This is the next arc of Skyrim World Walker where I move to another dimension using a ritual. As a reminder, this is nearly 500 years after the events of Skyrim, my character is nearly 600 years old, is max level in all skills, has a set of every piece of clothing, armor, and weaponry in the game, knows every spell from vanilla as well as a few mods namely psikotics necromancy, druid essentials, phenderix, apocalypse, midas magic, and a few others. He has also recreated a number of spells from history such as the Chameleon from oblivion and Levitation from Morrowind.

Also from a game standpoint all weapons and armor that can be improved are improved to Legendary rank.

Firearms are still a threat, though actually hitting him would be difficult and stealth would be difficult with senses that can identify scents from over a mile upwind.

Daedric weapons/armor are effectively unbreakable, but only so long as the wielder has mana to siphon. Thankfully my character has undergone several rituals and upgrades that make his mana pool ridiculously large on top of rings/piercings that reduce casting costs by 95 percent.

At this point my character has found, rebuilt, and expanded the Defiled Sanctum and turned it into a self sufficient demiplane accessible from anywhere as it resides on the border of the afterlife. He has his hordes reside there until called, and has relatively modern amenities though working through mana.

In my interpretation of vampirism/lycanthropy they both have enhanced senses, but while a lycan's senses are passive and thus always enhanced though they get used to it remarkably quickly due to the inherent magic of the lycan curse, vampires have to focus because they automatically dampen/block their enhanced senses. The only natural exception to this dampening is the scent of blood.

Unfortunately, in this world gold and other more modern forms of wealth don't really matter to the common man so I'm basically starting from nothing. Thankfully I don't really need much, I subsist off blood, I have clothing already, I don't need employment, and any weapons or armor I could buy I could just as easily steal or take off the bearers corpse.

I actually had to boot up new vegas just to be sure of the locations and descriptions, but much with Skyrim I am altering things to make sense from a real world standpoint. Why would bandits sit around in the middle of a desert in the middle of the night without a fire or windbreak or any kind of shelter? They wouldn't.

Unfortunately I don't intend to hang about, and there isn't anyone that could be a threat. So this world will be rather short, the next world will be Eragon, specifically during the first book while eragon, murtagh, and a poisoned arya are fleeing to the varden.

Remember vampires have mixed abilities from the Better Vampires, Vampiric Thirst, and Sacrosanct overhaul mods. They can also take advantage of the Bat Travel mod allowing teleportation via cloud of bats to any known location.


In the middle of the night in a deserted graveyard at the top of a hill overlooking a small settlement there was a group of people, two of them dragging a limp body while two followed a figure in a checkered suit while the full moon glows brightly above them. The two dragged the limp figure over to a fifth who was digging a grave. A minute later, the grave is prepared and the figure set on its knee's within. Slowly the figure stirs, looking around.

"You got what you were after, now pay up!" a rough voice speaks.

"You're cryin in the rain pally" a man speaks in a smarmy posh accent.

"Heh, guess who's wakin up over here…" a different voice speaks up as the figure begins messing with his bonds to no avail. The figure finally looks up and sees three people directly in front of him. The man in front, wearing a checkered suit and slicked back hair is smoking a cigarette. Flanking him like bodyguards are two rough looking men wearing the uniform of the Great Khans, drug dealers known to be particularly hardy.

"Time to cash out…" the suit wearing man mutters, tossing his cigarette and stamping it out.

"Will you get it over with?" the Khan to the bound figures left mutters. The suited figure merely hold a hand out, index finger raised, shushing the Khan.

"Maybe Khans kill people without lookin em in the face, but I ain't a fink… dig," he scolds the Khan before reaching into his suit, drawing a metallic poker chip from within and sighs. "you've made your last delivery kid, sorry you got twisted up in this scene." the man pockets the chip before drawing a pistol.

"From where your kneeling, must seem an eighteen karat run of bad luck…" the man aims the pistol at the bound figures head, "truth is… the game was rigged from the start" and fires, the shot echoing over the landscape. Unnoticed by everyone, a pocket of space under the nearby water tower ripples before splitting apart soundlessly showing a black void speckled with and infinite amount of tiny sparks of all colors. A figure wearing a hooded travel cloak silently steps through before the void closes without a trace only to crouch as a gunshot echoes once more.

