I, Draugr Chapter 58

"Welcome to Blackreach!"

I declare while closing the black portal behind me. Farengar whistles while looking around at the immense underground paradise. "There's already people down here?" He questions in surprise, noting the large camp I teleported us into.

It was just two dozen large tents right below the hole that leads to the surface, meant for explorers to set out and mark places of interest, find large veins, and set priority targets. "Just explores for now, seeking veins and places of interest." Hell, I even had them bring horses, so they could move faster.

"In fact, they found a massive Iron vein just up that way." I point in the direction he was already facing, "Bigger than Winterhold, just on the surface." Farengar chokes on air and nearly stumbles, his wide gaze settling on me out of pure shock.

"Y-You're serious?"

I nod, "This damn place is a literal paradise. It is why all the extra hands from across Skyrim and the Empire are needed." I cross my arms and shrug, "Me and Kara theorized that the Dwemer barely even touched the surface of what Blackreach has to offer."

Gazing at the landscape, I tilt my head towards the Court Mage, "By the way, are there any words on the extra hands coming from the Empire?" He nods, much to my delight.

"They are coming in with shipments, both from ships and not. Disguised as merchants so to not raise any suspicion." Smart, and unlikely for the Thalmor to keep a headcount of the merchants that bring in the materials, and wonder why a few of them are missing when they go back.

And even if they do notice, they won't guess the why. "And the Thalmor?"

The smile that spreads across Farengar's face is vicious and gratified, "Denied further entry to Skyrim." He huffs out, visibly pleased, "The Emperor declared the 'rebellion' quelled, and Ulfric has 'obeyed' the Emperor's decree to 'ban' further Talos worship."

Basically, a whole load of shit that the Thalmor cannot prove, and cannot dare to push further. Because while the Empire is still recovering, so are they, and they just prefer putting on a tough, arrogant from.

One that now won't work, since the Emperor has literal Nuclear Warheads at his back and call in case the Thalmors get uppity.

"I've heard the Emperor is also planning to push them out of the lands of the Empire." Farengar drawls out, and I perk up at that.

The old Emperor is showing his hairy sack once more, and I am sure that is making a great deal of people respect him once more, if not more that before.

It is risky, as it can restart the war once more, and the Altmer are very well known to not breed and reproduce as often as the more mortal and short lived races like Imperials, Bretons and Nords. For every ten Men children born, a single Mer one might also be born.

The losses of the Empire in terms of numbers will recover further. Polygamy is encouraged and not outlawed, and many have multiple wives and concubines, especially soldiers.

Not only because they are wealthy, but also because of the money that comes in when and if they die in case they left behind heirs, thus the wives and concubines will be very well off.

"Septims for your thoughts?" My armored hand rises up to automatically snatch the Septim flicked my way by the smiling Farengar.

I flick it up and watch it roll, then snatch it out of the air and slap it on the back of my hand. Head.

Always head.

"Sometimes, I wonder if I am a monster for the thoughts I have." I drawl out, a deep sigh leaving me while the Court Mage raises a curious brow, "The thought of turning Summerset Isles into a frozen wasteland is… Well, rather strong."

Genocide. Plain and simple. Without mercy, uncaring of poor and rich, young, infants and old. It doesn't even faze me. I know I could carry out such a horrid act with a wave of my hand.

Farengar hums, turning to stand shoulder to shoulder with me, his arms crossing behind my back, "I remember hearing… Stories, about what happened after the Oblivion Crisis." He starts, and I give him my full attention. "How the Argonians got drugged out of their minds and invaded Oblivion."

"How Hammerfell used their humid swamps and arid deserts to contain the damage and ambush the invaders."

"And how, after the Crisis was averted… The Aldmeri Dominion closed the borders of their isles and proceeded to commit an Ethnic Cleansing. No half-breeds, no other race of Men or Mer other than Altmers."

