Skyrim: Lore Accurate Necromancer

Somewhere in the Rift, the cold night air hung heavy, the stars muted by thick clouds overhead. A small campfire crackled softly, its orange glow casting flickering shadows across the surrounding trees. Erik and Isran sat across from one another, the warmth of the fire doing little to chase away the bite of Skyrim's unforgiving chill. The hired carriage driver they'd enlisted for their journey tended to his horses not far off, grumbling to himself about the cold.

Geri was making quick work of a piece of venison, his small yet ferocious bites tearing into the meat. He held it down with his front paws, gnawing with a focus that seemed almost comical given his size. Isran, watching the display, raised an eyebrow in mild amusement.

"Interesting pet you've got there," Isran remarked, his deep voice breaking the quiet. He kept his gaze on Geri for a moment longer before turning to Erik. "I might have mistaken it for a regular mutt if it weren't for the... auminous magicka emanating from him." The last part was said with a bit more weight, as if he'd been puzzling over it since they set out.

Erik shrugged nonchalantly, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I found Geri a while back in a summoning circle. Haven't quite figured out what he is exactly, but he's obedient enough. And, well... he's surprisingly good company."

As if to prove Erik's point, Geri lifted his head from the venison, his tongue lolling out before he barked excitedly, the sound sharp in the still night air. His tail wagged in rapid, delighted movements as if voicing his agreement.

Isran hummed in thought, staring into the flames for a moment. "I suppose it doesn't matter," he said finally, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "In these strange times, I've seen stranger things. We've got more pressing matters than figuring out what your pet is."

The fire popped as a log cracked, sending a few embers floating up into the night sky. The silence stretched for a few beats before Isran turned his attention back to Erik.

His tone grew more serious, his sharp eyes fixing on the necromancer. "We didn't have time for chitchat earlier, but now that we have a moment to breathe… I have to ask—what's our plan? You spoke of the vampires and their relic, but what exactly are we going to do about it?"

Erik, leaning back slightly against a nearby boulder, smiled faintly. "It's quite simple, really… or at least it should be," he said, his tone confident but cautious.

He gestured toward the fire, almost as if outlining the strategy in its flickering light. "The vampires want the relic sealed in Dimhollow Crypt. They need it to fulfill the prophecy of the Tyranny of the Sun, which, as you've read, will blot out the sun and give them dominion over the world."

He paused, watching Isran's face harden with understanding. "In that case," Erik continued, "we have two choices: we either hide the relic in a place where they can't find or take it by force, or—"

Isran interjected with a sharp shake of his head. "Hiding it isn't an option. The relic and the Daughter of Coldharbour were sealed in Dimhollow Crypt for a reason. The vampires must have a way to track it down, even if we move it, unless we have some specific countermeasure."

Erik smiled inwardly. Isran was sharp, managing to piece together the hints Erik had carefully planted in the journal. It was a subtle manipulation, one that required finesse, but so far, it was working as planned. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Erik nodded with a measured look of concern.

"I'm afraid that's exactly the case," Erik said evenly. "That only leaves us with one choice—to destroy the relic before the vampires can get their hands on it."

Isran rubbed his chin, thoughtful as the firelight flickered in his eyes. "I don't see any other way..." he murmured in agreement. The weight of the situation was heavy in his voice.

Erik, however, hesitated visibly. His expression shifted, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as if he were suddenly unsure of the direction they were heading. Isran noticed the change immediately, his brow furrowing as he raised an eyebrow in question.

"What is it?" Isran asked, his voice carrying an edge of impatience.

With a sigh, Erik ran a hand through his hair, letting the silence hang for a moment longer than necessary. "Like I said," he began carefully, "it should be simple... but it might not be as easy as we think. Destroying the relic, I mean."

Isran's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing at Erik. "And why is that?"

Erik leaned forward slightly, his tone growing quieter, more deliberate.

"Think about it. The last entries in the journal are vague, sure, but there's something important between the lines. The relic in Dimhollow Crypt... it isn't necessary for the ritual itself. It's a tool—a way to locate something else. Something much bigger. Specifically, it's a tool to find the Bow of Auriel and... well, it's a record of sorts. A guide to performing the ritual that will bring about the Tyranny of the Sun."

Isran's posture stiffened, his eyes locked on Erik. "A guide?" he echoed, his tone darkening.

Erik nodded, not giving away too much too soon. "There's only one thing that could accurately pinpoint the location of such a divine weapon and record a ritual as blasphemous as this. Only one source of knowledge ancient enough, powerful enough..." He trailed off deliberately, leaving the thought unfinished, watching Isran closely.

The dawning realization was swift. Isran's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he muttered under his breath. "An Elder Scroll..."

Erik didn't respond immediately, allowing the weight of those words to settle between them. He could almost hear the gears turning in Isran's mind. The implications were vast. If an Elder Scroll was involved, their mission had just become infinitely more complicated.

Erik leaned forward slightly, his tone low and steady. "Now you see the problem. Destroying an Elder Scroll... it's too difficult. No, it might even be impossible unless you can temper with the streams of time itself."