"Namira's saggy tits! What the fuck!" I curse to myself quietly, reflexively casting Chameleon 100% and looking around. With my vampiric vision the dark of night may as well be noon day, but almost immediately my senses are overwhelmed by the scent of blood. Seeing nobody around I quickly move to the scents origin, being nearly five and a half centuries and fully fed, I can move faster than you might think, only to find a man nearly dead, with two bullet wounds to the head. Using Master of Time, I envelope myself in chronokinetic magic, drastically speeding my perception to the point time seems to stop. With all the time in the world available to me I cast a diagnostic spell on the man. Malnutrition, several cuts and bruises, radiation damage, and of course the two gunshot wounds to the head. It is beyond me to correct the malnutrition and radiation damage, but the rest is easy. Casting Benediction his minor wounds immediately clear up, and even his head wound begins healing but not quickly enough to save him. Steadying myself, I prepare for pain.

"Laas Ro Dah (Life Balance Push) (Essence Rip)" I whisper before flinching, wounds opening and blood pouring even as the man's wounds immediately heal and within moments looks like nothing happened. In another second or so my regeneration kicks in and I stop bleeding and cast a cleaning spell over the both of us. Just in time as I here something rolling its way up the hill, focusing my senses only reveals that it sounds mechanical.

"Howdy pardner! Everything ok here? I'm investigating some gunshots people heard." a robot rolling on a single wheel called out in an old western drawl as it approached.

"Some guy was shot twice in the head, I healed him, but he should probably see a doctor just in case." I explain hefting the guy up out of the grave. A particularly strong gust of wind chose to blow at that moment, knocking my hood down revealing an incredibly pale face with a single slightly glowing crimson eye and long silky black hair tied in a low ponytail. My other eye is covered by a leather eye patch with many runes stitched onto it, my fangs are barely visible when I speak but clearly not human teeth.

"Well partner, we better get to the Doc's, follow me," the robot immediately turns and trundles off down the hill, I make to follow. "Mind if I ask who you are and why you were in the graveyard?"

"My name is Lucien, I'm a wanderer. I came from further west in the mountains, lucky I missed whoever it was that did this, I'm out of ammo after the trek down. I made for the hill because it was high enough to get me the lay of the land. Didn't know there was a town just the other side though…" I answer giving a mostly true answer, in my first life I was from central California and I've been a wanderer for most of my second life.

"Hah, and how is it out west?" The robot probed rather unsubtly.

"Well as far as I know, there's been a slight uptick in raider attacks since the expansion into the Mojave, but well within expectations. I tend to stay away from settlements whenever possible though; because my appearance tends to get me labeled a mutant, so I'm not exactly up to date in terms of gossip. Sorry." I apologize, keeping up with the robot despite it being pitch black. My movements are also incredibly smooth and graceful, inhumanly so, on top of being next to silent.

"I can see why, partner. Sorry for the third degree but a man was shot after all." the robot shrugs, as we make our way up the street. Slowly our destination becomes clear, a nice white house set on a slight hill just down the street from the saloon. The robot rolls straight up to the door before pounding on it three times and calling out.

"Doc! Its Victor! We need some help!" Victor calls out and moves to pound on the door again. Just before the robot can start again the door snaps open and an old man peers out of the slightly dark entryway.

"Victor…" the man starts to scold the robot before noticing the man in my arms. "Get him inside and on the gurney, do you know whats wrong with him?"

I breeze past the robot and the man, and walk further into the house finding the gurney quickly. I pretend to not notice the man shiver when I walk by as the air is seemingly leeched of some of its warmth.

"Two gunshot wounds to the head, minor malnutrition, and some general radiation damage. I healed the wound but I wanted him looked at by an actual doctor just in case." I answer quickly moving out of the way.

"Healed? Lets see… no wounds, everything looks right at least from a physical standpoint. I am detecting the mild malnutrition and it looks like he got a little to close to a rad hot spot but nothing too dangerous on that front… there isn't anything I can do for him at this point but I'll keep him overnight just in case." the doctor concluded after a few moments.

"If you don't mind I'll stick around till he wakes. Hopefully that will be in the morning, but if not well I've done what I could so I'll probably move on." I request already moving over to the wall where I can sit against it comfortably. The doctor just nods and leaves the room, a few minutes later I hear snoring coming from a room farther in the house. Several hours later the sun has risen and the figure hasn't woken and I am vaguely concerned, at the end of the day if he doesn't wake up its just one more soul taken too early but he is a rather pivotal soul. The Courier would shape the Mojave for good or ill, I always played a good karma independent ending but could settle for the Mr. House ending, so hopefully it would be for the better.

