4E 201, A day later
Gerron Ironbreaker
Gerron swung his training sword in a wide arc towards his opponent, Kiera ducked under it as she rolled forward and struck at his shield with a two-handed thrust. The blow cracked against the wood, causing his arm to shudder.
They've been at this for over ten minutes. They circled each other on the flattened patch of grass they'd claimed for their morning sparring session. In the distance, the wind rustled the treetops. Serana stood to the side, watching over the spar with interest.
Gerron twisted his stance and forced her back with a shield bash. Despite his preference for a warhammer, he wasn't a stranger to the sword. He had done plenty of training in his youth in the field hacking one to a training dummy, not to mention the Battle Smith perk improving whatever flaws there were in his technique.
Kiera had certainly gotten stronger. The blow she had done to his shoulder still stung even now. He couldn't imagine what the wound would look like had she used proper steel.
He made good on his promise to help her get used to her newfound strength. Kiera was right in the way that using actual steel for this kind of practice was not only dumb, but also needlessly risky. So Gerron fashioned some training swords using the thick barks of the trees around them.
While they were obviously far from the quality of Kiera's Dawnbite or any work Gerron could have made with a proper forge, it was good enough to at least handle the strain of Kiera's strength for a few swings.
Kiera charged again, this time with a low feint followed by a high slash. Gerron caught it on the edge of his shield, parrying with enough force to spin her off balance. But instead of falling, she pivoted and landed in a low crouch, her blade ready again.
How many souls had she absorbed at this point? Three? Four? How strong would she be when she absorbed ten? Were there differences when she absorbed a regular dragon and an older one? What about when she took it straight from their burial mounds? It certainly seemed the newest soul had affected her more than Mirmulnir and Silklovkul, the two dragons in the Western Watchtower.
It made him wonder just how far she could go.
Then again, Gerron was no ordinary Nord either.
Any other person would struggle fighting Kiera one-on one, yet he was matching her strength blow for blow. The Artificer System certainly wasn't lacking compared to dragon souls, and he could even feel his own strength rising day by day.
The system was divine by nature, a gift from the divines as Zenithar named him his champion.
The Battle Smith perk was what allowed him to have all this monstrous strength, though Gerron had suspicions that it wasn't all it gave. While it had certainly boosted his strength, its true purpose was that it erased the mortal limits on his physical form. He could keep on working on his body and improve it without worrying about hitting a ceiling.
If Akatosh gave Kiera the soul of a Dragon, then perhaps Zenithar gave him the body of a Demigod.
It made sense in a way. It was power born from purpose, discipline, and hard work. The three things that Zenithar is praised for.
Gerron didn't know why he was chosen for all this. Why he—of the hundreds of thousands of people in Skyrim—was chosen to bear this weight. But that thought disappeared the moment it came.
Who cares what the reason was? Skyrim was a land of snow and fire, steel and survival. You lived your purpose—or you died searching for it. Gerron had learned long ago to not ponder such things for long.
He was the chosen of Zenithar. And by the Divines above, he would live to be worthy of that title.
…
An hour later, Gerron, Kiera, and Serana were back on the road.
It was approaching autumn as the chill of Eastmarch wrapped around them like a shroud. Gerron and Serana were largely unbothered by the cold, but the same couldn't be said for Kiera, who had wrapped herself in thick furs and was still shaking on her saddle.
Their path curved eastward, and Gerron spotted Fort Amol's silhouette cresting the ridge before them, smoke curling lazily from the wooden watchtowers.
They hadn't reached the crossroads before several riders emerged from the fort, clad in Stormcloak blue.
"Halt!" the lead rider barked. "I am Bone-Breaker Ignar, castellan of Fort Amol. Name yourselves and your business."
The man was broad-shouldered with a beard thick as a bramble bush. A massive axe hung from his back.
Kiera stepped forward, lifting the marked Amulet of Stendarr from her cloak. "We're traveling under official business of the Vigilants of Stendarr. We mean no harm."
Ignar's eyes flicked to the amulet, then to Gerron and Serana. He hesitated at Serana's pale features, but ultimately nodded. "Aye. We have no quarrel with the Vigilants. Be careful of the roads, brigands have been spotted prowling about."
