It was a chorus of resounding cheers that awoke me. I jerked awake in my bed, head coming up off of my threadbare pillow, my hand shooting out to the side of the bed where two sheathed iron blades sat resting and my hand wrapped around one of the handles on instinct before I realised what I was doing.
I groaned, flopping back and collapsing on my bed once more. 'Fucking Vigilants of Stendarr.' I complained internally in annoyance. They'd been here partying at the Dead Mans Drink since just after I arrived in Falkreath and booked a room for myself for the night. They'd been all over the place with how active vampires were recently and killing the lesser ones by the butt loads and thinking they were amazing for it, despite the fact most of them were civilian turned thralls with little to no training and even then they still had to gang up on them.
So much for all those virtues they loved to preach about. They couldn't even let a guy get some sleep. My head is fucking pounding and I've got exams at school to take in the morning.
Wait.
I blinked slowly. 'I don't go to any schools.' I shook my head. I was planning on heading to Winterhold to join the College of Winterhold and while there I think I'll do my best to get a part time job and fix up my house more, it came already furnished thanks to the council, but it wasn't exactly the best looking stuff and the television was tiny, I had to sit close to it to get a good view when playing my Xbox.
'...No that's not right.' I shook my head again, turning over to burrow my face in the pillow. Nowhere in Skyrim had any electricity, unless you counted lightning magic.
Wait, no that was wrong as well. Electricity?
My temples gave a sharp, piercing throb and my head was consumed by pain. It felt like hundreds of chisels were being hammered into my head and needles piercing through every pore and stabbing into my very brain.
Thoughts. Feelings. Images.
Memories.
They rushed on through my head too quickly for me to grasp or comprehend. My world was just a blur of liquid agony as memory after memory was deposited into my mind.
'It's too much! My head's gonna crack like an egg!!' I thought desperately.
And then, abruptly, it finished and sweet blissful darkness took me.
Yormin Fafning. A newly orphaned boy, having lost both parents to a skirmish between Imperials and Stormcloaks. Of both Nord and Breton descent, a boy of sixteen winters, who grew up in the countryside around Helgen.
Yarden Odhar. A boy orphaned as a baby. Sixteen years old, fifth year high school student, a resident of Scotland who had left his orphanage behind and gotten his own place not long after turning sixteen.
A golden light suffused my palms as I held them over my temples, massaging the sides of my head gently. 'That was not pleasant.' I grunted as I luxuriated in the healing warmth emitting from my hands and dulling the pain that made it hard to think.
The memories of two people, of two teenagers lifetimes clashing together in my head was not a pleasant experience. The memories were so enter twined, I couldn't even tell where Yormin ended and where Yarden began. I couldn't tell if I was Yormin, or Yarden, or just some macabre fusion of the two.
'My magic power is stronger than yesterday.' I noticed easily enough though. It wasn't by any massive amount, but it was a noticeable increase nonetheless, my wells of magic power deeper. 'A fusion of the souls then, perhaps?' I mused.
For as absurd as it all was, I'd heard of much weirder in passing. I lived in a world where demonic gods regularly appeared and tempted to mortals, and where there were bipedal, sentient lizard and cat people.
It would just take a little bit getting used to.
It was perhaps easier for me to roll with it. For as long as I can remember, my mother, a Breton had been teaching me all she knew of magic, and specifically having me focus on enchantment magic, a type of magic that could make the user rich beyond belief. My parents had placed their hopes on me raking in gold with it so we could leave our poor lifestyle behind.
But alongside that, there was many a lesson on at least the basics of all other branches of magic that she'd learned herself back in her homeland before coming to Skyrim. And the warnings of all the amazing, mystical and downright horrifyingly mysterious things that could happen with magic.
I sighed as the pain faded away finally and lowered my hands from my temples. They weren't throbbing anymore with pain, thank fuck for that.
I flopped back down onto my bed and stared up at my ceiling. 'It's the year 4E 201.' I mused. And if I'm not mistaken, it's only a day or two before the events I learned of from Yarden Odhar's memories.
As unbelievable as it was, I had gained memories of the future from those memories. Memories of the future that came from said boy playing a game called Skyrim, following the adventures of the Last Dragonborn.