The doctor came in to check on his patient around an hour or so after sunrise, I knew he was up having heard the clinking of dishes, he seemed surprised to see me here. Running some checks on his patient, he notes that nothing much has changed with his condition but that there are little signs of consciousness.

"Looks like our friend here may not be waking up for a while yet. If he doesn't wake in another day we may have to euthanize him, unfortunately I'm just not equipped for a long term coma patient, I primarily deal with gecko bites and the occasional scorpion sting." The doc explains, seeing my inquisitive stare. I nod in understanding, I may not like it but it is incredibly pragmatic. This is post apocalypse society, can't have a freeloader hanging about taking resources, at the same time this is a society and the idea of killing unnecessarily is distasteful. Of course being post apocalypse, the standard for unnecessary is lowered dramatically compared to modern sensibilities.

Unfortunately tech advancement on Nirn is appallingly slow, the divines may have a hand in that, and with the focus on magic, medicine hasn't advanced much beyond better and faster healing potions so I don't exactly have the equipment to deal with a coma patient as well, well not do that and accomplish my goals. The portal was set to send me to the nearest modern/sci-fi world with relatively high mana density whose physics wouldn't tear me limb from limb the moment I step foot there. It was set to ping any higher beings associated with the world to get permission, I remember horror stories of world walkers poking their noses into other planes on Nirn and getting killed for the mere presumption of setting foot there. Strangely enough I got a vague echo from the ping suggesting that there are higher beings here, but either they are dead or cant access the world, considering the references to Lovecraft's work in the Fallout games I suspect I don't want to meet them anyways.

Anyways I want some modern weaponry, I'm unlikely to use them much but they would make a decent go to and tend to be a little more circumspect than walking around with a dagger or having electricity arcing around your hands. Seeing as I landed at the start of New Vegas I suppose I'll steal some of the NCR Ranger gear, my casual clothing from Nirn is good enough to pass muster even in modern worlds though I should probably stop by a non post apocalyptic world to pick up some more modern styles.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I look around, the doctor was in another room, and the would be Courier Six is still laying there like a lump, there are sounds I can hear faintly even without focusing so it seems other people are out working. I leave the room without a glance to find the doctor, finding him in the living room sitting in an armchair.

"Doc. I think I'll be moving along. Unfortunately, I don't think he'll make it, though I'll be happy if he does. If he does make sure he knows that his mark is at the Strip in The Tops for me will ya, Doc?." I say before turning to leave. The doctor got up and quickly followed but by the time he got to the front door he couldn't see me.

Leaving Goodsprings wasnt difficult, but not being able to save the Courier was surprisingly painful. I suppose it was because he is another Chosen One, someone chosen by fate to affect the world around them in ways beyond most, but I have better things to do than wait for a coma patient to wake. Unfortunately I forgot to snag a map so I am making my way via surprisingly clear memories of the game from my first life, thankfully whatever higher being transplanted me into Skyrim made sure I wouldn't forget my first life. Making my way to the crossroads south of Goodsprings I stumble upon a pre-war road sign that details going right leads to Primm and left leads to Las Vegas. My pace after leaving Goodsprings was nowhere near as fast as I could go so it was nearing dusk at this point, from my vague memories there is a small group of powder gangers behind the shack not that far away. Sneaking over I see only a single person on sentry duty, easily sneaking behind him and knocking him unconscious I drag him away from the building. Searching him I snag a handful of sticks of dynamite, a couple of paper bills with the words NCR emblazoned on them and a sack of bottle caps containing around ten or so. Fortunately I know that caps are the primary currency so I make sure to take them, I shudder to think what would happen to someone who didn't know the franchise or any background information being dropped in.

Making a small incision on the inside of the gangers forearm I taste his blood, finding it isn't drug heavy I drain him completely, before stashing the body somewhere out of sight. Sidling up to the door to the building I now recognize as Jean Sky Diving, I focus my senses and only hear soft breathing from two people within. Casting Muffle on the door I ease it open carefully and slip inside. Once inside I carefully shut the door and look around, inside the small shack's single room I see a dust filled room, a desk taking prominence and behind it a bank of lockers. On the floor I see two bedrolls, one perpendicular to the lockers and one up against the left wall, both are occupied. Carefully stepping over to the wall, I draw a daedric dagger its blade shining, one I specially enchanted to both paralyze and silence the victim, and slit the sleeping gangers throat. The moment the blade bit into his throat, his body jerked for an instant before freezing completely, even though he was jerked awake by the blade no sound escaped his throat due to the silencing enchantment. Quickly repeating the act with the second ganger I looted their bodies nabbing another two dozen caps or so and another forty NCR currency. Tossing the room for anything of value nets me a dozen sticks of dynamite, a nine millimeter pistol, a few dozen 9mm rounds, another fifty caps and a weapon repair kit.

