Untitled Part 7

Issei Hyoudou, dressed in common clothes, sat on a chair inside Vilemyr Inn. "A bottle of mead, Innkeep!" Ordered the young man as his eyes scanned every person inside the Inn. 

A small town, populated by at least a hundred to less than five thousand people. Dressed in common clothes with dirt and grime, the simple attire made him blend in quite easily. 'Asia and the others are already on their way to High Wrothgar,' 

A bottle of mead landed on the counter—courtesy of the Innkeeper's daughter or helper. The smell of alcohol, the singing of the bards... 

"Rough day?" 

The slight trace of Daedric magic entered his attention as a man—a miner from the looks of it, sat by his side. 

"You can say that, curse this damn world. I lost my caravan and those blasted guards didn't even care to help me!" A slam of his curled fist on the table, a slight glare, and a slight tensing of muscles. 'Now, will you take the bait or will you wait?' 

"The gods test us in many ways," The miner said with a smile. "You're a merchant, right?" 

"Yes, I came from Bruma. My boss told me to travel with the caravan to Riften but we got attacked. By the Divines, my boss is going to kill me!" 

"Calm down," a soft voice from the miner replied in a smooth, silk-like tone. The tone sent shivers down the disguised young man's spine. 

The Dragon Throne is empty, and we hold the Amulet of Kings. Praise be to your brothers and sisters. Great shall be their reward in Paradise! Hear now the words of Lord Dagon: "When I walk the earth again, the Faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other Mortals forever." "As for the rest: the weak shall be winnowed; the timid shall be cast down; the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon." Your reward, Brothers and Sisters! The time of Cleansing draws nigh. I go now to Paradise. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn!

Those words from a sermon when he infiltrated a cult meeting of the Mythic Dawn echoed in his mind. 

"Now, will you tell me what happened?" 

'When did I become such a good liar?' Issei thought to himself as he told the man the story he had fabricated, faking a caravan attack by using several convicted murderers—men and women. He and the moderate faction of the Vigilants faked it and made sure to make it obvious by hiring some bandits contacted by one of his Knights. 

"Ah, the caravan attack near Arcwind Point," The miner looked at the young man. "My condolences and apologies Mr." 

"I'm Bendu, Bendu Olo," Issei said with a scowl. The same fake name he used to join the legendary assassin's guild, the Dark Brotherhood. 

"Let me ease your worries, my friend," 

'Got him,' Issei thought as he fell deeper and deeper into his character. 

=-=-=

'Near the Velothi mountains... Eastern Skyrim then,' The young pervert looked at the map of Skyrim. 'The time-wound on top of the throat of the world should have weakened the barriers between Mundus and Oblivion and with the Red mountain still erupting...' Marking the throat of the world and red mountain in his map while circling the Velothi mountains, his mind started working even more. 

Under the Night sky where the twin lights of Masser and Secunda and the stars where the children of Magnus fled the creation of the Mundus, A lone solitary young man sat by a fire. A black steed with intelligent crimson eyes knelt behind the man, acting as a backrest. The sound of the forest echoed along the wind of Kyne across the Northernmost province of the Empire of Cyrodiil as the young man took one last look at the map before throwing it into the flames. 

'I need to visit the College of Winterhold, I hope Urag is still alive,' The young man thought to himself, now having reached Ivarstead, he could take a detour to Winterhold to gather some more information about what the Mythic Dawn needed to do. 

So far, a great Welkynd Stone is accounted for and following the same thing he needed to get to open a portal to Mankar Camoran's paradise—the blood of a God, and a great sigil stone. 'They probably only need a Sigil stone and a Great Welkynd stone. But with the amount of Ancient Ayleid Ruins, the number of Vigilants, and other factors... not good, we won't be able to cover all Ayleid ruins,' Reaching a hand for the pouch in one of the saddles, the pervert held a hand out to catch a quill. 

'Everyone, sorry for not being able to travel with you for a while. I am currently traveling incognito to investigate something. I will offer as much help as I can to you by using my connections. I will be able to join you a month or two from now at least. Stay safe,' 

-Issei Hyoudou

 P.S.: If any of you need any sort of Magical assistance, head to the College of Winterhold and meet with the Librarian Urag Gro-shub and tell him these words;  'For worms, a great wise man. For Sorcerer-kings, a madman.' He should understand and help you with these. 

P.P.S.: If you do manage to get to the College, study these subjects; Varliance for Olga Marie, Alteration magic for Irina, Destruction magic for Xenovia, and Restoration magic for Asia. ONLY use the magic at the RIGHT SKILL LEVEL for safety reasons. 

