I, Draugr chapter 43

Rarely do Gods feel anger.

Indignation, yes. Feeling slighted too. But anger? No, they try to avoid that, for it may lead to mistakes that other Daedric Princes may take advantage of.

And yet, Hircine did not care. The cries of that small girl reached his ears even across planes of existence, and the Lord of the Hunt raged.

And in his fury… He stepped aside and left an opening within the blockade.

Before any other Daedric Prince could realize or notice, the Mad Star slipped a piece of his essence through that purposefully left gap.

And upon Nirn, a connection to the Asylums was formed. A gate that could unleash horrors that could drive lesser man crazy at a glance.

That gate took the shape of an Undead wearing long robes and a mask.

Yet, unaware of those events, a Dragon Priest and a Dragon reunited with one another after countless Eras, deep within the mountains south-west of Skyrim.

In the depths of the mountain range lay a temple built into the side of a mountain, with long stairs descending down it's side and to a large square, all made with large squares of polished marble yellowed by time and covered by a thick layer of snow.

Ascending those steps was a massive, but heavily wounded Dragon leaking blood from the fierce wounds on his body. "Forgive me, my boy…" Vulthuryol sighs out, turning one of his two heads towards the floating masked Priest going up the steps alongside him, "Had I known you had been sealed, I would have come looking for you…"

Hevnoraak shook his masked face, his robes torn and decayed by time, yet the light scaled armor around his chest remained, "I do not blame you, my lord. The vermin who had sealed me away also hid my presence by masking it with his own, so to stop anyone from finding me."

Huffing out a cruel laugh, the Dragon Priest continues, "The fool thought he could last until help arrived. Hah!" Shaking his head once more, Hevnoraak turned his gaze towards the wounded Dragon beside him, a skeletal hand reaching out to stroke the scales of the enormous body.

"You have done some fine work with this body, my Lord." The Undead whispers softly, awe filling his voice, "It must have taken centuries to complete such a masterpiece."

Vulthuryol nods his two heads, grunting softly as he drags his weakened and wounded form to the front of the temple, leaving a long line of blood from the bottom of the steps all the way to the top, "I thought such modifications would have made me stronger… But it just made me a bigger target for that bastard."

Hevnoraak clutched one hand into a tight, trembling fist. Fury flowed through his dead and cold body at seeing his master so wounded, "Who did this to you, my Lord?"

A gentle, warm smile spreads across the Dragon's jaws at hearing the anger within his Dragon Priest's voice, "It is alright, my boy. Let us just… Leave Skyrim and rebuild our forces."

Hevnoraak startles at those words, coming to a stop before the large entrance to his temple, "You wish to leave, my Lord?" Vulthuryol nods, and Hevnoraak doesn't feel anger or humiliation.

He doesn't mind 'running away' like a coward if he gets to save himself and his Lord's life. What was humiliation to someone who only cared about surviving and growing stronger, and not the opinion of others?

"Deinmaar is back, my boy. We do not stand a chance against that monster." Hevnoraak takes in a sharp breath at that.

The giant of a man known to punish Dragon Priests if their actions overstep the 'punishment' boundary and enter the 'cruelty and torture' category.

Countless Dragons lost their cruel Dragon Priests drunk on power that used it on innocent civilians just for fun. Some using it for fun, others to expand their harems through mind control, and others just to have slaves working for them and treat them like royalty.

The moment that nameless boy was given the name 'Deinmaar' by the Warlord was the moment countless Dragon Priests lost their lives.

With a sword and pure physical might, that monster of a man walked through Spells and destroyed Masks like they were nothing.

Hevnoraak had once been on his list, but had gone into hiding when words of other Dragon Priests dying reached his ears.

"I see… That is unfortunate indeed." Hevnoraak muses softly, "I doubt I stand a chance even if I were to use my whole treasury against him. Even with the boost I have been granted by becoming the Champion of Lord Sheogorath."

Though, what Hevnoraak did not voice out was that his connection to the Daedric Prince seemed to be… Cut. Not fully gone, but also not fully there either.

The Artifact he had gained through the blessing was still there. Even the enormous boost to his Magicka reserves was, yet… Hevnoraak shook those thoughts away. He'll ponder upon the answer for that once he and his Lord were more secure.

