(7/30/2020) Right, just reread what I had and between my own bored muse, An Electric Game by AgelessReaper (a really good Skyrim Gamer fic with a non-dragonborn SI) I am inspired to at least start on this again.

(8/14/2020) finally took another look through this chapter, added some more detail, fixed a few typos and such.)

There is no guarantee of any other updates anytime soon, but I'm at least interested in this. Personally I don't want to even become a werewolf, so I think I'll just pass the information off to Kodlak and continue on my way.

In this universe magic is as much about potential as it is effort. A mage with lackluster potential can beat out a high potential mage so long as they work to eke out as much as they can. As a Dragonborn my potential is already ridiculous, but as the Last Dragonborn it is limitless. Combine that with a work ethic matching Might Gai or Rock Lee and you get a ridiculously overpowered mage. Combine that with working on his physical capabilities? Monster.

Currency is handled differently than in the game. Anything under a hundred or so coins but above twenty is handled via rolls of coins, each roll containing ten septims. Anything above a hundred is handled via an official Banking Writ which can be exchanged at any bank. Under twenty is handled via loose coins. Contrary to the game, gold is not weightless.

Anything in the inventory is weightless though there is a limit on how much the inventory can hold. In general its around three hundred pounds for the average person. Lucien can carry around four hundred and by the end of the story will be capable of carrying several thousand.

Deep Storage is independent of reality and doesn't have a weight limit, the only restrictions are that the item stored cannot be heavier than the user can lift. As such the average smith could store an anvil as can Lucien though why would he when he can conjure one, but cannot store a full cart.

The next morning I wake up sore, apparently despite the regular exercise I've engaged in for years my body just wasnt up to dungeon delving standards. Of course my body doesn't feel even half as bad as my magic. I wont be doing any practice for the next day or so, minimum. I've suffered magickal exhaustion before, even gone a step beyond a time or two on accident, it always takes a day or two without magic to heal. The good news is that each bout with magickal exhaustion trains my reserves like nothing else. My colleagues always wondered why despite nearly constantly suffering from magickal exhaustion I always had bigger and faster filling reserves than they did. Part of it is the fact that if I had spare time I was either expanding my knowledge or training, the other part is on the weekends and after exams or other events I would empty my reserves only slightly farther than safe. This resulted in a twenty-six year old Imperial having reserves and control closer to an Elder Altmer Mage several times his age and reserves that fill within six or so hours.

Getting up, I head out to bathe and get my morning rituals done, waving to Delphine and for Orgnar to prepare something hearty for breakfast. Sitting at the table I reread the exercises before trying them. Using Fabricate Object I create an hourglass before closing my eyes. Extending my senses my magicka twitches before pulsing. Slowly everything fades away and I begin to feel it as time passes. By the time my meal is placed before me I'm smiling as I can reliably tell how many minutes it has been. Perhaps this part of the magic was easier because of my connection to Akatosh? Shrugging I dig into my food, tipping Orgnar again.

"Delicious as always Orgnar! It'll be a shame to leave Riverwood and give up your food but alas I must." I dramatically exclaim getting a chuckle from him. Everyone else was giving me dirty looks, apparently there aren't many early risers in Riverwood.

"You're alright for a nob, but I'm not following you on your adventures!" the Nord says getting a laugh from me. Cleaning up, I head to my room and grab my bags, stuffing them in my Deep Storage, before checking the time. Its nearly eight so I head out to the east exit of the village. Seeing the carriage being prepared I simply hop in the back and take a moment to meditate. Soon enough we are on our way, several hours later and about a quarter of the way to Whiterun, the driver begins to look around.

"What is it?" I ask, having taken a nap and was woken up by the carriages erratic movement.

"It's gettin' dark milord, was lookin' for a place to bed down for the night." the driver explains, still looking around. By now my magic had largely recovered, there were some minor twitches and I wasnt good for combat but I could manage a tent or two. Looking around I spot a decent spot and point it out.