That was crazy. I had grown up in this world on stories of the Dragonborn and their legendary power over the thu'um. And right now, as I lay here thinking, they were most likely about to run into an Imperial ambush and wake up to Ralof and Alduin.
My eyes widened and I jolted back up into a sitting position, "Shit, Alduin!" I cursed. The World Eater was going to come out swinging soon and revive the dragons, and if the Last Dragonborn failed, then the entire world would be devoured by Alduin.
If that wasn't bad enough, there was Harkon and his crazy plan to turn the world into one of eternal night, and Miraak the very first Dragonborn.
With those enemies looming, and Skyrim divided with civil war, the odds were heavily against them.
And if that wasn't enough, even if the Last Dragonborn did manage to stop them all and save Tamriel and Mundus alike, there was still the Thalmor and their crazy ass plan to destroy the towers and destroy all of the mortal realm.
"You've got to be fucking with me." I groaned, palming my face at the absurdity of it all.
And at the end of the day, there is literally jack shit I can do about it all. I'm a sixteen year old brat, with no authority in Skyrim at all to bring people together.
It's not like I'm useless mind you. My father was a Nord who fought and survived the war. He taught me how to fight, he taught me how to smith and he taught me how to hunt. My mother, taught me how to use all the basic spells of every magic discipline, and both of them did all they could to earn enough money to get materials and scrolls to teach me how to enchant growing up. And I am special in my own way. Every mortal race has an inherent ability, and I'm not talking about the likes of Nords being highly resistant to the cold or the Breton's being highly resistant to magic.
I'm talking about the true racial abilities. Like the Orc's Berserker Rage that briefly doubled all of their physical abilities when used.
It is rare for anyone to inherit their racial ability. Only one in a hundred these days will gain their true racial ability. I am special in my own way, because I inherited both the racial abilities of the Nord race and the Breton Race.
Battle Cry – The ability to exude a battle lust and intent to kill so tangible in can paralyse others in fear.
Dragonskin – The ability to absorb half the power of any spell that makes contact and fuel my own magic power with it.
Useful, handy abilities. But, in the end, not exactly the ability to shout at the world itself and force reality to bend over and take my cock up its fat arse.
I sighed, "In the end the only thing that really sets me apart.." I trailed off, glancing at the pair of sheathed iron short swords resting against my bed. I reached over and unsheathed them.
They gleamed in the morning light coming from my room window, but they really were just a pair of simple iron blades. They weren't at all remarkable in their design or make in any way shape or form.
Except for a pair of little tid bits.
One of them rippled gently with red light, while the other hummed and glowed with a bright blue light noticeable even with the sun shining down on them.
One was enchanted with the fire attribute. While the other was enchanted with the lightning attribute. Normally, they'd both be worth at best around five gold coins each. But with these enchantments? I could probably get two hundred gold for them each.
I enchanted them with the souls of two cave bears I hunted with my father prior to his death.
I admired the pair of blades of my own make and couldn't help but feel pride in them. They weren't ebony masterpieces or anything like that, but they were solid, reliable weapons and easy to recharge. And they were incredibly helpful in combat thanks to the fact I could augment their elemental powers with my own magic spells.
I sheathed them once again and sighed for the...I don't know how many times.
I'm getting way ahead of myself. I know that. I'm jumping to conclusions and fretting over things that haven't happened yet. Letting the memories of Yarden send me into a tizzy.
But, I can't help it. It was easy to confirm my knowledge was at least partially correct. I didn't even have to leave my room. All I had to do was remember something I overheard last night when I reached the Hold of Falkreath.
I overheard a pair of guards talking while they were drinking. Speaking of a small girl who had been torn a part by a beast. A beast that had turned out to be a man. A man who right now was in the holding cells underneath the guard barracks.
That would be Sinding. The Werewolf who couldn't control his transformations at all and who stole the Ring of Hircine.
And there was of course the Vigilants of Stendarr. And how active they were because of the mass activity of vampires throughout Skyrim lately. The mass of activity that was because of Harkon riling them up and forcing them to search for Serana and her Elder Scroll so he can get his hand son the Bow of Auriel.
'Why couldn't it have been the other way around?' I ran my hand through my hair with a groan. Why couldn't the Yormin Fafning half go to Yarden Odhar's world and fuse with him, giving him all his memories and abilities. If that happened, he would be able to live on easy straight in the lap of luxury in a technical marvel of a world with all manners of comfort Skyrim lacked and entertainment in the form of video games and other such marvels.