Finishing his letter, the young man held his hand out as a small tube formed in his hand, 

"Staadia," 

A beautiful woman with golden armor appeared by his side, kneeling with her head lowered. 

"Yes, your grace," 

Rolling the letter and inserting it into the tube, Issei handed it to the woman. 

"Deliver this to Asia and the others, after that, gather some saints and seducers," 

"Your grace, if I may offer something," The woman said, looking up at the young man. "The sword given to you by Lord Sheogorath is in the hands of a Conjurer," 

"What sword?" Issei asked. Through his years in Tamriel, he has used countless weapons. Which one is this though? Shadowrend? Dawnfang? An Amber Blade? 

"The sword of Jyggalag," 

The young pervert dropped the tube as he looked at the woman in front of him. Above the sky, thunder rumbled, the campfire died. He can still remember it. The beautiful gray blade, perfect in symmetry as it clashed with his Amber blade, shield, and armor. An artifact, once used by the Daedric prince of Order, someone all the Princes of Oblivion worked together to curse and seal away due to his power. 

"The Mythic Dawn and now this... It's possible that some remnants of the Worm cult should be active here..." Hypothesized the pervert as he picked up the tube. "I guess, I'll have to kill so many people now," The pervert leaned back and onto the Black steed while the flames rekindled themselves. 

A melancholic smile appeared on his face as he thought about it. Conjurers capable of forming a connection with the realms of Oblivion are more powerful compared to the rest. 

"Take this to Asia and the others," Taking the tube, Staada gave him a bow before willing her form to change to that of a Golden eagle. Golden wings soared to the night sky as the young man stood up and took a sigh. 

"Shadowmere, what do you say about a nice hunt?" Issei asked with a smile, turning to face the crimson-eyed steed. 

The horse scoffed as it stood tall. 

"attagirl," The young man said with a smile as the things he used floated inside the pouches on the saddle while the bedroll rolled itself and flew on the saddle. Noticing the last remains of the burning map turn into ashes. A hand of killing light evaporated the remains of the campfire and a silent set of hooves danced into the moonlit path. 

Inside a cavern, a shadow danced upon the light of the flames. 

"Our lord is ready to return! Brothers! Sisters! Rejoice!" A man on top of a Podium chanted with passionate glee as a crowd clad in red robes cried out in joy, excitement, etc. 

"Shall we suffer the lies of our false gods?" 

"NO!" 

"Will those nobles and blessed ones lord themselves over us? To trample and insult our backbreaking labor and toil? To have them take the fruits from the sweat of our brows and the pains on our bodies?" 

"NO!" 

"Stand tall, brothers! Sisters!" The leader chanted. "Our lord, Mehrunes Dagon's return draws near! The false Dragon's reign and his empire will exist no more!" 

"What did I get myself into?" A feminine figure clad in red robes whispered to themselves as locks of red hair peeked out of the shadows of the hood, a pair of crimson orbs reflected the sight of the man on the Podium. 

After riding for several hours deep into the night, Issei Hyoudou pulled the reins of his horse—the scent of Blood and Magic filled his nose. Noticing the dawn coming from the east as usual he sighed. A shadow approached him along with a swarm of flying creatures and a head opened its mouth as sharp fang aimed to—the body overshot, passing over Issei.

A glint cut through the shadows as blood ran down the edge of a silver sword. 

"Clan Volkihar, huh?" Issei whispered to himself as he looked at the corpse near him. Vampire armor as it was called due to being preferred by many vampires, clad in burns and residue of sun magic caught the eye of the young pervert. 

Flicking the blood off his blade, the young man hopped off his horse before batting away an ice spear with the flat of his blade. Silver danced upon the earliest rays of Magnus, deflecting away projectiles of ice and storm before biting down and severing numerous limbs. The body of the attacker found itself pinned on the trunk of a tree and the sword stuck on its shoulder. 

"Who are you, N'wah?" the attacker, a Dunmer, gritted through bloodied teeth. 

"So little Volkihar vampire," A gentle tone hid the venomous intent to all but the Dunmer in front of him. "Why are you out during this time of day?" A sharp glint of brown reflected off the glowing eyes of the Dunmer. 

Savur Mora, a Dark elf from the illustrious House Telvanni of Morrowind, has lived for countless centuries, having been born a century before Tiber Septim. Savur has studied under a wizard lord of House Telvanni and after learning everything he could, he murdered and took everything his master had—such is the way of House Telvanni where might make right. For over a century, he has consorted with the Daedra. After leaving Morrowind for more information and joined Clan Volkihar after impressing Harkon Volkihar

After centuries and in exchange for more knowledge and power, he agreed to hunt down those pesky Vigilants of Stendarr. The job was simple, take several lower-ranking vampires and clear out the camps of these Vigilants to find their main camp. Taking several lower-ranked but capable vampires, he managed to wipe out several camps during the night, and with his area to manage being the Rift, it was easier than it needed to be. Some bribes here and there, some illusions to add and the locations of the Vigilants became easy picking. 

