I am Lena Wolf, Lena's life as it happens Options

[Lena Wolf]

Evening Star, 3E437 - A new dawn

When Lena woke up in her house in Bravil, Lucien was still sleeping next to her, still holding her in his embrace. She could hardly believe what had happened, yet there he was, breathing softly into her ear, enjoying a wraith-free night, just as she had enjoyed hers. "Where do we go from here?" She thought, trying to imagine returning to the Sanctuary, seeing them all again, but in what capacity? As their Speaker's mistress?

That thought made her sit up. Lucien turned over and woke up too.

"Good morning," he said softly. "Did you sleep well? You look worried."

"I... just need to work some things out," Lena smiled at him. "Speaker."

"Speaker?" He sat up too, facing her. "After all we've been through together? And I don't just mean last night."

"Yes, after all we've been through together, and because of that, perhaps..." Lena hesitated, then leaned onto him and kissed him. "I have no regrets... I wish..." She didn't know what she wished for, exactly. Her confusion was plain to see.

"Alright, take your time... Assassin," Lucien stroked her hair. "I'm always here for you, remember that." Lena nodded, yet looked away. "I mean it, Wolf," Lucien said in her ear. "As your Speaker and as your friend."

Did he say the right thing? He hoped so. He didn't want her to be his mistress, she was so much more than that. He wanted her to return to Cheydinhal, to take her place as his Silencer, she would answer directly to him, she would be coming to his fort, they would talk, they would finally get to know each other without the assassins and the wraiths... But how to say it all? He wasn't sure. She was less than half his age, she was too young for him... or was she?

It seemed neither of them wanted that day to end, that space between the madness of the hunt for the traitor and the new, ordinary phase in their lives. They took time brewing coffee, they shared a meal and a bottle of wine after that, and they spent another night like the one before.

Eventually it was time for Lucien to leave. As he hugged Lena goodbye, he had a sudden feeling that he would not see her in a very long time. He kissed her but said nothing, then he left.

Lena watched him walk towards the city gates of Bravil, then returned to her house. She felt strange; her heart was still beating, she was changed yet she was still the same... Her heart would slow down and stop before long, life would return to normal... She could hardly remember what "normal" meant.

She got dressed and went out, she would take a walk to clear her head. As she walked out to the shore of the Niben Bay, a strange new island attracted her attention. She was sure it wasn't there before. She cast a spell and crossed the water towards it.

The island had strange plants and colourful mushrooms and a glowing gate in the middle shaped like a head with three faces... "What madness!" She thought, grinning.

"Stay back!" A guard approached her. "This is a dangerous portal! Perfectly normal people go in, crazy people come out! Here's another one - watch out!"

A strangely dressed Bosmer came out of the portal, looked around in bewilderement, pulled out a dagger and attacked the gaurd! It didn't take long and he lay dead.

"What did I tell you?" The guard bent over the Bosmer. "It's madness! You better stay back."

"But where does this lead?" Lena was looking at the portal in fascination.

"Come and visit!" A voice sounded from the portal. "The Shivering Isles are beautiful this time of year!"

"The Shivering Isles?" Lena looked at the guard. "Where is that?"

"Beats me," he shrugged. "I'm only here to warn people, not to hold them back. You've seen what it did to this Bosmer... The choice is yours, and I'll be here in case you come out like that..."

Somehow Lena was sure that she wouldn't come out like that. Nothing could possibly beat the last two or three years of her life... She went in.

...

"Please sit down, I don't have all day." A balding Breton in a peculiar suit was sitting at a table in what looked like an office. Another chair was facing him across the table, and he gestured Lena to take it. She looked around, but there was really nothing more to catch her eye. A metronome on the table was measuring out time - tick tock tick tock... She sat down.

"What is this place?" She asked the man.

"It is an entrance to My Lord's realm, the realm of Lord Sheogorath. You may enter, if you wish."

"If I wish?" Something was odd about him, besides his suit. "What was that portal?"

"That portal was a door," the man answered, stifling a yawn. "You were outside, then you entered, and now you are here, amazing, truly. There is another door behind me, that one leads into the realm proper. Or you could go back the way you came."

"Am I to choose?" Lena still could put her finger on what exactly was so strange.

"Please do, I have other business to attend to. The anticipation is almost palpable..."

"That Bosmer went crazy, he attacked the guard."

"Then he was ill prepared to receive My Lord's blessing."

"But what will happen to me?" Lena was finding the conversation most entertaining.

"Who is to say?"

"I am going in." Lena got up from her chair.

"My Lord will be most pleased, I am sure," the man got up too. "And mind the Gatekeeper, he doesn't actually let anyone in... unless they are ready..."

He cast a spell and vanished, and the office dissolved into a hundred butterflies at least...

"Beautiful," Lena thought. The portal was still glowing behind her, she could now go in and out, it seemed, so she ventured into the realm proper...

...

Lena's stay in the Shivering Isles turned out to be a long one. She felt right at home in the land where people didn't have to be "normal" and where almost everything was permitted. Prince Sheogorath was a most charming host, and Lena soon found herself embroiled into a crisis in his land... She did not mind, she welcomed something to do and a reason to delay her return to Cheydinhal and her "ordinary" life in Mundus.

She was delaying it, and she was missing it at the same time. She returned to Mundus often enough, and even went to Cheydinhal once or twice, but stayed outside, only watching people going in and out. She saw Telaendril resume her weekly trips to Leyawiin, and Vicente slip out of the city at night, she went to Fort Farragut a few times but never entered. Something was keeping her back, and she couldn't say what it was.

The Mages Guild still had assignments for her if she wanted them, and they were always keen to buy Welkynd stones or other rare finds, and so one day Lena found herself going through a difficult ruin near Cheydinhal. She finished the job, but just as she was leaving, she was attacked by a lich that she hadn't seen coming. The fight was brutal, she won, but only just. She was famished, too... it was strange how those things came together. When she finally stood outside, she breathed a sigh of relief... and got attacked again, this time by a bandit. "Will it never end?!" She screamed, jumping back. Three bandits were coming at her, they saw her heavy pack and wanted her loot. She dropped the pack and vanished, circled them from behind, attacked, got one down, but the other one had a heavy warhammer that hit her hard... She fell. Another hit would smash her skull into pieces...

She twisted away at the last moment, jumped up, lunged at him, aiming for his heart... and missed, her dagger sliding off his iron breastplate. She sliced at his thigh instead, and he finally dropped to his knees.

In the tumult the third bandit grabbed her pack and tried to run off, she saw him and sent a frost ball, he stopped, dropped her pack... the rest was easy.

The sun was about to rise, she would burn before long. She checked the bandits - two dead, one still alive, the guy with the warhammer was wounded and bleeding, and she was glad that she had missed his heart. His blood stilled her hunger and she could resist the sun.

She sold the Welkynd stones to the mages at the guild and brought a few other bits to Borba, but her main finds had to go to the Arcane University in the Imperial City. She didn't have a horse and she was too tired to travel. On a whim she went to Fort Farragut.

Shadowmere wasn't anywhere to be seen, and Lena hoped that Lucien wasn't in. She lifted the trapdoor and took a peek, but the room appeared empty. She descended the rope ladder, a year or more since the end of Purification. She walked around the room, finding it unchanged. The Dark Guardians were pacing further in the fort, the usual distant noises filled the space, the scents of food and alchemy hung in the air. "He still comes here all the time," Lena thought. "Of course he does. Life has gone back to normal."

She walked over to Lucien's bed and put her head on the pillow. The same familiar scent hit her nostrils, bitter and sweet at once. She closed her eyes. She was so very tired... The fights of the last few days caught up with her and she fell asleep.

...

When Lucien entered the Sanctuary after the resolution of the traitor business, he found Ocheeva on watch. She turned to the sound of the Black Door opening, her sword drawn, her legs poised for a jump.

"Ocheeva! It's over," Lucien greeted her and she relaxed. "The Purification order has been rescinded! Whom have we lost?" He spoke gravely, expecting a sobering answer.

"Lucien!" Ocheeva smiled. "Good tidings at last! We... survived, somehow." She didn't seem to believe it. "We've got wounded, but last time I checked, they were still alive..."

In the dormitory Lucien found most beds occupied, with several people unconscious, or nearly so. Antoinetta was changing bandages, wounded herself.

"Speaker!" She looked up. "We are still holding... but for how much longer... I cannot tell."

"It's over, Antoinetta." He gave her a hug, and she blushed. She was still so young... "You've survived. You persevered. Now you need to recover."

She couldn't find anything to say... which must have been a first for Antoinetta, Lucien smirked to himself. She looked older than last time he saw her, their ordeal transformed her. Her eyes were no longer sparkling with mischief. "Let's hope some of it will return later on," Lucien thought.

He did a round of the room, spoke to those Brothers and Sisters that were awake, then went to see Vicente and Ocheeva. He was back, and things had to be seen to.

"Your primary task now is recovery," he was looking at Vicente and Ocheeva in turn. "There will be no contracts until people are back on their feet. The Listener transferred some funds... Borba should be paid with interest," he added, looking through a ledger with all the unpaid deliveries that she had made. "See to it." Ocheeva nodded.

"What of Wolf?" Ocheeva thought that Lucien was avoiding the most important topic.

"She is alive," he looked up. "She will be my Silencer... I haven't told her yet..." He hesitated. Vicente's expression was closed, but Ocheeva was looking concerned.

"If you lose sight of her now, she will run away and not return for a very long time," she said, looking at him with significance. "You must find her."

"Or allow her the freedom to run away," Vicente finally spoke. "She stood by you all this time, her loyalty is not in doubt. Perhaps she is simply not ready..."

"Not ready for what?" Ocheeva shot him a glance.

"Exactly."

They were not going to spell it out, it was his decision. He felt however that chasing after Lena was the wrong thing to do, that it would convey the wrong message. Perhaps Vicente was right - she was not ready... and neither was he.

It's been over a year since the Purification order had been rescinded, and the Sanctuary was functioning as normal again. They were receiving contracts, including high level Silencer contracts, which Lucien mostly executed himself, or occasionally passed them on to Vicente or Ocheeva. He refused to appoint another Silencer even though Lena was absent.

"The Night Mother will have to decide," Ungolim shook his head. "You need a Silencer! One that is present! I understand your sentiment regarding Wolf, I do, believe me..." He looked at Lucien and smiled. "But a Speaker needs a Silencer, so you'll have to pick someone else!"

But Lucien kept refusing, and when Ungolim eventually brought the matter before the Night Mother, he was surprised at her response.

"It is up to him, do not press him," she said. "She is alive... she'll be back with us some day. Lachance does not want to replace her, so be it. He is to be given the usual load of contracts, regardless of whether his Silencer is present or not."

And so he was busier than usual.

One evening he was returning to Fort Farragut when he noticed blood on the trapdoor. He cloaked in chameleon and entered as quietly as he could. Lena was asleep in his bed, she was wounded, a heavy pack with some ancient finds was dropped against the wall. She'd been through a ruin, but it wasn't easy...

Lucien decided not to wake her up. She did not appear famished, so he bandaged her wounds, making sure again to use lavender in the dressings. She came back to his fort... but not to the Sanctuary... perhaps she wasn't ready yet. Very well, he would wait for her.

He left the following morning before Lena woke up. He stopped by Borba's shop, it was time to furnish his fort for two people... his old cot was no longer good enough. Borba nodded, copying over the list into her ledger. The Speaker's quarters deserved some comfort, she thought.

...

It'd been another year or more before Lena came to Fort Farragut again. She was being chased by beasts and men both, she was hungry, yet stayed out in the sun, her skin was burning, she was losing blood... She shook off her pursuers and slipped through the familiar trapdoor...

She found the room transformed. Better furniture, more comfort, a double bed instead of a cot... Was Lucien receiving visitors? And why shouldn't he? Perhaps now, that the Purification business was well in the past, he could finally relax? Lena walked around the room. The furnishings were different but the essence remained the same. The same scents of food and poisons hung in the air. The same stock of frost salts and potions stood by the stone bath. Perhaps there were more bandages... but otherwise all remained the same. She breathed a sigh of relief - there was no scent of a woman.

This time Lena made use of the dressings and bandages before getting into bed. She was still famished, but she had to rest first, besides it was daytime. She hoped to leave before Lucien returned.

...

In the following years Lena kept coming to Lucien's fort every now and then. Sometimes she was wounded and needed a place to hide from the sun, other times she was merely in the area and briefly entered and left. Once or twice she saw Shadowmere there, the saddle covered in blood, and Lucien was inside, collapsed from his wounds. She would bandage him up and leave before he woke. It was a dance they did, both knowing when the other had been there, yet never meeting face to face.

Five or six years later Lena finally learned that vampirism could be cured. She did all that was needed, and it wasn't a simple task. Then she got the potion. "It will make you mortal again," the witch told her. "Be careful not to die."

Lena had such high hopes for this... She would have her life back, she would no longer be shunned, she could regain her place in the world... she would have a heartbeat again! She drank the potion. The transformation was brutal and she passed out.

When she finally woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she did have a heartbeat. The potion worked! She was mortal again, she did not crave blood! She ran to the mirror to check that her eyes regained their colour...

She froze. An old woman was looking back at her. Her eyes were amber... but everything else was appauling. Her stooped posture, her wrinkled, droopy skin, her hair matted and hanging in patches, her joints swallen, her collar bones and ribs protruding like on a skeleton... Her face was still gaunt and her skin looked grey. Her heart fell. The witch never mentioned the price of mortality.

After the transformation Lena didn't go to Fort Farragut for many years. She could not stand the thought of Lucien seeing her like that. But she missed him, and after a time she decided to visit. He wasn't there, but the room was unchanged, she breathed in his scent once again, left a potion on the table and vanished.

As appauling as she found the look and feel of her mortal body, she got used to it after a time. The swallen joints didn't hurt all that much, and people in the Shivering Isles long got used to the way she looked. People in Mundus however still shunned her, often taking her for a beggar and chasing her away. The glory of the Champion of Cyrodiil proved very short lived indeed.

One day she got into a fight near Cheydinhal, someone decided to be forceful in chasing away an old woman. She resisted and killed them in the end, but not before getting deep cuts all over her body. She went to Fort Farragut thinking to take an ice bath.

She entered and found the room empty, Lucien wasn't there. She sighed a sigh of relief and filled the bath, removed her bloody clothes and submerged. She closed her eyes and allowed the cold to stop the bleeding, not worrying about her heart stopping again.

On that occasion Lucien was at home. He had cast chameleon when he heard the trapdoor, and when Lena entered, he realised that she hadn't seen him. Not a vampire any longer, she could not smell him if he stayed back. He decided to stay hidden.

It wasn't the first time that he'd seen Lena after her transformation. He knew that it aged her, and he did not care, but he wasn't prepared for the full extent of the damage. When Lena undressed, he was shocked. She looked like a skeleton, not like a woman, and she was only in her thirties. He understood why she was staying away.

She went to sleep in his bed when her wounds were no longer bleeding. He bandaged her up. She had a heartbeat, but her body was cold after the bath. He stayed with her as she slept and saw her leave in the morning, but never revealed that he was there. She knew it of course, but said nothing. The dance continued.

[Lena Wolf]

Midyear, 4E1 - 4E7 - A feast to remember

People were still celebrating the end of the Oblivion Crisis, nearly a year later. Skingrad went all out on wine, with production tripling almost overnight. No one knew how they did it exactly, and no one was asking any questions. The wine was flying off the shelves as it was.

Lena was spending a lot of time in the area, partly because of the long established vampire covens that weren't entirely hostile, and mostly because of the wine. A drunk vampire is one that doesn't bite necks, was the saying, and so she was welcome at the Two Sisters Lodge as long as she was drinking. People soon got used to seeing her around and stopped worrying for their necks too much.

It worked well, Lena thought. A drunk vampire may pass out in a ditch the same as every other drunkard, but when the stupor lifted, the vampire would still have to feed, and a drunk mortal in the same ditch made for a passable donor, even if the vampire passed out again after that.

One night Lena woke up in a back alley of Skingrad, her head spinning with drink, her skin burning from sleeping under the sun. She looked around for someone to feed on and saw a fellow nearby, equally passed out with drink. She crawled over to him, not risking getting up, and found his neck. The fellow wore a peculiar hat with horns, she smirked at that and sank her fangs into his flesh, finding the vein. His blood had an interesting taste, and she wondered what he'd been drinking. She fed enough to keep her going, he would not notice a thing. She let go of his neck and sat up. Her head was clear, the effects of the wine had all but vanished, and she was surprised at that.

"Did you enjoy my blood?" The fellow sat up, grinning at her. "You may take more if you like, I've got plenty." It was only now that Lena could see him for what he was, and he was a dremora. She jumped up. "Don't be scared, I don't bite," he laughed. "Even though they call me Sanguine."

"Sanguine? As in - the Daedric Prince?" Lena rubbed her eyes.

"At your service," he bowed, still sitting on the ground. It looked funny and Lena laughed. "Here for the wine, of course."

"I am Wolf," Lena introduced herself. "Here for the wine as well."

"Very well, Lena Wolf, why don't we get something to drink? I do hope Two Sisters are already open."

They got up and went to the lodge, and it was only later that Lena realised that she hadn't told Sanguine her first name.

Their feast went on for days. Whenever Lena was about to pass out, Sanguine's blood sobered her up again. She never took much, she just took enough to keep going. Sanguine didn't seem to get really drunk regardless of how many bottles of wine he poured down his throat. It wasn't all that surprising - he was after all a Daedric Prince.

"Will you be staying another week?" The publican marked up her ledger when Sanguine dropped a hefty purse on the counter. "Room and board again?" He nodded and she smiled, putting away the money. This customer was paying in full, and then some. She could not care less whether he had horns or not.

"Can we have dinner in the room?" Sanguine leaned over the counter and spoke in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "With just a few bottles of wine, not too much. Food for two." The publican nodded, taking his order. Sanguine turned to Lena who was toasting some newcomers. "Put down your goblet and come with me, don't drink!" He said with urgency into her ear. She startled, but did as he asked.

Sanguine led her to his room on the upper floor of the building. It was a nice suite with a dining table, some shelves and knicknacks, serving people who valued privacy, she thought.

"Vampire hunters," Sanguine said after he closed the door behind them. "Those newcomers... I've seen the way they looked at you. I'd rather you stayed alive."

"I'll lead them out into one of the covens, they could use some fresh cattle," she said darkly. "Skingrad is the safest place for mortals, no one feeds in the streets here! All covens have thralls..."

"I beg to differ, you did bite my neck," Sanguine grinned. "There's always an odd vampire in every city, and Skingrad is no exception."

At that point there was a knock on the door and a maid brought in their dinner.