"Let us get you healed, my Lord. I have several staves in my treasury that hold powerful Restoration Spells." Vulthuryol nods, pleased and very at ease.

"Then let us make haste, my boy. Once I am healed, we can leave-"

"No, you won't."

One of Vulthuryol's two head bursts apart like a watermelon as Hevnoraak whirls around- Only for a wall of black to slam into him and pierce straight through the temple entrance and into the depths of the mountain with a rumble that shook the valley.

A beam of white-hot flames gushed forth, cutting through the oily, inky darkness like a knife, freeing Hevnoraak and allowing him to snap his gaze towards the intruder.

A robed figure, wearing a familiar Mask, with that same ink-black darkness covering his clothes and armor… And the surrounding ground.

The Dragon Priest did not waste a second in useless idle chatter and instead clutched the staff within is left hand. At its tip lay not a Magicka Crystal, but a two-pointed fork.

Flames and lightning erupted out of Hevnoraak, their power swelling as the Fork of Horripilation further excited the Magicka, empowering the Spell as the two elements synergized and fused together into a beam of catastrophic heat.

So much so that the entrance to his beautiful temple flash melted into useless, ugly and glowing slag. Oh well, he can always enthrall more slaves so that it can be rebuilt-

A hand reaches out of the blinding beam of plasma to grip his face and slam his skull into the wall he had been launched into faster than he could realize, cutting off his Spell near instantly.

The Mask of Krosis stared back at him, burning purple flames visible through the thin eye holes, telling Hevnoraak that his opponent was a fellow Undead.

"Who the hell are you?!" Hevnoraak hisses out, clutching the wrist of the limb gripping his skull with his free hand. This bastard had just walked through his Spell like it was nothing…

The robed man tilts his head, "Someone your pathetic lizard shouldn't have pissed off." The world blurred before Hevnoraak could explode in fury at the slight against his Lord as the Undead gripping his skull whirled around, dragging him along-

Then hurled him through the wall he had been pinned against, through the rooms of his temple, through his throne room, then through the other side of the mountain with enough force and power behind it that the Enchantment on his Mask activated on its own.

A golden sphere protected his body from each impact before he ended up flying across the air and nearly smashing into the next mountain.

Yet, with a flicker of his Magicka, he swiftly regained control and resumed floating in the air, hundreds of meter above a steep drop.

His eyes trailed the falling rubble and cloud of dust smashing down the side of the mountain created by his body being sent flying through it.

A loud, unsettling groan shook the air, stopping Hevnoraak just as he was about to fly back.

The bowels of the mountain wailed, the rocks cracking and the earth trembling and falling. Large chunks of it fell off, crashing down in loud rumbles that echoes in the silence of the mountain range.

Then, the mountain ruptured. From the cracks, gargantuan pitch black arms dozens of meters long stretched out, capped by six-fingered hands and thousands upon thousands of bug-like eyes.

Eight long, bony arms in total stretched out, devouring light itself as they moved, forcing Hevnoraak to weave between the three closest ones as they tried to swat him out of the air.

The tips of the fingers were topped with gaping maws that snapped whenever they drew close to him, sharp serrated teeth trying to grind the Dragon Priest's bones to dust.

Something about these creations seemed… Familiar, to Hevnoraak. It nagged him, and he tried desperately to remember while dodging the flailing- A shadow suddenly covered his vision- "My Lord?!"

Indeed, Vulthuryol's massive wounded form had been launched at him with the speed of a meteorite, forcing the Dragon Priest to dodge out of the way and conjure a gargantuan Ward to try and save his master from a near fatal crash against the mountain side.

The impact still created a landslide of stone, gravel and debris down the mountain, but Hevnoraak relaxed when he managed to save Vulthuryol from gaining nasty injuries.

"My boy-!" The Dragon grunts out, but the Dragon Priest had already moved, flipping around and creating a golden Ward before him just in time for a Spell to hammer against it.

The spinning, star-like missile kept grinding against his Ward, pushing and spinning and squealing so loudly that any normal human would have already lost their hearing.

But Hevnoraak stood his grounded, staring at the howling Spell before him in dawning and horrifying recognition. The pieces were starting to fall into place.

And he was not liking it one bit.