As a master of Destruction with centuries of experience, these upstarts were just too easy to deal with. With him and his group eliminating several camps during the night, he was sure to gain more prestige and recognition from Harkon. So during the night, he decided to attack a set of traveling Vigilants. He won, but one of the vampires accompanying him was slain and both he and Ragna were injured. 

He heard it, the sound of hooves. Saying his plan to his subordinate, Ragna. The two waited and under the shade of the trees, they moved. Ragna was supposed to unhorse the rider and he would kill the rider while he dealt with the horse. It was not the best source of drink but desperate times needed desperate measures.

The horse neared and they waited. 

Ragna moved and unhorsed the rider, pinning him into the ground—that was what should have happened. Ragna passed by the rider—since when did he pull out that sword? At that moment, fear embraced the ancient vampire trembled. His body moved, forming a spear of ice that could kill even heavily armored warriors. The spear of ice soared through the air and shattered—moving out of its original trajectory with a tap from the flat of the blade. 

Impossible! No regular human can do that! 

Fueled by panic and a wounded ego, spells of frost and storm launched from his hands. The silver blade struck like a coiling snake and flowing water—deflecting each spell without any visible effort. Focusing on the spell he prepared, he felt pain explode. 

In an instant, most of his limbs were severed, struck by the blade like a snake hunting its prey with the ferocity of rapids and the force of a waterfall shattering boulders and trees. He felt his back slam on the trunk of a tree as the silver blade bit down on his shoulder and the tree while hints of storm magic danced along the sword, draining his Magicka with each second. 

"Who are you, N'wah?" He gritted through bloodied teeth. Fighting through the pain, the dark elf gasped as he looked at his attacker. 

"So little Volkihar vampire," A soft voice hiding a venomous intent sent shivers down his spine "Why are you out during this time of day?" He knew he was dead. 

Brown hair tied into a ponytail. A face belonging to that of a boy finally reaching the cusp of adulthood. He was probably not old enough to drink but his eyes held another story. A darkness too different, antithetical to what he can see—as if a void devouring everything was before him. This presence... there is no doubt that this man is an assassin, a person strong and fast enough to kill blooded vampires several centuries old with frightening ease. Having fought and countered numerous agents of the Morag Tong, Savur knew assassins of all shapes and sizes. 

That face... it looked so familiar. 

Who is he? 

Wait, it couldn't be! 

How is he alive?! He disappeared almost 2 centuries ago! 

The spearhead who started the destruction of the Oblivion gates in the Imperial Capital during the Oblivion Crisis. Now it all makes sense, even in his skill in magic, he wouldn't be able to assault an Oblivion gate head-on but this man. A prisoner who became a champion and one of the most loyal servants of the Septim dynasty and the man who dueled the forces of Oblivion at the gate of the Temple of the One—succeeding in defeating the Destroyer during the battle of the Imperial Capital. 

"The shadow of the Empire, the Red Dragon of Martin Septim," Savur whispered as he saw the face of the statue of the Savior of Bruma with the man in front of him. "Issei Hyoudou, the Empire's wrath," 

Pain flooded his entire body as thousands of volts of Arcane lightning coursed through his undead body, cauterizing his severed limbs. 

"I always liked more durable toys," 

Flashes of Arcane light pulsed in the woods as screams of terror and pain soaked through the woods. 

"This ain't good...." The Empire's wrath whispered to himself as some of his plans had to be revised. Spectral Blue wings soared around him, landing on his shoulder. "Gather reinforcements! The Volkihar vampire clan is wiping out the Vigilants of Stendarr in Skyrim. Work with the Dawnguard led by Isran while I wipe out the remnants of the Mythic Dawn in the Rift." Spectral wings flapped—soaring through the skies as the Empire's wrath kicked the body of the Dunmeri Vampire, letting the sun do all the work. 

The last thing the Volkihar Vampire saw was the Empire's wrath donning a mask of gleaming metal that had faded and resembled a mix between an Argonian and those worn by Dragon priests. The mask held an open mouth showing fangs and a pair of horns over the head gone now was the human and now all that stood in front of his burning flesh and dying form is the monster known as the Empire's Wrath and the heir of the Red Diamond knight whose madness changed the world. 


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