And then they declared war on the Empire. An Empire they were part off. An Empire that likely had even tried to help all the people beneath them during the Oblivion Crisis while getting hit the hardest and being the main focus.

"I will never say that your thoughts are right…" Farengar reassures, then sighs deeply, "But… Sometimes a greater evil is needed. Sometimes…" He pauses and breathes in, shoulders sagging, "Sometimes it is the only thing one can do."

I sigh deeply, shoulders sagging. I step forward and clap his shoulder with one hand, "We'll deal with it as it comes." I then shake my head, "Still, I brought you here because I remembered your request."

He perks up, and I motion him to follow me inside a large tent. In it was a massive table, with slices of paper stabbed onto it at the center, marks and drawings and the beginning of an expanding map upon them.

"They've already mapped so much?" Farengar questions in shock, which I shared. This map is two times bigger than the one I saw during my last visit! How hard are these idiots working?!

"They have horses helping them." I then point towards the east side of the map, where the map met a wall, "Plus much of the East side is estimated to be a wall due to the Sea of Ghosts. We'll likely meet another one up far to the North."

The Court Mage hums, leaning over the table, studying the markers with each different color, with each color being a different ore vein being found. And there's dozens of colors already, some quite literally standing on top of the others.

"So they can focus elsewhere…" Farengar nods, then shakes his head, "You mentioned having found what I had asked you months ago?" I nod, and lean forward and tap the spot beneath a dark blue marker.

The area surrounding the marker had a wide circle drawn in the same color, and it didn't take long for me and Kara to guess how such a thing came to be.

"That place is roughly the size of Whiterun." I start, and his eyes start to widen in realization, "It is a single, supermassive Magicka Stone of the highest quality possible." When Kara received word of it, she had nearly passed out on the spot.

Magicka Stones were rare, literal solidified Magic. Perfect to make Enchantments so much more powerful, but also to massively empower Spells. I had one myself for a while, and it made quite the difference. Plus, it was cool.

Still, it took certain conditions for them to appear, which were incredibly rare. And not always is the quality of said Stones high enough to matter or make a massive difference.

Originally, I thought that the highest quality of such Stones would make Spells two times as powerful, but then it wouldn't have caused Kara to nearly faint.

So I asked, and she corrected me. The Supreme Grade Magicka Stones give a Five Times increase to Spells. It made even me whistle.

Yes, they don't last forever, and they slowly lose power, but the higher their grade, the more time it takes for them to deteriorate.

Plus, the origin of this supermassive Magicka Stone is Saarthal. It lies directly beneath it, and it was basically the 'dumping grounds' of the Magicka waste from Ahzidal's Dimension.

He couldn't keep all the overflowing Magicka to run the prison, and waste is always present in all Spells, so he simply directed it downward, so that the Dimension wouldn't be discovered.

Countless Eras of such waste ended up creating that enormous Crystal, which the Dwemer likely didn't discover since it was still in the process of growing back then.

"By the Divines…" Farengar breathes out, turning around to lean against the table, looking faint, "I-… What are the current plans with it?"

I cross my arms with a hum, "We'll be mining very small amounts, around the size of a thumb." He narrows his eyes, then seems to run calculations through his mind before nodding, "Some will be lodged within the Dragon-made weapons and armor. Others will be used as cores for protective barriers around each Hold."

I turn to give him a look, "Use by Mages is, unfortunately, prohibited. Far too damn powerful to put out there. Only the teachers at the College and the Archmage are aware of the existence of that supermassive Stone currently."

He nods and sighs deeply, "Yeah, that is the logical and best choice…" He then turns and gazes at me, full of hope and excitement, "But I can still make that project of mine, right?"

I nod, and his shoulders sag with relief, while his face lights up with excitement, "You should recruit the Archmage, and ask pointers from Kara." I point out after a moment of thought, "Make the best creation you can, putting as much time and effort into it."

His face squeezes, "But, the resources needed…" I cough, he raises a brow my way.