Leaving the shack, I begin heading north to a settlement I remember from the game called Sloan. Its populace acts as the primary workforce for the quarry just up the road from it. My senses alert me to rotting blood around ten minutes later, looking around I spot a body laying next to an old trailer a hundred feet away or so. Sharpening my senses, I can hear four heartbeats, and smell two distinct sets of rotting blood meaning there is another corpse somewhere nearby. Sneaking my way up to the old billboard on the left side of the road, I can see another corpse this time distinctly female, she had been stripped though whether before or after death is unknown to me. Two Powder Gangers are moving small crates out of the trailer, and another Powder Ganger is watching the road north, I can only assume given the last heart beat is coming from the other end of the trailer that there is another watching the road south. Lucky then that my travel cloak is a mottled dark blueish black and that I scented blood far enough away that I was mostly invisible to his senses, of course it helps that its damn near pitch black out here.

As I am thinking up a plan I am startled by the noise of a boot scuffing dirt behind me, whipping around my hands wreathed in necrotic magic given its darkish hue, I come face to face with a spirit. The spirit is male with dark skin and short dark hair, he is wearing a set of leather armor and has a pistol holstered at his hip.

"Necromancer! I beg of you, revive me! Allow me my vengeance and I will serve you for eternity!" The spirit begs, its voice only audible to me but echoing with the trademark tones of a spirit. Apparently the dead gaining knowledge isn't unique to Nirn, because I haven't used my abilities as a necromancer on this plane yet. It wouldn't cost me anything to revive him as a revenant and would neatly sidestep my need for a plan.

"Very well, go forth and slaughter your foes, my Revenant" I agree, casting the spell, the spirit is flung back into its earthly shell as I sit back and watch the show, digging deep into my magic allows me to share my senses with any undead under my control by following the magic to the undead in question.


The revenant possessing the caravan guards corpse took a moment to listen to his surroundings.

"Hey Paul, check this out! We hit the jackpot! Lots of booze and food here, what about your crates Jack?" A male the revenant recognizes as the one who killed him calls out happily.

"Just some leather armor and ammo, any sign of people Paul?" another male answered, presumably Jack. The revenant hears a person moving around within a few paces of him.

"Nothing so far, thought I might have seen something but I cant find whatever it was, probably a gecko or something. Can't believe they thought they could hack it with just two guards, heh." the ganger named Paul answered, giving a kick to the revenant as he walked back to his post. As Paul reached his post he is startled by a pair of arms circling his throat in such a way to cut off his air, a few seconds later the arms give a jerk and Paul's neck gives a quiet crack as it breaks. Quickly searching Paul's body, the revenant finds a loaded 9mm pistol and a spare ammo clip, taking it the revenant carefully edges towards the end of the south end of the trailer. Knowing the gangers unloading the trailer are fairly close together the revenant sneaks around and behind the nearest one and quickly breaks his neck. This gets Jack's attention but he doesn't get to react as an arm latches around his neck, lightly choking him, a leather clad arm covered in blood comes into view holding a pistol and clearly aims at the last ganger. In desperation Jack kicks out and manages to get the attention of the sentry via knocked over crate.

"What's goin on!" the sentry asks, turning only to be met with Jack in a one armed choke hold and a pistol pointed his way. In a rather impressive display of gunmanship the sentry, in a smooth move, draws, sights, and fires his rifle in a split second. The revenant jerks, breaking Jack's neck, but the damage is done, he barely gets two shots off before his spirit is thrown out of the body as his head is destroyed by the rifle round. The ganger is wounded, the first shot grazed his arm and the other lodged itself in his calf, but he still lives.


Seeing the impressive work done by the revenant only outdone by the, either, truly lucky or truly skilled powder ganger, I move to end the ganger only to be shocked when he pulls a syringe and jabs it into his thigh.