"Oh?" A faintly surprised noise echoed between the gap of the two mountains and past the screaming of the Spell still grinding against the golden Ward.

Three of the gargantuan hands moved, palms facing in his direction. Two had a single massive purple goat eye staring straight towards him, the other a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. "That shield of yours is fancy…"

The voice mused, then all the hands moved, clenching into fists… And aiming a lone finger his way. "Can it handle a slightly bigger one though?"

Eight colossal stars rumbled into existence, just their creation causing an earthquake to shake the valley and the surrounding mountains, causing further landslides.

Hevnoraak's sheer confidence and assurance in his Mask's capabilities very suddenly gained doubts.

The Fork of Horripilation hummed and his Mask started glowing, the lone golden Ward-like wall stretching out and becoming a sphere, wrapped up in a dozen more spheres-

The stars crashed down with unimaginable power, displacing the clouds out of the sky and exploding with such force that the top of the mountain behind Hevnoraak and Vulthuryol just evaporated.

The Dragon Priest quivers, staring at the golden cracked Ward before him. One Sphere, that's all that remained after that attack.

And it was cracked and already falling apart. The sight filled Hevnoraak with pure terror like he had never experienced before- No, that is a lie…

He had experienced worse when She walked past him once.

Death.

The sister of the Warlord. The one chosen by Alduin. The most brutal and terrifying Dragon Priest that no one dared to look at, speak to, or speak about.

He had stopped walking, breathing, blinking and even thinking. The sound of her slow steps had been as loud as a Dragon roaring straight in his ears, and his heart felt like it was about to burst.

It was the worst experience he had ever faced, because he knew that even a blink would have cost him his life.

And now, this unknown Undead was making him experience fear once more…

The dust cleared, and the top of his temple burst apart, sending debris flying in every direction as another pitch-black monstrosity made itself known.

The giant head of a horse came into view through the cloud of dust and debris, goat-like eyes on it's side and a long maw filled with serrated, crocodile-like teeth.

The horse head turned towards him, and that maw filled with teeth slowly unhinged itself, opening wide and showing the dozens of rows of teeth.

"My boy, we must move!" Vulthuryol hurried, spreading his wings and powering through the pain of his severely wounded body.

But Hevnoraak had gone numb.

The sight of that creation just confirmed his fears of who was before him. Of who was attacking him.

"Solomon…" He whispered out of pure dread.

A name only the oldest in the Dragon Council knew about.

A robed man that had appeared all of a sudden, carrying a small, mute Snow Elf child with him and taking her in as his student.

And that child went on to become Konahriik before she even turned fifteen.

"How is he here… Why…" Hevnoraak trembled, his staff nearly slipping out of his cold and dead fingers.

The unknown man who had taught Konahriik. The unknown man whispered to be the 'Lord of Demons' by the oldest of the Dragon Council.

An unknown being of unknown origin, wielding unfathomable power, that appeared and disappeared out of nowhere.

Vulthuryol's jaws wrap around his body just as a blinding azure light erupts in the depths of that unholy horse's jaws.

The Dragon launched himself off the mountain, and the eldritch beast roared. The loud, horrifying, distorted howl was followed by a dense beam of glacial magic that changed the weather in a split second.

Dense snow started raining, the mountain they were on became ice, then powder, then a massive cloud made of that sparkling powdered ice.

Vulthuryol hadn't escaped unscathed from the immense, indiscriminate attack. His whole left wing had been caught in the attack and was frozen solid and shattered a second later, turning his dive into a perilous fall.

A golden sphere took form around the falling Dragon just before he could crash land, but the next series of falls still had him bounce and shake around the sphere protecting him and his Dragon Priest from the worst of the fall.

Alas, laughter filled the skies right before the sphere could touch the very bottom of the frozen valley.

The unholy horse creation disappeared, and so did all those colossal arms and legs… And the laughter drew closer and closer.

The origin of the mad, furious laughter fell from the skies like a falling star, inky darkness pooling out of his robes and becoming countless arms, limbs, claws, jaws, mouths-

They all came down on the golden sphere, crashing into it heavily and adding weight to its impact on the bottom of the valley.