"Pull over there, get the horses settled. I'll deal with sleeping arrangements." I command, the driver hesitates before complying. Getting out I survey the area, we are in a clearing a bit off the road. The trees are close enough together that I briefly consider conjuring some hammocks but decide against that and take out my tent while conjuring a fully set up one for the driver across from mine. Getting my tent set up takes around ten to fifteen minutes. By that time the carriage driver has returned and seeing the tent I point him to shrugs and gets set up for sleep. I head a bit away and gather some firewood before returning and conjuring a fire pit between our tents. Removing the cooking spit I obtained from Bleak Falls, I cast some cleaning cantrips before my magic begins to twitch. Sighing I get out some raw meat and cook a basic meal for the both of us. Thankfully the driver contributes some spices. Eating our meal, we chat a bit, telling stories and joking around. Finished with my meal, my magic has recovered just enough for one last spell as I had planned. Carefully circling the perimeter of the camp I ward the camp against predators and set up an elaborate wire trap to alert if people approached during the night.

We were only briefly woken when a pack of wolves skirted too close, but they were deterred by the Anti-Predator ward. The next day we pack up and I dispel the conjured items. Getting on our way, the rest of the trip was mostly undisturbed. On the last leg of the journey, the city visible in the distance we somehow managed to get the attention of a small band of roving bandits.

"Hand over you gold and jewels and maybe we wont kill ya!" the lead bandit demands. They managed to corner us in a particularly bad position and they aren't grouped together enough for a single Chain Lightning+ to kill them all. The group consists of six bandits, a bandit wielding a two handed steel greatsword, a trio of archers, and two sword and shield. The archers are hanging back, their bows drawn and an arrow readied, the sword and shield are flanking the greatsword wielder who stands a dozen feet away from us. Thinking quickly I don't have any smart ideas so I go with a dumb one. Surreptitiously, I begin building magicka in my palms, mixing daedric conjuration and fire destruction magic in one hand and the flash bang spell in the other. After a few seconds the spell clicks in my mind and stabilizes. Taking a few moments to carefully gauge where I am aiming, I thrust my hands forward before tackling the carriage driver and throwing up a ward. Just in time, as the small, fiery sphere landed, one just at the feet of the bandit leader and the flash bang between the archers. With a mighty explosion and a whoosh of blazing hot air the sphere of Midas Hellfire explodes, chunking the bandit leader and spraying sticky fire onto the sword and shields. The archers paying attention to the faintly glowing sphere tossed between them are struck dumb when it explodes in a searing flash of light and sound. Notably, I had twisted the spell a little causing it to emit brighter light and less sound. The archers were rolling on the ground when I cast a modified Paralyze on them. I twist it so it is slightly weaker but has area of effect capability. Walking over I slash all but one of their throats. I tie the last one up, before knocking him unconscious.

"Help me loot the rest, you can take half the gold." I order, the promise of gold making the driver hop to attention. All together we loot several sets of armor, an intact set of steel sword and shield, and the greatsword the bandit leader was lugging around. It was apparently torn from his hand when the explosion happened. We also net nearly a thousand gold, which I dutifully split half with the driver as agreed. If I were alone I would have drained the archers of their blood, alas we aren't.

"Head a bit down the road, we'll set up camp and I'll interrogate our prisoner." I order getting a hesitant nod from the driver. As we set up camp I go through the effort of setting up the torture chair. Manhandling the bandit archer into the chair I strap him down and wait for him to come to on his own. On a table in front of him are a dagger, a set of pliers, a bag of salt, and a corkscrew for when I have some wine.

Torture scene inbound, skip to next break if you are queasy

"I do know how to torture people, but I'm an illusion mage," seeing the drivers confused look I explain further, "right, forgot magic isn't really commonplace here. A capable, skilled Illusion Mage is capable of two kinds of magic out of combat that make interrogation a snap. Calming Magic and Fear Magic. We can take you to the absolute depths of horror before instantly snapping you into the most zen, peaceful mood. Rinse and repeat a few times and alternate the scales, and you get someone willing to tell you everything just to stop the terror. They'll tell you their deepest darkest secrets, they'll break oaths to the Gods, they will betray every single loyalty, just to make it stop." I ignore the horror on the driver's face as I hear the bandit wake. Stepping inside, I plaster the most insane grin on my face possible.

"Frank! How nice of you to join us. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Tell me, who do you work for?" I demand, emanating a slight aura of Fear Magic. I can see the bandit try to remain stubborn even as it is dawning on him why I kept him alive. I wait a few moments before shaking my head in disappointment and turning to pick up the pliers.

"See, I wonder how long it will take you to break." I chuckle before beginning to work on tearing out the bandits fingernail. As he screams in agony I slowly inject more and more Fear Magic into his system.