"You need food as well as blood, so tuck in," Sanguine gestured Lena towards the table, sitting down himself as well. "I ordered dinner for two and I see the innkeeper knows what this means for a dremora," he grinned with satisfaction, lifting the lids of the many pots and dishes completely covering the table, and some even stacked on top of each other. "Roast or stew? Where do you want to begin?"

The aromas of those delicious dishes reminded Lena just how hungry she was in fact, hungry for food this time. She'd been drinking too much and forgot that she needed to eat too...

After dinner she could scarcely keep her eyes open. She wasn't drunk, but sleep was another need that she'd been neglecting, and it was now catching up with her as well. She fell into bed and was asleep within minutes. Sanguine smiled, watching her sleep.

...

When Lena woke up the next day, she saw Sanguine next to her engrossed in reading the paper.

"Listen to this," he laughed. "They finally caught the Grey Fox! He is apparently Hieronymus Lex's mother!"

"He... is a mother?" Lena thought she misheard, perhaps she wasn't quite awake yet.

"The Black Horse Courier has the best stories!" Sanguine laughed again, putting away the paper. "You are looking better today," he looked her over. "Just a helping of blood and you'll be ready to take on those vampire hunters." He turned his head pointing at the exposed neck.

"I can't just go on biting your neck, I'm not drunk any more," Lena shook her head. "It's not right."

"What's not right?" Sanguine looked at her in mild surprise. "You need blood as much as you need food and sleep, there is no avoiding it, Molag Bal be damned. And I volunteer."

"Why?" Lena squinted at him. "You are not a thrall."

"A thrall!" Sanguine roared with laughter. "That's a good one! I'd like to see them try!" His laughter was infectious and Lena started laughing too. "No, I am not a thrall, but neither do I fear it as mortals do," he finally calmed down. "For one, I do have a lot of blood, and for two, you do not harm your donors... I've watched you well before I let you feed on me."

"It depends," Lena looked somber now. "Sometimes I take it all... sometimes I even..." She did not finish, thinking of those few occasions when she had to make do with the blood of a corpse.

"Sometimes doesn't count," Sanguine said softly. "Why are you here drinking your days away, Lena Wolf?"

She looked up but didn't answer. He stroked her hair and she let him. He kissed her and she responded - the vampire hunters could wait.

...

"Leave them be, you can't kill all the vermin," Sanguine was caressing her as she rested her head on his chest, exhausted, her heart beating fast. "I know vampires - you are not all the same, but those hunters make no distinction."

"They see us as monsters or beasts..." Lena sighed. "And many of us are just that... many, but not all. I didn't choose it... I still want a life, somehow."

"And that is why I let you feed," he kissed her hair. "Come on, you need it. I won't even notice. I like it, in fact..."

He turned his head again, his vein was throbbing... Lena gave in and bit his neck.

...

In the years that followed Lena met Sanguine on many occasions, and sometimes he took her to one of his islands for a bit of peace and quiet. It was always early evening there, but the sun never burned her skin, there were no vampire hunters, no bandits, no rats of any kind... She so enjoyed his islands. Sanguine was exceptionally easy to be with.

"I don't see why they call you the Prince of Excess," she said once. "I see no excess, just pleasure... of more than one kind."

"That is excess to some," he smirked. "I don't believe in celibacy or restraint, as long as it brings pleasure... I do not ration my drink or my love, I have no morals... I never bothered with that. Are you enjoying my company? That is all that matters."

"I am not complaining," Lena smiled, allowing the rays of a setting sun tickle her skin. "Do you have subjects? Since you are a Prince... I've ever only seen you alone."

Sanguine snapped his fingers and a dremora warrior apeared. "My Lord," he said and bowed.

"This is one of the warriors that answer to the call of the Sanguine Rose," Sanguine turned to Lena. "Yes, I have subjects, dremoras all. How many of you answer to me?" He looked at the warrior who shrugged. "We don't bother with count. There are several clans. But you won't find them slaughtering mortals akin those that recently invaded your world."

The dremora warrior snorted, Sanguine waved his hand and the warrior vanished.

"So, not all dremoras are the same... a bit like vampires," Lena smiled.

"Dremora is just a species," Sanguine shrugged. "Are all humans the same?"

"I hope to meet one of your dremoras some day," Lena looked at him with mischief. "How do I get hold of that Sanguine Rose? It sounds useful."

"You've got to queue up, then do a task," Sanguine looked stern. "It's a Daedric Artefact, don't you know! You mortals are supposed to work for that!"

Lena burst out laughing, and Sanguine joined her.

"You don't believe me, do you? And yet it is true. There are rules... We can't just flood Mundus with overpowered weapons and such... If one can call it that... Ever seen Sheogorath's staff? If that is a weapon, then I'm a bunny, for sure."

Picturing Sanguine as a bunny prompted another explosion of laughter, but eventually Lena calmed down and made a mental note to visit Sanguine's shrine in Cyrodiil and see about getting the Sanguine Rose. Somehow she didn't think that the associated task would be too hard.

...

When Lena got the cure for vampirism and her body turned into that of an old woman, she fell in despair. The Demented in the Shivering Isles all agreed it was the right response, the Manics all disagreed and tried to cheer her up with greenmote and felldew, but nothing worked. Lena could not get over her loss - the loss of her form, it seemed superficial but it hurt so badly, she did not know what to do with herself. She stood at the top of the falls on the Eastern side of New Sheoth and jumped off. She did not expect to survive.

...

"Suicide is forbidden here by the decree of Prince Sheogorath," she heard a Mazken guard saying. "I shall have to arrest you, mortal."

"Don't be silly - she isn't dead," another familiar voice intervened. "Only soaked, and that isn't against the rules."

Lena opened her eyes. Sanguine.

"Not dead. I see." The guard squinted. "Attempts of suicide are forbidden too. We don't arrest dead bodies."

"She didn't mean that, did you, Wolf?" Sanguine sat her up. "Tell her you didn't mean it."

Lena looked up. The guard was watching her, her sword drawn.

"I didn't mean it, I am sorry," Lena said in a small voice. "I was just going for a swim..."

"Hmm... Well, be more careful next time, mortal," the guard sheathed her sword, satisfied, then walked away.

"What are you doing here?" Lena hugged Sanguine, glad that he saved her life after all.

"I'm here for felldew myself," he winked. "Came to see what a mortal Lord Sheogorath did with this realm. I see the guards still treat you like any other mortal, even though you are supposed to rule over them, at least for now."

"The title of Lord Sheogorath is not the same as that of Prince Sheogorath," Lena sighed. "I get all the duties and no fun..."

"We'll need to change that," Sanguine shook his head. "Sheogorath is known for throwing the best parties ever... it must be one of the duties, I'm certain. Why don't you see to that?"

Lena nodded, it was a good plan... but it didn't distract her from the sense of loss of her body that drove her to the top of that waterfall in the first place. Sanguine seemed to have noticed it, he snapped his fingers and whisked her away to one of his islands.

...

"What did you do?" Lena looked at her hands and saw young, soft skin and slender fingers instead of a near skeletal hand of her new mortal body. "Will this last?"

"No, it won't, I'm afraid, it's just an illusion," Sanguine sighed. "It was important to you, but not to me. Yes, I preferred the way you looked before, but I'll get used to the way you look now, as long as you stay you..."

He took her in his embrace and kissed her, and a few minutes later the illusion dissolved, but Sanguine did not release his embrace.

"It is more than just looks," Lena started sobbing. "It doesn't feel the same... I lost agility, strength, even magic... it's useless..."

"But I still love you the same," Sanguine didn't give up. "Like all those other people who care for you as well."

"What other people?" Lena kept sobbing.

"Those others with whom you've been through hell and back," he reminded her. "I know there are some."

He might have said the wrong thing because Lena's sobs got worse, or may be he said what she really needed to hear. Those others... she'd been staying away, but perhaps she should just... oh no, that still hurt too much... she wasn't ready yet.

[Lena Wolf]

Frost Fall, 4E7 - For want of a man

"I hear Mazken come as men as well as women," Lena glared at the Commander of the Mazken guard at the palace in New Sheoth. "So why do we not have any men here, among the guard?"

"Men are inferior to women, My Lord," the Commander replied with a thinly masked disdain. Although it was the decree of Prince Sheogorath that a mortal should take his place for a time, the Mazken didn't have to like it, they just had to obey. "Mazken men are shorter and weaker than women, they are our servants, no more."

"As you are my servant," Lena pointed out and the Commander straightened her back.

"Yes, M'Lord."

"Mazken men were created by Prince Sheogorath, the same as Mazken women," Lena continued. "Are you suggesting his creations are imperfect?"

"Never, M'Lord!"

"Good," Lena smiled and Haskill grinned behind the Commander's back. This mortal Lord Sheogorath decidedly had the spark. "I wish to see men among the guards of this palace. Ask them, let's see who responds. I want true volunteers. Go to it."

The Commander clicked her heels, rolled her eyes and left.

"What does Your Lordship intend to do with the men, assuming any of them respond?" Haskill took out his notepad, ready to take Lena's order. "What sort of duties should we assign them? They are weaker than women, just as the Commander had said."

"That will depend on how many respond," Lena mused. "If any. I don't have high hopes..."

"Do you wish to request Aureal men as well?" Haskill raised his quill again.

"No, not them," Lena shook her head vehemently. "They are worse than the women." She didn't clarify how they were worse, and Haskill didn't ask.

The next day the Mazken Commander entered the throne room with one other guard walking right behind her - a male Mazken. She marched him up to Lena's throne and took a step to the side.

"M'Lord, this is the Mazken male who answered your call. His name is Dylan. What duties do you wish to assign him?" The Commander said with a certain glee.

"Just the one?" Lena looked mildly disappointed.

"You ordered not to press," the Commander nodded. "All the others preferred to continue serving the Mazken Order."

"Alright," Lena stood up and walked over to Dylan. He was taller than she, although shorter than the Mazken women in the room. He wore Mazken armour of dark metal that left his chest exposed, with a neckguard and pauldrons accentuating his physique. It was a most appealing design, Lena found. He was armed with a mace and a bow, the same as the guards.

"What made you answer my call, Dylan?" She asked.

"We've never had a call like that," he answered in a guttural and slightly hoarse voice. "I am here to serve, My Lord."

"Curiosity then," Lena smiled. "Very well. We shall assign you to my quarters. OUTSIDE of my quarters!" She added with emphasis. "Together with one of the usual guards. There's always a pair, you be one of them."

The Commander, Dylan and Haskill all nodded, and the Mazken left.

"Will there be anything else, M'Lord?" Haskill was laughing inside, Lena could tell.

"What - do you think the women will be jealous?" She grinned.

"The post outside your quarters is the most prestigious one," Haskill replied, no longer suppressing his grin. "I daresay they'll be jealous! Especially if you call him inside... It's not for nothing that they are known as Dark Seducers."

"Yes, well, I can see why Prince Sheogorath wanted only women here, but I am not he."

"Evidently!" Haskill coughed, his suppressed laughter finally getting the better of him. "And you banished the Aureals from your quarters... Lord Sheogorath should not be taking sides."

"Well, this one does," Lena grimaced. "The Aureals annoy me."

"Will there be anything else?"

"Not today," Lena got up from the throne. "I should get acquainted with the one man in the whole of Mazken Order."

She walked to her quarters and found Dylan already at his post outside her door. She went in and put on her armour, the same iron breastplate and leather greaves with soft boots that she'd always worn. This set was better quality than before, but she refused anything heavy or bulky.

"Come with me," she gestured to Dylan when she was ready. "Let's take a walk through the Realm."

"My Lord, would you be needing protection?" The other guard called after her, ready to follow.

"I shall summon you if we get overwhelmed," Lena waved and she and Dylan left the palace.

It was not unusual for Lena to walk the roads of the Shivering Isles, there was always something to do, and she liked to get away from the palace. "Our Lord is looking out for us!" People would say when she took yet another errand for them. They were her people, she felt responsible for their lives, at least to a degree. No one knew how long Prince Sheogorath would be staying away, some said a year, other thought a generation, yet others predicted a century... As it was, five years had passed since Lena got her title, and there was no sign of the Prince returning as yet.

"We are just going to the Knotty Bramble to get some aquanostrum for Bernice," Lena turned to Dylan when they left New Sheoth. "It's just grummites this time, but they do get quite protective of their young down there," she explained.

"If you wanted a bodyguard, why did you ask for a man, M'Lord?" Dylan ventured a question. "Our women are far superior."

"And far more annoying," Lena grimaced. "I didn't want a bodyguard, I can usually manage by myself. I wanted a travel companion."

"I don't think I understand, M'Lord..."

"It's Wolf," Lena stopped to look at him. "I know you have to M'Lord me when we are at the palace, but when we are alone, please drop it. Just call me Wolf. As for the rest of it... you'll figure it out as we go."

Dylan gave her a look of incomprehension, but then nodded and smiled. This was one strange Lord Sheogorath... as only Lord Sheogorath could be! Were all mortals like that? It was the first one he was seeing up close... A woman, but nothing like the commanding Mazken women he was serving before... He wondered where it would lead, and was eager to follow.

Knotty Bramble presented the usual challenge that was not to be taken lightly. "They are just grummites!" Dylan thought, but soon learned that grummites had ranks, they had scouts, warriors, mages, deathdealers and outright savage protectors, their weapons were sharp and their poisons rather debilitating... It wasn't a walk in the park. But eventually he and Lena got some aquanostrum, as well as a bag full of grummite eggs. They went to a nearby camp to roast the eggs and rest up.

"What does this water do?" Dylan was sniffing the aquanostrum. "Seems like regular water to me."

"With some grummite droppings, yes," Lena grinned. "But Sickly Bernice believes it is saving her life, one sip a day. And so I fetch it for her when it runs out."

"What is wrong with Sickly Bernice?"

"Absolutely nothing," Lena turned over the eggs. "But she thinks she is terminally ill. Well, we all are in a way, we all have to die some day... We, mortals, that is." She looked up at Dylan but he was still confused.

"So why are you going to all this trouble to bring her the cure that does nothing at all?"

"I didn't say it did nothing," Lena objected. "It makes Bernice happy. It makes her enjoy her life, in her own way. It makes her feel like somebody cares... It's important. It's worth braving the grummites from time to time." She fished the eggs out of the fire and sliced them open. "Here, have a roasted egg," she handed one to Dylan. "It's food, if you can believe it. It's what people here eat... And now that you're stuck in the Realm with me, you need to eat as well."

"Stuck in the Realm..." Dylan repeated, cautiously biting off a small chunk of the egg. "You won't banish me then? How am I to recover my health?"

"You eat and sleep, like mortals," she smiled. "I could not banish you even if I wanted. I don't have the power. I guess the women didn't tell you that."

"They didn't," Dylan took another bite of the egg. "But... well, never mind," he smiled. "I'll figure it out somehow. Eat and sleep... what a notion..."

The night was clear and the stars shone in all their splendour. Lena stretched out on a bedroll and prepared to go to sleep.

"You know how to sleep, right?" She suddenly looked up at Dylan who was watching the stars. "You lie down and close your eyes... Your tiredness should do the rest."

"Yeah, I know how to sleep," he smiled. "Although it's true that I rarely had to. You sleep. I think I feel better already because someone seems to care for me..."

...

Their travels took them all over the Shivering Isles. Dylan regarded Mania with mistrust at first, but soon realised that apart from the bright colours, it was no different from Dementia. He met many people inhabiting the Isles, and found them all to be different... much more different from each other than the Mazken between themselves. "Mortals don't make sense," he would watch them in fascination.

"This one likes peace and quiet, yet this one runs around all day... That one likes wine, yet that other one declares it the ultimate evil... What is true, then?" He would shake his head.

"It is matter of taste, of perception," Lena would smile. "Mortals are all different... That's what they have in common. That, and the fact the we all have to die one day, of course."

As months went by, Dylan started getting used to mortals and their strange ways. They were a part of His Lord's Realm, as much as the trees and the grummites that His Lord had created, as much as the Mazken themselves, in fact. He was still trying to figure out why Lena requested a male to travel the land with her, as so far he could not see any particular reason. "A Mazken woman would have been a lot more effective," he kept thinking whenever he got a serious wound. "A woman, with her superior strength would have blocked that attack..." But there again, as time went on, his skills improved and he learned to block and parry a lot better. Not being able to regenerate through banishing into Oblivion also played a part. He had to be careful not to get hurt too much.

One day instead of staying at a campsite, Lena decided to stay at an inn. They entered the room, it had one double bed. Dylan thought that perhaps this was the reason why Lena had requested a male.

"Are we to share a bed?" He asked in his guttural voice, removing his armour. "I am here to serve."

Lena was half way removing her own breastplate, and only turned around a few moments later. She'd never seen Dylan so completely devoid of his armour.

"I don't want you to serve," she shook her head.

"But you asked for a male..." Dylan was confused. "I wish to give you pleasure. Am I not to your taste?"

"You are, that's not it," Lena came close to him. "They say no one can refuse a Dark Seducer," she smiled. "They may be right... I am not refusing... but I am questioning your motives. I don't want to be a chore or a duty."

"But that's what men are for... is it not? To serve, one way or the other."

"Did your women tell you that?" Lena frowned. "And you wonder why I asked for a man? It is such arrogance that annoys me most! To serve one way or the other, indeed!"

Lena was angry. She stomped around the room, clenching her fists. Dylan watched in bewilderment. Then suddenly Lena removed the rest of her armour and clothing and stood in front of him.

"Look at me," she said. "Look at this withered body. No one can desire one like this, I least of all. If I want service, I can get it against honest payment, for not for a moment will I believe that you actually want to make love to me."

She looked sad and angry at the same time, disheartened and powerless, not what the ruler of the land should be like. She snorted one more time and sat on the bed, looking away.

"I see," Dylan said after a while. "It's not that you specifically wanted a man, it's just that you didn't want a woman... such as one of ours, at least... Are mortal women the same? You said they were all different."

"Some mortal women are much the same, some are different, and most are just as annoying," Lena smiled at him through her sadness. "I've been betrayed by women a lot... far more than by men. I cannot stand the constant chatter, the gossip, the intrigue... there are exceptions, of course, but on the whole, for me a man is a safer choice. And that's why I asked for a man."

[Lena Wolf]

4th Era, years 8 - 100 - Wine and felldew

With Sanguine's arrival to the Shivering Isles life at the palace turned into a never ending party. Of course, the Manics were already leading such a life, and they received Lord Sanguine with open arms. The Demented were turning up their noses at the Manics even more, but they had their own Daedric Prince to entertain - Vaermina arrived one night to the delight of the court of the new Duchess of Dementia spreading nightmares throughout the realm. But since most Demented already had their own nightmares, no one was the worse for wear and variety was always welcome. Lena divided her time between both courts but was impervious to Vaermina's nightmares - everything paled before the years of facing the Wrath of Sithis in her sleep.