Isran scowled but said nothing, his jaw tightening as Erik continued.

"If the relic in Dimhollow Crypt is indeed an Elder Scroll, then hiding it won't work. And destroying it... well, that isn't an option either."

Isran's frustration boiled over, his growl low and dangerous. "Then our only choice is to take the Scroll and be on the run for the rest of our lives... or until the vampires inevitably get us."

He shook his head, the weight of their dire situation settling heavily on his shoulders. "If only I had more time. I could build a force—something strong enough to oppose the vampires. But like this... we're grasping at straws."

Erik had to suppress the urge to smile at that. Isran had finally taken the bait, playing right into the scenario Erik had crafted in his mind. His expression remained neutral, though, as he let out a hesitant sigh.

"There is... a way to buy time," Erik began carefully, his voice tinged with false reluctance. "But I don't think you'll like it."

Isran's frown deepened, his gaze hardening as he eyed Erik suspiciously. "Speak. What is it?"

Erik took a deep breath, letting the silence build tension. "We can simply give it to the vampires... before they find it."

Isran's reaction was immediate, his eyes widening in shock, his expression contorting with outrage. "Have you gone mad? To willingly hand over an Elder Scroll to a coven of vampires? Are you out of your damned mind?"

Erik raised his hand calmly, trying to placate him. "Calm down. Just... listen to me for a moment," he said softly. "This might be our only option."

Isran still looked furious, but he remained quiet, his glare fixed on Erik.

"The vampire sealed alongside the relic," Erik continued, "the Daughter of Coldharbour... she's been slumbering for over five thousand years, trapped in that crypt. When she wakes, nothing in Skyrim will be familiar to her. Nothing. She'll need time to adjust... and more importantly, she'll need a guide to take her back to her people."

Erik paused, watching as Isran processed his words. The Vigilant's anger remained palpable, but there was a flicker of understanding behind his eyes.

"That's where we come in," Erik said, his voice soft but firm. "If we play our cards right, one of us can offer himself as that guide. Get close to her. Infiltrate the vampire clan she's a part of. From the inside, we'll have more time, more information, more control over the situation. The other can stay outside and build a force to combat the vampires as you suggested... It's risky, yes... but it's our best chance to stop them."

Isran's fists tightened, knuckles white as the firelight danced over his grim face. "This is madness," he muttered, voice thick with frustration. "But if we succeed… not only will we uncover where these vampires are hiding, we'll be in a position to steal the scroll—or even stop the ritual once and for all."

His words hung heavy in the night air, but the shadows deepened in his expression as he added darkly, "But vampires only work with thralls and their own kind. To infiltrate their ranks, one of us would need to become... one of them."

Erik let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "Yes, unfortunately." His smile was laced with sarcasm. "I would have preferred if you volunteered yourself for that job, Isran, but I suppose asking a Vigilant to turn into a vampire would be pushing things a bit too far, wouldn't it?"

His eyes gleamed with a wry amusement, though his tone was serious. "Besides, I suspect you'd be more suited than me to establishing a force of vampire hunters to keep them in check—given your profession and all."

Isran's eyes narrowed in suspicion, his mind racing. On the surface, the plan made sense. Erik, by offering the relic to the vampires, could gain their trust. From within their ranks, he could gather vital information, bide time, and perhaps even sabotage their plans.

Meanwhile, Isran would be free to build up a network, recruit allies, and prepare for a strike against the vampires from the outside. It was almost too perfect, too convenient.

But that nagging doubt gnawed at Isran. Erik had led him down this path so easily, playing on his fears, his hatred of vampires, and his desire for a solution. Was this all a game to Erik? Did he simply want to join the vampires and use Isran as a pawn to further his own ends?

Isran's gaze drifted to Erik, studying him closely. What was his real endgame? If Erik had the knowledge to orchestrate this whole plan, what was stopping him from entering Dimhollow Crypt on his own and retrieving the relic himself? Could it be that he was unable to undo the seal? Was that why he needed Isran?

But then, as he looked at Erik's calloused hands, the scars running across his skin, and the well-worn armor he wore with the ease of a seasoned warrior, Isran felt that doubt waver. Erik was no weakling.

He had wielded both sword and magic with effortless precision, summoning fire to light their bonfire and dispatching wolves with chilling efficiency on their journey. It wasn't a lack of strength or arcane knowledge holding him back, that much was clear.

However, if that wasn't the case, was Erik perhaps a vampire pawn? Isran quickly shook away the thought as soon as it surfaced. If he was working for the vampires, then what good will revealing their plan would do? Wouldn't it be better for the vampires to continue working in the shadows like they always have?

Isran shook his head, dispelling the uneasy thoughts. Erik was dangerous—of that he was certain. But his reasoning, while cold and ruthless, was sound. The stakes were too high to let suspicion cloud his judgment. They needed a way in, and if Erik was willing to step into the role of a vampire to give them that chance, perhaps it was a necessary evil.