"Oh right, stimpacks…" tossing a Mass Reanimate into the middle of the scene, the ganger shudders as the moans of the undead echo and his comrades bodies begin to rise. As the ganger reaches into a pocket though, his arm is caught. The last thing he sees is a palm glowing with dark blue magic slamming into his face. Removing my hand, the ganger slumps to the ground unmoving, his eyes blank but otherwise seemingly unharmed.

"Seems local metaphysics allows for truly soulless bodies to live though I doubt it could live unattended. Devour Soul will be an effective deterrent then given what I've taken I can return." I mutter to myself quickly searching the area. Wasting a few minutes to be thorough, I net a pair of leather armor, a handful of sticks of dynamite, around a hundred caps, and a hundred fifty in NCR currency, a case of .45 cal rounds and a pair of .45 caliber pistols, a worn hunting rifle in .308 with a spare magazine and a large crate of various alcohol. Looking through the crate there is some whiskey, vodka, some wine, and a few bottles of scotch.

Finished looting I move on, quickly coming up on an overturned semi trailer, a mother coyote growls as I pass but an invisible wave of druidic magic calms her and I quickly dispatch a pair of Powder Gangers with a negligent wave of my hand and an orb of death magic, I don't even bother looting them getting slightly annoyed, I open a portal to the Defiled Sanctum and order a skeleton worker to gather the bodies and loot them. Its nearly ten by this point, so once I'm in sight of Sloan I move a bit off the road under an overpass and summon a portal to the Sanctum and walk through.

After a nights rest, I walk out of the portal and immediately wince because I opened the portal in such a way that as I walked through I was looking in the suns direction. Getting my bearings, I briefly think about checking on the Courier before deciding to just continue on. Moving within sight of Sloan, I am stopped by an older man with a beard.

"Hold there, I wouldn't head much farther north, deathclaws have taken residence in the quarry. If you want to get to New Vegas you're better off heading east from Primm and looping north, safer that way." the man explains, looking vaguely worried.

"Thanks for the warning, I'm actually not looking to head north from here, I've got a lead on some salvage an hour or so north-eastish. I doubt it will pan out but it can hurt too bad to look." I explain with a shrug. The man looks dubious but relieved I wont be at risk of the deathclaws. He lets me go after a bit more small talk, and I immediately head north until I cant be seen from Sloan, then I jump up to the cliff edge and proceed to move at speed. Blurring, I can barely be seen as I move across the ground, I only slow down when I recognize the entrance to Black Mountain, heading up the path a bit I see the corpse of an NCR soldier his arm outstretched. A little further away is a .357 magnum revolver, I take it and loot the body before jumping up the cliff ignoring the path. Hearing a rumble, I'm glad I did because an honest to god Indiana Jones boulder trap inexplicably triggers and a huge boulder rolls down the path as I watch dumbfounded. Jumping down, I eventually find myself in front of a door set into a small cliff side. Trying the door I find it locked, checking the door over it doesn't seem to need a key-card or something, I distinctly remember needing a key in the game, but here I simply pick the lock in around a minute.

Stepping inside and shutting the door, I turn around to find the barrel of a revolver shoved in my face. Following the barrel leads to an arm which leads to a body wearing NCR Ranger combat armor complete with helmet.

"Who the hell are you! Who do you work for!" the person shouted at me. I merely lower my hood and raise an eyebrow unimpressed, focusing my senses I can tell this is the only person in the building.

"Now why did you have to be paying attention? This is unfortunate…" I comment completely ignoring the persons demands. Pulling on my vampiric nature I begin the tedious task of dominating the mind of someone already keyed up for combat. I begin to emanate light calming magic, not enough to visibly affect the person but enough to have an effect over several minutes.

"I asked you a question! Who are you! Who do you work for! Answer me!" The ranger questions me again. Still emanating calming magic, I begin to work my presence into their mind finding a fairly strong mind which is to be expected, but it has its gaps and weaknesses. The ranger getting impatient cocks the hammer on the revolver in threat.

"Calm, its unbecoming of a Ranger to get so worked up." I say, lacing my voice with more calming magic, the magic is working, I can see the gaps more clearly. Pushing magic through those gaps is slowly widening them to visible effect. The Ranger audibly snarls before seeming to shake themselves, their stance loosening.