Unluckily for me, I am stuck in a world and time period, where the only way to be truly relevant and be able to make a difference and change the world, is to have the inborn ability to devour the souls of reality breaking, titanic dragons and gain their power for my own.
I blinked as a thought occurred, my eyes going back to my enchanted iron blades. "….Dragons are definitely beyond me, but it doesn't have to be a dragon I use." a grin slowly spread across my face as my eyes trailed from the dual enchanted iron blades, to a pouch sitting on the dresser beside my bed.
My pouch of soul gems. And the two special soul gems Father had managed to barter a travelling Khajit trader for last year.
A pair of ebony black soul gems.
Enchantment magic was a very finicky art. It was impossible to enchant spells into the body. And the souls used through soul gems, were merely fuel used to charge and power the spell put into an object.
It was possible to leave out the spell enchantment and flat out put the soul in another receptacle though. For instance, another soul.
It was a dark practice used to increase magic power. And not even by all that much, because the vast majority of the soul tended to disappear to places nobody had figured out yet. No matter if they were used to enchant an object or put in another receptacle.
Well, beyond me now. I now know they go to the Soul Cairn.
Really, with how much Black Soul Gem's cost, it would be an utter waste to use them to get a boost in my magic power I could get after a few weeks of training and effort.
….But, what if I enchant the strengths of aspects of captured souls into my own? Like a curse woven into their very souls by Daedra?
It was early. So early in fact, that even looking out the window of my rented room, there were not many people out and going about their business. The only people I caught sight of at all making their way through the streets of the hold were guards.
And as I stepped out of my room, I was welcomed by the sight of dozens of white robed men collapsed over tables, snoring away.
Well, to be expected I suppose. With how many of them there were, there wouldn't exactly be enough rooms at the Dead Mans Drink inn for all of the Vigilant's Of Stendarr. And with how early it was, I couldn't even see Valga, the owner of the inn in sight, just one of her employees sitting behind the bar half asleep himself.
'They went totally overboard.' I shook my head, making my way to the front door and stepping outside, the cold morning air brushing against my face. I found another vigilant snoring away on a seat on the porch.
Really now, all this because they managed to take down one single lesser vampire?
My eyes landed on the brass necklace hanging around his neck and reaching over, I plucked it up from around his neck.
'Hmm, definitely enchanted.' I noted as I examined it, stepping down from the porch into the street. It was a pitiful enchantment, incredibly weak, made most likely with a lesser soul gem and probably the soul of a mud crab or something. I ran my magic through it to examine the enchantment, and found that it was an enchantment that passively enhanced the durability of the wearer.
'Just a standard basic physical enchantment.' I mused, sticking it in my fur top. Most likely, it was mass produced.
Most of the forces of the Vigilants Of Stendarr were peasants with practically zero experience in a fight. Much of the appeal of joining them for the standard person was them outright declaring that the recruits would not only be armed, but also taught magic.
In general, Nords were not fans of magic. But, they weren't specifically trying to recruit Nords alone. And there were a lot of avenues that opened up to someone that knew some magic. Even just general quality of life was improved massively from knowing some basic magic..
All of them from what I gathered and overheard, were grouped up and taught three spells. Healing, Oakflesh and Lesser Ward.
Healing was obvious, to deal with any wounds. Lesser Ward was a simple barrier spells to help block the effects of magic spells, used to resist the natural vampiric blood draining spell that even the lowest of all vampires got access to, and even somewhat blocked physical attacks.
Oakflesh was probably the most powerful of the three spells. A spell used to enhance the users durability and the hardness of their bodies, not only protecting them, but letting them hit harder as well.
With those three spells, mass produced weak enchantment necklaces and robes, while grouping up in the dozens. Even they would be capable of dealing with the standard lower class vampire.
But that was all.
Vampirism may have been a curse, but it was only truly a curse because it had those infected with it bound for Cold Harbour, the realm of Molag Bal.
Your standard commoner peasant turned into a vampire, would find their physical abilities increasing easily five times over and becoming resistant to magic. Gaining access to an innate vampire magic called Blood Draining. Gifted with immortality and a healing factor that would allow them to recover from almost any wound given enough time, bar getting their limbs cut off.
