4E 201, Somewhere in the Mountains of the Pale
Calixto
The climb was not difficult. The snow crunched beneath Calixto's boots, and his breath misted before him in the sharp mountain air, but he barely noticed the cold. He had grown up in Windhelm, the freezing heart of Skyrim. The Pale was no different.
Above him, the Shrine of Mehrunes Dagon came into view, carved directly into the bones of the mountain.
It was… glorious.
The shrine towered over the path like a divine monument to apocalypse. The statue of Mehrunes Dagon was sat upon a throne. Four arms extended outward with silent judgment, each limb thick with power, clawed hands resting on his great axe and the sides of his seat. His face, carved in eternal snarl, looked down at all who approached.
Below the statue lay the altar—a black stone slab framed by reliefs of Dagon's many-headed visages, writhing and snarling. Beneath the altar, a heavy, locked stone door led deeper into the mountain.
Silus was already waiting.
He stood at the altar with reverence, his hands trembling slightly as he arranged the relics: the scabbard, the pommel fragment, and soon, the Razor itself.
"You're here. Good." Silus didn't look up. His voice was calm, steadying itself with purpose. "If you place the Razor on the altar, I should be able to contact Lord Dagon and ask him to restore the blade to its full glory."
Calixto said nothing. He stepped forward, pulled the broken Razor from beneath his cloak, and placed it gently beside the other components.
Silus lifted his hands above the altar, voice rising like a priest at a midnight mass.
"Mehrunes Dagon, Lord of Destruction, Prince of Change and Ambition, hear our plea! We return your sacred Razor to you, piece by piece, blood-earned and carried in reverence. Grant us your voice! Restore the blade and let it once again cut the veil of this world!"
Silence.
The wind howled around the shrine, curling like a predator through the peaks. But there was no reply. No fire. No voice. Nothing.
Calixto frowned as Silus looked deflated. "It seems… it's not working," he said quietly. "Perhaps… perhaps it must be you. Place your hands on the altar, and speak. You've touched the Razor more than anyone in centuries."
Calixto raised an eyebrow but complied. Curious, he thought. He placed his fingertips on the cold stone.
Then came the voice.
"You, mortal…"
It wasn't a sound that thundered through the heavens, but something spoke from inside him.
"You are worthy of speaking to. A life of embracing destruction, change and ambition. It has been an amusing game to witness. You are worthy to wield my Razor, but Dagon does not claim a winner while there is a pawn on the board. Kill Silus, for his family have served their purpose. Take your rightful place as my champion!"
Calixto's mouth widened into a sneer. "It shall be done, Lord Dagon."
His whispered words caught Silus' attention. "What was that?"
In a swift move, Calixto pulled the spare dagger he had strapped to his hip and plunged it into Silus' chest. He gasped, eyes wide, as Calixto twisted the blade. Blood poured down the man's tunic, darkening it like spilled ink.
"No—wait—" Silus choked.
Calixto ignored him, pulling out the blade and plunging it once more into Silus' heart.
Silus fell to his knees as his legs gave way, collapsing beside the altar, blood pooling around him, steam rising where it met the snow.
Calixto smiled as he wiped the blade clean on Silus' robes, then placed both bloodied hands upon the altar.
"I am pleased, mortal." Dagon's voice thundered again, this time with unmistakable satisfaction. "Take my Razor and wreak havoc upon the world!"
The Razor rose into the air, glowing faintly with infernal energy. The pommel stone hovered with it, rejoining the blade as ancient runes flared red along the edge. The scabbard opened like a mouth, swallowing the completed dagger with a hiss.
Calixto reached out and took it.
"Fill this world with destruction in my name! Witness the power of Mehrunes Dagon for yourself!"
Power surged through him. Not warmth. Not cold. Just force—pure and unfiltered. His senses sharpened. His thoughts felt clearer, crueler, as if some greater mind were now sharing space with his own.
He raised the Razor and swung at the edge of the altar. Stone was cleaved like scythe through a field, the corner sliced away cleanly.
Calixto laughed.
"With this…" he whispered, "I will kill any who stand in my way."
"Perhaps we can help each other then."
A sudden voice had Calixto spinning, dagger raised.