I just nod towards the map on the table.

He looks at it.

Five panting, sweaty and burly man come into the tent, slap additional papers on the table, then stab markers on top of them before leaving to find more.

Farengar and I stare at one specific marker on the map. Pitch black. An Ebony vein.

"Huh…" I huff out in amusement, while Farengar just crumbles and squats down, face in his hands, a deep sob leaving him and shaking his whole body. "So… Yeah, you'll have an abundance of resources once things kick off." Good thing Eorlund is accepting disciples. Skyrim is gonna need all those extra hands with the income of raw ores that they will not be able to handle.

Winterhold will have to double down and refine them into ingots as fast as possible, and each Hold has now started clearing all known bandit camps to make the roads as safe as possible.

Hell, they've even started repairing said roads to make it faster and easier to move between the Holds. They won't be lacking money and materials soon enough, after all.

"This has to be a dream…" The Court Mage whines, and I perk up at that.

So, like the good ol' buddy that I am, I make sure that he knows this isn't a dream.

By kicking him to the ground.

"You fucking bitch-!"

Ah, so refreshing…

~XXX~

"You… Wish to train me?" Aurelia questions, gazing at the smiling and serene Snow Elf before her in shock and surprise.

Dinok shuffles slightly in place, nodding in an almost shy manner, further encouraged by a gentle pat on her back by Deinmaar.

The Dragon Priest's pale, blind eyes drift in Deinmaar's general direction, leaning into his touch for a few moments before she returns her attention towards the Dragonborn, "Dov… Rok… Folaas…"

Aurelia tilts her head, feeling the very air around her thrum as Dinok spoke, her whisper-like voice somehow echoing through the air, resonating with the very world around them.

"She means that my Dragon Tongue is… Wrong?" Aurelia didn't find offense from such words. Her 'mastery' over the Dragon Tongue was rushed, a mix of knowledge ravaged by felled Dragons, gifted by Paarthurnax and the Greybeards.

It wasn't her 'Mastery'. It wasn't her Thu'um. Hers were the Dragon Blade, a unique power born from her unique Soul and heritage, but even that power was still rudimentary and required a great deal of work, especially now that she lacked a proper weapon.

"Dinok was the one that taught me the Thu'um." Deinmaar starts, offering a warm smile to the minute Snow Elf, "She was taught by Alduin herself, so her Thu'um is different from Lah's own."

The royal blue and gold Dragon nods, his large form laying down in the grass of the wide and open valley beside Whiterun, enjoying the wind and the sun on his scales, "Every Word is different between each Dragon." The Great Sage rumbles out, closing his eyes to enjoy the breeze while ignoring the obnoxious snores from Kara, who lay sprawled on his back.

"For example, mine own Mastery revolves around fine control." His large head then nods towards Dinok, "While hers revolves around pure, destructive power."

"I can concentrate a Shout to the size of a human. She can crack this nation open with a single Word of the Unrelenting Force Shout."

Aurelia pales, her stomach dropping as she turns towards Dinok. "S-She…" Her tongue wets her suddenly very dry lips, her ears ringing, "She is actually that powerful…?"

Deinmaar bites on his lower lip, then glances at Lah for a moment. The Dragon rumbles out a low hum, before sighing lowly, "Aurelia." The Dragon starts, voice almost soothing, "Dragon Sages are flying calamities."

"Reality itself bends to their whims. And for us Great Sages? It bows. It reveres us. We are its rulers. Its masters. Hence the arrogance of our Kin."

Slowly, his massive form rises, slowly so to not disturb the sleeping woman on his back so to not invoke her wrath. "Odahviing could unleash hurricanes with a flap of his wings, devastating entire regions in moments. And there are stronger Dragon Sages than him. And above them, there are being like me."

One of his claws rose, brushing against his chest. The air shimmered, and Aurelia gasps as a gruesome scar appears, starting from Lah's neck and descending down to his belly. Long and thin and clean, as if torn open by a very, very sharp blade.