And the only real draw back was weakness to the sun and being more susceptible to fire.
And that was only the standard lesser vampires. There were much higher vampire forms on the totem pole. Such as the Volkihar Clan of vampires. The strongest of all vampires. The Vampire Lords who stand above even Master and NightMaster Vampires.
A clan of vampires that have kept to themselves for thousands of years and who nobody should really know about right now.
I grinned. 'But, I know all about them now.'
That was why, right now, my destination was the Falkreath graveyard.
And specifically, where a Volkihar Vampire is bound and helpless.
You know.
What I'm planning on doing, is utterly crazy.
There are definitely other ways out there to get stronger. Items out there that if I get my hands on can massively enhance my strength and make me absurdly powerful. I could even attempt to dedicate my time to learning some of the thu'um.
The problems with all of those though, for the most part. Are three simple facts. One, time is not a luxury right now. Should the Last Dragonborn fail, this world is fucked. So even if I became a standard vampire and gained immortality and worked myself to the bone over a period of time to become strong enough to make a difference, it was a moot point if I could never get to that point in the first place because the world had already ended.
Second. Is the fact that most of these items I could use to become absurdly powerful, required the strength of the Last Dragonborn to attain, and as good as I think I am, I'm certainly not strong enough to cut my way through entire bandit tribes without getting a scratch. Or dealing with the likes of Draugr Overlords and Death Lords, Draugr known for using the thu'um itself.
While most of the memories I gained seemed to have lined up nicely, some aren't quite right. The Thu'um aren't simple funny words you can spout and shoot someone harmlessly head over ass. Even at the weakest, the Unrelenting Force shout, according to hearsay, could pulverize a boulder. A simple Fus could liquify my organs and shatter all of my bones as I am right now.
So yeah, fuck dealing with them as I am right now. Just getting clipped by one of those will be the end of me.
Three. Is perhaps the fact that, I'm quite lazy and should things work out the way I want, I will see immediate, massive benefits.
That was why, I found myself prowling through the graveyard of Falkreath, searching between the graves for my target.
And all in, it didn't take me very long at all to find them.
After all Vighar is an ancestor of the Jarl, nobility himself even. And the family of the Jarl had their own private lot at the very back of the graveyard, separated from the common rabble of the peasantry.
The tombstone was large and grandiose, as were most of the tombstones of the nobility. It was so old though, that despite the high quality marble it was made of, it was chipped here and there, and the writing was faded.
I ended up walking passed it twice at first before I took a closer look and could just make out the name on it.
"Right, let's get this done quick." I mused, grabbing my neck with both palms and cracking it as I gave a look around myself just to make sure nobody was around. It was the crack of dawn, and I'm at the furthest part of the cemetery, but just in case.
I took my hands off of my neck and lifted my right hand, magic filling my palm and casting a light blue glow. "Come." I ordered and thrust my hand out, the light leaving my palm in a small orb. It impacted the grass in front of me and ballooned in size, growing and expanding until it became half my size, before shattering like glass and fading away to reveal an ethereal blue wolf standing at attention.
At the very basics, conjuring a familiar was quite easy. They were the low tier souls of animals without much magic power within their souls. Doing so required binding the soul of a freshly dead animal. This wolf specifically was the very first wolf I ever killed with my own two hands.
As far as lesser familiars went. I had this wolf alone. I hadn't really felt the need to bind any more other than it. But, now that I've changed, I kind of really want to grab some more, like a sabre cat, or a bear.
"Go take a look around the area," I commanded, "Come get me if you find anyone getting close to me."
The wolf dipped its head lightly in a slight bow, before trotting off to patrol the area and keep an eye out for me.
That taken care of, I turned back towards the grave of my target and lifted my hand into the air. I could conjure a spade and start digging, but that would take far too long. I have a useful spell for this kind of thing.
A red glow emanated form my hand and a moment later, the same red glow suffused the grass in front of the tombstone. I clenched my hand into a clawed shape, and began to raise it into the air.
The grass broke apart and great big clumps of mud and dirt rose into the air, mimicking the motion of my hands, every piece surrounded by glowing red magic power.
