Ysmir-made-real part 2

29 Sun's Dawn, 4E 202

Ysmir stepped outside Proudspire Manor and filled his lungs with the frigid morning air. When he exhaled, it could be seen as vapor illuminated by the sunrise. Winter's morning chill bit at his skin like an ice wraith, but he began his morning hike in spite of it. The strange thing about Nords is that they love the frigid clime that permeates most of their Holds, even if they won't admit to it.

He climbed up the mountains above Solitude in full dragonplate, using his dragonbone warhammer Mulaag as a walking stick. The frozen wind rolled over the mountain and swayed the snow-covered pine trees, blowing snow southward as the dragonborn climbed north. Keizaal stood all around him, craggy and white-shining-golden in the morning sun.

When Ysmir reached the summit, the Sea of Ghosts was reflecting a clear blue sky. Icebergs scattered across the seascape were the only reminders of the lifeless cold for which it was named. After removing his helm, Ysmir felt the only warmth available in that place: Magnus' blessing, which barely cut through the wintry air, but lighted a pleasant sensation on his face nonetheless. He turned around and pointed his power-throat in the direction of the Snow-throat.

"OD AH VIING!"

His Thu'um boomed and bounded, beating and bouncing on boulders as if Skyrim were a great battle-drum. The great red dragon Odahviing answered the call, taking to the gales above High Hrothgar and loosing himself like an arrow over the snowy land. His flight speed was cut by the southbound wind as he approached the dragonborn, and he fanned his wings out in order to catch it; landing on the summit over Solitude, he turned to Ysmir.

"Your Thu'um carries ever the better over this wind, Thuri. You seem stronger even from the Snow Throat," observed the wyrm.

"I grow stronger every time we carry out this ritual, friend. It's always nice to have someone around who can appreciate the progress I make, in any case. You, Paarthurnax, and Durnehviir are the only dovah I haven't willbent or slain," Ysmir noted.

"What is it that separates us from the other dovah? Like us, many dovah do not challenge you, but unlike us you slay them in their hofkiin, their lairs. You've never told me the difference," Odahviing said as Ysmir climbed onto his back.

"You three are willing to recognize me as Thuri, although Durnehviir uses the title of Qahnaarin instead. Many other dragons recognize my mastery but are not willing to change their violent ways. What matters is that the rest of them, barring those led by Paarthurnax, would work against my quest to keep Skyrim safe, and so I am justified in adding them to my army or my own soul."

"I will never understand the mind of a joor. Where are we going this time, Thuri?"

"Corpulus tells me a dragon was sighted taking roost at Eldersblood Peak nearby. We'll start there," he answered as he put his helm on.

A composite-eyed dragon with curved horns was perched on the word wall when Ysmir and Odahviing arrived. It took to the air, but the dragonborn shouted it back down in a blast of blue light:

"JOOR ZAH FRUL!"

Ysmir then stood up on Odahviing and looked down at the ground hundreds of feet below, while the other wyrm fell to the same ground.

"FEIM ZII GRON!" he shouted, pulling his body into a half-there aetherial state, and he leapt off of Odahviing's back, half-feeling the wind as it lapped against his helm. Ysmir saw the snow covered mammoth bones and windswept Nordic ruins through his own legs as he plummeted down into them. The ground did not recognize his impact against it, but the unruly dovah looked on with rage as it slammed onto the earth next to the dragonborn.

Ysmir gripped Mulaag while the dragon bared its fangs. The two shouted fire, and the two shouts beat into one another before pulling each other into a vortex of flame. Ysmir's Yol was hotter, so the vortex continued into the dragon. The fast-twirling fire-column pulled at its scales and singed its flesh.

"WULD!" Ysmir shouted, rushing towards the dragon as he readied his hammer for a strike. His hammer Mulaag struck then more brutally than ever, rattling the dovah's brain, and its six eyes saw a blurry image of Ysmir delivering another strike. It tried to bite the Dovahkiin, but Ysmir was too fast, sidestepping and then leaping onto the drake's head. His final strike cracked the dragon-skull, and the victor stepped off of the slain.

Ysmir stood facing the dead dragon with his chest forward and arms wide as he consumed its soul, feeling the power added to his own. Odahviing landed nearby soon after the absorption was complete.

"Your throat and your haal- your hands- grow ever the stronger, Dovahkiin," the red dragon praised.

"Flattery won't get you out of flying me back to Solitude," Ysmir quipped with a wide Nordic smile.

"I was sincere, Dovahsebrom," Odahviing insisted.

"I wasn't," replied the dragonborn,"but you still have to fly me back."

"I will never understand you joor," repeated the red dragon.

"It's called a joke," the Nord replied. He moved as if to walk towards Odahviing, but stopped when he saw some mammoth bones nearby.

"Let's test your hypothesis on that mammoth ribcage lying there," Ysmir said as he readied Mulaag.

With a great cracking sound, the ribcage broke apart and flew away from him. He looked down at his hands.

"... I really am changing, Odahviing. The Aedric power is altering me permanently. Take me to Markarth instead of Solitude. I want to see if one of the Nine will give me an answer through her Sybil."