quite the amusing pair for Sofie, who was sat on a chair, giggling at the two.
"Has your research born fruit" Remus asked, after another long silence. A sigh, and a man deflating was his answer, as Miraak shook his head.
"Nid" he answered, voice still ringing with metal tones "none of the Orc's book speak on the subject. I dare even say that the library of Apocrapha was bare of this knowledge" he remarked. Remus found it endlessly amusing, the gravitas of his voice and the true epicness of his tone, and yet he made no grandiose speeches or monologues. Instead he spoke as a scholar discussing his finding. Which Remus largely found him to be, at heart. A man who sought knowledge. He also knew that finding something unknown to him, while Remus saw a challenge, Miraak saw an insult.
"There must be something" the last replied after a moment, stroking where his beard would have been "Tamriel has seen portals before, had instances such as this occur in the past" he mused, staring down vacantly at a mushroom he felt was misshapen.
"We knew what was on the other side of most of them" Miraak argued, stroking the tenticals on the chin of his mask. Remus nodded, glancing around himself in thought before he shrugged and turned away.
"Well, we have now studied, researched and theorized about this infernal portal, and we've gotten nowhere" Remus announced suddenly, turning away without warning "I can now only think of one thing to do" he exclaimed. Miraak turned to follow him, confused.
"Wait, what do you mean brother" he asked, trailing after him, Sofie following the two without prompting. Miraak continued to ask questions, to no avail, of Remus before they found themselves back in the Hall of the Elements, the staff and students all seeming to have grown bored with the seemingly inanimate portal. Tolfdir noticed him first, as well as the direction he was headed.
"Arch-mage, Miraak, what's going on. What's all the fuss" he asked, falling into step at Remus's side. They'd gathered the whole room's attention, all eyes on the two sets of robes and the Goliath covered in bone.
"No fuss" Remus assured, glancing back at Tolfdir "just conducting a small experiment" he explained. At the shocked shouts of everyone in the room, before Miraak could reach out to grab him, Remus stepped into the portal.
Blinding whiteness.
All around.
Everywhere.
"How unoriginal" the Dragonborn mused. Dovahzun, the Dragon's Blade, hung comfortably in Remus's hand, pulsating with crackling lightning, roaring fire and biting cold in a continuous rhythm. The blood-rending, element taming broad sword matched the armour's design, whites, blacks and blues forging its length.
However, in this stark...place, even the most pale of dragon bone stood out like an ogre in an orphanage.
Lightning crackled around Remus's left hand as he stepped in a circle, watching for foes, keeping an eye on the portal. It was...odd, the white void. Blinding but bearable, he could see feint black lines, as though he were in a room...or a box.
Thudding, coming from all around. He turned, turned again, and nothing met his sharp eyes. The ceaseless thudding did not relent, causing the Dragonborn to continue turning, casting a wall of lightning behind him and ready a ward in his off hand.
"An impressive trick" came a voice, from all around. It was feminine, gently and calm...but there was a edge to it, experience hidden in its weary tones.
"I'd be glad to teach it to you" Remus called in reply "show yourself!" There was a pause, long and tense, the last flexing his grip on his sword.
"Very well" came the reply. A swirling of wind, the flapping of wings, and...the trotting of hooves. As though stepping from a curtain, a veil, came...
Remus had seen much in his time, but even he had to admit, a horse wearing a tiara took the sweet roll. Never mind the wings and horn, the idea of administrative work been done my a mare made him want to double over in laughter. He held fast, however, and watched as the mare approached him. Assuming this was who had spoken, that is.
"Greeting" the made said, bowing her head gently, confirming Remus's suspicions as he bowed his head in turn.
"Well met" he replied, somewhat hesitantly. Was this a Daedra he was dealing with here? Had he just walked into a plane of Oblivion? No, it felt wrong. The mare was too welcoming, too pleasant. To simple to look at, given that if this was any Daedra, it was Sheogorath, and he wouldn't be so mundane.
"You shouldn't be here" she advised. That sent Remus's brow a-glaring.
"Is that so" he challenged "why is that, my esteemed steed" he remarked with a smirk, perhaps a bit too proud of his jibe.
"Because there is nothing here for you, and the portal through which you entered is closing soon" she replied without missing a beat, nodding behind him. Remus glanced back, weighing his options; his instinct was to stay, explore, but if this was Oblivion, this could be a trick. He hadn't left when 'invited' to, as such he'd stayed of his own accord. Granted, the idea of being trapped in Oblivion with only his whits (and some of the most finely crafted gear to ever grace Nirn, but still) to aid him sent a bolt of lightning through his gut, but something about this felt off somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it made his teeth itch.