Telekinesis. A very handy little spell for moving large objects or groups of objects.
It wasn't an incredibly powerful spell though. Despite how powerful telekinesis itself was inherently in my memories. The telekinesis spell wasn't very gentle, and it was hard to focus it for smaller objects.
It quite simply, was lacking in dexterity. And it had no effect when used on living bodies either. And there wasn't exactly a lot of wiggle room to improve upon it.
Well either way, while it wasn't some game changer spell, it was useful, especially right now.
I dug out the grave with telekinesis, and mere minutes later, had a coffin levitating in the air, surrounded by the same red glow.
I lowered it to the ground gently and made my way over to it, grasping the lid and swinging it open.
I was met by the sight of an older gentleman, arms clasped over his chest and eyes shut, looking for all intents and purposes, as if he was taking a lovely, refreshing nap.
There was not a blemish on him or the insides of the coffin, no dirts, bugs or anything like that, and despite his pale skin, he looked normal.
Normal that is, except for the small rippling white light that suffused his body. 'This must be the ward keeping him contained.' I mused. I reached out to touch it and my finger went right through, 'Huh. So it only keeps him in, not anything from going inside.'
That made things incredibly simple and easy for me. What luck.
Though it did bring up the question. Why the hell did they just keep him buried if he was vulnerable like this, they could kill him at any time! As long as the ward stone keeping the ward up was kept in good condition, this guy was a sitting duck.
'Well whatever, I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.' I mused. I raised my left hand up and fired off a sphere of purple light that went right through the ward and smacked into his body, spreading across it.
"Right, Soul Trap's done." I nodded to myself and reached into my pocket, where I was keeping my pouch with my soul gems and pulled out one of the two biggest within, one of the Black Soul Gems.
Then I lifted my right hand up and focused my magic. Flames burst into existence along my arm, yet did not hurt me.
I leaned over the coffin and reached inside, placing my flaming hand on his face, forcing his mouth open and then unleashed my magic in full, firing a stream of flame right in his mouth and right down his throat.
It was probably a good thing for him that the ward kept him completely unconscious from what I can tell. It means he doesn't need to feel the pain of being roasted alive from the inside out.
And yet, despite all the flame I was unleashing point blank, with all my power, as hot as I could make it. It took over thirty seconds before the effects showed on the outside of his body, his innate regeneration as a vampire healing him even with most of his power sealed here and him being unconscious and completely immobile.
It was a full minute before his body burst into molten ashes and I cut off my flames. "Fucking hell." I panted, even as the light of his soul was sucked up into my left hand and then into the Black Soul Gem and bound tightly with no way of escaping.
That was fucking absurd. Even in that state, his regeneration was that powerful? I mean, I know Master Vampire's are said to have the strength and power to cut through a hundred trained nord fighters, and as a Volkihar Vampire Lord, he would be multiple tiers in rank and power above one, but that really is insane.
A grin spread across my face as I caught my breath, 'It speaks really well though of how strong I'm going to be.' I chuckled.
Turning, I stowed the Black Soul Gem inside my pocket and grabbed out a small empty pouch and scooped up the ashes left behind into it.
A powerful vampires ashes are not only a very expensive alchemical ingredient for creating potions. It can also be used in the forging of a weapon to increase its magical potential for enchantment. And beyond all that, even the ashes of a vampire can spread the vampirism curse if ingested.
With that taken care of, I quickly closed the coffin over once again and deposited it back inside the dug out grave with telekinesis, before doing the same with the dirt, mud and grass I'd pulled up and filled it all again.
I clicked my fingers and dismissed my wolf spirit familiar and quickly vacated the area. As I did, I pulled the filled Black Soul Gem from my pocket and held it up aloft over my head, admiring the glow from within it, "One down, one to go." I laughed.
Questionable Questing
Gusfes, 0Jordinio0 replied to a thread you are watching at Questionable Questing.
[NSFW] - The Hybrid (Skyrim Self Insert)

All things considered, I honestly can't believe my luck. It was never stated in game when someone stole the ward stone and Vighar escaped from his little coffin prison. Only that it was a recent thing.
For me to appear here, when both of my prey are more or less, complete sitting ducks is more luck than I've ever had before. In either life.