Ten feet away, standing calmly on the snowy steps that led to the altar, was a tall figure robed in blood-red. His face was shadowed beneath a deep hood, but Calixto immediately recognized the robes—the same kind he had seen in Silus' museum.
"The Mythic Dawn?" Calixto claimed in surprise.
"So you know of us? That makes things easier." the figure said smoothly. "You may consider me a friend, Calixto, for you and I share the same interests. I admit I only followed you here due to our mutual friend over there," he said, gesturing to Silus' body. "A pity. He was the descendant of one of our agents. But he lacked vision. You, however… Imagine my surprise when you came in carrying the Razor of Lord Dagon himself."
Calixto clenched the Razor in his hand. Seeing the act, the figure chuckled. "Relax, I won't be taking it from you. Lord Dagon has made it abundantly clear that you are his chosen champion. We wouldn't dare interfere with that. On the contrary…"
He stepped forward and pulled back his hood.
His face was unnervingly calm. Golden skin, sharp features, and piercing amber eyes that seemed to glow in the dying light. An Altmer.
"What offer? And why would you even want to help me?"
"Our interests align, for we serve the same Lord. My name is Mankar Camoran, and I am here to invite you to join the Mythic Dawn."
…
4E 201, Mountainous path to Dimhollow Crypt
Gerron Ironbreaker
Vigilant Tolan was a tall man, standing just a few inches shorter than Gerron. With a shaved head and mutton chops for a beard, none would ever call him good looking. But that didn't really matter since the man made for a fine warrior. A decade of faithful service to Stendarr had hardened him into something between a soldier and a crusader.
The man looked more like a battlemage than a priest, though most vigilants looked that way. His broad shoulders draped in the traditional brown-and-cream robes of Stendarr's Vigil, yet reinforced by steel pauldrons and a half-plate cuirass. A long ebony greatsword was strapped to his back, sharp as any other.
He was friendly and took his duties quite seriously. A practical man, one who held his beliefs like iron nails in his heart. It reminded Gerron of Filnjar.
They pressed up a winding trail carved along the Pale's frigid cliffs. Somewhere beyond the peaks lay Dimhollow Crypt, an ancient tomb a few leagues west of the Hall of Vigilants. Kiera had initially wanted to accompany him, but Gerron bid her to stay to spend time with her mother.
Halfway to their destination, they came upon a ring of worn stones surrounding an ancient monolith.
"The Lord Stone," Tolan murmured. "Been years since I saw this one."
The Artificer System flared to life in Gerron's mind, a familiar soft glow framing his vision.
[The Lord Stone]
Being one of the standing stones dotting the province of Skyrim, the Lord Stone is inscribed with the Tamrielic constellation of the Lord, capable of granting greater resistance to physical and magical damage.
Gerron raised an eyebrow at the description, before the next bit appeared and he widened his eyes.
[Tamrielic Inscriptionist]
With intense study of the constellations, you are capable of inscribing them into objects with sufficient magical power, granting them the gifts to rewrite fate according to the constellation inscribed. Be warned, for this requires a masterful knowledge of enchanting and a higher than average pool of magicka.
Gerron couldn't help the massive grin that erupted on his face. Was this not the answer to all his woes? Ever since he awakened the Artificer System, the one thing he had found trouble in was magic, for he had no true counter against them.
And now, with dragons waking, daedra meddling, and vampires crawling from ancient tombs, he'd need every advantage he could muster.
If he could inscribe the constellation to his ebony armor and enchant it, that would serve as an adequate protection against his future foes.
Though this did bring a new problem. For one, he was not a master of enchanting. At least not yet. While the system gave him plenty of knowledge regarding the subject, he still needed plenty of personal experience and experiments to be considered a true master.
Not to mention the amount of magicka it would take, as well a sufficient soul to power it. He had no qualms in believing nothing short of a grand soul was needed for this. The question is where he could get one.
Perhaps a visit to the College of Winterhold is in order?
"Interested in the standing stone?" Tolan questioned with an amused look. "The Lord Stone is far from the worst you could take. I personally have been blessed with the Lady Stone, allowing me to heal much faster than usual without the use of Restoration magic, as well regain energy and stamina in half the time."