"There we go! Ready to talk?" I ask knowing full well that he wont manage to answer me before the next step. He does manage to spit at me though.

"Very well. Lets see how you handle this!" I cackle, before abruptly flooding his system with Fear Magic. I take him right up to the edge and as his eyes begin to roll up into the back of his head, his mouth begins to foam, and his body begins to strain against his bonds, I slam him with Calm Magic, bringing him from a hundred on the fear scale to a hundred on the calm. His body immediately goes slack, his jaw gaping, drool dripping and his eyes glazed over. Slowly I creep Fear Magic back into his system and just as he recognizes it I flood him with it. Repeating this a few times, I finally zero him out, forcefully dispelling the artificially induced calm and fear.

"Ready to talk?" I ask getting frantic nodding from the bandit.

"Who do you work for?" I ask, switching from a slight Fear Aura to a Calm Aura to keep things moving along.

"We worked for, for a bigger camp down at White River Watch. Our group is a simple scout group. We thought you'd be an easy catch. A lazy nob, ridin' unescorted and a carriage driver? We didn' know ya were a crazy mage." he babbles. I know about the bandit camp at White River Watch, I didn't expect them to roam this close to Whiterun though. I mean we are literally only two from the farms and an hour or so from the Meadery. I'll definitely have to let the guard know.

"I see. So what you just happened to spot us? You weren't looking for us?" I ask just in case.

"No! We jus' saw ya. Saw wha' looked like a lazy nob ridin' a carriage unescorted. Thought ya'd be a' easy catch." the bandit repeats. Nodding my head I slam him with Calm before hooking him up and extracting his blood, slitting his throat. Dismissing the tent and torture tools I apathetically observe the body, absently wondering how I should deal with it. Eventually I decide to burn it, so conjuring a pyre using Fabricate Object I carefully lay the bandits body across it.

Taking a moment to rest I consult the Midas Magic tome, examining the spell list nets me the Midas Oil spell which conjures highly flammable oil and launches it at the target. Flipping to the page I read the page before flipping through the theory. Finally I hold up a hand and concentrate, slowly I mix a bit of conjuration magic and alteration magic seep into and mix with icy destruction. It takes a while as I am far more aligned with lightning and fire than ice but eventually the mixture stabilizes. Feeding a few drops of mana through the spell I manage to conjure roughly a cup of oil. Carefully I coat the pyre and body with conjured oil before my off hand flares with fire magic and I flick my hand sending a spark onto the oil. Instantly, the pyre lights and I have to step back from the heat. Carefully I sit and watch occasionally stoking the fire before carefully smothering it around two hours later after the body is fully cremated.

Noting the time as nearly dinner I begin to set up camp, being carefully watched by the carriage driver. Settling in for the night, nothing disturbs our sleep and we awaken to the cheerful chirping of birds and the sound of the nearby river.

We make it to Whiterun around noon, disembarking I'm not surprised the driver seems relieved to get away from me. Making my way up to the gates I'm stopped by a guard.

Torture scene done

"Halt! Cities closed with the dragons about. Official business only." the guard says, crossing his arms in an attempt at intimidation.

"Riverwood calls for aid." I say, completely unimpressed with his attempt at intimidation. Taken aback the guard pauses before motioning for me to pass. Stepping through the gates I'm greeted with the iconic plains district of Whiterun only enlarged. Its something I noticed ever since I awoke on that cart, the world is only semi-realistically proportioned. Realistically Whiterun should house a little over ten thousand if not more, in the game it houses a few dozen, in this world it houses a few thousand with a few thousand more residents outside the walls in the farms. For some reason game locations remain the same even with proportions stretched, as such immediately to my right I can see Adrienne Avenicci's Warmaidens. Like with game locations it appears some world events are forced, as when I walk through the gate I can see a blond man clad in Imperial leathers talking to Adrienne.

"We'll pay whatever it takes. But we must have more swords for the Imperial soldiers." the man says, his voice gruff. I can almost feel Adrienne's frustration as I observe.

"I just can't fill an order that size on my own. Why don't you swallow that stubborn pride of yours, and ask Eorlund Gray-Mane for help?" she asks exasperatedly, her hands on her hips.