"I said who are you and who do you work for. Answer me now and I wont have to hurt you before I kill you." The ranger states with an air of menace and killing intent. I remain unbothered much to the ranger's frustration, suddenly I move so quickly I become a blur, a bright glowing green aura emanates from me. The ranger finds themselves disarmed and their arm twisted behind them before being slammed into the wall. Their mind shaken, the gaps become massive holes, and their mind becomes mine in a rush of magic.

"Stand up and take me to the armory, I want a set of that armor helmet included, the patrol armor and a set of that salvaged power armor. Get to it." I order, following as my minion jumps to follow orders.

"Yes master, please rest inside while I gather what you desire." The ranger says giving me a salute as he leads me into the safe house proper. Quickly finding the armor, I take a look at the weapons and armor and find nothing too interesting though I motion for the anti-material rifle and the cases of .50 cal AP rounds and a case of SAPHEI rounds for the thing. Storing my ill gotten goods, I motion for my minion to follow as I had back to the barracks room.

"Minion, you will rest here and forget about this entire event. From the moment I entered to just after I leave you will forget it all, am I understood? You will mark the missing items as requisitioned for some other ranger unit." I order getting a salute in response.

"Sir, yes sir. Missing items requisitioned by other unit, forget this entire event from moment I see you to moment after you leave." The ranger reiterates with a nod. With that I leave the safe house and instantly burst into a cloud of bats. Quickly flying I circle the tower I recognize as the Lucky 38 I coalesce back into form on the roof of a building on the end of the strip behind the vault shop. Memorizing my position, I burst into a cloud of bats and quickly vanish into the distance.

Around six hours later a cloud of bats can be seen flying through the sky above the road north of Goodsprings, only to suddenly dart near the ground. Darting along the ground at speed, the bats merge becoming a man wearing a set of fine but tough clothing and a worn pair of traveling boots. Covering the man a well cared for traveling cloak flowing behind him with the hood raised, concealing his face in shadow, only an ominously glowing crimson eye visible. The man doesn't slow from the easily forty mile per hour run and doesn't miss a step smoothly continuing along the road as though he hadn't been a cloud of bats seconds earlier.

Under the noon sun the man strides into Goodsprings, taking note of the changes in the few days since he left. Looking around he notes the trademark pits and craters caused by dynamite explosions and the marks caused via gunfire along some of the buildings. Entering the Prospector Saloon I take a seat at the bar and wave over the bartender.

"What can I get ya?" the bartender, a woman looking to be in her late twenties to early thirties with red hair and green eyes looks me up and down.

"A whiskey, and some information. I only left a few days ago what the hell happened?" I answer, lowering my hood and tossing a pouch of caps on the counter. She hefts the pouch a bit, before emptying it revealing thirty caps and tosses the pouch back. As the woman snags a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and a glass from under the counter she hums in thought.

"Well, Doc Mitchell's patient woke up which was good, poor guy'd been shot in the head twice you know. Then the guy made sure his skills are sharp with Sunny over there, they go and take out some geckos hanging round the water source. While he was doing that though, a Powder Ganger by the name of Joe Cobb came by threatening the town if we didn't give up a trader who'd fled here a few days before. The guy left in a huff, but the Doc's patient, calling himself Courier Six now, didn't like that and began rallying the town. Got Chet to give up some leather armor and even managed to get Easy Pete to give up his old dynamite. Doc Mitchell donated a few stimpacks just in case and we set up a proper old west ambush the Courier and us. Was fun getting the blood flowin but not something us Goodsprings folk want to get up to very often. A day later the Courier gave his goodbyes and left for Primm." the woman explains with a shrug, sliding the glass over to me and setting the bottle in front of me.

"So he woke up huh? Good on him. That explains a lot, thanks." I comment raising my glass in toast for his awakening and finishing it. Standing I toss the woman a wave and leave the building, and begin walking to the outskirts.


Reaching the outskirts I open a portal to the Defiled Sanctum and step inside. Retrieving the loot from the NCR Ranger Safe House I hand it off to one of the many souls I've resurrected in exchange for their eternal service, there is a reason Clavicus Vile and I respected each other after all. The soul in question was a High Elf fashion snob turned clothier named Arraya who sold her soul to me in exchange for returning her murdered child to life some three hundred years ago, since then she has acted as my main tailor, creating and maintaining my wardrobe, well her and the half dozen assistants she collected.