Sanguine was seen slipping out of the palace every now and again and spending time in Dementia among its people. As much as he liked to party, he was getting bored with the Manics, and too much felldew was giving him headaches. Bernice's Summer Wine was a welcome change, and although he generally stayed away from skooma, he played a trick or two on the local addicts. In a word, life was anything but boring under the new Lord Sheogorath.

Lena rarely went to Mundus during this time. She only went there to visit Lucien's fort when her heart was aching too much. She found him there sometimes, asleep and wounded, she would bandage his wounds and leave before he woke up. Other times she would find his quarters empty, then she would spend the night, and again they would never meet with both of them awake. Sometimes, when Lucien was there, she would touch him in her sleep, but he would not press, and she'd leave again without knowing he'd been there.

The loss of her form weighed heavily upon Lena. She seemed to have completely given up on herself; she trained up her body enough to avoid getting killed, but lost interest in new clothes or new skills alike. Her heart was still beating, but she was dead inside. Only Sanguine had a way of getting through to her from time to time. He simply wouldn't give up. He loved her for what she was, not for how she looked, he made her at ease with herself, and during that time she forgot how much she hated her body, relaxed and enjoyed herself. Alas, that wouldn't last, and after a time she would return to her brooding.

One evening she and Dylan were making camp somewhere in the Realm, having collected something for someone... They'd done such errands so many times, that neither of them could remember which one it had been exactly. They shared a meal, then Dylan ventured a question.

"You let Lord Sanguine get close to you, but no one else. Why is that? Is it because he is a dremora? Or a Daedric Prince?"

"No, it's not because of either of that," Lena laughed. "Lord Sanguine and I go way back... to the time before I lost my form... to the time when I was still a woman... He... well... he makes me feel as if I am a woman still."

"But you are... although your form does not reflect your essence," Dylan nodded. "What happened?"

"I was a vampire, then I took the cure, and this is the result," Lena looked at her hands with disgust. "I did not know this was going to happen. I might not have taken the cure if I did."

"Why did you seek the cure? Vampires are immortal..."

"Their hearts don't beat," Lena's voice sounded hollow. "They have to drink blood to survive. They are shunned by everyone... I wanted my life back, I wanted to feel a heartbeat..." She sighed. "I've got a heartbeat but I am still shunned, I lost myself... I did not get back my life." She looked at him and smiled. "Lord Sanguine makes me forget it for a time."

"Your form... what was it like?"

"The same as this, only younger," Lena shrugged. "A lot younger... I was but seventeen when I turned."

Dylan moved to sit close to her.

"I've never met a woman like you... Well... I've never met any mortals before you, but since then we've met a lot of people... I am not making sense, I know," he sighed. "You have the spark inside, yet you allow your form to strangle it... Don't do that... I wish you didn't do that... I wish you'd let me close too..."

"I am not separate from my form, that's the thing... The aches and pains, the weakness, the joints that don't move... It feels as derelict as it looks," she smirked. "I cannot ignore it... It does define what I can do with my life."

"Then we'll have to fix it," Dylan said firmly. "The Wellspring... It's worth a try."

...

"The Mazken Wellspring is not open to mortals," a guard at the Pinnacle Rock barred the way when Lena and Dylan approached.

"Without this mortal we would not be here," Dylan reminded her. "Not until Prince Sheogorath's return. And even then... remember the way it was in the past? Only some of us got resurrected. For all you know, you could have been dead, forever."

"That... is a good point," the guard looked uncertain. "Proceed, but on your head be it, Kiskengo."

She stepped aside and they entered.

"What did she call you?" Lena asked in surprise.

"Kiskengo - it's the lowest rank in the Mazken Order," Dylan shrugged. "Mind you, I think it's her rank as well."

They walked through the corridors and reached the Mazken Wellspring. Dark waters were running down a fountain and gathering in a pool.

"Go bathe in it," Dylan told Lena. "Don't come out until it's done. You'll know when that is."

She undressed and stepped under the running water. She felt as if layers of skin and flesh were being peeled off of her, it was excruciatingly painful but at the same time she felt reborn... Birth was a painful affair, after all. She wanted to jump out just to stop the pain, but remembered Dylan's warning. If he had told her it would be hurting that much, she might not have done it... She was glad he didn't tell her.

Gradually the pain let up. She opened her eyes and looked at her hands, at her legs and feet... They looked young. The joints were no longer swallen. She moved to the edge and jumped out of the pool, and didn't wince in pain on impact. She twirled and her body responded, her hips and her spine twisting with her. She looked at Dylan, he was smiling.

"It worked, you look young," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Like may be now I'll have my life back..."

...

The weeks and months that followed were all in a haze. Celebrations of Lena's recovery were held throughout the Realm. She drank more wine and consumed more felldew than she'd ever done, without thinking of consequences, she felt light, she felt on top of the world. Even Sanguine thought she was going to excess... but no one dared restrain Lord Sheogorath.

"You are closest to her, you must stop her," the Mazken Commander spoke to Dylan one day. "She asked for a male, you responded, and now it is your duty to save her from herself. This Realm needs Lord Sheogorath who is not drunk or high on felldew."

"I am but a guard," Dylan objected. "She won't listen to me."

"Go to it, Kiskengo, I shall hear no objections." She glared at him and left. What was he to do?

...

"My Lord, if I could have a word?" Dylan approached Sanguine at Bernice's Taphouse.

"Dylan, is it?" Sanguine squinted at him. He was drinking alone, something was weighing on his mind. "Sit down. Let's hear it."

"It is about Wolf, err, Lord Sheogorath," Dylan spoke in a low voice and Bernice edged a bit closer to them. "She needs to sober up."

"Aye, that she does," Sanguine nodded. "That's easily done. What comes next will be the real challenge."

"What comes next?" Dylan looked perplexed.

Sanguine watched Bernice serve them another bottle of wine and didn't speak until she was more or less out of earshot.

"Why do you think she makes for such a befitting Lord Sheogorath? How is it that she seems to belong to both halves of this land?" He squinted at Dylan. "She broods with the Demented and revels with the Manics, sometimes within the space of a day... but never at the same time, exactly like the Prince himself."

"She has his blessing, that is clear," Dylan nodded.

"She went from loathing herself to being reborn, she will swing back as soon as she stops drinking, and will keep swinging faster and harder until she hits the wall..." Sanguine took a sip of his wine. "She needs a champion to catch her, the same as did her Prince."

They kept talking well into the night. Bernice tried to listen in but couldn't quite figure out what they were planning.

...

Lena was flying. She felt lighter than air, she soared above the orange trees of Mania and green swamps of Dementia, she saw the sparkling blue sea around the Isles and the dazzling starry sky above them. She saw people below going about their business, grummites fighting gnarls and elytras, Mazken and Aureals patrolling the roads of the Realm. She was Lord Sheogorath, and this was her land.

"You are a cheat," a voice spoke behind her. "You are mortal. You cannot rule this land."

She turned around in flight - a wraith was raising its sword. It swung it and Lena fell down.

"Cheer to Lord Sheogorath!" Someone shouted, and a bowl of felldew appeared before her eyes. "Your withdrawal begins. Don't let it." She ate the felldew and soared into the air again.

"You squandered my gift," a voice spoke behind her again. It was another wraith. "I gave you immortality and you swapped it for a decrepit body!" The wraith raised its sword but Lena twisted away.

"Quick, drink this!" Someone was holding a goblet. "The wraith will drown in wine and won't return!" Lena drank and the wraith vanished. The flight continued.

"It won't stop until you find the traitor," another voice spoke behind her, it wasn't a wraith. She turned to look - a man in a black robe was gliding through the air with her, his hood was hiding his face. "You aren't done yet." She looked down. The land was covered in blood.

"It's not blood - it's wine! Don't believe him!" She heard voices all around, people were thrusting goblets at her, all filled with wine. "Drink! Pass the time! Nothing else matters!"

She took a goblet and started drinking. The man in a black robe lowered his hood and looked at her with dead eyes of a corpse. "You were too late," he said. She screamed and he vanished.

Lena was flying through the air, enjoying the light breeze and the starry sky.

"You are a cheat. You are mortal. You cannot rule this land." A wraith spoke behind her...

...

Lena didn't know how many times the cycle repeated - ten, twenty, a hundred? Definitely more than ten... perhaps even more than a hundred... she was stuck and could not get out. Wasn't there something she needed to do? Somewhere she needed to be? She was in a haze, red mist hung in the air.

The air was getting thicker, restraining her movements, pushing back, flying turned into swimming, and she was hardly making any progress at all. But was she in a hurry? No, she wasn't. She was already too late, there was no longer any point in going anywhere. She lost it all. She missed her chance. It was all gone. She was alone.

She stopped. The red mist turned to dust, black dust filling the air. Black dust. Black earth. The Void opened under her feet and pulled her in. Sithis was waiting in the distance.

It wasn't Sithis, it was a wraith. It threw a curse and Lena felt her heart pierced with pain. Every beat was now an agony. "You wanted a heartbeat, and you got what you asked for!" The wraith screeched. Lena felt blood rising in her throat. Each heartbeat was pushing out more blood.

Lena was bleeding. Her blood was black, thick and viscous. Her heart didn't beat but the pain did not subside. She felt a tug at her soul. Black tar was rising around her, absorbing her black, viscous blood. A silver swirl appeared on the surface of the tar, it came from Lena's body and disappeared into the depths. Another, thicker swirl appeared and also drowned. Her soul was leaking into the tar.

...

A blinding light permeated all. Pain beyond compare surged through Lena's body. She opened her eyes - the light was too bright to look at, yet she looked. Colours were coming into focus, she was looking straight into the sun. The sky was azure blue, getting brighter with every moment. The clouds were dazzling white, shining like diamonds. The earth was covered in grasses and flowers - gold, purple, scarlet, emerald. The waters were sparkling with silver ripples on indigo waves...

Lena was flying.

...

A shadow appeared in the distance. It took but a moment and a black arrow pierced Lena's heart. The sun went dark and the colours withered, the waters opened and Lena fell in. Unable to swim, she drowned. Black waters closed in.

She hit rock bottom. Black lava rocks were all around, their jagged edges cutting her skin. She bled and dark, inky clouds formed around her wounds. She tried to walk but the rocks cut her feet. She fell and rolled downhill, it felt like being inside an Iron Maiden. Then someone turned on the drip.

Black came in many colours. Each shade carried a particular type of pain. There were hundreds, and they kept changing. They could not be ignored as they were never the same. The pain of the soul was the worst pain in the Void. It was getting too much. Lena could not go on. "Forgive me, Speaker, I failed," she said and closed her eyes. It was all it took to die - she just had to will it.

...

"Put your hands on her chest and push! Again! Harder! Again!" Sanguine was watching Lena's pupils. "She's gone into cardiac arrest! Stand clear!" Dylan jumped aside and Sanguine shot a lightning bolt at Lena's chest. "Try again! Quick!"

"Are you sure this is how you revive mortals?" Dylan was doing his best but Lena's heart wasn't beating.

"Yes, yes," Sanguine looked worried. "But this one is too stubborn... Knife!" He gestured for a sharp blade on the dressing table that he had insisted on having at hand. Dylan handed it to him, not sure what to expect.

"NOOOOO!!!" He screamed as Sanguine cut open Lena's chest and wrapped his hand around her heart.

"I am not trying to kill her, she is already dead," Sanguine shot a glance at Dylan. "But I am not giving up on her yet."

He squeezed her heart rythmically a few times and Lena jerked, then breathed in sharply. He continued a little longer, and her breathing stabilised. Sanguine released her heart watching to make sure that it continued beating on its own and that Lena continued breathing, then removed his hand from her chest and cast a healing spell to close the wound. Dylan was stunned, he stood as if stricken. "That is rebirth like I have never seen before," he said in a barely audible voice.

"Mortals call it resuscitation," Sanguine answered softly. "There is a small window after their heart stops beating when they can be brought back."

"Will she stay alive?" Dylan watched Lena breathe fearing for it to stop any moment.

"That will depend on her. She died because she no longer saw the point of dealing with the pain of living."

...

"I am always here for you... Return when you are ready." A man in a black robe lowered his hood. His dark hair escaped from its tie and fell softly around his face. His brown eyes were almost black, looking at her and smiling in the corners. She breathed in his scent, bitter and sweet at once, and felt her heart starting to beat. The pain receded. She would see another day.

[Lena Wolf]

4th Era, years 60 - 160 - Recovery

"Pick up the pieces and start again," Lena was sitting on the bed in her chamber at the palace in New Sheoth. She was alone. Sanguine made her promise him she would not commit suicide in his absence, and besides, suicide was one of the few things forbidden on the Shivering Isles. Dylan was at his post outside her door. "Pick up the pieces..." She looked around the room. "But I can't remember where everything goes!" She smiled, recalling the words of Prince Sheogorath lamenting having to rebuild himself and his Realm after each Greymarch. "I know exactly how you feel, My Prince," she nodded. "Where everything goes..." She stretched out her hands and looked at them. They were hands. Ordinary hands without deformed swallen joints. She looked at her legs and feet - the same. It wasn't the ultimate youth that she was craving, but just a functional body, and if it also looked alright, that would be a plus.

She got up and walked over to the mirror. A young woman was looking back at her, blond hair, amber eyes. She seemed to be in her twenties. "Not seventeen," Lena thought. "So for the better." She smiled and nodded, and her reflection nodded back.

She opened her wardrobe and took out the only dress that was there - a black finery of Dementia, worn, stained and torn in places. The only other garment that she found was her Sheogorath Regalia, a formal dress meant for special occasions. She shook her head and put it back. Someone would have to lend her a dress.

"Dylan, get me a dress," she put her head outside the door without opening it too much.

"M'Lord?" Dylan turned to look at her, perplexed. "What sort of a dress?"

"Any dress that isn't stained or ripped," she shrugged. "Go to the Duchess of Dementia and requisition one. She's about my size, it should fit."

She shut the door. Dylan scratched his head, glared at the other guard outside Lena's door and turned to go looking for the Duchess. Being the only male among the all-female Mazken guard at the palace wasn't easy.

"She will make you feel the pain of being a man," the female guard mocked him. "Fetch me that, bring me this, she'll take you shopping next. At least we don't make our men fetch dresses for us. You should have stayed with the Order."

"I am still with the Order, Kiskengo," he cut her off. "And the only reason you don't make us fetch dresses for you is that all you ever wear is armour."

The guard was right, however. As soon as Lena was dressed, she declared that it was time to go shopping. She made Dylan follow her into every shop of both Bliss and Crucible and bought every dress and every pair of shoes in every colour. "I need choice," she explained. "I can't be seen wearing the same thing every day, I am Lord Sheogorath!"

"You've done just that for the last sixty years..." Dylan started saying, but quickly caught himself. Perhaps he shouldn't remind her of how she felt or what she looked like during that time.

Finally, laden with parcels and tired, they stopped at Bernice's on their way back to the palace.

"I see you are feeling better!" Sanguine laughed at the sight of a tower of parcels coming through the door with Dylan somewhere underneath. "You could have had them delivered, you know."

"And deprive my faithful bodyguard of fulfilling his duties?" She laughed. "Never! However, we can have them delivered from here." She put her head through the door and called a guard walking past. "Can you take a few boxes back to the palace?" She smiled at the guard who saluted. "That's right, all of that..." It was now Dylan's turn to smirk seeing the guard getting loaded with all those parcels. "Duties should be shared," Lena grinned at Sanguine, sitting down at his table and gesturing Dylan to do the same. "It's good to have everything back to normal."

Bernice's Taphouse was filling with people, it was time for dinner. Bernice had her hands full serving food and drink, and even forgot to cough at times. Smoked baliwog legs were disappearing quickly, with roasted grummite eggs to follow, Summer Wine and ale were on every table, and soon the conversation became loud enough to allow Lena to say what she wanted to say without anyone listening.

"I want to thank you two for standing by me when I needed it most," she looked at Sanguine and Dylan in turn. "It could not have been easy... and I cannot promise it won't happen again," she sighed. "But my personal Greymarch is thus concluded, and there's no reason we cannot enjoy the rest of my reign as Lord Sheogorath until the Prince returns."

...

In the years that followed much of Lena's time was spent walking the roads of her Realm, the same as before. She still enjoyed delving into caves and ruins to fetch one or the other trivial item for one of the citizens, and Dylan came to realise that it wasn't the items that were of importance, it was the fact that she went to all that trouble to fetch them. It was the case of Bernice's aquanostrum over and over again.

The one striking difference however was how Lena conducted herself, how she treated herself, there was a sense of purpose in her step and confidence in her demeanour. She no longer regarded her body as revolting, and came to believe that removing her clothes in front of someone could be seen as a gift rather than an attempt to purge their dinner. And yet she still held everyone at bay, apart from Sanguine. It's been years and she still hadn't been to Lucien's fort, something was holding her back, but what it was, she could not figure out.

One day she and Dylan were going through a difficult ruin in search of a fork of some sort, or something similarly mundane, yet important to one of the people. It had been hard going, the ruin was filled with undead. They cleared it, but found no forks, it was disappointing but not unexpected. They needed to rest, but the nearest camp was a distance away.

"Let's stay here, didn't we find living quarters in this ruin?" Dylan wasn't willing to walk to the camp. "The skeletons are all put to rest for now, it'll be quiet..."

They backtracked to stay the night.

"Let me help you with that..." Dylan picked up Lena's breastplate as she was trying to undo the buckles. She let him. Perhaps she didn't need to worry that much... perhaps he actually really meant it... wanted it even...

Was it true that no one could ever refuse a Dark Seducer? Was that musky sweet scent impossible to overcome? Or was it rather that this was Dylan, her friend of many years, who had long lost all notions of service when they were away from the palace, and who was simply there because he wanted to be with her? In which case, why was she still resisting?

She stopped resisting. The Dark Seducer did not disappoint.

...

During her travels in Sheogorath's Realm, Lena sometimes came across unusual statues that seemed infused with magic, yet had no effect when approached or touched.

"I've heard of these, they are portals," Dylan explained. "Mostly inactive, left over from previous eras, deactivated during subsequent Greymarches... something like that," he shrugged. "There supposed to be a lot of them all over the place, even some at the palace... particularly at the palace, perhaps... Rumour has it that they become active sometimes, for a time, then go dead again."

"But where do they lead?" Lena was stroking the statue in fascination.

"To other worlds... Who is to say where exactly..."

A few times the statues responded, taking Lena to strange distant worlds. Sometimes Dylan followed, other times he could not, but there was always a way to return, and time would have often stood still in the Realm of Sheogorath regardless of how long Lena stayed in the other worlds.

"You should be careful with these portals though," Dylan tried to instill some caution into her. "Some worlds may be hostile... there may not be a way back, or you may die there... You are mortal, if you die, you die here too." But Lena was getting reckless, touching every statue she could find, daring fate... Until one day she touched a statue and found herself standing on the shore of Niben Bay, but there was no island in the middle, no way back to the Shivering Isles. She looked around, everything looked as it should be, yet her heart fell... something wasn't right...