A lance of flames cut through that oily substance making up those horrid abominations as Hevnoraak escaped the gentle grip of his master's jaws to fight back against their attacker in hopes of driving him off, but the Dragon Priest was growing desperate. Afraid.

Like master, the disciple was a coward too, after all.

His desperation was reflected within his Spells. Everything was falling apart way too fast before his eyes. Hevnoraak's terror was making him do mistake after mistake, and his confidence wavered further due to his distance to his treasury, where all of his artifacts lay.

A wave of his arm pushed Vulthuryol back, and the Dragon Priest had his golden Ward explode in a burst of pressure and radiance, pushing the creator of those abominations back.

Then Hevnoraak multiplied. The Fork of Horripilation fused two Magic Schools together, bringing Illusion Magic and Restoration Magic to create physical Illusions. Extensions of himself.

One appeared on his right, the other on his left. Then they subsequently multiply too. Again and again.

Three become six, six becomes twelve, twelve become twenty-four. More of him filled the air, each weaving a different Spell, replacing pure power for sheer quantity.

But the Abomination did not falter even for a moment, nor did he waste a second.

One Illusion burst apart when a star smashed straight through its chest. Another one was grabbed by a twisted, unholy hand with far too many fingers and mouths on it and squeezed into paste.

And Hevnoraak started letting loose.

Spells rained down, shaking the valley, yet they barely drowned out the roars and squeals and horrible wails of those eldritch monstrosities.

One Hevnoraak tried to flee towards his temple to grab some treasure, but was erased by a javelin of lightning swallowing him whole.

Another had sneaked behind the robed man, only for a colossal, twisted dog head to appear from the cloak and tear the head off that Hevnoraak.

That inky, oily darkness spread, swallowing the valley, ignoring the Spells, and further birthing abominable beings that just refused to disappear. That just came back in greater numbers, with more limbs, more mouths, more eyes-

And the man just kept on laughing!

"My boy, just run!" Vulthuryol insisted from behind him, urgency within his voice, "Leave me behind! Go, damn it!"

Hevnoraak snarled, "I will not leave you behind! Not again!" He won't abandon the only one who had faith in him since young once more.

A Dragon Priest should die before their Dragon. The other way around was a shame that Hevnoraak, despite his cowardice, refused to bear.

"What a touching scene…" The voice of the other Undead in the valley reached Hevnoraak's ears as he felt yet another of his clones be torn apart.

Another attempted yet again to reach for his ruined temple, but Hevnoraak didn't even see what bisected it in half.

"Not laughing anymore, you bastard?" Hevnoraak questions, voice dripping with anger and nervousness, his staff once more humming as Water and Earth Magic synergized to launch forward a wave of mud that obscured the vision.

Only for it to freeze and shatter a second later, revealing the slowly approaching figure of the robed man dripping ink-black oil with each step he took. "I forgot what I was laughing about." The man muses, voice wistful.

Then pauses, "Oh yeah… I was thinking about killing you in a very, very painful way." The robed Undead states in a very cheerful voice, and Hevnoraak couldn't help but scoff out of pure derision.

"Undead don't feel pain." The Dragon Priest spits out harshly.

Yet, the Undead before him simply tilts his head, "Then why are you shivering from the cold?"

Hevnoraak comes to a stop. Slowly, he looks down at the hand holding his staff.

It was trembling.

Why did he feel cold?

How did he feel cold?

How did he feel?!

That's when he takes note of the dense mist. Of the cold clinging to him. Hevnoraak wanted to huddle on himself, to hide away from the cold near a warm fire, to… His mind was starting to feel slow.

Like he was tired.

Hevnoraak roars, terror and fury mixing together to drive him senseless, and his hand rises to aim the tip of the Fork of Horripilation at the Undead- A gauntlet-clad hand wraps around the fork, then squeezes.

A shattering sound fills the air, and Hevnoraak's prized stave and Artifact crumbles into shards before his very eyes.

The robed man draws his other arm back, and a golden barriers erupts into existence around Hevnoraak, who instantly plans to leap back and escape with Vulthuryol, thoughts of driving his opponent away-

The fist crashes through his golden Ward like it was made of glass, and the fist erupts into countless claws that cover Hevnoraak's face and head before yanking him out, shattering the rest of the golden Ward with his body.