"Ha! I'd sooner bend the knee to Ulfric Stormcloak," he responds angrily, "besides, Gray-Mane would never make steel for the Legion." Adrienne seems conflicted for a moment before sighing.

"Hah… I'll take the job, but don't expect a miracle." she says, before turning around and returning to her forge. I look around contemplating perusing her wares before shaking my head. Up the street a few hundred feet away I spot The Drunken Huntsman, and just over an incline I can see the roof of what should be The Bannered Mare. Slowly I walk around, carefully watching the passersby, you never know whos a sneak after all. Eventually I make it the Bannered Mare, and walk inside. Walking through the door I'm met with a raucous atmosphere as people eat and drink, in the corner I can see a woman in steel armor get into a brawl, I walk over to the counter careful to not bump into anyone and wave getting the barkeep's attention.

"What can I get for you? Got some roast goin' and fresh mead straight from Honningbrew." she says warmly, obviously enjoying her work. I look the barkeep over, shes a well figured Nord woman, a little shorter than me and looks to be in her early to mid thirties. Shes wearing a conservative but flattering dress and is cleaning a mug in anticipation of me ordering a drink.

"I'll take you up on that mead but before I do I need to know if you have any vacancies? I'll need a room for at least a week." I say, and as she pours some mead from a pitcher at one end of the bar she slides it perfectly to stop in front of me not spilling a drop.

"We've got a room, aye. Not luxury though." she says obviously noticing that my clothes despite being common traveling wear are of higher quality than common riff raff. I take a sip of the mead and hum in appreciation.

"That's really quite good, I've heard about Honningbrew's rivalry with Black-Briar Meadery. I'll have to find some one of these days and do a proper comparison," I say, slowly savoring my mead for a moment before continuing, "I don't require luxury, just a comfortable bed to rest my head that is suitably private."

"Right. Seventy gold for the week, ten a night and you get a complimentary meal a day. The doors are locked a little after midnight and reopen at six in the morning. Saadia will show you the room. Saadia!" she yells, getting a woman across the rooms attention. She bustles over and is ordered to show me to the vacant room. Looking her over I notice shes a Redguard, a marginally rare race in Skyrim. She appears to be in her mid thirties and is wearing a pair of common bar maids clothes. Something tickles the back of my mind and as I surreptitiously observe her I notice that she is particularly graceful and has obviously had formal etiquette lessons, likely for years given how gracefully she moves. As she shows me to the room my memory finally sparks, Saadia is a fugitive noblewoman from Hammerfell. Of course in the game its nearly impossible to tell who is in the right, and truthfully? I don't really care about her. Finding the room to my liking I head back to Hulda I retrieve seven rolls of coins and pay the woman.

"There you are, I'll be out till dinner." I say getting a nod from her before she returns to her business. Out of the corner of my eye I spot a Breton Mage in dark robes sitting at a corner table. Fishing a piece of paper, quill, and inkpot I write a quick note before handing Hulda the note and a few coins, seeing her confused look I lean in conspiratorially.

"See the man in the corner there? Breton in robes, yeah? Send him some mead and the note after I leave. He'll probably get a laugh out of it." I whisper, seeing her give me a dubious nod. She still makes a mug of mead as I walk out.

As Hulda hands me another mug, I lose track of that mysterious stranger who smelt of Ol' Firebutt. Shame, seeing the note I open it.

Sorry San ol' buddy, I can't afford a hangover at the moment much less traipsing across Skyrim after defacing Dibella's temple and getting married to a Hagraven trying to track you down. Maybe we can get together with Sheo one of these days after I deal with Alduin and we can get wasted.



Apparently reading the note while drinking mead wasnt the smartest idea considering he now has mead coming out his nose and all over his robes. Hey! Hes the Daedric Prince of Revelry! Hes not the Daedric Prince of Wisdom, that's Mora's schtick. Bad decisions are par for the course. One question though…

"How'd he know?" Sam Guevenne otherwise known as Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Revelry, Hedonism, and Debauchery, scratches his head in confusion before shrugging and ordering another pint and walking over to a random Nord.

"Heeey! You look like someone who can hold their liquor. How about a friendly contest to win a staff?"

Stepping back outside the inn, I immediately head for the Apothecary just across the market. Heading inside I am greeted by an Imperial woman in her late forties.