[Lena Wolf]

4th Era, years 60 - 160 - The other Cyrodiil

Lena stood on the shore of the Niben Bay but there was no island in the middle of it, no portal to the Shivering Isles. And yet this was where she came from, she touched a statue somewhere and got teleported to the shore of Niben Bay. Everything looked as it should be, yet something wasn't right, she felt it with all her being.

She turned around and went to Bravil. She'd go home, then try to figure out what happened.

The guard by the city gate did not greet her, at she thought it was strange, but she shrugged and went in. The guard in the city ignored her as well, as did the people in the street. She entered The Fair Deal meaning to ask Nilawen what was going on.

"Welcome to the Fair Deal, stranger!" Nilawen greeted her with a smile. "You will always get a fair deal here! How can I help?"

Stranger... Nilawen did not recognise her.

"I just would like a newspaper..." Lena stummered.

"Of course!" Nilawen put a copy of the Black Horse Courier on the counter. "They are free! Help yourself!" She beamed at Lena.

Lena took the paper. It had a story about some lady in Leyawiin who was forced to hide in her house for weeks because she had bought an Everscamp staff and was now surrounded by scamps wherever she went... Fortunately for her however, a brave adventurer took over the staff and she could finally leave the house. What she had paid the adventurer wasn't disclosed, and thus had to be a very hefty sum... Lena grinned at that and searched for the date: Midyear, 4E1. She had gone back in time, but there was no reason why Nilawen should not recognise her... In fact, she looked exactly the way she used to look back then, apart from no longer being a vampire.

Unsure what to make of Nilawen, Lena thanked her and went home. But someone had changed the locks on her door! Her key didn't fit!

Perplexed, she decided to ask Daenlin at The Archer's Paradox - he was a neighbour, and would surely know what happened.

Daenlin did not recognise Lena either, and when she asked about the owner of the house next door, he informed her with certain pride that the house belonged to none other but the Champion of Cyrodiil himself, the Hero of Kvatch and Bruma, the Saviour of their world, etcetera, etcetera. But if she was seeking an audience with the Champion, then alas, she was out of luck because he mostly resided in the Imperial City, as was befitting his rank and stature.

"I see..." Lena nodded and smiled. "Thank you kindly."

Was this a parallel world? She'd heard the theory from one of the lecturers at the Arcane University, but everyone thought it was just a product of his overactive imagination fuelled by brandy. But now it looked like that mage might have been right all along...

She went to the Mages Guild, but also there no one knew her. Kud-Ei offered her to join the guild, said she looked gifted in magic... Lena brought up the topic of the parallel worlds, but no one heard of it there.

"You are a mage already, aren't you?" Kud-Ei looked at Lena with interest. "Quite skilled as well, I can sense your magicka. We welcome mages from other lands, why don't you join us for lunch, it is always nice to discuss new ideas! What is your name, if I may ask?"

"I am Lena Wolf," Lena smiled.

"Welcome, Lena Wolf! So glad to make your aquaintance!" Kud-Ei beamed at her and the other mages joined in. "Where do you hail from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Cyrodiil," Lena was about to say, then bit her tongue. "Faranga," she recalled one of the worlds she had visited. "It is an island far out at sea. We are seafarers and we recently docked in Anvil, and I've been visiting your land ever since..."

"Fascinating!"

"Extraordinary!"

"Amazing!"

The reception was warm and friendly, the mages eager to talk to someone new, they discussed the theory of parallel worlds but didn't think it could be true.

"There are certainly other worlds out there," was the concessus. "And there may well be portals that connect them, but to think that there's a world exactly like ours... well... the probability of that is so minute, that can be safely considered nil. No, all those worlds are different, for sure."

It was a most rational and logical conclusion, except that it wasn't true...

Lena went to other cities in this Cyrodiil and met with the mages at the guild halls, getting a similar reception everywhere. Nobody believed in parallel worlds, and as such nobody could help her to find a way back either.

On a whim she went to Fort Farragut. She wasn't expecting Lucien to recognise her either, and she couldn't go to the Sanctuary because in that world she was not a member. She didn't know what she expected to find. Did they have the same trouble with the traitor here? Did they solve it in the same way? Had the Sanctuary been Purified and Lucien killed, perhaps? She had to know... She found the trapdoor but it was locked, she would have to go through the fort proper.

When Lena reached Lucien's quarters, she found him standing there, watching her approach. A scantly clad woman was behind him on the bed. The room was lavishly furnished, it was nothing like the one in Lena's world.

"Well, you show promise," Lucien said and smiled, looking her over. "An adventurer, is it? Came to seek treasures in this abandoned fort?"

"I... Yes, that's right," Lena nodded. Her heart was aching. "I... did not expect to find you like this... err... did not expect to find anyone here," she struggled to find the words.

"That's understandable," Lucien nodded. "But now that you found me, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave. That'd be telling, you see."

He drew his sword and attacked, but Lena was faster, she vanished and jumped back, and Lucien's sword found no mark.

"You wish to dance then!" He cried with excitement, casting chameleon and trying to listen for any noise that might betray her position.

"He may have a different lifestyle, but he is still a Master Assassin," Lena reminded herself. She never had to fight against Lucien before, and although she knew what he was capable of, it was quite a different matter to experience it first hand. "Play to your strengths," she told herself. "We need a diversion."

She summoned a clannfear and hit the woman on the bed with a frost spell, all in one movement, then she vanished again and moved. Lucien ignored the woman who was shrieking with pain, and lunged at the spot where Lena had stood, be she was no longer there. Her clannfear was chasing the woman who seemed to be an assassin herself, as she was parrying, and with success...

"Let's stop this, I don't want to kill you!" Lucien said loudly and sheathed his sword. "Adventurer! Show yourself! I invite you to join our Order!"

The clannfear vanished with a pop returning to Oblivion, and the woman appoached Lucien, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

"Let her go and come to bed," she said in a languid voice. "We don't want any new members... or are you growing tired of me?"

"Not now, Rosa," he unwrapped her embrace. "She is better than you, I can tell..."

He kept listening intently, following Lena through the fort as she was making her way back to the entrance. Then he jumped and caught her in an embrace, dispelling her cloak.

"You are something else," he said, smiling. "Join me."

"I am flattered, Mr. Lachance," Lena said, freeing her hands and wrapping them around his neck, her face close to his. She felt his breathing and inhaled his scent... "But in this world I must decline," she said in his ear, Baronoff's Bloody Icicle flying off her fingers. Lucien collapsed, paralyzed, and she made her escape. His scent wasn't the same.

...

This Cyrodiil was definitely not the same as Lena's. The longer she stayed there, the more differences she discovered, and it wasn't surprising. People made different choices, leading to new events and more choices to make. It was a lonely place because everyone Lena had known, was now someone else...

She focused on finding a way out instead. She came in through a portal in an ancient ruin, so it was only logical to assume that another ancient ruin had a similar portal leading her back to the Shivering Isles. The oldest ruins were Ayleid, and she made it a point to search each of them thoroughly, and indeed somewhere in the depths she found a round pedestal that looked like a step, oddly out of place... She felt magic around it but it didn't respond to touch. She took a Welkynd stone from a nearby stand and crumbled it over the step. There was a flash of light and a pop and she stood in a different ruin, complete with undead, now turning towards her... "Where am I, I wonder?" She thought, but there was no time to ponder that question if she wanted to stay alive...

...

Eventually Lena found a way out of the ruin and stood on a hill in Colovian Highlands. The sea was visible in the distance, and she decided to go to Anvil.

It was another parallel world. She had to start from scratch.

...

Years passed. Lena had seen so many parallel worlds, so many versions of Cyrodiil just after the Oblivion Crisis - it was always year 4E1. "Breaking the Amulet of Kings was the stupidest thing Martin could do!" She would think again and again, arriving in yet another world. It was one of those cataclysmic events that aligned and linked the time lines making it possible to jump from one world to another, but also removing any means of distinguishing between them at that point in time. In other words, there was no way to tell where Lena was going. She could only hope that chance would somehow take her home...

In every world she went to the Niben Bay near Bravil to see if the island with the door to the Shivering Isles was there, and in every world it was not. Why was that? Surely, the Daedric Realms must be the same everywhere? But she did not dare summon any of the Princes, Sanguine least of all, for fear of finding them changed, too... She did not know how deep the crack in time went, and had a feeling that just chasing after it would only make it deeper. No, she would find a way home through Mundus alone, no matter how long it would take.

Then one day she came to the Niben Bay and saw an island in the middle of the water. Her heart gave a jolt. She did not know what year it was, although it had to be year 4E1, and if this was indeed her world, then there had to be another version of her there somewhere, and that was perhaps the most scary prospect of all. If this was her world, she was home... but she was in the wrong time.

"I should go to the Shivering Isles," she decided. "Before someone sees me. I am still a vampire in this world, assuming this is the one..." It was getting too complicated, and she quickly cast a spell and walked over the water to the island.

"Stay back!" The guard at the portal warned her. "This is a dangerous portal! Perfectly normal people go in, crazy people come out!"

"That's alright, I know where it leads," Lena smiled and entered.

She found herself in a room that looked like a dusty office of some city archive. There was a table in the middle with a metronome measuring out time, a man in a peculiar suit sat behind it, scribbling something on a scoll. The walls were covered in shelves with more scrolls and tomes than the eye could see...

"Come in and sit down," the man said without looking up. He jerked his quill towards the chair opposite his on the other side of the table. "So..." He finished writing and looked up.

"Hello, Haskill," Lena smiled, sitting down. "Been here long?" She took in the room and the shelves once again.

"My Lord, am I glad to finally see you!" Haskill's face melted in a huge smile, and Lena reflected that the man must have been handsome once... when he still had more hair and more vigour... or just more spark, perhaps. "It's been ages!" He rolled his eyes. "The time lines got fused..."

"Yeah, I noticed," Lena nodded. "The Amulet of Kings."

"Quite," Haskill nodded. "But now that you are back in the Realm, I shall reset the timer..." He touched the metronome, stopping the hand, then pushed it in the opposite direction. "If you would follow me, your subjects are eager to see you..."

He stood up, gesturing Lena to stand next to him, and when she approached, he took her hand and cast a spell...

...

Lena and Haskill arrived in the throne room of the palace in New Sheoth. Haskill let go of Lena's hand and gave her a curtly bow, the guards straightened their backs, she looked at them and saw that they knew who she was... they recognised her... she let out a sigh of relief...

"What year is it?" She turned to Haskill and he wasn't in the least surprised at her question.

"Here in the Realm, the same as when you left," he checked something in his notes. "A few days later, no more," he smiled. "You will find everyone as you left them. As for Mundus... should you venture there again... it will be as you will it... provided it is later than the last time you visited there, because, you know, we don't want yet another Dragon Break."

"No, we don't," Lena said firmly. "Thank you, Haskill. Keep up the good work."

She went to her quarters and found Dylan at his post outside the door. She called him inside, and the other guard glared. Lena smiled - everything was as she left it, finally she was home.

[Lena Wolf]

Hearthfire, 4E98 - A visit to Cheydinhal

Lena's misadventure in parallel worlds made her weary of any further portals. It also made her realise how much she missed her own Cyrodiil, and in particular Lucien. She had not been to Mundus since she regained a youthful form at the Mazken Wellspring, but she could not delay it forever, and why would she, it was a good thing after all... wasn't it? She could not understand what made her tarry in the first place. She went to the portal in the Fringe and stepped through it.

...

"Which year is it?" She wondered, approaching the city gates of Bravil. The guard did not recognise her, but it wasn't surprising as she didn't recognise him either. The stable hand was reading the paper, she asked if she could have a copy, he gave her one... It was year 4E98, almost a hundred years since her last visit... well, may be not quite... she could not recall, exactly. But it was longer than a human life...

"I wonder how many people I know are still alive," she mused. "Well, the elves are of course still around... and the Orcs, Khajiit and Argonians... Some Bretons probably too, since people say we are half-mer... The Nords are human but quite long lived, some are said to live five hundred years... Who's left? Redguards and Imperials... But with all the mixing that's been going on for thousands of years, how many of them have no elven blood, in fact? People are more likely to die of disease or in battle than simply of old age, it seems..."

She changed her mind and did not go to Bravil. It's been too long, and she did not feel like bumping into old friends and having to explain what she was doing for the past hundred years. She went to Cheydinhal instead, a town that didn't ask questions.

...

"Good to see you!" Borba greeted her when Lena pushed the door of her shop. "It's been a while!"

"Hello, Borba," Lena smiled. "Remember me, do you?"

"We Orcs have long lives and good memory," Borba gave her a toothy grin as only an Orc could. "You cured your vampirism... and cleared the side effect of that cure... Good on you!"

"You've heard of the side effect..."

"Oh yes," Borba nodded. "I could have told you that it would happen... but then you might not have gone through with it, and may be that would be wrong... You were so young when you turned, of course... But look at me - chatting away like a schoolgirl! Was there anything you wanted, other than a chat?"

"I... well... I think I just wanted a chat," Lena smiled. "Is the abandoned house still abandoned?"

"It is, nothing's changed," Borba nodded. "He's been waiting for you all this time... Why don't you visit the fort," she said softly.

Lena smiled and blushed slightly, bought some provisions and went to the abandoned house rather than to the fort. What was holding her back? She could not tell...

The abandoned house was indeed exactly as she remembered it. It was dusty and full of cobwebs, there were some crates and barrels by the door and some clutter in the basement, it seemed that Borba might still have been using it for deliveries from time to time. The Black Door was still there too, humming softly with its eternal enchantment. Lena put her hand to it and felt a response - the door still remembered her, still welcomed her back... but Lena did not enter. She went upstairs, had a bite to eat and fell asleep on the old cot like so many years ago.

...

She had a strange, slightly disturbing dream. She was a vampire again, she was famished and craving blood. She left the house and crept along the city wall keeping to the shadows. She had to have blood... there were always beggars sleeping along the wall. She found one... all was quiet and she knelt over him and fed.

...

Lena woke up, slightly shaken. Surely, that must have just been a flashback, just a memory awakened by the house she was in... Nothing to worry about. She turned over and thought to go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come to her any more.

It was the middle of the night. Lena got up and went out, slipping through the old trapdoor into the passage under the city wall. Perhaps she should visit the fort after all... If she was lucky, Lucien would not be there, or else he'd be asleep and would not realise she ever came by. Why she still thought it important, she could not explain.

She approached the fort. Shadowmere was grazing nearby, so Lucien was likely at home. Should she turn back? No, she came too far... she had to make sure that Lucien in her world was still the same as before. She pulled up the trapdoor and descended the rope ladder.

She found him on the bed, sleeping. Her heart gave a jolt - the room still looked the same. The same smells hung in the air, the same sounds came from further in the fort. She came closer and knelt over him. His head was turned to the side, his neck exposed, a vein throbbing, and the scent of fresh, warm blood hit Lena's nostrils. She was famished... She bit his neck and fed.

...

Lena sat up in bed with a jolt. She was still in the abandoned house. She did fall asleep again after that first dream... and now she'd had that nightmare. But it was all just a dream... just her mind playing tricks on her. The last time she slept in that bed, she was a vampire... Surely, it was just that - only flashbacks.

She got up and stretched. It was dawning, a new day was about to begin. She ate what was left over from the night before, drank some water and went out. She would go to Lucien's fort. It was time.

...

Lucien wasn't at home. Shadowmere was no where to be seen and his quarters were empty. The grate was cold and there was no food in the larder, it appeared he'd been away for some time. "That is entirely possible," Lena thought, since as a Speaker, Lucien traveled all over Cyrodiil, and sometimes even further afield. "Nothing to worry about." She told herself firmly. The room was the same as before, the same scents hung in the air, the same sounds came from further in the fort... The nightmare hugged Lena again and she shuddered, jerking her head towards the bed. No, Lucien was not there.

"I shall go crazy like this," she told herself. "I am staying until he returns. I've got to make sure."

She went to town and bought provisions, then returned to the fort, made the fire, cooked up some food. She brew potions, prepared some poisons too. Read the paper. Ate dinner. And still Lucien hadn't returned. It was getting late and Lena was tired and sleepy. She went to bed.

...

Lucien returned to his fort in the early hours of the morning. It had been a long and arduous trip. He had a contract to fulfil and another to discuss, and it turned out that the discussion was a trap to kill him... It didn't work out like that, but he didn't come away unscathed either. He hoped there was at least something left in the fort as he hadn't refilled it before leaving.

He lifted the trapdoor and smelled dinner - someone had been there while he was away. "Ocheeva looking out for me again," he thought and smiled to himself. Ocheeva was such a faithful friend. He descended the rope ladder... It wasn't Ocheeva. A young blond woman was sleeping in his bed.

He had to look twice, but there could be no doubt - it was Lena, her youth restored to her. "So this is what she looked like before she turned," Lucien thought, peering into her face. He'd only known her as a vampire, and later, after she took the cure, he'd seen what it did to her body and understood what it did to her spirit too. And now her form was restored. "She looks in her twenties," he thought. "But how old is she? About hundred and twenty, counting in our years... Still younger than me, but those twenty five years hardly matter now... I wonder whether she'll stay this time..."

He tried to keep quiet and not wake her up but he had to bandage his wounds that started bleeding again. Lena heard him and woke up.

"You are bleeding!" Was the first thing she said to him after all this time. "Bath - now!" She filled the bath, then hit the water with a frost spell. "Get in." She came close and helped him out of his robe where it got stuck to the skin, removed the bandages, piling them up in a bloody heap. He watched her in fascination. She looked different but she was unchanged. She stopped for a moment, wrapped her arms around his neck, breathed in his scent, bitter and sweet at once... The same scent as always... She squeezed him in an embrace and said softly into his ear, "It's good to see you again, Speaker!" He thought it sounded is if she had lost him in between, as if he had been dead... It would take another hundred years before she'd tell him that it was exactly as he thought.

...

They spent the day talking as neither of them could sleep. There was so much to tell... and yet they didn't speak of what mattered most - Lena's return. It seemed she wasn't ready yet. She left the following day going back to the Shivering Isles, still thinking that her Speaker could never be anything other than her friend. Those two nights in Bravil were so far in the past, as if in another life, and Lena started to believe that perhaps it never happened, that she dreamed it, imagined it, hallucinated it... And she got used to thinking that.

Back in the Shivering Isles life was pleasant and time was passing quickly, and perhaps it was passing quicker than in Mundus, who was to say. Sanguine visited often, and every time there would be a party, with wine and felldew to excess. It was during one such party that Lena stumbled against a statue that turned to be a portal to Gransys where a dragon literally stole her heart, where she met Scorpio and gave him a piece of her soul, only to lose him again in the end. She spent so many years there... and yet just a day had passed in the Shivering Isles when Haskill touched the metronome upon her return. But what year was it in Mundus? It was whatever she willed it, as long as it was later than last time... She lost track of years, but Lucien thought it was a very long time. Regardless, he was still waiting.