"The Cutting Shout…" Aurelia whispers, realization dawning upon her. A double-edged Shout that tore at her when she wielded it against Odahviing, using its immense power to win the battle.

Only her Healing Magic had kept the Dragon Blade from shredding her hands and arms apart just by holding it.

Lah nods, "That Shout was created by the Great Sage of Blades. A Great Sage who was equal to me in might back then." His claw taps at the scar on his chest one last time before it fades, "When we battled, we used just one Shout. Our strongest. Our Magnum Opus."

Slowly, the Great Sage leans down close to her, "His Shout cleaved Reality itself asunder. It shredded through the Realms of the Gods unbridled."

Aurelia felt faint. She had thought she was reaching the level of Great Sages, that she was growing stronger… Yet that Realm had never felt so far away now.

And there are more Great Sages out there. Perhaps not on the level of Lah himself, but they were still winged calamities that could raze entire nations down on their lonesome, unless the Dragonrend Shout was turned against them.

"Why are you telling me this?" She questions, voice hollow.

Lah lays his head on the grassy terrain, a lone radiant eye gazing at her with softness, "Because Alduin will only face you when he returns to his Prime, and steps beyond it."

"When he reaches a level where even I am but a gnat before him."

"When a single Shout is all he needs to erase Tamriel from existence and ravage the planet."

Her hands clench into trembling fists, blood seeping down her fingers, "Teach me." She all but demands, her gaze fiery. Leonidas had gotten so far ahead of her. He had grown so powerful. He was still protecting her.

For once she wanted to be the one to protect him. To protect Hildr and Gretel. To stand between them and World-Eater himself.

Lah grins, showing those gleaming, terrifying fangs of his, "I will teach you how to control the Thu'um." His gaze then flicks to Dinok, who was trying to climb on top of Deinmaar's shoulders, much to the Atmoran's embarrassment. "And she…" Dragon Saint and Dragonborn stared at the scene before them for a few seconds.

"She will teach you power…" Lah finishes, and Dinok perks up, dangling limply in one of Deinmaar's large hands, which was gripping her cloak and holding her above the ground.

Her bare feet kicked the air in a cute manner, before her nose twitched.

Lah folds his wings around his back and closes his eyes, and Deinmaar just sighs deeply.

"Achoo." It was a quiet, cute sound.

And then a shock-wave punched Aurelia in the face, making her grunt and step back as the whole valley shook and trembled beneath the wake of that power released by a simple sneeze.

The valley was stripped of its grass, making Lah sigh deeply, dragging a claw along his face. Dinok still hung in the air, sniffling and rubbing at her face, pale eyes slightly teary.

"Al… Gol…?" The Snow Elf asks cutely, smiling apologetically towards an exasperated yet fond Deinmaar.

"Just stripped the grass off of it, don't worry. You didn't destroy the valley." His reassuring words have Dinok release a cute cheer, short arms rising in the air and bare, pale legs kicking back and forth like an excited child.

That was supposed to be Alduin's Dragon Priest…?

"Say… Why does she only talk in the Dragon Tongue?" She questions towards Lah, who unfolds his wings with a low rumble.

"It is a form of meditation. To grow closer to the Thu'um and become more in tune with it." His head tilts towards High Hrothgar, "The human elders upon that mountain are the same. It is akin to a Vow of Silence, but you simply forsake all Men and Mer languages in favor of the Dov's own."

Aurelia hums softly, "Should I do it too?" Surprisingly, Lah shakes his head.

"It is not the right time yet." He gently advises, and the Dragonborn decides to listen to the Great Sage, "It will be part of the final stages of your training, after all." One of his wings curls, tapping Aurelia on the back, "Show Dinok your Dragon Blades."

Dinok perks up at being mentioned once more, her bare feet once more touching the stripped earth as Aurelia approached. One hand stretches out, and her lips part, "Yol." She whispers, and flames coalesce out of her palm, surging and forming a radiant flaming blade.