"Let me know if you see anything you like." the proprietor calls before returning to her alchemy table. Looking through her wares I quickly find the restoration potions. Looking through them I buy her entire stock of mid tier magicka potions and a few of her top tier, and I snag a few cure disease potions and fire resistance potions while I'm at it burning through nearly two thousand gold. It almost physically pains me to part with that much but I really need those potions. As I leave I remember to tell her to start stocking up on more fire resistance and healing potions than usual, she looks at me curiously before slowly nodding. I suspect she'll realize why I said it soon enough. Leaving, I bump into a Redguard in fine clothing.

"Watch it! Don't you know I'm an advisor for the Jarl!" the man sneers. Annoyed but not willing to escalate I ignore the man to his ire. Of course the coward doesn't do anything else, hes hardly a warrior after all. Slowly I meander my way through the market, stocking up on food and other goods. I don't intend to head to Jorrvaskr much less Dragonsreach until my magic fully recovers which will be in a day or so. Finishing my shopping I head back to the inn and up to my room where I spend the remaining time practicing the sensory exercises from the Space-Time tome. Several hours later it has nearly become second nature and I weave through the crowded room to the bar where I order a meal and a spot of mead.

The next morning I feel for my magic and find it completely recovered. Dressing rather formally, I head down giving the innkeeper a nod and wave before leaving, ignoring the strange look when she sees the crest embroidered on my tunic.

Its a brisk morning for Whiterun, a little chilly but mostly due to the breeze. Slinging my traveling cloak around my shoulders mitigates the worst of it as I trudge my way up to the Wind District. Out of the corner of my eye I notice the Redguard who accosted me yesterday gaping as I make my up the steps. Finally in the Wind District I make my way through the district eventually finding myself in front of a massive tree.

"The Gildergreen…" I murmur in awe. Evidently not quietly enough because a woman in the standard uniform marking her as a Priestess of Kynareth approaches me, my subconscious spacial senses pinging as she moves.

"Its a shame isn't it." she says, voice laden with sorrow. Looking at the tree I can see it now, how when I extend my magical senses I can barely sense any life within its core, how its branches are bare and its bark brittle.

"What has happened?" I wonder, almost feeling a part of me droop in sadness.

"This tree was planted in the early days of Whiterun. It grew from a cutting from the Eldergleam in the east of Skyrim. Its old, and age has taken its toll." She explains, her head bowed in sadness.

"What can we do?" I ask, feeling that bit of me perk up in excitement. I suppose its proof that Kynareth aided Akatosh in creating the Dragonborn and its left its mark. The priestess seems thoughtful for a moment before speaking.

"Old trees like this never really die, they only slumber. I think if we had some sap from its mother tree we could wake its child. But even if you get get to the Eldergleam you couldn't tap it… not with any normal metal." She explains, her tone ponderous.

"What kind of weapon would work?" I ask, knowing it was a unique weapon in the game even if I couldn't remember anything else.

"If you want to help, you will need something to cut into it first. You'll need to deal with the hagravens. I've heard about a weapon they use for sacrificing spriggans. Its called Nettlebane. The hags terrify me or I wouldve gone after it myself." she explains, her weary eyes shining in hope. I turn to gaze up at the tree for a moment, thinking, before nodding and turning to her.

"I'll get Nettlebane for you. It might be a while though." I explain, getting a surprised look from her.

"Your spirit is strong. Kynareth's winds will guide your path. Its held in a Hagravens nest called Orphan Rock northeast of Helgen." she says only to raise an eyebrow when I flinch and look to the sky at the mention of Helgen. After a few seconds I get a hold of myself and return my attention to her.

"Sorry about that, one of the reasons I stopped here was due to Helgen." I say before stopping, thinking that it probably wouldn't be good to leak the news of Helgen's destruction to the public before I can tell the Jarl.

"What about Helgen?" she asks curiously. I don't elaborate any further, with a huff she drops the subject.

"I'll be back at some point with the sap." I say before bidding her farewell. To my right I can see Jorrvaskr, deciding to deal with them first so I can devote my attention to the Jarl afterwards I make my way over. Heading up the stairs, I am greeted by the large wooden structure, supposedly made from The Jorrvaskr, one of the boats that ancient Nord's sailed from Atmora to Skyrim on. Around the back, where I know from the game is a practice area I can hear the sounds of fighting, and the occasional thunk of arrows being fired and hitting a target. I'll admit while the Last Dragonborn and I share a lot of similarities, his memories indicate that he didn't really care for a good fight, the feel of his blood pumping as he struggled, the satisfying feeling of putting your opponent on the ground, he didn't care for it at all whereas I am, admittedly, a bit of a fight junkie. I'm not quite at the level of a blood knight, more along the lines of Goku, who enjoys the challenge. The main difference between Goku and I is that I will happily put a threat down the first chance I get. I stifle the urge to ask for a spar and instead walk inside.