"This is disappointing." The man muses, an underlying of fury within his seemingly calm voice as those purple flames stared fixedly at the struggling Dragon Priest within his grasp, "You are disappointing me."

"Champion of Sheogorath, my ass." The other hand rises, and the distorted eldritch limbs retreat so that only the two natural hands could grip the sides of Hevnoraak's skull, "What am I supposed to do with all this bottled up fury inside of me if you can't even give me a proper fucking fight!?"

His grip cracked Hevnoraak's skull, the limbs trembling from the intense anger that could affect even his non-living body in such a way.

"Let him go." Vulthuryol speaks, earning Leonidas' attention, purple flames flicking to stare at the heavily wounded Dragon's last remaining head from where the beast lay at the bottom of the hill, "It is me you want. So just let him go, please."

"My Lord-!" Hevnoraak starts, only to explode into a squeal of pain when sparks of Lightning Magic erupt around his form.

Using Lightning Magic on others was known as the worst type of torture in existence, and the pain was far greater for those that have large Magicka reserves.

Lightning Magic and Magicka interacted like two magnets. One was positive, the other negative. And Lightning Magic pushed Magicka out of the way, hence why it could so easily destroy Wards and other Magic Spells.

And when used on a body? One would feel their Magicka be forcefully and painfully pushed out of their bodies while also feeling the heat and electricity ravage their insides.

The sparks of Lightning died down after a second, leaving the Dragon Priest limp and whimpering from the horrifying pain. As he was a being held together by Magicka itself, this form of torture was even more painful for him.

Leonidas hums, keeping his gaze locked on the nervous Vulthuryol, "He seems to be really important for you, huh?" The Undead muses, and the Dragon slowly nodded.

"He is my pride." For Vulthuryol, those words were enough to describe their relationship.

Leonidas hums once more, "I guess then, that if you die, he'll be very, very sad…" Leonidas states, now speaking towards the Dragon Priest within his grasp.

Vulthuryol instantly has a bad feeling.

And that bad feeling is proven correct the very next second, "Guess now I know what to do with this bottled up fury of mine!" His cheerful voice echoes across the air right as azure flames and sparks of lightning flow across his arms.

"Please stop-!"

The scream that cut through the air like a hot knife and echoed across the valley was inhuman.

Hevnoraak wailed. He screamed. He squealed. And he struggled like a mad animal knowing he was about to be struggled.

His body was cloaked in raging azure flames and rumbling arcs of lightning that tore through him, breaking his mind with the most horrific pain imaginable.

His limbs flailed. He tried kicking, punching, slapping- But his bones just broke and failed, brittle and weak compared to the monster gleefully ending his existence in the most brutal way possible.

The azure flames burning Hevnoraak's form swelled into a massive pyre, the crackling of lightning turning into a clap of thunder that echoed with the screams of the tortured Dragon Priest.

Until the pyre swelled into an enormous pillar of flames that lit up the valley… The disappeared into azure embers.

Vulthuryol stared, horrified, as a Mask clattered to the ground right where Hevnoraak used to be.

His enormous form slowly inches back, shivering and trembling in fear.

The robed Undead dropped his arms to his sides, and just… Stared forward.

The setting Sun stood behind him, making that darkness covering his form appear even darker. More sinister. As if billions of things were hiding within it and were eager to escape through.

Vulthuryol breathes out, takes another step back-

Then freezes when, slowly, a pair of purple flames moves to look at him.

The Dragon cowers, whimpers, and turns around to flee-

The unsettling darkness swallows the valley.

And from it, a billion limbs and creatures erupt forth, clawing at the Dragon and tearing into him.

The valley was once more drowned in noise.

But this time, it was the noise of flesh being ripped apart, munched on, torn and flailed.

All the while, a Dragon screamed.

A.N. I dunno, I rewrote this chapter… Four times?

Still not satisfied. Am afraid y'all won't like it.

Dunno why, I just can't find the right mix of things.

Either way, this was a minor show of what Leo can do now, and the enormous power-up he recently gained.

Now, only the strongest Dragon Priests remain, all on par and way stronger than Deinmaar himself.

Am still disappointed with this chapter, but I doubt I could have done better.

Still, hope y'all enjoyed it even a little bit!

Toodles!