Next time she came to his fort, he wasn't there. She restocked his cupboards, spent the night in his bed and left before he returned.

Finally, Prince Sheogorath appeared in his Realm around 4E160. Lena relinquished her title and vacated her quarters in the palace, she was glad to resume her life. She stepped through the portal to Mundus and went to Bravil... but her house had been repossessed. She'd been away for too long, and even her membership with the Mages Guild had been revoked.

"You will rejoin the Arcane University in no time, we still know who you are!" Kud-Ei was trying to console her. "But the Mages Guild answers to the Elder Council, and they put bureaucracy before people... You missed the Census too many times, so they marked you as 'non-living' - not deceased since they never found your body, but also not a current resident of the Empire any more... You should go to the Imperial City and get yourself reinstated."

She went to the Imperial City, but having to deal with all those forms in triplicate was just too much to bear. Perhaps she should leave... not through a portal this time, but just on a ship... There were lands beyond the horizon, stories and people arriving from there every few years. Yes, this is what she would do. She went to Cheydinhal one more time, waited for Lucien, but only entered when he was aleady asleep. She hugged him and left again. In Anvil she found the largest ship, it looked rugged and sturdy and was bound for the Northern Realms. She sold most of her possessions to raise funds for the fair, she was leaving and would not come back.

The ship traversed the Great Ocean and crossed the Great Maelstrom. The journey itself took many months, or may be even years, the time itself shrunk and dilated as they went. But they survived and docked in Novigrad around the year 4E190 in terms of the calendar of Tamriel. Then, in 4E195 Lena learned that she had a brother. Another bond was forged there, only to be left behind. When the war engulfed the Northern Realms, Geralt insisted that Lena should return home.

She ageed in the end. Home was where her heart was.

The trip back did not take thirty years, and she was back in Tamriel around the year 4E200, now resigned to fill in all the required forms, in triplicate or quantuplicate, she no longer cared. Her citizen status was restored and she was allowed to buy back her house in Bravil and her shack on the Waterfront if she so desired... The Mages Guild received her with open arms, there were formalities to fulfil, but also there she was soon welcomed to the Arcane University, the same as before.

And yet she still hadn't returned to the Dark Brotherhood. She went to Lucien's fort, waited for him to return and go to sleep. She entered quietly, spent some time near him, kissed him and left without waking him up. She was nearly ready... but not quite.

Something called her to Skyrim. She went there and discovered that she was Dragonborn. The Blades were back in her life, and they were the last people she ever wanted to deal with again. It brought so many memories of the kind that she'd rather forget! But Geralt appeared in Skyrim, having made the same journey as she, and with his arrival her ties to Skyrim were forged.

She was just finding her feet and raising funds to buy back her homes when she met Hauk, and they became close friends. Soon after that Lucien came to visit her during the night. The Brotherhood wanted her back. He was her Speaker, asking for her return. He offered her a promotion but she refused, she would start at the bottom again and work her way through the ranks, she only ever wanted to be an Assassin... He did not press. She was back with the Brotherhood and back in his life, and everything else would follow.

Lena was back in Tamriel. For how long? Who was to say. But her life was now filled with people, and she was determined to to live it.

[Lena Wolf]

Sun's Height, 4E204 - Just another Arisen

"Looking for a fighter, are you, Arisen? Well then, I'm a fighter," a pawn in the Rift looked bored. "Anything in particular you're after? Or just someone to do your busy work?"

"Both," Lena squinted. "I've seen your skill sheet... You'll do. The rest we'll find out in the first half a day."

"The rest?" The pawn raised an eyebrow. "What rest?"

"Whether or not you fit in the team," Lena shrugged. "Come along. You'll be back with your own Arisen in no time if it doesn't work out."

Lena stepped out of the Rift with two new team members - a fighter and an archer. She was taking the bow herself and Scorpio was their mage.

"Two archers and a mage," the fighter looked them over. "You definitely wanted me to do your busy work."

"We'll see," Lena cut him off. "Take these and let's get going, we have a long road ahead of us." She handed them hefty potion pouches causing more raised eyebrows.

"What are you planning, Arisen?" The pawns started looking worried.

"Just goblins and sauriens along the way, nothing out of the ordinary," Lena shrugged. "With something bigger in between. I just don't like to lose people."

The two new members exchanged glances and fell in after Lena who already took off.

...

Two archers and a mage took out most foes between them, and the fighter hardly got anything to do. This Arisen liked prevention. She cleared most areas before the foes even realised what was going on. The second archer was wondering at first why they even needed him, but then they ran into a dozen or so bandits, and all became clear. A long range archer was all well and good when you could stay at long range, but combat in close quarters took a very different turn. They still won, but the fighter now had his work cut out for him.

"I understand now why you need me," the archer smiled when the battle was over. "You are one crazy archer, you charge the enemy."

"Only when I cannot stay back," Lena nodded. "Then I create distance between you and me, and the enemy has to run between us, where the fighter gets them in the middle."

"You've done this before."

"A few times."

Everyone smirked. It was a highly unconventional strategy - archers were known to stay behind everyone else, even behind mages.

"What was 'the rest' that you wanted to check?" The fighter caught up with Lena as they resumed their march. "Does it work out or not?"

"What do you think? Does it work out?" Lena grinned. "How's the busy work for you?"

"A lot less busy than I expected," the fighter grinned back. "You are used to daggers."

"Bows and daggers both," Lena nodded. "But they don't allow it here. I had to adapt."

"And you are protecting your mage."

"Mages need protecting."

"Not by archers," the fighter shook his head. "Not to this extent... Mages tend to be left behind... sacrificed..."

"No."

Lena shook her head so vigorously that the fighter decided to stop asking questions.

They had been walking all day, they'd had more fights than they could count, so they found a quiet spot and made camp. They roasted what meat they had in their pack, but everyone was too tired to talk. Swapping stories would have to wait for another night.

The following day was as arduous as the first, with another harsh day following, and when they finally reached their destination, they found the village overrun with monsters... Once again, rest was not in sight. But they prevailed, and without losing people, too. It was already dawning when they finally made camp. They had all but run out of fresh meat by then, and had to resort to cooking air dried meat instead. It was apparently as nutritious as the fresh variety, yet it didn't taste the same. Regardless, they were just too tired to pay attention. They had a long road ahead of them still, and the night was already all but over, so they agreed to set off again after just a few hours of sleep. If things went according to plan, then their following night would be spent in a real village, and possibly even in an inn.

The day smiled on them, the fights were light and they arrived at their destination at dusk. The inn was all but closed, but they did have provisions, so it was another night camping under the stars, but this time without rush - they were not planning on going anywhere on the morrow. Finally, it was a night for swapping stories. Or rather, it would have been, had they not been so mortally tired.

...

Lena woke up in the middle of the night. Since the camp was technically in the village, there was no need for either of them to be awake on watch. The campsite was sandy and grassy, which was rather better than rock found elsewhere. The fire had died down, but the embers were still glowing. Lena turned over a log, and sparks shot into the sky. All was peaceful, her three companions were sound asleep.

"Time to wake up, Arisen," she heard a voice in her head and the empty space in her chest was pierced with searing pain. "Time to remember why you are here."

"Grigori," Lena recognised the voice of the dragon. "Where are you? I'm supposed to face you..."

"It's not the time yet," Grigori clicked his tongue. "You have to remember your purpose in this world..."

"This isn't my world," Lena shook her head, talking to Grigori in her thoughts. She was careful not to make any noise. "You know I don't belong here..."

"I disagree... You may have come from another world, but now you're one of us... One of the links in the endless chain... Here to guard this world from oblivion..."

"You are confused," Lena sat up. "Planes of Oblivion belong in another realm..."

"No, there is just one Void..." Grigori was talking as if from far away. "The Void, the Rift, the Fade... it's all the same... It is all oblivion... where souls and worlds dissolve into when there's no one left to remember them..."

"But I was allowed to return to Tamriel..."

"For a time... And now you're back... Defeat me and start another cycle or fail to start the cycle and become a dragon yourself... There is no other choice, Dragonborn."

Grigori's voice fell silent. The pain stopped as suddenly as it struck, leaving a cold void where her heart should have been. The cold started spreading through her body. Dragonborn. Were dragons all the same in every realm, too?

"You are growing cold again," she suddenly heard Scorpio's voice, he was adding logs to the fire, making it flare up. "Was Grigori talking to you?"

Lena nodded, huddling in his embrace. "What is it with everyone wanting to talk inside my head?" She scoffed.

"Not everyone... just some."

Scorpio wrapped her in his coat as he'd done so many times before. She pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. They stayed by the fire, and gradually the cold in Lena's chest dissipated and she finally fell asleep.

...

"Coffee is here," Lena heard a voice and smelled the coffee. Was she still dreaming? Or was it morning already? She half opened her eyes and peeked. It was morning. She was lying by the campfire, still wrapped in Scorpio's coat, still pressing her ear to his chest... He woke up too, lifting his head to see what was going on, not wishing to disturb her.

"Mmm... coffee..." Lena stirred, trying not to land Scorpio's coat in the fire. "Thank you."

Their fighter was pouring coffee... she could not remember his name. The archer was sipping from his own steaming mug, smiling.

"You didn't just meet two weeks ago, did you?" He grinned. "I've heard of you... how many rounds? Twenty, thirty? No one keeps count after that... But tell me... if you don't mind... How did it start?"

"How did what start?" Lena sat up, gratefully accepting the coffee.

"How do you select a pawn? I've always wanted to know," the archer was still looking at her and Scorpio with interest, and perhaps a touch of envy. "How do you pick someone for the first time?"

"Oh, it's simple," Lena shrugged. "The first time around you are so completely stunned by the whole affair, your heart is missing yet you are not dead, you don't understand what's going on, and you're told you've got to face a dragon - a real, gigantic fire-breathing beast, you understand! - and you're just numb... lost. Then some clerk starts asking questions... 'Male or female?' 'Short or tall?' 'Deliberate or impulsive?' I don't remember exactly!" She sipped her coffee. "Then they show you some pictures... And you're told to pick one. And there he is, summoned for you... As if you can tell from a picture what someone is really like..."

"You did," the archer objected. "You chose wisely."

"I... well... actually, that was Scorpio's choice." Lena smiled at the surprise written all over their fighter's and archer's faces.

"It was my choice..." Scorpio looked at them and answered quite firmly. "It was my choice to try and be a friend. It took me a very long time to stop acting like a pawn. It is still the Arisen's choice to accept it, to put up with it all..."

"It takes two," Lena shrugged. "Like always in life. Relationships develop from both ends."

"That's just it - build a friendship, not just look for someone to do your busy work," the fighter nodded to himself. "And that is why when you face your dragon, you never face him alone."

[Lena Wolf]

Sun's Height, 4E204 - Travels beyond the Rift

"It was an arduous and annoying journey and I am glad to be back with you," Scorpio appeared out of nowhere when Lena woke up. He had been called in for pawn duty while she slept, a practice that Lena found most disturbing.

"As bad as that, was it?" She got up and hugged him. "Want a nap before we set off? We can't really have you too tired to concentrate on our own journey."

"I don't need a nap, you know that," Scorpio frowned. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Lena shook her head. "What's with the dark rings under the eyes? When was the last time you slept? Or ate? Did that Arisen dismiss you or did you fall in battle? Or fell off a cliff? Or perhaps jumped into the water and drowned when you've had enough? Don't think I don't know all the tricks you pawns get up to..."

"Well... You've been around too long, I see I can't fool you every time," Scorpio smiled. "No, I stayed till the Arisen dismissed me. Here, I brought a gift for you, too. An apple." He produced an apple from his pack.

"An apple?" Lena took it from him. "What a generous gift as well..." She sighed. "Oh never mind. How many times I myself sent pawns away with something similar... You said it was annoying... want to talk about it?"

"I think the sorcerer that we had with us last week, must have found walking with us annoying," Scorpio gave Lena a long look. "He clearly wanted action, but you kept him back."

"I didn't, actually..." Lena was getting defensive. "Unless you mean that I charged ahead and didn't give him a chance to be the front man... But he was a mage! Without any means of attacking foes up close! Mages, like archers, are supposed to keep back..."

"Supposed, but not always do," Scorpio shook his head. "Like you don't always keep back when you're an archer. I guess I just didn't fit into that team. They needed a healer, really, and although I can heal..."

"You are not Rook," Lena summarised. "Very well. Do you want to switch vocation? Be a fighter again?"

"Not yet," Scorpio shook his head. "What are you planning for today?"

"Saurians, ogres, bandits, phantasms and a wight," Lena unrolled the map. "I want to go to the Waterfall Cavern."

"Charming," Scorpio grimaced. "We need holy magic for this, I'll do it. You can't get a mage with holy magic who also..."

"...doesn't try to be the front man," Lena grinned. "But the real reason that you want to stay on as a mage is that your wound reopened when you switched back to fighter last week. Don't think I didn't notice. Lie down." She opened a cupboard and started putting jars and bottles on the table. "You cannot keep healing yourself as if it is a regular wound. You need real treatment."

The wound in Scorpio's side was no regular wound. Dragon blood had been injected into it, infecting him with Dragonsplague, a deadly disease that affected pawns. Lord Phaesus in Battahl had sought to capture an Arisen's soul - Lena's soul - through her pawn using a ritual known as the Transference of Souls. It involved sacrificing both the Arisen and the pawn, but Lord Phaesus wasn't squeamish. Yet he underestimated just what Lena was prepared to do for her pawn... She took another step into the depths of vampirism and turned into a higher vampire just so that she could drink all of the dragon blood from Scorpio's wound and cure his Dragonsplague. She did not die herself only thanks to Molag Bal's gift... Which Molag Bal couldn't wait to point out. It really did seem that despite all her efforts to free herself of vampirism, she only sank deeper and deeper in, towards the pure-blood form that Molag Bal was so keen to bestow upon her.

That wound in Scorpio's side did not heal in the Rift like other wounds, and although it initially closed, it kept reopening from time to time, it kept hurting and kept reminding him of what had occurred.

"Could it be that I failed to cut out all of the necrotic tissue in that wound?" Lena frowned as she was applying ointment on the scar which was indeed oozing dark blood in a few places, as if there was a wound under the skin. "May be I missed something? This blood does not look fresh."

"May be you missed something, or may be it's just the nature of that wound," Scorpio shrugged. "Don't overthink it. What's in that salve? It smells like nightshade..."

"Wolfsbane and nightshade," Lena nodded. "My brother's recipe. You're not a witcher, but you come pretty close, being a pawn," she smiled. "Let's hope your holy magic won't rip right through it."

...

"Wouldn't you want to have your pawn back with you, master?" One of the pawns in Lena's party looked wistfully around him. They'd lost Scorpio in the previous fight, and there was no riftstone nearby to get him back. "The loss of our comrade will weigh heavily upon the morale." He added, looking dejected. "Isn't there a riftstone nearby?"

"Yes, I want to have Scorpio back as soon as possible and no, there is no riftstone nearby, as you well know!!!" Lena spun around to face him, her face pale with frustration. "What do you think I'm searching for - rabbits?!!"

The pawn backed off, nearly falling off a cliff and to his doom.

"This way, master, I think there's a riftstone in that direction," the other pawn, their fighter, touched Lena's shoulder. "I think we've seen a riftstone there." He spoke as soothingly as he could, which was quite a change from his usual brash manner.

Lena snorted and followed the path he indicated. The fighter leveled with the other pawn.

"No one in this party feels the loss of her pawn more acutely than she does," he said quietly. "That reaction... she's got nothing against you personally, I'm sure. But she didn't need to hear what you said."

"Blimey, that was unexpected," the pawn shuddered. "I met enough masters who would just abandon their pawn..."

"Well, she isn't like that," the fighter interrupted. "I know what you mean, but you're new here... You'll understand in time."

"You think she isn't going to dismiss me at that riftstone?" The pawn sounded surprised.

"Nah, not for a few misspoken words," the fighter shook his head. "She's got a temper like a fury, but it doesn't last... Ouch - watch out!!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a pack of goblins who just ran into a fury... Not bothering with her bow, Lena simply kicked them into the ground.

"What?" She turned to her pawns who didn't even get a chance to draw their weapons. "I was too close to them to bother with the bow. And since I'm not allowed to carry daggers... What else was I supposed to do?" She grinned.

"Glad to see you're feeling better," the fighter grinned back. "The riftstone is just up ahead."

...

"At last I'm reunited with you!" Scorpio appeared when Lena touched the riftstone. "It's been ages!"

"There was no riftstone nearby," Lena hugged him. "You fell off a cliff and I couldn't get to you in time... Do you even remember what happened?"

"Of course I remember," he nodded. "I even remember falling... Sorry about that."

...

"To this world I return," Scorpio appeared out of no where when Lena woke up. "It's been... well... it's been another journey. Nothing special." He took a step forward and stumbled. Lena jumped up.

"What, they are calling upon you even when we're camping?!" She exclaimed angrily. "I thought it was only when we stayed at an inn!"

"Ahhh, that explains why we hardly ever stay at an inn!" The fighter laughed. "And here I was, thinking that this Arisen simply enjoyed camping..."

"They can call upon us any time," Scorpio nodded. "There's a trick they do, and it appears to you that it happens while you sleep... but it doesn't look that way to the other Arisen. They just summon pawns when they need them, as you do too."

"Alright, this is all too confusing," Lena shook her head. "But I don't think you can walk."

She had a point, Scorpio could barely stand. He was pressing his hand to his side, clearly in pain.

"I think the wound might have reopened..." He said apologetically.

"I must have missed something," Lena looked worried. "Lie down."

Scorpio's wound was oozing dark blood again. There was no gash on the skin, it was just a scar, but Lena figured that the flesh must have reopened beneath it.

"This needs urgent treatment," she concluded. "This requires surgery." She looked around, but the campsite in the middle of a forest didn't look remotely sterile. At least they had enough restorative potions in their packs... That would have to do. She sighed, touched Scorpio's forehead checking for fever, aligned an array of potion bottles immediately in her reach, then turned to the other pawns. "We are not going anywhere today," she said. "Nick, please guard the site," she looked at the fighter. "Adam... I know you're a sorcerer now, but you used to be a mage, can you still heal? You can use Scorpio's staff."

"I can still heal, yes," Adam, their second pawn, squinted at Lena. "What are you planning? How can your pawn be ill if he just returned from the Rift?"

"I told you, you'd understand things in time," the fighter said in his ear. "Looks like that time is now."