"Not a bad one." Gerron nodded. "Though perhaps not today. I have a personal interest in getting the Warrior Stone, though I have yet to make the journey to earn it."
The three major standing stones were called as such due to the role it had done to shape the men and women of Skyrim. The Warrior, the Mage, and the Thief were all roles that many had chosen in their long journeys of pursuing life.
In a realm where physical prowess was looked upon favorably, the Warrior Stone was by far the most popular, for it grants any who was blessed by it greater power than the normal man. It made one stronger, faster, and enhances one's instincts in battle like no other.
Gerron was curious how strong he could become after combining the Warrior Stone with the Battle Smith perk of the system. Even without it, he could already snap the neck of a weaker dragon. What could he do when he had both blessings running through his veins?
"Respectable." Tolan nodded while chuckling. "It is the single most sought after stone by any respectable nord. Though after spending a decade as a Vigilant, I find the quick regain of health and stamina to be much more valuable."
…
It didn't take long then to arrive at Dimhollow Crypt, which was easily accessible by heading up a worm path up the mountainside.
The interior of the cave was dark, though it wasn't so bad that they couldn't see through it. Gerron took out the brass orb on his belt before throwing it ahead, the sphere opening and taking the form of Bronze.
The mechanical owl flew ahead as Gerron activated his vambrace, showing a pure screen of magicka that connected with the owl's vision. There were two vampires guarding the entrance deeper, engaged in conversation. Gerron couldn't scout further with them blocking the way.
With a quick nod to Tolan, they creeped further in, making sure to slow their steps and not letting their heavy armor clinking too much from the movement. They got close to the two vampires, managing to hear their conversation.
"…damned Vigilants keep snooping around. We should've killed the lot when we had the chance."
"It's not like we didn't try. I heard Daroanos and his pack went to chase them and never came back."
Tolan frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Carcette hasn't sent anyone to engage vampires… Not that I know of."
"Then let's ask them, shall we?" Gerron grinned. The conversation between the vampires ended abruptly when Bronze let out a shriek. The startled vampires turned just in time to see the hammer swing.
CRACK.
One vampire's ribcage caved in as Gerron smashed through him. The other barely raised his hands before Tolan's greatsword cleaved him down the middle. Blood sprayed the cavern walls.
A death hound lunged from the shadows, only for Bronze to dive downwards and claw its eyes out. Gerron finished the hound by stomping the beast's skull, ending it with a crunch.
"I thought we were going to ask them questions?" Tolan blinked.
Gerron just chuckled. "Well, there's bound to be more of them ahead."
They descended deeper. The air grew colder, thick with old blood and rot. A spiral staircase carved into ancient stone carried them downward into the heart of the crypt. Gerron yanked a rusted chain set in the wall; a groaning screech echoed far below as an iron gate opened somewhere ahead.
They pressed forward.
The next cavernous chamber was filled to the brim with vampires and death hounds. Gerron and Tolan stayed by the entrance, which was an elevated position, and merely rained down magicka bolts and fireballs from above.
The vampires didn't last long from the surprise attack, the ones that survived the initial volley shot back with bolts of ice and frost spikes. Gerron charged forward to engage them in close combat, caving in skulls and shattering ribs. One vampire, a pale nord with bone charms in his hair, raised a frost spell before being flung off a ledge by Gerron.
Further ahead was a large room, with urns and old chests put together by the corner. A few lanterns lit up the room and gave it a strange orange hue. Though what got their attention were the numerous vampire and draugr corpses that littered the ground around them.
"Looks like they fought each other," Gerron muttered, nudging a skull with his boot.
Tolan nodded. "This used to be a Nord tomb. My guess is they came looking for something. Perhaps an artifact, or a weapon?"
"Figures. I always wondered why our ancestors loved burying themselves with cursed heirlooms."
A splash echoed ahead. The two men sprinted toward the noise, following a passage that opened to an underground lake lit by glowing fungi and dim torches. Across the water, a small war raged—vampires and skeletons fought against a large swarm of frostbite spiders.
One vampire, a redguard woman clad in necromancer's robes, shouted commands while slinging bolts of magic.
They didn't hesitate to charge forward.
Gerron sprinted, launched himself over a broken bridge, and slammed into her with the full weight of his armor. She flew backward, slamming into a boulder.