I'm immediately rocked with a wall of noise, the barely a dozen members having been expanded to several dozen. Looking around I ignore how a brawl breaks out before I give up and approach an older man wearing wolf armor.

"Excuse me! Do you know where I might find Kodlak? I have some information he might be searching for." I ask causing the man to stiffen slightly. I'm honestly surprised I managed to sneak up on him what with his experience as a warrior and the enhanced senses from his lycanthropy but I guess between having his senses focused on the brawl and my own natural propensity to lessen my presence enhanced by the stealth training the Last Dragonborn went through prior to my awakening I managed it.

Slowly turning to me, his hand clenching the pommel of his sword, he looks me over. I get a sense of surprise and a faint sense of approval when he sees that despite my formal clothing I'm very obviously a blooded warrior and a skilled one at that.

"Here to join?" he asks, turning back to watch the fight, occasionally calling out advice.

"Maybe. First I need to meet with Kodlak." I say, getting a narrow eyed look from him for a moment.

"Well… let them finish and I'll take you to him." He says tilting his head towards the brawl before turning back to watch. Its honestly a standard brawl, looks more like a streetfight. Still it was enjoyable, and made my blood burn wanting to fight myself but I held it back, I can always ask for a fight later. Eventually the brawl finished, the Nord woman having knocked down the Dunmer male. I vaguely remember their names as Njada who I can only remember because of its weirdness and Athis though I could be wrong.

"Good fight, I'm not normally one for a fist fight buts its fun every now and then." I say, getting the Dunmers attention. He looks me over for a moment before nodding in approval.

"Thanks, names Athis. Odd for a nob to enjoy a good fight." he introduces himself after noticing my crest. Its clear he recognizes it as a nobles house crest but doesn't know which house. Its also clear that he doesn't really care.

"Lucian, and I'll let you in on a little secret. The Martial Houses, the houses that regularly churn out generals and commanders for the Legion? They love a good fight. Allow me to properly introduce myself, I am Lucian Septimus, second son of the Ducal House of Septimus. My family has been a part of the Martial Houses for centuries now." I say, giving a grandiose bow and a wink. At this he breaks out in laughter.

"Ha! Never thought I'd see a nob with a sense of humor. You're alright for a nob." he laughs before leaving with a wave.

"Ready milord?" Skjor, who I finally remembered the name of, asks having observed my conversation with Athis.

"Please drop the formalities, I'm only dressed like this because after my meeting with Kodlak I'm heading to meet with the Jarl." I whine, barely catching the smirk from him as he leads me further into the hall and down some stairs. Entering the living quarters I am led down a hall, and sitting at a table at the end was an old man with graying hair clad in a set of wolf armor. Across from him a man, in his early twenties with black hair again clad in wolf armor. Very on the nose, the companions.

"But I still hear the call of the blood." the younger man says, his voice heavy.

"We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome." the older man says, his voice weary yet determined. At this I clear my throat, ignoring the dangerous look in Skjor's eyes.

"Perhaps I can help with that." I say, pulling the chair at the nearby desk around and sitting in it.

"Who are you?" the younger man says his posture defensive as he hunches over.

"Lucian Septimus, at your service. I happen to know a great many things about a great many subjects. Things like say… a cure for Lycanthropy?" I say, quirking a smile at the growl from Vilkas and the sound of Skjor drawing his blade behind me. My smile quickly turns into a frown when I feel the edge lightly cut into my neck drawing a few beads of blood.

"Now now Skjor, if I die this era dies." I say, causing the three to stiffen. Kodlak motions for Skjor to stand down and he reluctantly does so though tellingly doesn't sheath his sword.

"What do you mean by that boy?" Kodlak questions, his brow furrowed in concern. Instead of answering clearly I recite the poem predicting Alduin's return.