Especially Vighar. If he weren't there I'd most likely have to settle for the soul of a low class vampire. It wouldn't really be a big thing all things considered, since the enhancement a human got upon becoming even a lesser vampire was quite substantial, but the difference between one and a vampire lord, was like the difference between a kitten and a lion.
Not only that. But vampires grow stronger with age. So on top of being the pinnacle tier of Vampire, Vighar is- was much older than any fledgling lesser vampire. If his tombstone is anything to go by, he was born nearing the end of the second era. He was nearly a thousand years old.
Granted the majority of that time he spent locked up in that coffin. But hey, his loss is my gain, and I am so very very fucking happy with my 'loot'.
So, with my business now taken care of in the graveyard, I headed back into the streets of Falkreath and made my way towards the guard barracks and prison.
I passed by quite a few on my trip there, which boded well for me.
When I got there, I cast muffle on myself and the entryway. And then used Detect Life to check out the insides of the building. It was a building with three levels, a ground level, an upstairs and a large basement that acted as the prison.
It was a rather large building all said and done, and one of five guard barracks, though this one is the only one with a proper prison beneath it, but despite its size, I only detected three living people within the building currently. The rest were all out. Two on the ground floor, which must be hold guards, and one in the basement, that had to be Sinding. The two on the ground floor were awake and moving around, but I could feel through my spell that the one in the prison was sound asleep.
Perfect.
I gently pushed the door open just a fist inches and stuck my hand inside, a warm glow of magic power infusing my hands and I unleashed it in a roiling wave that swept over the interior of the ground floor.
Calm, was very useful despite being such a low tier spell.
Every being that possessed magic power within them had an innate magical resistance. Those of Breton descent had that trait magnified over five times over.
And the stronger the magic power, the stronger the magic resistance.
Your typical Nord warrior despite being incredibly physically powerful, had rather low innate magic resistance, because in this day and age, the majority of Nords had taken a disliking to magic after that whole fiasco with the College Of Winterhold.
That was why, I felt the effects of my spell take effect on the two guards inside within moments. My spell forcing a calm, tranquil state of mind in them.
And a little side effect of being exposed to the Calm spell for an extended period of time, was drowsiness.
And as such, it only took a minute or so before I felt both guards fall asleep.
I pushed the door open once they were slumbering and entered, the muffled sound around the entrance making it so the door did not make a sound at all as I opened it.
I caught sight of the two guards. Dressed in the dark blue Falkreath guard uniform, their helmets off. They were a pair of burly Nord men. One was slumped over his chair, head tilted back, while the other was sprawled across a table, snoring away into what looked like his breakfast.
'Sorry mate.' I apologized internally. But needs must and all that.
I glanced at them for a few moments longer, before walking passed them and to the other edge of the room where a set of stairs led down to another door. As I was about to head on down though, my eyes landed on a weapons rack at the side of the room.
A multitude of weapons and armour lay strewn across it. All good finely forged and expensive steel. Say what you will about the holds of Skyrim, but the guards were generally all nicely equipped since they had to deal with not only bandits and such that targeted the city, but the likes of wild sabre cats, bears, and even the odd troll or giant.
...The best equipment I had right now, were my blades. Enchanted as they were, they were still iron. And I'd lost most of my other possessions just a few short weeks ago when my parents were killed and my home destroyed in the crossfire of a Stormcloak and Imperial confrontation.
"Well...I'm sure they won't miss a few things." I chuckled lightly. It was a good thing I brought my rucksack with me.
I walked over and grabbed two steel short swords and slipped them into the bag, and a pair of steel gauntlets and boots. Then, to finish up I grabbed a small pair of steel war axes and slid them into my belt.
Enchanting these would get me a nice amount of gold when I sell them.
That taken care of, I headed down the stairs, casting muffle on the door like the one previously and gently eased it open and stepped into the prison.
It was a very large, widespread square room. There was no furniture at all beyond a large square table with chairs around it in the middle. While the far end of the room and the right side, were bordered off into dozens of small metal barred cells.
My eyes went to the left side of the room though. There was another cell there, but, unlike the wooden walls of the other cells, this one was entirely stone, and the entrance of the cell was tiny, barely enough for one man to fit through, the bars jutting up from the floor like spikes from a trap and piercing into the ceiling.
No key would open that cell.