"I don't like this," Isran said, his voice low, his words weighted with distrust. "It's too risky. Too many things could go wrong. And I'll tell you right now—I'm not convinced you're doing this for the right reasons."

Isran was more right than he knew. Erik's motives, though not entirely selfish, were far from noble. Yes, he didn't want Skyrim plunged into chaos under the iron grip of the Volkihar vampires—no, there was some truth in that.

But the larger, unspoken part of Erik's plan was far more intricate, and far more ambitious than just keeping the Volkihar in check. Establishing the Dawnguard was just the first step in a much grander game, one that spanned beyond this petty skirmish between mortals and vampires.

Erik's mind wandered to the Soul Cairn—the bleak, otherworldly realm where his broken soul might finally be mended. The portal to that place was nestled deep within Castle Volkihar, and it wasn't lost on him that he would need access to the Volkihar Court if he was ever going to set foot there.

That goal alone was enough to justify his manipulation of Isran, guiding the man toward establishing the Dawnguard sooner than he was supposed to. But there was more. Much more.

The game's binary choice between joining the Dawnguard or siding with the Volkihar vampires was restrictive. In the coded world of Skyrim, one could destroy one side to preserve the other, but that was a scripted outcome. In real life, Erik wasn't bound by the rigid lines of code or limited by the predetermined paths of a character written by someone else. He didn't have to choose one or the other. Why limit himself?

Instead, Erik had set his sights on something far grander: playing both sides. If he could position himself within both factions, manipulating their every move, he could control them like pieces on a chessboard even after Harkon's death.

The vampires could serve him, their treachery a weapon he could wield as long as he could rule over them with strenght. The Dawnguard, on the other hand, could be led by Isran, a righteous force of vampire hunters—unknowing pawns, whose zeal would keep the vampires in check, too busy to even doubt Erik's intentions while he maneuvered in the shadows.

Considering his own nature, Erik knew he was better suited to the Volkihar. The vampires were long-lived, clever, and powerful—traits Erik admired. But they were also treacherous.

A necromancer like him, with his own ambitions and hunger for power, wouldn't have to tread too carefully in their ranks. However, he couldn't simply align himself fully with them, not without risking betrayal.

The Dawnguard, though righteous and stubborn, were the kind of force he could manipulate more easily, especially with Isran as their leader. Their sense of justice and blind faith in their cause could be weaponized to keep the Volkihar distracted.

As long as both sides were at each other's throats, Erik would be free to operate from the shadows, feeding the conflict just enough to keep the balance. Neither side could afford to disregard him, as they would need him more than they realized. And by slowly weaving himself into the fabric of both factions, he would not just influence them—he would own them.

One of Erik Deathsong's greatest failures in the past had been his reliance on himself alone. He had made enemies of everyone, trusted no one, and walked the dark path as a solitary figure. That had led to his downfall. But Erik would not make the same mistake twice.

He needed minions. Allies. Friends, even, though the word tasted bitter on his tongue. In truth, he needed pawns—people who would do his bidding, knowingly or unknowingly, when the time came. The Dawnguard and the Volkihar vampires were just the beginning.

He looked at Isran again, his cold, calculating gaze hidden behind a mask of calm resolve. The man was suspicious, of course—anyone with half a brain would be. But that was part of the game. Erik didn't need Isran's trust. He only needed his cooperation, and that was already in motion.

Erik smiled faintly, his eyes reflecting the fire's glow, though there was no warmth in them. "I don't expect you to trust me. In fact, I'd be concerned if you did." He leaned forward, his tone softening but still edged with that same dark pragmatism. "But you have to admit, this is the best shot we've got. We both know the vampires will emerge sooner or later. We can't afford to play by the rules anymore, Isran."

Isran stared at him, weighing his words. Erik was manipulative, no doubt about that, but there was a ruthless logic in what he said. "And you're willing to give up your humanity for this? To become one of them?" His voice dripped with disdain at the thought of willingly choosing such a fate.

Erik shrugged, the faintest hint of bitterness in his smile. "Humanity's a fragile thing. It is easier to lose than you might think. As for vampirism, it can be shed just as easily... there are ways to cure it." He leaned back, letting the words settle in. "Besides, if it buys us time to stop them, then it's worth it. Don't you think?"

Isran let out a heavy breath, his hands tightening into fists once more. He hated the plan, hated that they were being forced into this position. But more than anything, he hated the vampires—and if this was the only way to stop them, he would make sure they did it on his terms.

"Fine," Isran said at last, his voice hard. "But understand this: I'll be watching you. If you even think about taking the side of the vampires, I'll kill you myself."

Erik's smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

The fire crackled between them, the uneasy silence stretching as both men stared into the flames, knowing the path they had chosen was one of no return.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, its mournful cry echoing through the night, as if sensing the darkness to come. Geri, having finished his meal, sat alert beside Erik, his blue eyes gleaming with a strange, almost unsettling intelligence.

The corgi barked softly, wagging his tail, as if anticipating the danger ahead.

...

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