"Take these, remove any decals and identifying markings and then create a dozen more in the same style. Make use of the mines and resources as you need them. Replace the armor inserts with ones made of daedric, I'll have them created to your measurements as soon you can get them to my smith." I order, making her jump to it eager to work with new materials and styles. I also dump all of the other pieces of clothing I looted on her to analyze and then recreate using better materials. Walking swiftly, a pair of skeleton guards peeling off their patrol route to guard me, I move over to another area in the crafting district. I stifle a groan as the heat of the smithing area rolls over me and walk over to my chief smith. The chief smith is a Redguard smith named Cedric who I found bleeding out during my travels in Hammerfell a little over a century ago. He sought to become the greatest smith of his era but was berated and ultimately killed in the pursuit of his dream. In exchange for his eternal service and soul, I healed him and then taught him everything I knew of smithing sparing no expense to make him the second best smith in the world. Second only to me with my four hundred some years of experience, of course. Since I attained his services, he has taken over the maintenance of my weapons and armor as well as forging and equipping my horde as well as anyone I deem fit. He has only failed to meet expectations once, and considering not even I was certain how to go about it I can't exactly fault him.

"Cedric, I have a job for you. Take these, carefully break them down, figure out how they are forged, then create a prototype. These weapons are prone to explosive malfunction should there be too many errors. When you can successfully create them see to doing the same for the ammunition. I can get more ammunition if necessary but do not waste it." I hand Cedric a case of 9mm rounds and a pair of 9mm pistols. Quickly demonstrating proper firing procedures I fire a few rounds at an archery target nearby before unloading it and setting it on the counter. I also drop the Anti-materiel rifle and a case of .50 cal rounds making it clear I wanted both.

"Understood sir, what material should we use to craft the prototypes and what timescale should we be using?" Cedric nods, kicking open a chest of tools and beginning to work.

"Daedric for the final product, I'm not expecting anything soon but I want a progress report in a week. Cedric, the final product will be much stronger, designed for my vampiric strength not for casual use. Keep that in mind." I clarify before leaving the area, Cedric already yelling orders to his many assistants who began scrambling to follow them.

Leaving the area I make my way to a final area, covered in runic symbols and positively brimming with magic. There I find my head Enchantress, a Dark Elf named Darenia who I stumbled upon during my travels through High Rock around three decades ago. She had issued a challenge to any prospective enchanters with a cash prize, meeting with her I counter challenged her, if I won I would gain her soul and eternal service and if she won she could ask of me one thing which I would do for free. I won, and she now serves me as my head enchantress, ensuring all of my enchanted weapons and armor or maintained and that the various wards and magical defenses are kept in good order. Retrieving another pair of 9mm pistols from storage, I walk in.

"Darenia, I have acquired a pair of weapons that don't exist on Nirn, you and I will be testing how amenable to enchanting they are and if they aren't we will theorize why and what the best way to enchant them is. The enchantments we will test will be silence primarily, then we need to test how various enchantments react. Use the petty soul gems for now, when we work it out we can use the good stuff" I order, Darenia jumping to obey. Several hours pass and our testing reveals that silence works wonders, with a little finagling I manage to enchant a link to a container allowing the magazine to draw ammo from it, beyond that not much seemed to work.

Giving my thanks to Darenia, I leave the crafting district, my skeleton guards being replaced as they resume their patrol with a pair of Skeleton Assassins. Through my link with them I can feel them flit through the shadows around me, always just out of sight but never far enough they couldn't take a blow meant for me. Making my way to to my personal quarters, I move over to the bar and snag a jug of bloodwine and a glass. Flopping into a ridiculously comfy armchair, I sip my wine and contemplate my options. I could aid the Courier but I don't see any reason to, I'm not going to bring him with me as a companion. I could move on to another world, but for some reason this doesn't sit well with me. If I remember right, the Sole Survivor will be released from cryostasis in six years or so that might be fun and they might be worth taking along. I've mostly accomplished my goals by now, its only a matter of time before my servants figure out how to mass produce firearms and ammunition, and I acquired the NCR Ranger Armor and that should be done in a few days. What else can I do here? I think I should move on, I can always come back to this world later. With a little tweaking the portal should be able to return me the instant after I leave so time isn't an issue. I think I'll wait for my servants to finish first.

