Hello again! This a sequel to my fanfiction "The Star Wars V: Skyrim". If you haven't read it yet, be sure to do so so you know what's going on. I hope you enjoy this one!
Space. Space was a place of cold and death. It was full of burning balls of constant explosion, holes that rip through space and time and suck in all souls unfortunate enough to get too close. The few worlds that didn't kill all life on it before it can be born are home to selfish, greedy and corrupt beings of all vile races.
This was how Darth Vader viewed the galaxy as his Imperial Shuttle flew to the Imperial Palace, wher he would speak with his master. The capture of the Ghost crew was a great victory for the Galactic Empire, indeed, but that was not why he went to see the old man in the cowl. It was because of that one man with the capabilities to destroy armies.
In that ancient tongue, he is known as Dovahkiin.
That power he wielded-the "Thu'um" or the "Voice" they called it-was more than a match for the power Vader and Emperor Palpatine, Darth Sidious, wielded. It was more than a match against the Force. Especially when it was mastered to this extent.
The shuttle entered the landing bay, and Vader was greeted by a battalion of stormtroopers. These were not his men. Mostly just men in uniform, who have probably never seen, let alone lived, through the battlefront. An officer greeted him with the usual formalities. Vader ignored him. He was anxious to speak with his master about the situation. For the first time in many years, Vader felt concerned. Someone with this much power had to be dealt with before he could become a major threat. It was too late to turn him. He was far too set in his ways, and even if Vader captured him and attempted to brainwash him, he would need to be trained again in an art no one but the Greybeards of Skyrim know of, and even they will die before they give their secrets to someone like Vader.
Vader went up the elevator to the Throne Room. He was met by royal guards who escorted him to their master. Emperor Palpatine sat in his throne. Then he spoke.
"Greetings, Lord Vader," he said. "What news do you bring me?"
"The Ghost crew has at last been captured," Vader replied. "They await their execution as we speak."
"Good, good," the Emperor said, turning his chair to face Vader. "But, I sense there is something that troubles you?"
Vader took a moment to think about how he should say this.
"There is a man on the world the Ghost crew crashed on," Vader said. He took a pause and the Emperor motioned him to continue. "He is known as the Dragonborn, and I have reason to believe he wields a power greater than anything we have ever known."
The Emperor laughed. "Unless he can destroy worlds with a flick of his finger and bend the will of the strongest minds, I do not believe he surpasses our power," he said.
"Perhaps," Vader replied, "but he still has the power to destroy us."
Vader had his Shadow Guards, who had followed him in, set up the holoprojector. When it was ready, Vader spoke. "This is intel taken from Skyrim of this Dragonborn."
When the image projected, it showed a man in simple armor. Pathetic-looking, really. This man was fighting a dragon. I seemed to breathe in, then it breathed out fire from it's mouth. "Fus Ro Dah!" the man shouted. It pushed the fire out of the way and knocked the dragon back. After some fighting, the man killed the dragon. Then, the dragon began to burn, and some sort of energy left the dragon and entered this man. All that was left of the dragon was a skeleton. The holovid ended.
"That man was the Dragonborn," Vader explained. "After he killed the dragon, he devoured it's very soul. And that was just a portion of his power."
Vader then explained in detail what a Dragonborn was, and the power he wielded. How they were practically gods. The Emperor listened carefully.
When Vader finished speaking, the Emperor got up. "I suppose we should discuss a course of action, my apprentice."
Zay Harmac stood on the balcony of the King's Grand Palace on Ferra, thinking about what he did on Nirn. He hated missions that end up with him befriending a native just to betray his people later. There was no honor in that. Not like it happened often, but this wasn't his first time. It's why he never went on missions like this much.
As he stood on the balcony of the Palace, a voice spoke behind him. "Something wrong, Zay?" said the elderly voice, radiating with wisdom and power. King Vornek Lorkaeus IV. He and the king were good friends, for although the Harmac's were no longer kings, they were still an important and respected family. "Nothing," said Zay. "Just thinking about the not-so-likable aspects of war."
"Alright," replied the King. "Just let me know if you need anything, young one." Zay chuckled. "I will," he said. The King nodded and walked back into the Palace.
The open field of battle was what he preferred. He wished that these were still the days of the Old Republic, thousands of years ago, when the Ferran Empire began growing at rates that alarmed many. Back when there were Jedi to argue vainly with (well, there was still Skywalker). When the Ferran's could sit back and laugh when the Republic had to pass a vote to go to war with Ferra or negotiate a pact or something. Perhaps that day can come again. Differently, maybe. Some times, he hoped that the Rebellion would win. It would give Ferra a chance to arise to supreme greatness once more.
But those days were the past. It was time to focus on the matters at hand. It had been some weeks since Nirn, and Zay had received news of the destruction of Alderaan and, soon after, of it's destroyer. He was very happy to hear of Tarkin's death, however. They always hated each other. Mostly difference's in philosophy. But that's a different topic.
Harmac thought about these events. For a very long time. Then his holo-communicator began beeping. Perfect timing, he thought. He answered. It was Vader. And he didn't like what he had to say.
The Dragonborn thought about this. Solitude was annihilated, and with it the leader of the Imperial Legion in Skyrim. As a result, the Stormcloaks managed to quickly overpower the Empire and drive them out. Many of the Jarl's just surrendered, and, therefore, many stayed in office. The Dragonborn was quite indifferent, as he was pretty neutral in the civil war.
He claimed honor. Claimed to do his best to do good. But he lied. The capital of Skyrim was annihilated because he simply wouldn't go about his business officially. He used deception as a tool when he claimed to think it evil.
The Galactic Empire reminded him of the Aldmeri Dominion. Using lies and trickery to get their way, then pouncing on unwary victims when they were weak. The Dragonborn craved revenge. If only there was a way.
He prayed that night. Prayed to Akatosh, to Talos and to Stendarr for revenge. Justice for the people of Solitude.
He gathered the Blades for a meeting. There were six, other than himself; Lydia, his wife Aela the Huntress, Vilkas, Farkas, Esbern, and Delphine.
"You all know what has just taken place," the Dragonborn began. "Clearly, we need to prepare ourselves if this... Galactic Empire attacks again."
"What is you suggest?" Delphine asked.
The Dragonborn threw the bag he was carrying on the table. It's contents spilled out, and everyone looked in awe: the weapons the men in white armor were carrying during during the attack on Solitude.
"What... what are these?" Aela asked. "I certainly hope you know what you're doing, dear!"
"Of course I know, Aela. These are weapons taken from the men who attacked Solitude. And I also found this." The Dragonborn showed them a small, plate-shaped metal object with a few buttons on it. "This is what a traitorous trooper was using to speak with someone. Let's give it a try, shall we?"