"Very well" he replied after a moment, the horse seeming to sigh in relief as he said so, passing through the sparking lightning as though it weren't there as he backed away, never taking his eyes from her. He paused suddenly. "Are you trapped here" he asked. That seemed to catch the mare off-guard, but before the emotion had fully washed across her face, she shook her head.
"No. I merely wish to see that you are not." Another glare, more a frown really, but Remus decided not to argue either way. The wolf's hackles were stood on end, the dragon in his soul sniffing at the air, the vampire afraid of the unforgiving light, but the man was calm, pushing down all other aspects and setting his mind straight as he retreated, deciding not to tempt fate this time.
His return was heralded with questions.
"Are you insane?"
"Are you alright?"
"Are you still Remus?"
"What was over there?"
"Do you remember us?"
"Do you remember yourself."
His hands up to stop the barrage of questions, the last Dragonborn shook his head free of the odd, muzzy feeling overcoming him.
"I'm fine, i'm fine" he assured, feeling strange all of a sudden, as though he'd been poisoned or been spiked with Skooma. He felt clouds and then fog fill his mind, and through a dull, distant muffle he heard voices, calling to him.
Everything felt heavy, and regret stabbed his gut. He fell to one knee, his armor, usually a second skin, weighing him down like a mammoth on his back.
"What's wrong with him." Miraak demanded, kneeling next to his brother, a hand on his shoulder.
"I-I'm not sure. Colette, can you help him?"
The gaggle of mages was broken up by the Breton, pushing her way through, but it was all so much haze to Remus. He felt nothing but that hazy, obscuring fog. A wolf howled in the distance and bats chirped and squeaked in massive numbers, fluttering away, into the distance. He'd washed the blood of the wolf and vampire from his veins long ago, but for a moment it all came to the forefront.
He remembered the call of the wolf, the burning, aching thirst on his throat. A dragon roared. Several dragons roared, all atop some distant mountain, just barely loud enough for the Dragonborn's ears. Through it all, he heard four words, perfectly, crisp to his ears.
"Zeymah, los hi Pruzah?" Brother, are you well.
Such a simple question, one he could barley bring himself to answer.
"Nid" With that simple word, the Dragonborn fell to his front, collapsing amidst the group of mages, all of the scattering back in shock. They went to his aid, but before they could take a step, a sound that set a boulder in Miraak's gut found their ears; wind whistled, with no breeze to be felt.
Slowly, at first, as though a slight chill on a warm day, but the rush and intensity increased so quickly, many in the Hall of the Elements felt the blizzard might carry them into the night sky. The gale carried no wind however, and Miraak's eyes were locked onto his brother's unmoving back; golds, blues, oranges, reds, a twisting, spiraling vortex ripping from between the armor plates. And blinding, bright yellow flames licking at the air, struggling to escape the dragon bone plates.
Remus lay still, paralyzed but feeling everything, burn of Alduin's own flame, the cold of the Soulcairn, the ripping and tearing of a thousand bears, the piercing of a thousand swords, the pummeling of a thousand hammers, his blood drained by a hundred vampires and his spirit crushed by any number of defeats.
Throughout it all, he felt the pain of his losses; his closest friends, Silas, the Ebony Warrior, befriended instead of slain. Telydrn Sero, the finest of mercenaries coin by, and the finest of friends and man could ask for. Bryn, Farkas, Vilkas, Aela, Babette, Nazir, Tolfdir and countless other friends and allies, too many to remember in his final moments.
Serana. The thought of her almost let him rise again, his hand beneath him, his love giving him strength. But the tails lied, and no gift was sent down from the gods for his pure thoughts, his truest of loves. It burned him, these final second, and in a final act of petty defiance, he managed one last act in the world. One last shout.
Fus, ro dah
The mages were blasted away, dust fell from the rafters, men and women scrambled to their feet, screams were head and spells miscast. Many could feel their eardrums throbbing in pain, the iron gates had been blasted off their hinges and the Dragonbron fell once again.
Miraak cursed in some distant land as Remus felt his vison blur, the dark setting in. Miraak rushed to him but it didn't matter. He didn't wonder where he'd go, because something else crossed his mind. Something Miraak had once asked him.
"Do you think it hurts, having your soul ripped out like that."
Yes, it did.
By the gods it did.