Dinok's pale eyes blink, her head tilting. Slowly, her hands reach out, soon finding and testing the flaming blade, "Suleyk… Rot… Tuz… Dovah… Tuz…" Then her small hands squeezed, and the blade fell apart with a burst of sparks.

Aurelia blinks as Dinok approaches and takes one of her hands in hers, tilting the palm upward, "Tuz…" Blinking, the Dragonborn tilts her head, before realizing that Dinok was asking for another blade.

"Fus-" Her hand was yanked, bringing her words to a halt.

Frowning, Dinok shakes her head, "Tuz." She asks, confusing Aurelia even more.

"She is asking for the blade." Deinmaar intervenes. "And only the blade. Not the ones forged through the Dragon Tongue."

Aurelia falters, her mind going blank for a few moments. Had she… Ever summoned the Blade without using the Thu'um? Had she ever shaped one without it?

Her hand falters, but then she calls forth on that power. On that familiar energy that she uses to sculpt the blades, turning them into frail containers for immense power.

Physical, crystalline containers of molded Reality.

A kaleidoscope of colors erupt out of her palm, showering the valley in a rainbow-like radiance. A soft weight that felt real but also not filled Aurelia's hand, and when the light died down, a crystallized blade was in her grip.

The length of her arm, single-edged, with the radiant see-through blade coming out of a guard shaped like open dragon jaws, sharp teeth clamped around the blade.

Aurelia breathes out, twirling the familiar blade, then narrows her eyes, "Fus." A radiant deep blue hue fills the blade. She swings it, and a blast of force erupts out… Yet the blade doesn't shatter.

Aurelia wanted to cry. Had she actually changed the way to summon her Dragon Blades, she would have fixed the fragility issue so fast!

Dinok nods in approval, "Tiid…. Tuz…. Dovahkiin." Deinmaar tilts his head, slowly processing the words spoken before translating for Aurelia.

"I think… She wants you to keep the blade on yourself, at all time… Right?" Dinok nods happily, giving the sweetest smile towards Deinmaar, who pumps his fists and whispers 'Still got it!' to himself.

That's when another voice spoke up, "See if you can add the same Shout into the Blade multiple times." Everyone turned to see Kara laying on her chest, chin on an open palm, interested gleam in her eyes, "Worst case scenario, it blows up."

"Everything blows up with you, dear."

"Trial and error, my love. Trial and error."

The sane part of Aurelia's mind told her not to- Only to be shoved to the side by the part of her mind that was corrupted by her beloved Leo's idiocy, making her go "Fuck it, we ball." like he usually does.

Turns out? The Blade can hold multiple Three-Word Shouts inside of it, as long as they were of the same type.

The limit was three, though.

The mushroom cloud that followed the catastrophic explosion could be seen from Dawnstar.

~XXX~

His noble, mighty name was Poopdaggah.

He was the finest, most handsome, sexiest and mightiest of all Rieklings.

He dominated Blackreach, battled against the foul beast inhabiting it for a great many eons until his Glorious Almighty Master arrived to fell it.

On their fateful meeting, the mighty Riekling was granted the mightiest of names worthy of one such as he. An unyielding noble fighter like him.

His rusty dagger and dashing looks followed his Glorious Master everywhere, felling his enemies mercilessly, be they worms or the very Gods.

He was the most loyal warrior, and his Glorious Master trusted him fully, thus Poopdaggah was given the sacred task to protect the little wolf cub. Not that she needed protection.

Poopdaggah was meant to protect others from her, and avoid accidents where she went full wolf form and started snacking on some idiots.

The magnificent Riekling sometimes wished to witness such glory, but he was loyal, and he would never disappoint his Glorious Master.

Thus, when some foul heathens – who couldn't see the immensity of the Heavens and the might radiating out of Poopdaggah's magnificent form – started approaching the wolf cub, his trusty rusted dagger was out in a flash and scratching at his buttocks for the added poison damage.