Tolan lifted a hand covered in pure light before slamming it forward. An invisible wave was ejected from his fingers that turned all the skeletons to ash, their necromantic magics purged by the Light of Stendarr.
Gerron was a whirlwind of steel. His hammer turned every spider into mush. Globs of poison splat harmlessly against his armor. The smaller ones were harder to hit, climbing all over Gerron and webbing his limbs to slow him down.
Lifting his hammer, he simply slammed it down as a shockwave of lightning erupted from the impact. Numerous spiders were blown apart. Looking to the side, he saw Tolan finishing the last of the critters with a swing of his blade.
Bronze shrieked as he clawed a spider off Gerron's shoulder. Gerron turned and kicked it away, the spider hitting the surface of the lake with a splash.
"You good?" He asked the Vigilant, earning a nod in return.
They relaxed slightly while taking a look at their surroundings. It was as serene as it was beautiful. The lake glowed a green color from the numerous glowing mushrooms that were visible beneath the waters.
A wider hall loomed ahead with an open iron gate. Gerron and Tolan shared a look before walking forward.
The first thing they noticed was the corpse of a massive Frostbite spider. It had black fur, with numerous cuts adorning its body. Its many eyes were closed in death, though it only took a single touch to realize the death was recent.
"Must be the spider's queen." Gerron mused. "Whoever did this must be a decent warrior."
Soft sounds of footsteps emanated from the other side of the chamber. A tall and gaunt Breton woman, with the classic glowing red eyes of vampires, walked into view.
She froze in place when she saw them. "Vigilants!"
Wielding a wicked axe on her right hand, her left lunged forward clad in dark purple magic towards the corpse of the spider queen. "Rise, beast!"
The corpse rose up, reanimated. Gerron rolled to the side to avoid the massive limb that slammed to his position before swinging his warhammer into the spider's carapace.
The creature let out a screech. Gerron moved in, ducking under the mandibles that jerked forward to take a bite and swung his hammer down the spider's head, sparks unleashing from the lightning enchantment.
Lifting the hammer back, it revealed the spider queen crushed into paste, the soul no longer forced to live after the reamination.
Looking back to his current partner, he saw Tolan engaging the vampire, the two of them clashing in a blur of steel and blood as ebony sword met the vampire's axe. Gerron had to admit that the vampire was skilled—parrying and countering with speed—but she couldn't hold her own against both.
Tolan slashed across the vampire's chest, with her hissing in pain. Gerron took the chance to barrel and tackle the vampire into a wall, pressing his hammer to the vampire's throat.
Tolan kicked the axe that fell from her hand away before conjuring an orb of light that seared the vampire's cheek. "Talk," he growled. "Or die slower."
The vampire laughed bitterly, coughing blood. "You Vigilants sure are determined. You've already burned our lair and even followed us here. "
"By who?" Tolan asked, confused. "We haven't sent any patrols."
"Not yours?" the vampire sneered, amused. "He wore your robes, fought with your spells. Wields a hammer made entirely of light. Eyes like burning coals."
Gerron furrowed his brow, while Tolan grimaced.
"You know him?" Gerron asked.
"Aye, only one man I know is capable of something like that. It's Isran. He left the Order years ago. Said we were weak. Said we lacked… conviction."
The vampire grinned through broken teeth. "He doesn't lack it now. You may kill me, but you haven't begun to realize the ruin you have sought. Soon, all of humanity shall tremble before us. You'll see."
Tolan wanted to hear nothing more. With a quick swing, her head flew from her shoulders.
…
AN: The recent chapters have been having a higher word count than I intended, but I guess that's a good thing.
We're delving deeper into the mystery that is the vampires. Again, the AU has never been stronger than in this chapter. The resurgence of the Mythic Dawn as well as Mankar Camoran being alive is one hell of a creative liberty, but I thought why the hell not?
I'm setting Isran up to be more of a badass than he is in canon, able to create Bound Weapons not from the realm of Oblivion, but ones of solid light. It's an expert Restoration spell created by the leader of the Dawnguard himself.
Anyways, I had fun writing this chapter. We're probably gonna see Serana next chapter so stay tuned for that.
As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 29 should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!