"And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, That when brothers wage war come unfurled! Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, With a hunger to swallow the world!," I say, my voice again resonating, for a moment we can hear the echoes of battles long past, of the Tongues Shouting, and the dying screeches of dragons, "I am the Last Dragonborn, foretold to stop Alduin. If I die, then Alduin wins." I say, getting incredulous looks. Seeing this I focus on recalling everything I know and understand about force before focusing my magic into my throat, briefly I can feel my magic struggle against an invisible barrier before it slips through.

"Fus" I intone, causing a small wave of force to emit from my mouth before I slump over exhausted.

"That was more tiring than I expected." I say after catching my breath. Looking up I see their looks of disbelief, which, fair enough, Shouting isn't exactly a common skill and doing so without training is impossible. Impossible for any but a dragonborn, that is.

"I see… what information can you give me." Kodlak says relaxing back into his chair. A good thing too, cause that caused the rest to relax as well. Behind me I hear the rasp of Skjor sheathing his sword as he moves to lean against the wall.

"Do you have a map?" I ask and Kodlak motions to Skjor who leaves for a moment before returning a minute later a rolled up map in his arms. He spreads it across the table before returning to the wall.

"Right where is Fort Sungard? There it is. Right so head south along the mountains there, almost directly south of Bilegulch Mine is Glenmoril Coven, the witches that gifted Harbinger Terrfyg the dubious gift of the Beast Blood. There will likely be somewhere between ten and fifteen Glenmoril Hagravens within, you need their heads. Then you need to complete Wuuthrad, I have it on good authority that can be done in the next few months. Using Wuuthrad at Ysgramors Tomb on an island just northwest of Winterhold, you will find within the Flame of the Harbinger. A Companion afflicted with Lycanthropy can burn one the witches heads on the flame and the spirit of the wolf will appear. You need only to kill the spirit and you will cure yourself of Lycanthropy," I explain, my audiences eyes growing wider and wider, "Unfortunately the tomb is filled with ghosts, so you will need silver or daedric weapons, either that or bring along a mage in the know." I ignore the hisses of protest at the mention of wielding silver weapons. Eventually it sinks in, and they begin planning, ignoring me as I stand up.

"I encourage you to check my information, it could be wrong. I don't believe it is, but its a possibility. And I am more than willing to come along, the main reason I came to Skyrim was for the College of Winterhold after all. In the meantime I should meet with the Jarl." I say getting an absent minded wave from Kodlak. Leaving Jorrvaskr, I gaze at the Gildergreen for a moment before looking up at Dragonsreach.

"More stairs? Damn it." I mutter, getting a chuckle from passersby.

So this is chapter three. I am still undecided on joining the companions but even if I don't I've set up so I can join them on the trek to Ysgramor's Tomb. I've begun changing certain peoples vocabulary adding slang and whatnot to peoples speech.

In this case the word nob was used as a slang for noble. Usually referring to the uptight, stick up the ass nobles. You will also note that my SI switches between frequently using slang and speaking correctly. This is to show that despite preferring to be anything other than a proper noble, some things left a mark, like his years of etiquette training and use that has passed on to me.

New Spells/Abilities:

Anti-Predator Ward: A static ward placed around an area, typically a camp or house that causes predatory animal's instincts to warn the away from the warded area. A common variation of the Anti-Animal and Anti-Pest wards.

Midas Hellfire: a mix of daedric conjuration magic and fire magic, the spell causes a fiery orange and black orb to fly towards the target. Upon impact the orb explodes, covering the immediate area with daedric fire. It acts a little like napalm in that it is partly liquid and sticks to whatever it hits as it burns.

Midas Oil: Oil conjuring spell. Conjures a stream of highly flammable oil by mixing neutral conjuration magicka with transmutation alteration magicka before applying the mix to icy destruction magic.

Space-Time Senses: via subconsciously emitting pings of magicka and interpreting the returning informations, Lucian can now feel every person within a dozen or so feet of him and accurately judge passing time to within a few seconds. His senses can be confused if enough people or items are moving, but it is sufficiently detailed enough to be able to move through a trapped room blindfolded so long as he isn't distracted.

Fus: the first word of the iconic "Fus Ro Dah" Unrelenting Force Shout. Without training or a dragon soul to pull experience from the Shout is extremely weak, as in it barely moved the items on the table. Despite this it was immediately recognizable as a Shout.