They expect the tetanus, but never the other unholy mixtures he smears his dagger in. There is a reason why it is called 'Poo Scraper', gifted to him by the mighty one with many mouths and fancy colorful suit before his meeting with his Glorious Master.

His eyes stared in two different directions, studying the market like a wolf from the rooftop, flashing his impressive phallus to the fine lady below that just so happened to look up. Her screech is expected, for who could handle seeing such a handsome figure standing with the sun behind them?

One eye tracked those masked, robed soon-to-be corpses. The other tracked the red-haired child, her movements showing that she was aware that she was being followed. The dagger hidden among the food she had 'stolen' told Poopdaggah as much too.

The three cultists drew closer, and closer, and closer- Until a shadow fell upon them, and a mighty cry rattled their eardrums, "BOMBOCLAT!" His Glorious Master's war cry leaves Poopdaggah's lips, and he lands butt first into the face of the cultist in the middle, giving him an eyeful of perfection.

Before stabbing his rusty dagger into the fucker's skull, "Daggah! Daggah! Daggah!" He cried with each stab, before the screaming and shouting started.

"What the fuck is this-" One of the cultists started, gloved hand raised, sparks flaring between the fingertips- Before Poopdaggah's arm flashed, and four fingers flew through the air.

Still spinning, Poopdaggah released the rusty dagger, and a screeched whimper followed soon after as it stabbed straight into the third cultist's family jewels, red coloring his robes within seconds.

Kicking off the crumbling corpse, Poopdaggah jumps and smashes his butt into the face of the cultist whose fingers got chopped off, then blinded him with the vilest, most poisonous fart he had released this year. He knew holding this in for a whole week was worth it.

Truly, his foresight was legendary. His Glorious Master will be proud!

The poor cultist promptly threw up within his own mask, crumbling on his knees like the weak mortal he was.

Poopdaggah lands between the fallen, kneeling Cultists, and proceeds to smash their masked skulls together. Hard enough for the masks to shatter and for their noses to be pulverized.

"Daggah." He sneers, retrieving his dagger and wiping it clean on their robes. "Daggah! Daggah?" He should wring the information out of them, so to have something for his Glorious Master.

"Poopdaggah!" The wolf cub approaches, offering him a fine sausage, an offering the handsome Riekling does not refuse and proceeds to snack on with much gusto. "They smell weird… Totally not from around here…"

Outsiders? Perhaps Poopdaggah should track down their homes and set it ablaze, and sacrifice their Souls for his Glorious Master.

"Daggah!" He exclaims, perking up when that familiar presence crushes down on the whole of Whiterun.

His most Glorious Lord! In all of his dashing, dark magnificence!

His dark cloak billows through the non-existent breeze as he steps out through a well, the dark abyss filled with eager snapping maws and feral eyes swallowing the whole, emptied street. "What happened here?"

A rusty dagger was pointed at the three whimpering fools, "Daggah!" Poopdaggah proceeds to give a most fine, precise, and detailed report with a simple word, for conversation was below a superior being such as he. "Daggah!" Then he points at the wolf cub.

Of course, his Glorious, Dashing Lord nods in understanding. Obviously such a Divine Being would understand Poopdaggah so fast and easily.

"Didn't expect them to pop up so soon." His Lord muses, and Poopdaggah nearly prostates before his glorious form.

Of course he would know they were coming! Of course! It was the reason why he had assigned Poopdaggah to protect the wolf cub! How could he have not seen such a thing earlier!?

Truly, he still had room for growth. His Almighty Lord kept showing him the immensity of the Heavens… It was magnificent.

With a wave of his hand, one of the two whimpering fools was turned into a frozen statue. The other instead was fully healed. "Alright, you have one chance to get out of this quickly and painlessly." His Master declares, giving the vermin a chance at mercy.