"This isn't an ordinary wound," Lena was blotting out drops of dark blood that kept gathering around the scar in Scorpio's side. "We'll have time for explanations later. For now, just be ready to heal when I say so, and don't be shocked or surprised at anything you're about to see..." She rummaged in her pack and pulled out a pair of guilded daggers. "Silver would have been better..." she muttered. "But gold will have to do." She removed her lorica and her chainmail sleeves. "Here we go... It's better if you don't witness this..." She smiled at Scorpio and turned his head sideways, exposing his neck. "Sweet dreams, my friend." She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her fangs emerge, then bit Scorpio's neck until he fell asleep. She did not need that much blood, but she did need some... There was no way around it.

Adam was watching in fascination. He had heard of vampires that could transform at will, they were very rare, and here was one before him. But surely she didn't just fancy a drink... What was she planning?

Lena flicked her daggers together igniting them. When the fire went out and just the glow remained, she cut through Scorpio's scar. The skin parted revealing a deep wound full of dark blood.

"Oh, it's as bad as I feared," she muttered, standing up. "Nothing else for it..." Another deep breath, and familiar sharp pain in her shoulder blades told her that she was transforming. Adam gasped. Nick took a step back. Scorpio was still asleep. Lena kneeled over his wound and started drinking the dark dragon blood from it.

...

"You will come to appreciate my offer in time," she heard the voice of Molag Bal in her head. "Now again it is my gift that's keeping you alive."

"An Arisen is linked to the dragon... You and I are linked, Dragonborn," Grigori's voice joined in. "The more dragon blood you drink, the closer we become."

Lena stopped drinking blood as she noticed a change in the way it tasted - the heavy bitterness was gone, replaced by the usual sweetness of human blood. She seemed to have cleansed the wound once again. "I did the same thing last time and I missed something," she thought, picking up her dagger and examining carefully the tissue inside the wound. It all looked the same, none of it looked necrotic. "What is the source of the dragon blood here?" She wondered. And then she saw it - a tiny red crystal was lodged in the flesh, a Wyrmslife crystal. "Next time we're in Battahl, Lord Phaesus will pay for this!" She promised herself, trying to keep rage at bay for the moment. "He made sure that Scorpio would never recover!"

Wyrmslife crystals were crystallised drops of dragon blood. When enclosed into a living body, they would transform its blood into dragon blood, thus infecting the host with Dragonsplague over and over again. Lena tried to remove the crystal from the wound, but it was deeply embedded into it. When she tried to lift it out, it crumbled. Cursing under her breath, she had no choice but to cut out more of the flesh...

"Your pawn has had dragon blood course through his veins for a long time now," she heard Grigori's voice again. "I've felt his presence... I've felt your presence too, since your souls are linked... I wonder just how far you will go, Dragonborn..."

Grigori's voice faded away as if he flew off into the distance. Lena sighed. Just like in the very beginning of her journey as an Arisen, she was uncertain and confused. What did he mean - how far she would go? Wasn't it the same cycle being repeated over and over again? It wasn't always the same, true, but close enough... "Perhaps the answers will come to us without us searching for them," she recalled Scorpio's words, something he said after they'd spent hours talking through everything they knew trying to understand the meaning of the Pawn Legion. Some pieces of the puzzle were still missing. She shook her head and focused on closing Scorpio's wound.

...

"...and that's what happened in Battahl," Lena finished telling the story of Scorpio's wound to the other two pawns while Scorpio was sleeping. With all the restoratives and Adam's healing magic, he was recovering well. Lena had ingested enough blood to transform back into her human form, and even her fangs had receded.

"I never knew such wickedness was possible!" Adam was still stunned by the story. "To inject dragon blood into a pawn's body, it's like... like... I cannot think of anything that could compare!" He exclaimed in horror and indignation. "I am so sorry for the things I said to you... about getting him back at a riftstone..." He blushed, looking embarrassed.

"Oh, don't worry," Lena shrugged. "I met pawns that have been abandoned... I know where you are coming from."

Finally Scorpio stirred, waking up. He tried to sit up, but the pain must have been too severe.

"We shall be staying here for a few days," Lena looked at her pawns in turn. "No monster hunting, just deer hunting for now. And don't tell me that resting too much will make us unfit for battle. And no, I won't dismiss you just yet, I don't care what you tell your Arisen... Say it was the most boring journey ever, for all I care..."

"Boring? You've got to be joking," the fighter smirked. "Besides, I'm sure you've got more stories to tell, Dragonborn."

"Hmm." Lena squinted at him. How did he know? She was sure she never mentioned that it was what Grigori called her. Or was it true perhaps that all pawns were linked to the dragon somehow? Once again, she had more questions than answers.

[Lena Wolf]

Last Seed, 4E204 - Pebbles

"Cyril, is that you?" Lena approached a mage in leather bandings sitting on the edge of a cliff in Bakbattahl throwing pebbles into the water below. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Wolf," he answered without turning around. "I am sitting on the edge of a cliff throwing pebbles into the water. The same as you, really."

"I see you haven't changed." Lena sat down next to him.

"Why would I?" He looked at her and smiled. "We pawns don't age, so what's another hundred years? Has it been really that long? You haven't aged either, I notice."

"Arisen don't age apparently," Lena shrugged. "At least Arisen like me."

"Yeah, the ones that can't let go of their hearts," Cyril nodded. "You lost yours again and now you're going after the dragon. You'll get it back for a short while, or may be even you won't, but if you do, it'll be taken away from you soon enough, and you will anew throw yourself into chasing the dragon, all in the hope to regain your heart, only to lose it shortly afterwards, etcetera, etcetera. Plenty of pebbles to throw into the water, there is a neverending supply."

"It is as you say," Lena nodded. "And yet I cannot give it up."

"Many Arisen do, though," Cyril looked at her sideways. "My master finds it quite convenient to live without a heart, doesn't miss it in the slightest. He has no need for it at all."

"Has he abandoned you?" Lena's voice fell.

"Not really, no," Cyril shook his head. "I am still officially attached to him, but he doesn't want me to crowd his bedroom, and so I'm staying out. He can call on me any time and I'll come at once, not that it will ever happen. But he didn't throw me off a cliff, if that's what you're asking. I am not forfeit."

"And of course he cannot possibly throw you off a cliff now, since you're not in his bedroom," Lena smirked. "Well played, Cyril."

"It is as you say," Cyril inclined his head. "I am free to roam the land all I like."

"We need a mage, come with us," Lena smiled at him. Cyril was a good mage.

"Come with you to do what? I prefer to avoid battle, as you well know. And this means avoid dragon-chasing Arisen."

"We need a mage, Cyr."

"You've got Scorpio."

"We also need a fighter and a sorcerer, and brilliant though he is, Scorpio cannot be a mage as well." Lena put on her stubborn face. "And I'm not bothering Rook again, he really earned some time with his wife now."

"Rook got married, I heard," Cyril nodded and whistled. "You don't see a pawn getting married every day... Well, you pretty much never see a pawn getting married... Rook's always been an odd one out."

"I wonder how Scarlet is doing," Lena sighed. "I haven't seen her in ages."

"Scarlet's been forfeit," Cyril said softly. "And her Arisen died of old age... Yes, it can happen to those that give up chasing the dragon. Their hearts die, and Arisen start ageing and eventually die as well."

"Does it mean that Scarlet is no longer a pawn? Like Selene back in Gransys? Through the Transference of Souls ritual?"

"No, Scarlet is still a pawn," Cyril sighed. "She was forfeit long before her Arisen died... There was no soul transference, since she wasn't wanted."

"Good grief... That is awful," Lena shook her head, looking into the distance. "I just hope Scarlet won't end up in the Everfall or on the Bitterblack Isle like the pawns we met there..."

"That is entirely possible," Cyril nodded. "She cannot walk the worlds now, she can only walk the Rift... which means the Everfall or the Bitterblack Isle... or just float in the mist until her soul dissolves into the Void..."

They sat in silence, looking into the distance.

"Come with us, Cyril," Scorpio said softly after a while. "Lest your soul starts dissolving into the Void as well."

"Hmm... Perhaps I should..." He looked at Scorpio. "I've heard what happened to you here... Wounds like that never really heal. Unless... well... I don't really know what I'm talking about. But there is knowledge here in Battahl, long lost to the ages. You've seen carved panels here and there, old archeologists carved reports of their discoveries on them. Discoveries of antique artefacts and knowledge. They speak of Godsway of course."

"We've seen such panels," Lena nodded. "Never found any Godsway next to any of them though..."

"Perhaps it's not Godsway itself but the knowledge relating to it that we should seek," Scorpio looked at her. "Why did those archeologists carve their reports on stone tablets dotting the landscape rather than just write them on a piece of parchment?"

"They also wrote them on pieces of parchment, I found one or the other fragment in Phaesus' laboratories," Lena nodded. "There was some political upheaval, and those archeologists were declared traitors to Battahl, they were tortured, and the ones that survived the torture were executed... I found some diaries too... They didn't seem to understand what they were being accused of or why, and so couldn't give the right answers to the inquisitors to make the torture stop..."

"Godsway is a forbidden topic, any research into it eventually carries a death sentence, they knew what they were doing," Cyril turned to look at a guilded door set into the rock some distance away from them. "Why do you think they call it the Forbidden Magic? It is only in Battahl that you can have a public building called 'The Forbidden Magic Laboratory' quite well-known in the capital, with a corridor connecting to the Imperial Palace, yet pretend that it doesn't exist," he smirked. "Lord Phaesus is an interesting man."

"Lord Phaesus didn't build it, he merely took possession of it," Lena objected. "The laboratory has been there for millennia."

"Housing doting old mages who could hardly cast a fireball," Cyril scoffed. "The building's been there, aye. It's as old as the Imperial Palace, both were carved into the rock as one complex. Nobody knows by whose design or why... It could be just glorified servants' quarters for all we know. Or a fighting arena."

"The laboratory is a dragon trap," Lena shook her head. "It's open at the top. You lure a dragon into it, and once it's inside, its wing span prevents it from flying through that same channel out again. The same way as you catch wasps and other insects in a clay pot with some honey in it." She laughed, picturing a dragon reduced to a wasp.

"You didn't kill Lord Phaesus," Cyril observed.

"No, I still have need of him," Lena nodded, but didn't elaborate.

The conversation died down again. Someone walked past, the city was buzzing with activity day and night, like a beehive, or perhaps a wasp nest... Three people were sitting on the edge of a cliff occasionally throwing pebbles into the water below. The night fell and the stars above were gazing at them from the depths of the Void.

[Lena Wolf]

Last Seed, 4E204 - Ad Astra Ultra

"Ego sum dominus tuus nunc," the dragon held Scorpio in its hand. "Ascendens occides!"

"Scorpio is possessed! Watch out!" Cyril shot a fireball at Scorpio just as the dragon gently set him down.

"Cyril! Nooooo!!!" Lena rushed towards him, but it was too late - Scorpio had already retaliated, and his fireballs were rather stronger than Cyril's. Cyril was sinking into the lava, singed on all sides.

"Leave me, I'll manage," Cyril wasn't giving up, he was still able to cast spells, the lava being firm enough to carry his weight. "My ankles may burn but I'll see it through. You have to kill Scorpio, and quickly."

"Easier said than done..." Lena watched Juri throw herself at Scorpio, but her sword pierced empty space - the sorcerer was hovering above her. Levitation. And he could also cast spells from ten feet above ground, which he proceeded to demonstrate, hitting Lena with a blizzard, also catching Cyril into its freezing circle.

"Move away as soon as you can," Cyril was saying with difficulty. "He will summon meteors next, or else a tornado. We won't survive that. At least let's not die all at once."

Dragons could possess pawns making them switch sides in battle, that was well known. All the skills that the pawns had developed in service of their Arisen, were now used against that Arisen, so it was particularly bad if the pawn was the Arisen's main pawn rather than one of the hired ones. Scorpio knew everything about Lena, her weaknesses and insecurities, and he was going to exploit them under the influence of the dragon. "He expects me to rush to Cyril's aid come what may," Lena thought. "And then he'll get us both together." She shook her head. At least she too knew all Scorpio's strengths and weaknesses, she knew how he thought, and she had to use it against him. But at the same time... she wasn't possessed, she could not do something she would regret and claim that someone made her do it. Scorpio would remember everything, would he forgive her if she was particularly mean? She had to kill him, yes, that was the only way to end possession, but it was how she was going to achieve it, that mattered now. She still had to be able to live with herself after the battle was over.

And in the meantime there was of course also the dragon. The dragon that was doing its best to kill them all, Scorpio included, when he was no longer needed. The dragon that was not wasting a moment and was now burning them all with its fire breath.

"Dragon first," Lena thought, jerking her head towards Cyril, trying to make him understand that he should be healing himself and Juri, and leave Lena to her own devices. After all, she had a bag full of potions. She stepped away from Cyril when the stiffness from the frostbite allowed her to move, and knocked on a poisoned arrow. That one was for the dragon. Its heart was exposed, and any hit at it would be felt keenly. She loosed the arrow and knocked on another. She didn't think a mere double dose of poison would send the dragon into the fulminant state, but it was worth a try. With the dragon reeling in pain, her next arrow was for Scorpio.

"Plain, not poisoned," she reflected. "Interrupt his spellcasting, get him down to the ground, then go on daggers." She drew the string as taught as she dared, and let go. The dragon flapped its wings, and the arrow missed its mark. Huge boulders started raining from the sky as Scorpio made the earth erupt right where Lena stood. She was propelled into the air, then smashed down into the ground by a falling rock. She heard Cyril cry out, then all went quiet.

"That was too easy, Dragonborn," the dragon's mocking voice spoke in her head. "Your pawn is a better sorcerer than you are an archer."

"Of course he is!" Lena heard her angry voice reply. "But I am not done yet, dragon. You may possess him... but can you look into his soul?"

"Arise, Assassin!" Sharp, searing pain and a blinding white light permeated Lena's whole being as the dust of a crushed wakestone slithered through Scorpio's fingers. "I cannot lose you now, dragon or no dragon. But what I do next... I cannot control."

Assassin. Of all the names and titles that he could call her, he chose that one. Did it reflect Lena's true self? Or was it simply a hint as to what she should do? An assassin always acts to her best advantage. "This is no time for chivalry," Lena nodded to herself when the white light subsided and she could see again. Scorpio was within reach, his spell not yet incanted... Lena threw out a snare pulling him down to the ground, they tumbled as she could not stand yet, but she got on top, her dagger ready to pierce his heart... Her amber eyes met his silvery grey, now turned red with the dragon's possession. Was that Dragonsplague?

"You have to kill your pawn to end possession," she heard the dragon's voice in her head again. "But I have gleaned into his soul... and I've seen yours in it. His heart is yours as your soul is his... Dare you pierce his heart?"

"But he is a pawn... he won't perish..." Lena's dagger trembled.

"Are you certain? You lost him once already..." The dragon's voice trailed off, as if the dragon was flying away.

"Grigori!" Lena suddenly realised just which dragon was speaking to her inside her head. It wasn't the drake that was now breathing fire at Cyril and Juri. It was Grigori, the dragon serving the Legion, the dragon that Lena had to face in order to regain her heart. Would a dagger through the heart be one of those things that could kill a pawn outright?

She blinked. Since pawn immortality was rooted in magic, it was impossible to predict what would happen. Dared she test it? What choice did she have?

Scorpio's red glowing eyes were looking at her devoid of all expression. It wasn't just Godsway that could bend a pawn's will; compared to this possession, Godsway was only a poor imitation. Which it probably was... Lena just realised that she was looking at the very magic that made people into pawns, the same magic that animated her own body, making it live without the heart. That magic was now turning her friend against her.

"I got him back once, I shall do it again if need be," she told herself. "This Dragonsplague has to end now, or else it will consume him completely. He's still in there somewhere, behind the possession, he revived me just now... 'Assassin', he said... Indeed." She steadied her hand and thrust her dagger between his ribs and through his heart.

Scorpio went limp and closed his eyes. Lena noticed the red glow subsiding. She hoped that when he opened his eyes again, she would see silvery grey.

A puddle of greenish light spread over Scorpio - the usual sign of a pawn that lay dead waiting for the Arisen to revive him. The puddle was steadily shrinking - when it was gone, the pawn would return to the Rift. She sheathed her dagger and lay her hands over the wound she had just inflicted. "Come back to me," she said, pressing it down. For a few moments nothing was happening, all she saw was the puddle of light shrinking rapidly. If Scorpio didn't wake up before the puddle ran out... She didn't want to think about that. She was just repeating in her mind those words - "come back to me". Then finally she felt a heartbeat. The puddle of light shrank into a point and vanished, and Scorpio opened his eyes, silvery grey as always.

"You understood me then," he smiled. "I would have preferred to be thrown off a cliff with no wounds to heal, but there's no cliff around here, and beggars cannot be choosers..."

"I wasn't sure..."

"But you did it anyway," he squeezed her shoulder as a sign of support. "Come on, get up. The drake is still here, the battle continues."

The drake was hovering over them, incanting a spell. Juri lay dead on burning lava, her own puddle of light steadily shrinking. Cyril was casting healing magic at Lena, he was still standing on the edge of a lava pool, his ankles charred. Why was he casting healing at Lena? Did she not have a bag full of potions? She did, but there was no time to stop to drink one. Besides, she didn't even notice her health dwindling in the dragon's fire while she hesitated with her dagger poised at Scorpio's heart. She felt the slight tickling of Cyril's spell, jumped up and rushed over to Juri before her puddle of light ran out. Scorpio was back and the battle continued.

...

"This drake took more out of us than was safe," Cyril stood next to Lena when the drake was finally slain. "We are all badly injured. You died three times. Scorpio's wound must have reopened - just look at him, he can barely stand... Possession leaves its traces on us pawns."

"Drakes are never easy," Lena nodded. "The camp isn't that far away, let's hope we can get there without too much trouble..."

"That's unrealistic," Cyril shook his head. "There will be monsters along the way, it's the middle of the night and we can't see where we're going. You've got a ferrystone - let's teleport out of here."

"You know I hate teleporting," it was Lena's turn to shake her head. "Especially after a fight. I'm never quite sure that each piece of me arrives at the destination and gets reassembled in the right order... In fact, I could swear it wasn't always the case... We're walking." She concluded firmly and started climbing out of the lava-filled ditch where they were fighting the drake.

"Oh I agree," Cyril muttered under his breath. "Your head definitely didn't get reassembled in the right order."

...

Cyril was of course right. The road was plagued by monsters, but they managed - somehow their wounds made them focus more. Finally the gates of the fortified army camp were in sight, and they picked up their pace wanting to be inside as soon as possible.

Wham! Lena went flying, landing a distance away and hitting her head on the rocks. Thump! Someone else landed not far from her... The sight of the gates to the camp made them drop their guard, and they were now paying for it. As near as the gates were, they still had to get through a horde of monsters to reach them.