'As if they care.' Gerron snorted. He still remembered the group of bandits camped out by the riverside shack back when he first journeyed to Whiterun.
The sound of pattering horses woke him from his muse as Ignar and the rest rode back to their fortress.
They continued on their journey largely unbothered. Fort Amol was a good mile behind them when they heard it, a thunderous roar that rippled through the hills and sent schools of birds scattering through the skies. The sound spooked the horses, their hooves skittering as they tried to bolt.
Gerron calmed his mount with a sharp whistle as he looked up and saw it. "There!"
A blood-red dragon arced through the air in the distance, arrows jutted out of its leathery hide. It was limping, if such a term could be used for flight. Blood gleamed on its scales. One wing beat slower than the other.
[Image here]
"It's injured," Serana observed, narrowing her eyes. "Those wounds are fresh."
"Could it be from Windhelm?" Gerron asked. "That's the closest city in that direction."
They watched as the dragon swooped down and disappeared behind the hills. Kiera turned to Gerron. "You know this land better than either of us. Is there anything interesting past that hill?"
He considered for a moment. "There is a small abandoned tower up there, Nilheim, if I'm not wrong. An old outpost overlooking the river. If the dragon needs shelter, that's the closest spot large enough to roost."
Gerron then looked towards Kiera and Serana with a bit of a smile. "What do you say? Care for another dragon hunt?"
Their smiles turned predatory.
…
They left their horses tied beneath a dense copse of pine trees and advanced on foot, boots muffled by moss and mud. As they crested the final ridge, Nilheim came into view—a solitary spire perched on a bluff above the river.
The dragon lay coiled atop it, sleeping from the looks of it. Around it were crimson flames that eerily burned against the stone and the waters as freshly burned corpses littered the ground at the base of the tower—bandits perhaps, or unfortunate travelers who took shelter in the tower before the dragon came.
"So what's the plan?" Serana questioned. "You two have much more experience than me in dragon hunting."
"We need to cripple it." Kiera said. "Slow down its wings so it doesn't fly."
"Agreed." Gerron nodded. "Once it's on the ground, it should be easy pickings for the three of us."
A minute of planning later, and they were ready to pull off the ambush. Gerron braced the Mercury Hammer against his body, its runes pulsing as magicka surged into the chamber. He aimed down the etched barrel and fired.
A shriek of pure arcane energy tore through the air and struck the dragon's left wing.
The beast howled in pain, pitching off the tower and crashing down below. Smoke and dust billowed
"Who dares interrupt my praan, my slumber?!"
"That would be me, you damn overgrown lizard!" Gerron announced with a large grin.
"Joor, you shall pay for this transgression, for I am Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm!" The beast roared.
"Yeah, I don't give a falmer's ass who you are."
The sounds of opening portals had the dragon turning to see Serana with a smirk on her face, two lumbering frost atronachs charging towards the Dragon.
Right on cue, the dragon opened his mouth as a river of crimson flame bathed the entire area in flames, drowning the frost atronachs and evaporating them in an instant.
But that was the bait, for a silver missile appeared from the opposite flank, stepping out of perfect invisibility and plunging her sword deep into Caraxes's opposite wing. Kiera then raised her head up, "KRII!" The Thu'um rushed forth and swallowed Caraxes.
The dragon bellowed in agony, wings now useless and its soul weakened.
Kiera had achieved something of an impossibility with Alteration magic, capable of turning her entire skin into steel, an upgrade of the usual flesh spells. She was quite proud of showing it to Serana, who had a look of perplexity and interest at the spell. It was quite amusing to see the cool headed vampire show such an expression.
But of course, Serana couldn't allow herself to be one upped like that and showed her own mastery of Illusion magic. Double layering overpowered versions of the Invisibility and Muffle spells and applying it to Kiera.
It was quite possibly the deadliest combination for ambushes in all of Skyrim.
"Dovahkiin!" Caraxes moved quickly, spinning in place and striking Kiera with his tail, her body slamming into a tree trunk.
Gerron hit the beast on the back with another blast from the Mercury Hammer, eliciting another roar of pain.
"WULD NAH KEST!"
Much to Gerron's surprise, the dragon vanished and reappeared directly in front of him.