Around a month later, I stand before my ritual circle once more, clad in a blank duster styled after the NCR Ranger duster and black dragonscale combat boots. Under the duster I am wearing a set of fine clothing, and hidden in the duster are two pistols made of Deadric metal modeled after the Jackal and Casull from Hellsing and are enchanted to be silent and have a link to a container specifically built to contain ammunition. Hidden in a sheath in a lower chest pocket is a daedric dagger modeled after a K-bar combat knife, enchanted to paralyze and silence its victim. The duster has a hood that folds into a spacial pocket when not in use, and has daedric metal armor inserts as well as Daedric metal threaded throughout in such a way to increase protection. The duster itself is enchanted to increase magical regeneration, increase my charisma, and project a shield ward that feeds off a separate soul gem. Within my inventory I have a dozen stimpacks and health potions each, a few vials of poison of various types, and a lockpick enchanted to be as close to Nocturnal's Skeleton Key as possible. I managed to get it unbreakable and even managed to get it to unlock more metaphysical things but nowhere near as effective as the Skeleton Key. Looking out over the circle I confirm my setup this time I am looking for a world where there aren't any beings of real threat to me that is in conflict because I haven't actually let loose in a century almost. A world with high ambient mana and checking with the any higher powers as default.

With a rush of magic the ritual starts and ten minutes and a horrendous amount of magic later I stare at the portal nearly drained even though my reserves are rapidly recovering. That took far more magic than it should have, running a diagnostic I see that some being or beings have created a barrier sealing off this world from the multiverse and breaching that barrier is what cost so much magic. Tasting the ambient magic coming off the portal I am delighted to feel the distinctly primal mana given off by dragons and draconic species. Further investigation nets me a mana that tastes of nature, of song and dance, of the forest, a taste that reminds me heavily of the High Elves, I silently hope that they aren't as stuck up as the High Elves of Nirn. Even more traces leave me with the smell of a smithy, of jewel polish, and the sound of a hammer striking an anvil, there is a curious scent that only occurs underground as well, I don't recognize this mana, the only thing I can compare it to is the faint traces of mana that can be found in major dwemer settlements. Even fainter still is the distinct scent of druidic or shamanic magic, drinking deeply I can hear the bellows of warriors, the screams of enemies dying, a faint sense I associate with totemic magic, and the hammering of an unskilled blacksmith or a smith working with crude materials. I don't recognize this scent either, but there is an underlying scent to it that takes me a moment to recognize, that of corruption, of greed, and false wrath, whatever race this trace belongs to is subject to some form of mental control. I almost ignore the familiar though incredibly weak scent of humanity, the screaming of babies, the scent of earth being farmed and the sound of livestock, and the scent of an armory filled with bladed weaponry. The trace being nearly nonexistent elicits a raised eyebrow but little more. Fully recovered now, I wave off my servants and carefully walk through only to be find myself in a familiar predicament, only instead of a revolver I find myself at bow point and a sword at my neck. The distinct tingle I get from the blade marks it as a magical blade of some sort though I am not in a position to examine it in detail.

"God damn it, I really need to set it so this shit stops happening…" I mutter, to my assailants mild amusement and greater displeasure.

"Would it help if I said I come in peace?" I quip, my hands raised in surrender.


So this is it for fallout, I hope this isn't as disappointing for my readers as it was for me, I honestly thought I would get more out of it. I set up a hook that will let me come back later but I have no plans at the moment to do so any time soon.

So despite my general disappointment this set up a few things for the future. The Defiled Sanctum being expanded into its own demiplane? Yeah it has a crafting district staffed by souls I've bargained for or enslaved to my will over the centuries in Nirn. It has its own mines for every metal and resource, has entire farms dedicated to raising alchemy ingredients, and much of research and development will be delegated to my servants there. There are quarters both for me and for any companions/lovers I pick up as well as quarters for a few hundred more. There is a research lab for new undead being developed, and more.

Off screen I gathered quite a few corpses to add to my summons, namely deathclaw (Patriarch, Matriarch, Alpha, Chameleon, and Skeleton/zombie forms), Cazador, and Deathstalker. I can now summon Skeleton/Zombie Super Mutants, Super Mutant Behemoths, and ghouls/glowing ones.

I've gained various samples of technology off screen as well though that isn't of much interest to my character at the moment.

All of my servants are alive, they aren't allowed to die so long as I possess their soul such is my control, thus the food and drinks being produced. With the sample of various alcohols my breweries and distilleries will soon begin producing all sorts of alcohol.

Unfortunately I've discovered an unfortunate flaw in my portal settings, I've not set it to open away from people or notice. I'll fix that when I can next make it back to the Sanctum and set it as one of the defaults.

Thanks for reading!