"That is an armoured cyclops," Juri rose from the rocks next to Lena. "I dropped my guard too, unforgivable really. Won't happen again!" And with that she charged the cyclops.

"No, wait!" Lena tried to stop her, but Juri wasn't listening. "Hot headed as well as stubborn," Lena shook her head. "Like someone else I know..." she smirked, knocking on a poisoned arrow. An armoured cyclops presented a significant challenge, but it was nothing compared to the drake they just defeated. Perhaps they underestimated it, and were now reminded that being squashed by a giant club, stomped and sat upon by a monster of that size, was not something to be taken lightly. Lena stayed in the same spot for too long, loosing arrow after arrow, she annoyed the cyclops and got noticed, it turned towards her, swung its club and took a step or two... A couple of steps was all that was needed for the cyclops to be on top of Lena, squashing and stomping her, and she was crushed and could not even crawl.

"You must remain cautious!" Scorpio was pulling her from under the cyclops. "A cyclops may not be the toughest of monsters, but it will kill you all the same if you drop your guard! Get onto those rocks..."

"No!!!" While Scorpio was dragging Lena out of danger, he dropped his guard... Several wargs jumped out of nowhere, triple the size of wolves, they liked to snatch their prey and carry it away, and one of them now snatched Scorpio, an easy target that he was, trying to help Lena. She charged after the warg, but that was pointless - wargs were much too fast. She knocked on an arrow and sent it after the warg, not really aiming, and not being able to aim in the dark, just shooting several arrows in the warg's general direction...

"Watch out for that mage!" She heard Cyril scream from a distance. "She's casting frost spells! She can freeze you solid!" Lena turned to his voice - he wasn't talking to her, he was trying to warn Juri who was climbing up onto the cyclops in full view of some bandit mage who decided to practice frost spells on her... Lena watched a white projectile fly towards Juri, hit her and cover her and the cyclops in a layer of ice. Juri fell off and a puddle of greenish light appeared over her lifeless body.

"Oh no!" Lena rushed into the fray. The mage first. She didn't bother with arrows, she sprinted, threw a snare, then plunged her daggers into the mage's chest. No more frost spells. Juri was next - Lena rushed to her, quickly pulling her from under the feet of the sluggish cyclops, but it would not take long for it to recover from the frost - she had to hurry. She ran, carrying Juri over her shoulder... it felt like a crawl. She carried her as far as she dared, a few steps away from the cyclops would suffice, she only needed a few moments to revive Juri.

"Thank you, master," Juri jumped up - and charged the cyclops again...

"Help me!!" Cyril's voice was trailing off - a warg snatched him and disappeared into the night. Lena's heart fell - at the same time she felt Scorpio die, carried off by a warg as well...

She ran after the wargs. She didn't know where she was going, it was dark and her lantern only showed her rocks. Where did the wargs come from? There must be a lair nearby, they would be dragging their prey to their lair. She saw one shaking its head, it had something - someone! - in its jaws. Cyril or Scorpio, or even one of the bandits, she could not tell. She charged the warg, her daggers extended, the warg was momentarily distracted, she jumped it and slit open its belly. It fell, covering Lena in hot blood and entrails... A dagger aiming for Lena's throat slid on the slime. The prey was a bandit who was now going for Lena.

"I'll take all you've got!" He shouted, taking another swing, but Lena rolled away.

"Are you mad?! I've got no time for you!!" Another snare, and he slumped under her feet, his neck snapped. "Where are they?" Lena looked around, not seeing any more wargs, not knowing where Cyril or Scorpio were taken to. It would not be far away, wargs never dragged their prey too far away... She felt another tug at her soul - Scorpio's greenish light was dwindling, his time was running out, but she could not find him, she could not see that greenish light anywhere... She started to panic, frantically peering into the darkness, she extinguished her lantern so as to see the faintest reflection of a greenish light...

There - she spotted it! Just to the side, behind some rocks! She dashed, she got to him, pressed her hands to his chest, it only took a few moments to revive a pawn... "Ouch!" She had dropped her guard and was now herself being carried away by a warg...

She felt the final tug at her soul - Scorpio had returned to the Rift. She did not get to him in time.

"Take that, you foul beast!!" Juri got the warg that was chewing on Lena. Cyril cast a healing spell.

"We've cleared the wargs, but the cyclops is still raging," he said quietly. "At least the bandits are keeping it occupied for now, but they'll switch to us as soon as we approach - the cyclops isn't carrying anything of value. We, on the other hand..."

"Yeah, I met one of them already," Lena nodded. "Let's join in the fun. Scorpio... I was too late." She almost whispered those last words, but Cyril and Juri heard her. They nodded and turned towards the battle.

"The camp is just past the cyclops," Juri said as she walked. "They have a riftstone."

Lena rushed through the rest of the battle like in a haze. Her arrows were flying all over the place, and most of them found their mark, be it the cyclops, the bandits, the goblins, the hobgoblins, the succubi or the venom harpies... It really felt as if Hell itself descended onto that little patch of land in front of the gates to the camp. Both Juri and Cyril fell several times and had to be revived. Lena came that close to dying herself all too often, but always managed to take a swig from one of the potions just in time. When the final beast was slain, you could not see the rocks for the bodies. Several guards were among the fallen as well.

"Why have a camp here?" Lena pulled a guard's body from under a pile of goblins. "This is such a dangerous place."

"It is the stronghold on this volcanic island," Juri gently took her arm and lifted her up. "Let's go inside. The soldiers here know what they signed up for.

...

Lena touched the riftstone and Scorpio stepped out of the mist of the Rift. He did not say anything. He hugged her tightly. She pressed her ear to his chest, feeling and hearing his heartbeat. She also felt warm blood run down his leg - his wound had reopened.

"If you die while I am in the Rift, I won't be able to revive you," Scorpio said in a barely audible whisper.

"If I die while you are in the Rift, you will be forfeit," Lena answered just as softly.

"I have seen the lights of the Black City. But I have not heard its call."

"Ad astra ultra - to the stars and beyond, as Grigori always says... I'll come for you."

"Ad astra ultra... Grigori returned to the Black City. I have seen it through his eyes."

"The Dread Father awaits us all..."

"But he is not in a hurry. Our time has not yet come."

"We are not done yet." Lena nodded and looked up, meeting the silvery grey of Scorpio's eyes, still reflecting the mists of the Rift and the lights of the Black City far in the distance.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Jul 4 2024, 02:20 AM

[Lena Wolf]

Last Seed, 4E204 - Choices

"You promised to come with me!" Glyndwr looked at Lena with scorn. "Not to return to your house to do... what exactly?"

"To prepare for the journey," Lena looked up, trying to hide her annoyance. "You wanted to go half way across Vermund. That'll take several days, and there aren't any villages along the way for us to restock. We have to be ready."

"You don't see me carrying a pack filled with everything and anything!" He rolled his eyes and stomped about a bit, like a twelve year old. "And I've been on the road every day of the past month, I'll have you know!"

Scorpio stood quietly holding up their bags while Lena was packing the bare necessities from their supply chest. Potions, salves, lamp oil, and arrows - lots of arrows. She was primarily an archer, switching to daggers for that personal touch.

"I would like to stay alive," Lena shot a glance at Scorpio and he smirked, equally quietly. "The difference is that now, with a party of five, we won't be able to sneak past any monsters and will face battle on every corner. It is quite different from your solitary strolls - don't they say that an elf blends in with the forest? You probably don't spook every ogre in the viscinity when you are alone."

"I wish you didn't have pawns with you wherever you go," Glyndwr scoffed and shot Scorpio an irritated glance.

"I don't have them with me wherever I go," Lena gave him a stern look. "You know how things stand. You wanted to cross the wilderness but I have a price on my head. Without pawns, I won't survive."

"But I will protect you!" Glyndwr exclaimed with poorly concealed eagerness and blushed.

"You are an excellent archer," Lena tried not to insult him. "But between the two of us we could not take on a dozen of bandits or mercenaries, or a large monster, or a dragon. Yes, a dragon. They tend to seek me out because I'm an Arisen. Walking with me is a very different affair than walking on your own, my friend."

"I'll never get to know you with them around!" Again, he shot a spiteful glance towards Scorpio who was now starting to get annoyed.

What Lena wanted to say would put Glyndwr in his place but would also undoubtedly insult him. "If you want to get to know me that way, rent us a room at The Rose," she thought. Glyndwr was young for an elf - just a hundred years old, and Lena wondered how maturing scaled up between humans and elves. He acted as a child sometimes, but he was no child any longer. He was jealous of Scorpio - feverishly jealous of him, as it appeared, and he wanted to believe that Lena could never prefer a pawn to a "real" person, even though he was smart enough to know better. It was a case of wishful thinking fueled by desire and jealousy, Lena thought.

"Ah, so you actually wanted to spend some time alone with me!" Lena smiled brightly. "That's perfectly understandable - some conversations need privacy. But that cannot be done while strolling through the countryside because of all the fights and the monsters! Alas, such is the life of an Arisen!" She paused, watching the effect of her words on Glyndwr. He seemed to calm down a bit. "So, do you still want to go on a trip? Or do you rather prefer to arrange for a quiet dinner here in town so that you and I could get to know each other without the pawns?"

"I am an elf, you are a human, I cannot take you out to dinner," Glyndwr sighed. "Not here in Vernworth, not back at the Sacred Arbour. The best I could hope for then is to spend the night with you at The Rose..." He paused and Lena looked up. He wasn't blushing, this was a child no longer! "But that would lead nowhere... The only elf that I know of who married a non-elf - a dwarf, I believe - lives out in the wilderness, completely cut off of all society. That's not the life I want for myself. My father would never approve of you... both on the account of you being human and keeping company of pawns..." He shook his head and sighed again. "I don't even know what I'm doing here. This is pointless..." He sighed again, now looking forlorn.

"Let's go on this trip," Lena said firmly. "The pawns are my entourage and are very much a part of who I am. In particular, Scorpio and I are very close. And, in another world, I am married to another man. You didn't know that, I suppose. I am double your age, and then some. I can tell you all this and more, if you want to hear it. So, it is indeed going nowhere... if by that you mean marriage. But whether or not it means that we should not spend any time together... you decide."

Glyndwr stared at her, those were not the words he expected to hear. She was giving him a chance to withdraw with his dignity mostly intact. She was double his age... but she looked in her twenties! And although Glyndwr realised that Lena must have been older than that, he estimated her to be in her thirties... still so much younger than he, as all humans now were. "In another world..." he noticed Lena saying something about another world. "Oh, married to another man... not this pawn then," Glyndwr felt vindicated. "Yet they are close... But that can't mean much if she's married to someone else. At least this pawn isn't getting her either!" He blushed as he realised that his thinking wasn't very mature. "Let's get going," he said aloud. "It's a long trip, as you say. We'll see how it goes."

...

"What did your father say when you came home with this human-made bow?" Lena struck up a conversation with Glyndwr when the road seemed peaceful. She first met him standing in front of an archery shop in Vernworth admiring human-made bows. She said hello to him and it transpired that he wasn't good enough at archery with an elven-made bow, and so he wondered whether a bow of a foreign make would be better. Yet it would be unbecoming for an elf to buy a human-made bow... and so all he could ever do was stand in front of the shop looking at them. Lena was buying some things for herself at the time, and noticed the shop keeper feeling uneasy with an elf in front of his shop staring at his goods, day in, day out... So, to solve this conundrum, Lena gave Glyndwr a human-made hunting bow. Just like that. Glyndwr was so taken by her kindness, that he practically melted then and there. And when he practiced later, he found his precision much improved. Yet it was the "wrong" bow of a "wrong" make, and it was still a big question whether his father would even allow such a heresy in Sacred Arbour, let alone in his son's hands... Which came a long way to explain why Glyndwr liked to practice away from home. He was an oddball for certain, yet wanted to be regular and accepted among the elves... and at the same time he wanted to befriend an Arisen, who not only used foreign bows, but was a human and kept company of pawns, all those things considered improper in the elven society. Glyndwr felt that he had to make up his mind, but the choice would be to stay among the elves and comply, or be yourself and leave home behind, forever remaining an alien among others. It wasn't an easy choice by any stretch of imagination.

"Father didn't think I had any bows with me at all," Glyndwr smirked. "Of course when later I used it to shoot an ogre in the eye who had snatched my sister, father changed his mind. Seeing that he himself, with the best elven-made bow, could only manage to hit the general direction of the ogre, not inflicting any real damage. So I am now allowed to wield a human-made bow to honour that victory, but it remains an exception. This bow has thus been declared elven," he smirked, drawing his hunting bow as a pack of goblins made an appearance from behind the next hill.

"All right," Lena smirked as well. "Just don't bring any other human-made bows home, as they might not be elven enough."

"What is it that you are wielding?" Glyndwr noticed an unusal bow in Lena's hands. "That doesn't look elven or human to me."

"I don't know, perhaps it's Battahli?" Lena shrugged, turning over the bow. "We found it in a treasure chest in one of the caves. The pawns said it was very rare, they hardly see them on their travels. Perhaps it comes from another world even... who is to tell."

"Something is etched on it," Glyndwr noticed. "There's a drawing of a flying creature... a griffin or even a dragon... and some writing, but I don't know the script..."

"It's called 'Darkening Storm'," Lena said.

"You can read it? What language is this?"

"I can't rightly read it..." Lena peered into the letters for the first time. "I know what it's called because it told me..."

"You talk to your bow? And it talks back?" Glyndwr wasn't sure what to think. They didn't have a drop of alcohol all day.

"Tell is, these bows were dipped in dragon blood..." Scorpio said looking over Lena's shoulder. "Or that they have a piece of a dragon's soul in them. Probably neither, but if the bow told you its name, then it must have something to do with dragons. Isn't that dragon script, by the way?"

"It is dragon script, yes," Lena nodded. "But it changes nothing... Dragon language is not read off a page like other languages. It communicates in a mystical way that I can't explain. It's the same as reading words of power off a word wall... It just comes to me."

"She is Dragonborn," Scorpio turned to Glyndwr. "Related to dragons somehow. But all Arisen are already related to dragons because a dragon holds their hearts... But anyway, that's the connection. Wolf is neither drunk nor mad," he added with a smirk.

"Wow, a dragon bow!" Glyndwr was fascinated. "Would it respond to me, do you think? Could I hold it just for a moment?" His eyes were burning with excitement.

"Here, have a go," Lena laughed. "A fresh batch of goblins is coming to play for your pleasure."

It didn't take long and the goblins were routed. Glyndwr returned the bow back to Lena.

"It doesn't seem any better than my ordinary hunting bow here..." He sounded disappointed.

"But you hit every goblin! Your aim was perfect!" Lena exclaimed in surprise.

"As it was also with the hunting bow, my point exactly," Glyndwr nodded. "I don't know what I expected. It just didn't feel special."

"Then perhaps you need to be an Arisen or a Dragonborn to feel it," Cyril joined in. "Interesting."

"If you continue this way, doing odd things and walking an odd path, the dragon will end up picking you too next time he comes around," Lena returned the Darkening Storm bow to its holder on her back and felt a pleasant thud like a pat on her shoulder. "You elves live long enough to witness many comings of the dragon. I am surprised not more of you became Arisen over time."

"We elves stay away from dragons," Glyndwr said darkly. "Or griffins, meduses, ogres, cyclopi, harpies, goblins, and so on. We keep our heads down and mind our own business. A dragon never attacked Sacred Arbour, yet. And if he did, there'd be hardly anyone to stand up to him, everyone would just accept it as a force of nature and scatter. We are not Arisen material."

"You sound like you might be the exception," Lena smiled. "Like that elven woman who married a dwarf. I met her, she is an old Arisen herself."

"Can you introduce me? I'd like to meet her," Glyndwr looked up.

"If you really want to... it's out in Battahl. And she's rather grumpy and doesn't like visitors..."

"She sounds like an elf..."

[Renee]

Doesn't seem like Lena reads my stories anymore, but that's okay. Am curious where Lena's off to next.

Whoa, she's in Hammerfell?? You got Hammerfell in your gameworld?? Ooh, can't wait to see where this goes...

The interplay between Lena & Geralt is charming. They do come across as bro & sis. Right? Geralt is her brother? (testing my poor memory skills...)

Wow, I love that settlement. The walls seem sort of lo-res, but this actually adds to the feeling of a different province.

Ha, they sleep on the floor! I've been in the habit of adding bedrolls into inns, in Cyrodiil, Morrowind, and Skyrim. I love seeing NPCs using them, ya know?

Bookmark

[Lena Wolf]

I read Laprima's story, but you are having a break on that one. I don't like Fallout... Sorry. Nothing to do with your stories, I just really don't like the post-apocalyptic setting, so won't read any stories set in that world.

Whoa, she's in Hammerfell?? blink.gif You got Hammerfell in your gameworld??

TWMP Hammerfell, a TWMP version of Brendan's "Hammerfell". It fills in the Southern part, not the whole province. It is considered not lore friendly, but it is a beautiful version of Hammerfell. Plus, it's the only one that works.

[Lena Wolf]

Hearthfire, 4E204 - Brother

"What is it like being a pawn?" Lamond spoke softly watching Lena chase some wolves away from the campsite.

"It sucks," Scorpio replied automatically. "Immortality is a curse."

"I suppose it's worse for you..."

"What?" Scorpio pulled himself back into the moment. "Oh. It's different for us pawns, we don't even have the concept of time like normal people. Constantly being called away for duty elsewhere, then returning to the morning of the same day, having walked with another Arisen for days or weeks..."

"Sounds mind boggling," Lamond shivered.

"You get used to it... It all depends on the Arisen... She is my rock."

"I didn't turn out much of a rock for my pawn..." Lamond's voice trailed off.

"It wasn't your fault though, was it?" Scorpio looked at him. "Petrification? That kills a pawn outright."

"But I didn't bring him back."

"Giving a piece of your soul is not something people normally do," Scorpio said in a near whisper.

"Well, have you not set up the tent yet?" Lena returned to the camp. "Such as it is..."

Setting up the tent didn't take long. It wasn't much of a tent, to be quite honest, but a piece of cloth not capable of protecting even a single person from the rain.

"It is fortunate that it doesn't rain all that much in the desert," Cyril smiled when Lena once again shook her head at such an inadequate "Elite Camping Kit". "Never mind. What's for dinner? Have we any meat?"

"Deer are not abundant here either," Lena hesitated between several chunks of meat emerging from their packs. "What do you fancy - saurian tail or harpy breast?"

"Ugh..."

"Air dried venison then," she settled on a chunk of preserve instead, to everyone's relief.

They've had a good couple of days so far, fights were abundant but not too hard, and although the medusa did land a few hits on each of them, it too was soon defeated. They should have really made camp before fighting the medusa - it wasn't an easy foe to kill. But Lamond was driven to it, he vowed to go after it alone if his companions needed rest... and of course that would have been the end of him - the medusa was not to be taken lightly.