The tail smashed into Gerron's chest like a battering ram. His armor took the brunt, but it still knocked the wind out of him and sent him flying backwards.
"WULD NAH KEST!"
Once more, the dragon dashed. This time towards the still recovering Kiera. The Vigilant found herself being stuck beneath the weight of the dragon's paw, two arms holding up the limb to avoid being crushed all together.
A frost atronach barreled into the dragon's side, making it stumble. Cold magic laced in Serana's hands as a veritable storm of ice erupted from her fingertips, blanketing Caraxes in a blizzard.
Ice formed on its previous wounds, slowing its movements.
Gerron had already gotten up then, rushing to the dragon and grabbing its tail with inhuman strength. "Your turn, lizard." He growled.
With a guttural roar, Gerron lifted Caraxes by the tail away from Kiera and slammed it to the earth. The ground trembled from the impact.
Again, he lifted and hammered him down. BOOM.
Then, with one final heave, he hurled the beast into the stone tower, the masonry cracking on impact.
The dragon shook his head before looking at them with its long spindly neck and breathed. "YOL TOOR SHUL!"
The river of crimson was met by a wall of ice and snow, courtesy of Serana.
Gerron and Kiera rushed past the resulting steam, having recovered their weapons, appearing in opposite directions of the dragon.
Gerron swung sideways and broke the dragon's jaw with his hammer, while Kiera dived down and plunged her sword deep into Caraxes' underbelly and opened a large gash that began gushing out blood like a fountain.
Gerron stored his hammer in his pocket space and put both arms on Caraxes' upper and lower jaw. His muscles strained as he held the dragon's mouth open.
Serana followed up instantly, her hands glowing with pale, freezing light. The Expert-level destruction spell coiled in her palm, and she hurled it straight into Caraxes' snarling maw.
Fire appeared on the back of the dragon's throat, but Serana beat him to it.
A blizzard of ice and snow exploded inside his mouth. His scream choked off instantly. She stepped closer, eyes hard, and fired again.
And again.
Each spell forced deeper until the dragon's body convulsed.
A final blast of ice pierced through its throat, exiting out the back of its neck.
The Blood Wyrm let out a soft, dying growl—and collapsed.
The flames around Nilheim Tower flickered, then died.
Gerron stood beside her, breathing hard, battered but triumphant. Kiera limped over, bloodied but alive. All three of them stared at the fallen wyrm in silence.
A moment later, the wind began to stir. The familiar hum of ancient power filled the air as the dragon's soul began to rise and shoot towards the Dragonborn, who merely closed her eyes and accepted it.
…
AN: Ancient pureblooded vampire OP, pls nerf.
I really enjoyed writing team up dragon battles. And yes, Caraxes is the same dragon that attacked Windhelm in the previous chapter.
He's another dragon I unashamedly stole from the House of the Dragon series simply because he looks so damn cool. The reason why he seems weaker than the fight in Windhelm is because he is.
There was a whole day of fighting with a city's worth of defenders, not to mention the suddenness of the ambush and the Marked for Death shout courtesy of Kiera.
Caraxes was fatigued, injured, ambushed, had his soul weakened, and was ganged up on by the Dragonborn, the Chosen of Zenithar, and a pureblooded vampire. Poor guy.
This chapter is also meant to be that sort of visualization of what they're party dynamic would be like in the future.
Kiera is the tank and the powerhouse. Her mastery of Alteration, skill with the blade, as well as her capabilities as Dragonborn make her to be the ideal powerful frontline fighter.
Gerron is the muscle and the hammer to Kiera's anvil. Having physical strength arguably greater than Kiera's, he's the backup frontliner in case anything goes wrong in their initial plan. Not to mention the potential numerous gadgets and tricks he'll have in the future once he gets to tinkering again. He's also the most knowledgeable and experienced in terms of traversing Skyrim's cold tundras, making him the de facto leader in their regular travels.
Serana is a magic powerhouse, having been trained by Valerica in many of the arcane arts. Expert in Destruction, Illusion, Conjuration, Alchemy, and Enchanting; she's the skill monkey of the group in terms of magical capability. And don't forget her vampiric bloodline makes her a monster in close combat as well.
As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 34 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!