A cell specifically designed to deal with those of great physical strength, like say, a werewolf.
My eyes landed on a bare chested, long blonde haired man laying in the middle of the cell within a bedroll. And then zeroed in one one hand he had atop his chest. And a white ring I could make out atop one of his fingers.
The Ring of Hircine.
It was definitely Sinding.
I took my eyes off of the sleeping man and looked at the entrance of the room where a large pull chain dangled. 'That'll open it I'm sure.' I mused.
My hands lit up with the Muffle spell once again and I spread let it spread out form my palms in a bubble, enveloping the room and muting everything. I couldn't even hear my own breath now.
I pointed my hand towards the chain and with a quick liberal use of telekinesis, it was yanked down and the spiky-like cell bars to Sindings cell slipped down into a hole out of view, making naught a sound as they did.
I unsheathed the flame enchanted iron blade and made my way over into the cell. I fired off a soul trap with my left hand, suffusing his body in a purple glow and then I raised my blade into the air above the sleeping, unaware man.
I hesitated for a moment. This isn't just killing someone in a fight. In this life, I'd done that quite a few times. Bandits had attacked my home more than once. I'd killed my first as a young boy of ten. This is cold blooded murder.
I clenched my jaw after a moment and rid myself of hesitation. It was easy when I reminded myself of something. If you helped Sinding, he would promise to stay away from human society so he would never lose control around innocent people like that poor little girl he ripped apart. But, after that and after parting ways with him, you could encounter him in the game strolling around Skyrim, apparently not keeping his promise.
I activated the enchantment on the blade, the surface of it becoming superheated and the metal glowing a molten orange. And then I swung down, and cleaved through the sleeping mans neck in one smooth motion.
Even the regeneration of a werewolf couldn't do anything if your head was cut clean off. Beyond burning them alive, that really was the only way to kill one.
A spray of blood spurted up the side of the wall the opposite side of me as he died, and his body erupted with purple light, his soul trapped and dragged up into the Black Soul Gem in my possession.
I eyed the body for a moment. And, I was surprised. I don't feel any regret at all for killing Sinding. Honestly, as far as I'm concerned, he deserved it.
I knelt down and took the ring from his corpse. And then I grabbed an empty canteen from my bag and took a moment to drain as much of his blood into it as I could, filling it up.
'If things don't work out, becoming a werewolf alone isn't the worst option.' I thought to myself as I stood back up and put the blood filled canteen in my bag and slipped the ring into my pocket.
It would increase my physical abilities even in my human form multiple-fold, give me regeneration and make me immune to diseases. And Hircines realm wasn't the worst place I could end up.
But, that's only an option if things don't work out the way I plan. I full heartedly believe I'll manage. Really, all I'll need to do is break the souls apart and put them back together after extracting the curse.
'Or..maybe once they're broken apart, I should put the souls together?' I stroked my chin as I quickly vacated the prison and crept back up into the ground floor after checking to make sure the guards were still asleep and nobody else had come back with detect life.
A mere minute later I was back walking the streets of Falkreath, leaving the guard barracks behind, having practically assassinated a prisoner with none the wiser to that fact.
'Hmm. If I put the souls together first, it might weaken the overall boost I get, but make the change more likely to happen as a fusion of the two, or would it?' I mused as I made my way back towards the Dead Mans Drink.
Strictly speaking, it was far easier to layer two separate enchantments into something, than fuse two enchantments into a stronger one. And half the time, even when it succeeded, the result was actually much weaker than intended.
I ruminated on the thought all the way back to the inn and until I got back to my room. "I'll think on this a bit more later." I sighed, throwing myself down onto my bed after dumping my gear on the floor.
Laying my head down on the pillow, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring I'd taken from Sindings corpse. I held it aloft and examined it. It was a simple thing, not complicated in design at all. But there was a simple beauty in its pure white marble gleam and the roaring wolf head fashioned on the front of it. "The question for now is, how do I get this back to Hircine?" I wondered. It was useless to me as it is. It's cursed after all due to Sinding stealing it.
Killing Sinding and gifting it back was definitely worth a boon or two though, right?
"Well met, Hunter!" a deep, booming, gravelly voice erupted suddenly into existence at my side.
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Last edited: Jul 11, 2021 at 5:57 PM