"Tell me everything you know, and don't waste my time." A thumb jabbed towards Poopdaggah, "Or I'll have him carve your teeth out. One by one. Once done, I'll just heal you to restart the process."

The sniveling fool tried crawling back, and Poopdaggah nearly sighs, "Daggah?" His master nods, and the noble Riekling bows.

Before he turned and proceeded to approach the trembling, terrified cultist. "N-No! K-Keep that thing away from me! S-Stop! Stop! NOOOO-"

It took shoving just a single warhammer up his behind to make the fool talk.

He couldn't disappoint his master, after all.

~XXX~

His steps come to a halt.

"Hn… It appears they have failed." His steps then resume, the face beneath the Mask not changing one bit.

It was a simple gamble to try and remove a variable to his plans, but it seemed Fate kept warding anyone from meddling with the current Era's Golden Child.

Their showdown will come in the future, and he will rise victorious. As if one such as he would lose against a child not even half a century old.

His gaze strays towards the other end of the platform, were the humongous altar lay. Immense chains bind the figure upon it, hooking themselves into Reality itself, and sustained by the full might of Apocrypha.

For Hermaeus would never let such a wellspring of knowledge slip away from his greedy, hungry mind.

Miraak couldn't fault him. He too was greedy for all the knowledge the horrid being known as Solomon had imparted upon Konahriik, teaching that had allowed her to reach levels beyond mortals understanding.

Levels that even now, after Eras of studies and training, Miraak could only look up to.

He gazes at that breathtaking, alluring figure bound in chains for a few moments longer before turning away. "You will break one day. That I assure you." He drawls out to himself, his voice carrying across the peak of Apocrypha.

He waited Eras. He could wait a few more years. Neither the Dragonborn or the World-Eater could threaten him, after all- A rattle of chains freezes him.

Slowly, his head turns to regard that bound figure. Silver hair move, and the head hanging limply slowly rose.

Eyes glowing with a golden radiance meet Miraak's own.

Konahriik's lips part, a smile upon them. 'Watch. Your. Back.' She mouths to him, unable to use Magic to speak like she used to in the past.

His brows furrow, "My back? Have you gone insane-"

"MIRAAK!" Hermaeus Mora's voice thunders across the Realm, not out of fury… But worry?

Apocrypha quakes.

His instincts scream, and his hand rises up before he could think.

A brilliant star smashes into his palm, causing his Enchanted glove to explode into dust while the impact cracked Apocrypha's peak.

The shock-wave thundered across the Realm like the wrath of a God, tearing apart entire libraries and servants for miles upon miles.

The unknown Spell drills into his palm, gouging flesh apart and slowly pushing the groaning exiled Dragon Priest back, feet digging through the stone beneath.

With a grunt and roar of exertion, Miraak moves and tosses the howling, screeching Spell to the side, allowing it to thunder and howl across the Realm, leaving wild gale storms in its wake.

The wound on his hand heals with a thought, and he turns in the direction that the Spell came from, only to find… A crumbled piece of paper?

Sniffing, and noting the amused smile on Konahriik's beautiful visage, Miraak approaches the piece of paper and unfolds it.

"Try that shit again, and it won't be a weak Spell next time."

He turns the paper around.

"P.S. Whoever reads this loves sucking on fat dicks."

The paper is set ablaze- And a shadow falls over Miraak.

He looks up just as his sight went dark, and he found himself buried in… Something.

Something half-wet, half solid, and that… He started retching in his mask as the stench invaded his poor nostrils.

Was he buried in a mountain of shit!?

A.N. Giving Leonidas the power to open portals is bad.

For the Gods included.

Also, I remembered some folks wanted a Poopdaggah POV, so I wrote it! The Chad Riekling strikes again…

Next chapter SHOULD still be some more matters being settled, Leonidas being a little shit, and other stuff before the Multicross happens. Which is basically a Vacation/Training trip for the group.

Hope y'all enjoyed this chappy!

Toodles!