"And again I didn't manage to cut off its head," Lamond sighed when the conversation turned to it.

"How many medusae have you slain so far?" Lena looked up, wondering how long ago has it been that Lamond's pawn was petrified by a medusa.

"Not enough," Lamond replied darkly. "Nasty beasts they are..."

"But we got it, even without cutting off its head," Lena tried to cheer him up. "Even despite its magic bow."

"Which you left behind!" Lamond looked up, surprised. "Do you even know how much it's worth? A fortune, and not a small one! But most people who manage to get a medusa bow, keep it for themselves! Why didn't you?"

"It's heavy," Lena shrugged. "Way too heavy, in fact. Probably just right for a medusa, but not good for me."

"But the magic?"

"Oh, yes - it multiplies your experience. Oh come on. I've lived over two hundred years. I don't need a bow that makes me age faster than I already do!"

Everyone laughed at that, because of course years didn't have any meaning to any of them.

The conversation died down, letting the battles of the day fizzle out. After a while, Lamond broke the silence.

"It's good to have you around, sis," he said looking into the fire. "Gets me off the newt liqueur for a time..."

"I'm glad to have met you," Lena nodded. "We seem to be of the same mind... There aren't many Arisen around, and the other ones are all a bit... odd. One way or the other."

"Like they don't give a damn for the pawns," Lamond squinted at her. "That's why we are all failed Arisen. All, except you."

"You would have made it too, you know," Lena said quietly. "If your pawn hadn't perished."

"But there you have it," Lamond shook his head. "I failed my test. Forgive me, but didn't you lose yours very early on as well? But you got him back."

"I did..." Lena stared into the flames. "I just couldn't accept it... Didn't want to accept it... I'm too stubborn, I guess."

"No, I think there is more to it," Lamond looked up. "I mean, oh yes, sister, you are stubborn! And then some!" He smirked. "But that's not the point. They give you a pawn right at the start, you start building a bond, and then they lure you to some impossible task with a high probability that your pawn will be lost... Most Arisen then simply pick another, and therein lies their doom. That's my theory, anyway. My second pawn didn't have his heart in it like the first."

"You think they're setting us up?" Lena wasn't quite sure.

"They keep testing us, don't they? From one task to the next... Show the strength of your resolve over and over. Most Arisen give up somewhere along the way, but those that don't, then get their pawn taken away, all in order to break them."

"What happened to that fellow around here that is obsessed with chasing drakes?" Lena suddenly remembered another old Arisen that she met along the way. "What happened to his pawn?"

"I don't know," Lamond shrugged. "Abandoned, perhaps?"

"Abandoned," Cyril said softly. "I've heard of him."

They kept quiet for a minute, as if keeping silence in honour of the abandoned pawn. Then Lena declared the meat to be ready to eat and started slicing it.

"There's no point lamenting past mistakes," she looked at Lamond with significance. "They only hold you back."

...

Lamond was spending his days watching the steam rise from the pool at the volcanic springs on the Agamen island. His mind was wandering from one memory to the next, spurred on by the newt liqueur that somehow always made its way into his hands. Every now and again he would take up his Flamberge Zweihänder and go out into the desert of Battahl to slay monsters for their skins or to liberate treasures from bandit hideouts. And if one of those monsters was a medusa, so for the better. Unlike Sigurd who was constantly seeking out drakes, Lamond wasn't searching for the medusae, but whenever he came across one, he made it a point to slay it, preferably by cutting off its head. The severed head could then be used to petrify another victim... and Lamond's hope was that one day he would be able to petrify a medusa with another medusa's severed head. May be then he could finally consider his perished pawn vindicated.

When Lamond heard that Lena was in Battahl again, he thought that perhaps traveling together for a time would do both of them some good, especially since Lena seemed to be getting mired deeper and deeper in the mystique of the Dragon's Dogma. He didn't really mind where they were going, and Lena didn't seem to have a goal... Something had to change.

"The Flamebearer's Throne rose from the sea again, we have to go see Rothias," Lena looked at her companions in turn after another visit to the oracle. "Pointless as it seems..."

"This world goes in cycles, this is the part where you get your personal Godsbane," Scorpio nodded.

"Except this time there will be two Arisen standing before him," Lamond pointed out. "I wonder what he is going to do."

...

"You! Usurper of my throne!" Rothias was his usual charming self when they entered the shrine that kept him captive. "They keep sending minions to kill me! Well, you cannot kill me! This fight will be over before it even began!"

"Hello, Rothias, nice to see you are keeping well," Lena smirked. "You can keep your throne, I am not looking for a fight."

"Oh, it's you again," Rothias squinted - his eyesight seemed to be failing after all that time. "Here for your personal Godsbane? Have you not put the other one to use yet?"

"I have not, no," Lena shook her head. "So you are going to hand it to me again, I presume."

"Here you go." Rothias produced an ice blue sword from thin air in front of his chest, it looked as if he pulled it out of his chest, in fact...

"You made more of an effort to put on a show the first time we met," Lena laughed, stashing the Godsbane in her pack. "I guess it gets old after so many times repeating it."

"And you handled it with more reverence last time," Rothias retorted. "It's my soul, don't you know!"

"No, it's not."

"Well, may be not as such... But definitely metaphorically speaking!" He shrieked with laughter.

"You haven't changed a bit," Lamond stepped into the light. "How many of those Godsbane swords have you given out? Was it your own idea or did the Legion make you do it?"

"And who are you?" Rothias spun around to look at Lamond. "Ahhh... I remember. A failed Arisen. At least you got as far as coming to see me... at least you tried to slay your dragon... not like some... Well, what are you waiting for? You've got your Godsbane, you know what to do!"

Lamond glared and put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"No," Lena stopped him. "We don't want to fight him. He is but a ghost, you cannot kill him, and he will kill you just as surely as your personal Godsbane. It's another trap, Lamond."

Rothias laughed derisively as Lena pulled Lamond out of the circle of light and up the stairs where Scorpio and Cyril were waiting.

"Let's go," Cyril said softly to Lamond. "We have no business here."

...

"What are you going to do this time, sister?" Lamond looked at Lena when they made camp on the beach. "You know the plot. You'll take that Godsbane to Phaesus, he'll summon a drake proclaiming it to be the dragon... Then your actual dragon will appear and whisk you away some place safe to do real battle... Upon which you will not get back your heart and the cycle will restart. It's pointless, if you ask me."

"Is that why you gave up?" Lena looked up.

"I didn't have a choice, I failed to slay my dragon," Lamond reminded her. "He simply flew off... I wasn't strong enough. Or may be I didn't have my heart in it..."

"No, that's the Dragonforged," Lena shook her head. "He told me that when the dragon breathed fire at him, he just turned around and ran... His will was burned to a crisp even if his body survived."

"Mmm... Well, there are many ways to fail that test with the dragon, death included," Lamond brushed off the topic. "But you are evading my question: what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Lena sighed. "I am getting mired deeper and deeper in this story, in this world... without my heart and without a way to get back to Tamriel. I am hesitant to battle the dragon this time because it will reset the cycle... I feel somehow that this point - just before the final battle - is where I have a chance to break out, to break my personal Dragon's Dogma. I just need to figure out how to do it..."

"Grigori is the key," Scorpio said quietly. "I've seen the Black City through his eyes... Well, I've seen the gates to the Black City. I think this is where the power of the Legion resides, deep inside the Void."

"May be I should go to the fight then," Lena mused. "Grigori could take me there."

"And then what?" Scorpio shook his head. "Firstly, he is not likely to do it, and secondly, even if he does, you won't be able to fight anyone there, have no illusions. Besides, if you do that, you will die instantly since it's their magic that keeps you alive."

"So what do you propose?" Lena looked up but Scorpio didn't have an answer to give. "I am well and truly mired in it then..." Her face fell.

"There are powers bigger than the Arisen," Cyril gave her a long look. "You have to arrange yourself with them until you are strong enough to push for a change. Decide what it is that you want most, and try to find ways to achieve it."

"I want to return to Tamriel," Lena said without thinking. "I've had enough of doing the same thing over and over in the world of Dragon's Dogma... and I want Scorpio to come with me. It's time to go home."

"And your heart..?" Scorpio fixed her with her gaze, this was a significant change in attitude.

"My heart... Yes, I want it back. But now this comes second." Lena straightened her back. She suddenly realised that indeed her attitude had changed.

"Then you know what to do, sister," Lamond smiled. "It won't be easy and you may have to face Grigori for it, but you know what you want... I'll miss having you here in Battahl, but I wish you luck getting home. I'll make sure the place is not overrun with medusae, should you return some day... as I feel you will... I wish you luck finding a way."

The night fell while they were talking, with a myriad of stars looking down on them from a cloudless sky. Were the same stars looking down on Tamriel? Masser and Secunda weren't visible in Battahl, but the stars seemed to be the same. And beyond the stars stretched the endless Void, with the Black City at its centre. Somehow Lena felt that the Black City was going to be important... it seemed to be calling to her... unless she imagined it... perhaps it was just Grigori calling her to the fight... Dragons were immortal beings capable of traveling from world to world through the Void. Dragons were probably the same everywhere too, just like the stars... and Lena was Dragonborn, but what did it mean exactly? Her father was Dragonborn too... Did he too walk a path with dragons? Lena could not help but wonder what her father's life had been like, before and after his service with the Imperial Legion. He stayed away after her mother's death in the hope of sparing her a tumultuous life akin to his own. Nothing came of that of course, as Lena bore the mark of the dragon. Perhaps one day she would learn what that same mark had brought into her father's life that he was so keen to spare her. She thought of Geralt who too received a mark from their father - the mark of Hircine. "He must be off to Solstheim by now, joining the Great Hunt of our era," Lena thought. "I wonder..." Her thoughts trailed off and she relaxed gazing upon the stars.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Jul 30 2024, 03:19 PM

[Renee]

Lena was born in 3E417, Geralt was born in 3E413, their mother died in 3E421, and their father "quit" the Legion soon afterwards.

Just came across this info. That's a good thing to consider, when they were born. Especially if we spend lots of time with our people.

Whoa, Lucien just proposed. 💐 Lena's not getting googly about this, ha ha! "Mara cannot add anything which binds us already"... very true. Because think about it. They're immortal, right? Folks who are mortal have enough problems making a relationship last through all the trials & tribulations of life, and at most, the average long-term marriage usually lasts no more than 60 years, if that. But if it's considered a couple can potentially live forever, Really??? Really, these two lovers are supposed to remain together and faithful to each other forever? Especially as dynamic as Lena Wolf is, traveling all over the place?

Of course, I'm considering the typical approach us Earthlings take to marriage, the "til death do us part" bit. Don't know how it works in Tamriel; the marriage system as portrayed in Skyrim is pretty darn vague. Open-ended. But still, what if you know you're never going to die, from natural causes?

Alright, heh, I'm rambling. But yeah, she decides to marry. There we go.

Wait though? Does Lu know Lena's already pregnant? (She's still carrying, right?)

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=340223

[Lena Wolf]

Whoa, Lucien just proposed. 💐 Lena's not getting googly about this, ha ha! "Mara cannot add anything which binds us already"... very true. Because think about it. They're immortal, right? Folks who are mortal have enough problems making a relationship last through all the trials & tribulations of life, and at most, the average long-term marriage usually lasts no more than 60 years, if that. But if it's considered a couple can potentially live forever, Really??? Really, these two lovers are supposed to remain together and faithful to each other forever? Especially as dynamic as Lena Wolf is, traveling all over the place?

Well, Lena is probably immortal because of her (partial) vampirism, but she could be permanently killed with a silver weapon. Lucien is not immortal, just long lived (if he's careful at his job). His father is a Dunmer, so Lucien inherited elven longevity. His mother died long ago, at a very respectable age of 80-something... That's a long life for an Imperial!

Lena finds Mara's teachings too strict. Not suitable for real life, as you say. Lucien doesn't care much for them either, especially considering that his mother was a Priestess of Dibella... that's a whole different Divine! But with all that, he is right that Imperial Bureaucracy outranks Mara and Dibella taken together. And Lena agrees. Gosh, she had so much trouble getting herself "resurrected" after she missed the census a few times... She wasn't marked as dead since there was no evidence of that, but she was still marked as "non-living", meaning effectively dead for all administrative purposes... And it took a lot of toil and money to get that reverted back to "alive", what with all the forms needing to be delivered in triplicate, with fees in triplicate, with bribes on top! So she is taking no chances and getting married as an upstanding citizen that she is.

Of course, I'm considering the typical approach us Earthlings take to marriage, the "til death do us part" bit. Don't know how it works in Tamriel; the marriage system as portrayed in Skyrim is pretty darn vague. Open-ended. But still, what if you know you're never going to die, from natural causes?

I would say that if you have both Mara and Dibella as Divines, with their contradictory teachings, then it is indeed pretty vague.

Alright, heh, I'm rambling. But yeah, she decides to marry. There we go.

Wait though? Does Lu know Lena's already pregnant? (She's still carrying, right?)

She is in the first half, the bump is just starting to show. Hence why Lucien decided not to wait any longer - the marriage is for the baby first and foremost. Yes, he knows that she is pregnant, in fact it was he who noticed it first (Dibella's teachings, you know). He also realises very well that there's a 50-50 chance that the child is not his. But he accepts it anyway, pledging to raise it as his own regardless. Since DNA tests were not available at the time, they won't even be certain whose child it is until he/she grows up a bit.

So yes, they are not getting married for Mara. It is for the Imperial Archives.

[Renee]

I see. Thanks for answers.

I would say that if you have both Mara and Dibella as Divines, with their contradictory teachings, then it is indeed pretty vague.

Indeed. Bethesda likes to keep things vague, and my opinion is it's good they don't fill in all the blanks.

[Lena Wolf]

Chapter 9

The Call of the Black City

Morning Star, 3E387 - Come in, Agent

"Come in, Agent." The Legate waved his hand at a youngish Legion officer who just opened the door to his room. "Dispense with formalities. Come and sit down."

The Agent entered and closed the door behind him, but still remained rather stiff - he wasn't used to dispensing with formalities in the presence of his superior officers, and it didn't get much more superior than the Legate behind a large desk of Imperial oak. The Legate noticed this and smirked, pointing at a chair on the other side of the desk.

"Sit down. I have a mission for you." He busied himself with some books and scrolls on his desk, taking his eyes off the Agent, trying to put him at ease.

When the Agent finally sat down, the Legate unrolled a scroll in front of him so that the Agent could see some of the writing.

"Agent Wolf Asgarsen of the Second Imperial Legion," the Legate fixed the Agent with his gaze and the Agent instantly straightened his back. "You have a good record, I have it right here," the Legate pointed at the scroll. "Diligent and dutiful, without reproach, skilled with your weapons and ruthless when need be - these are the qualities we are looking for. And there's more - you are Dragonborn. How did you find out?"

"We came upon a word wall in the depths of a crypt, and I could read it. I don't know how, I just could. Then I could throw that thu'um without practice. It was weak, but I could do it."

The Agent spoke in a terse tone, unsure why his peculiar heritage was important. The thu'ums that he read off word walls were neither strong nor unusual - other people could learn them too, albeit after a lengthy practice. Neither Skyrim nor the entire Tamriel had any dragons, so these remnants of their language became little more than a curious relic.

"You have never seen a dragon, never consumed a dragon soul..." The Legate was watching the Agent, nodding to his thoughts. "But the word walls prove it. You have the mark. That is why you have been chosen for this mission. What do you know of Ferelden?"

It was an unexpected question, but the Agent did not hesitate.

"It is a kingdom on the continent of Thedas on the other side of the Great Ocean," he answered from memory. "They are often at war with their neighbours - the kingdoms of Orlais and Tevinter..."

"Yes, yes," the Legate nodded, interrupting. "That they are, but they keep it between themselves. What the Emperor worries about is the Blight."

"That it might spill over to Tamriel?" The Agent's brow furrowed. "If I understand it correctly, it is a calamity when hordes of undead overrun the land, killing everything and everyone on it." He shuddered involuntarily.

"Quite." The Legate shuffled some scrolls out of the way, picking up an old book from under them. "This tome has some more details, but essentially you are correct." He handed the book to the Agent. "A true Blight is much more deadly than a mere uprising of undead because a Blight is an organised force, an army rather than a mindless mob, led by an Archdemon who is a dragon."

"Ah!"

"Indeed." The Legate sighed gravely. "We have reports of unusually heavy fighting in Ferelden, fighting against the undead, not against the Orlaisian or Tevinter neighbours for once... It looks like it may be the beginning of a real Blight. If so, the Emperor is naturally worried."

"I see."

"There is an order of battlemages there - they call themselves the Grey Wardens. They spend their lives fighting the undead, keeping them at bay. You are to join them."

"Understood."

"Hmm... I don't think you understand it yet, Agent." The Legate's glance darkened. "They are not mere battlemages. They bear the mark of the Archdemon - of the dragon. Yet they are not Dragonborn, they gain that mark in a joining ceremony. It infects them with the blight, making them into the very undead they are fighting... if they live long enough. It takes some fifty years to develop. If you are to join them, you too will receive such a mark."

The Agent straightened his already straight back and answered evenly.

"But we need information, do we not?" He looked straight at the Legate. "If there is a way to protect Tamriel from the Blight, we need to know about it. I understand."

"We hope that you being Dragonborn, may fare better than an average person," the Legate continued in a softer tone. "For one, we are almost certain you will survive the joining ritual... oh yes, it is quite deadly. Only every third or every fourth recruit survives it..."

The Agent was listening without fear. Something told him that not only would he survive, but he would go far in that world as well, all the way to the Archdemon.

"...all the way to the Black City," he said under his breath, then caught himself, realising that he said it aloud.

"You have been hearing his voice already," the Legate nodded. "You are not going mad. The Archdemon talks to all those who bear the mark of the dragon... and that includes the undead, the Grey Wardens and the Dragonborn, that is you." He paused contemplating the Agent before him. "And so it is a true Blight indeed."

"What are my orders?" The Agent preferred a practical approach.

"Learn what you can, help them stop it, if that's in your power," the Legate sat back in his chair. "It is an open mission - use your judgement. Each Dragonborn throughout history has had a reason for bearing that mark, and fighting this Blight with the Grey Wardens seems to be yours. Things are dire in Ferelden just now, with local politics overshadowing the much greater danger of the rising Blight. You will swing the scales for the Grey Wardens."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This chapter follows Lena's father, Wolf Asgarsen. He is being sent to Ferelden to stem the tide of the Blight. This is Dragon Age Origins.

[macole]

Interesting start. The Legate appears to be very knowledgeable about Ferelden, the Grey Wardens, and the Blight. I wonder how many agents were lost acquiring that tome.