I would like to preface the following statements by making it clear that I am profoundly grateful that a long and careful study of time magic has rendered me immune to most of the adverse effects of being 25,142 years old. I am exceedingly happy to be still alive and well, rather than dust on the wind, even if I didn't figure out how to render myself immune to aging until a little after my fortieth birthday. There, I said it. Now then.

Being old sucks. It isn't that I feel this way very often, as I am extremely well-preserved for my age, and I keep myself in great shape through near-obsessive training. However, there are some days, usually after a big battle, where I wake up and everything, and I mean everything hurts. Not the sort of pain you get from being stabbed or crushed, although I'm feeling that too, but this deep, pulsing throb that centers in your bones and nastier scars that no amount of ibuprofen can reach. Of course, Skyrim's medical technology has yet to discover that there are better surgical anesthetics than getting really, really drunk or high, so I don't even get that much relief. Note to self: Don't fight dragons alone and one-handed. Also, ow.

Even with magical help from the local priests, it took a few weeks to get me back to fighting shape. Unsurprisingly, one do not simply walk away from fighting a dragon alone, one-handed, and naked. It wasn't like I had a much of a choice at the time, since my dwarven sword was the only thing to survive the dragonfire, but that doesn't make the recovery any more pleasant.

Still, all the down-time gave me an opportunity for some hardcore research. If I couldn't move around, my best bet was to do my best to discover a way to put a dragon down for good, so I don't end up in the same situation again. Fortunately, Farengar turned out to be a much better academic than, well, just about anything else. By the time I was back on my feet I had a plan to explain to Jarl Balgruff that could give us the ability to kill a dragon without all that mystical dragonborn juju that no one alive seems to have.

"Based on my observations in combat, and experiments on the bones, Farengar and I discovered why the dragon kept coming back to life," I shared with my audience, which included Hadvar, the Jarl, and his closest advisors. "A while ago, Sigurd of Riverwood told me that dragons all trace their lineage back to Akatosh, the god of time. Also, when I fought the beast, it laid down some sort of chronal interference. Now you don't need to know exactly what that means, but in short, dragons have time powers." That much they seemed to understand. "Now it starts to get complicated. Most people can move in three ways. Forward and backward, left and right, up and down, yes? For simplicity's sake, let's call these ways to move dimensions. However, people also grow older, as time passes. But, you can't just go backwards in time without some seriously complicated magic. I'm pretty sure that, for dragons, it's slightly different. As far as we can tell, dragons don't move in three dimensions; they move in four. The same three that we can, but also forwards and backwards in time. So, when you kill one, their soul travels back in time until they have a body again, which makes it look like they regenerate. Thus, to permanently kill a dragon, we need a way to capture its' soul before it can do that, like dragonborn do naturally."

"You think people haven't tried that?" asked Hrongar, "I thought you had something useful! Many wizards have tried to capture a dragon's soul inside a soul gem. It's impossible!"

"Hold on a sec, I'm not done," I replied, "You can't put a dragon's soul in a normal soul gem because soul gems exist in three dimensions, just like us and whatever you try to stuff in there, like a deer or a troll or a mammoth."

"So then we need a… four-dimensional soul gem?" the jarl reasoned, "Do you know how to make one?"

"I can do better than that!" I replied happily. It's always nice to exceed expectations and talk about myself. "I met a guy named Urza a while back. Completely bonkers, of course, and sociopathic in ways even I would never dream of, but he's also the best artificer I've ever heard of. He had these special objects called powerstones that he used to fuel all his inventions. But there's more. Powerstones don't just store energy; they store space too. Urza, monstrous bastard that he was, actually stuffed what was effectively an entire, human-populated realm of Oblivion into a powerstone once. If he hadn't been fighting someone much worse than him, I would have killed him myself. Well, there was the minor fact that he could've killed me with one finger if he wanted to… And he was completely immune to any attack I could make… But the point is that if a powerstone could contain an entire world, it must exist in more than four dimensions, because things that exist in more than four dimensions can exist in a world, and if powerstones only existed in three dimensions, those things would've escaped when Urza destroyed Serra's Realm. So, if we make a powerstone, we can soul trap dragons with it. And before you ask, Urza's been dead for a long time. He sacrificed his life to kill that other guy I was talking about, and the omniverse is much improved by the loss."

"What do you need to make a powerstone?" asked the jarl, "Whiterun is prosperous, but we don't have unlimited resources. These things sound expensive."

"The money isn't a problem," I assured him, "The big cost is in the labor. Our only problem is that an ordinary forge isn't going to get hot enough to turn a crystal into a powerstone. The Skyforge isn't hot enough either. I think my only option is to seek out the Aetherium Forge. According to the book Farengar showed me, it could be the only place in Skyrim where a powerstone can be made, and we do have at least a few clues as to where it is, so I'm thinking Hadvar and I ought to set off to search for it at once."

"Well, then," the jarl rubbed his hands together, glad to have a course of action, "What can I do to help?"

After spending a few days to gather the necessary gear, Hadvar and I set out for Utterly Unpronounceable, an ancient dwarven ruin said to contain the Aetherium Forge, or at least a way to find it. Yes, I know it isn't actually called Utterly Unpronounceable, but if I could pronounce what the actual name is I would use it. When exploring ancient structures, things like a grappling hook, decent rope, and a wide array of tools for disabling traps and opening doors are a must. I also got another set of steel armor. I have got to stop getting immolated; I'm tired of fighting naked all the time.

The long trip across Skyrim was largely uneventful. We almost got robbed a couple times, but when the bandits realized they were stalking competent people, they backed off. Pity they had some common sense; the voices wanted blood. Instead, all we had to fight was this random lizard guy in black tights that decided to charge us with knives. Hadvar dropped the loser with an arrow before he even got close. According to the note I found in his pockets, some Satanist named Astrid wants me dead. Haven't these people realized that you don't let your assassins carry around evidence linking you to the crime?! Some people are just too stupid to live. If I ever meet somebody named Astrid around here, I'll have to get the point across. (Geddit? Point? 'Cause I'm going to stab her.) The only other action we saw was when a dragon flew overhead, and we had to hide until it passed. I do not want to fight one of those things again without a powerstone and all four of my limbs.

Still, we made it to Utterly Unpronounceable without grevious injury or losing much time to violence, which was good. Once you start totally relying on living off the land, expedition rations take a noticeable hit in flavor. The ruin was underground, in a mountain. The entrance, which according to Hadvar is typical of dwarven engineering, was made of this exotic golden metal and well-quarried stone. It was probably a formidable barrier when intact, but a seismic shift (hopefully) long ago had bent one of the doors enough to give us an easy path. Abandoned, trap-filled ruins are bad enough, but abandoned, trap-filled, collapsing ruins are even worse. Well, they say the Divines watch over lunatics and fools, so I should be fine, at least. Too bad about Hadvar…

The two of us entered, weapons at the ready, Hadvar taking the lead. He's got a shield, and two arms, so if we get jumped he's more likely to avoid a bad wound. Fortunately, the dwarven ruin seemed free of bandits, assassins, and other pests. On the other hand, Hadvar was pretty sure someone else had come through here recently, with a handcart of all things. I took his word for it; I'm not exactly great at tracking. My skills in that area basically boil down to following obvious footprints, and maybe threatening somebody for information. I knew there was a reason I kept him around! Yanno, aside from the obvious.

However, aside from keeping an eye out for an ambush, we couldn't exactly do anything about the mysterious explorer except push deeper into the ruin. Whoever it was had a seriously powerful crossbow, which was used to disable any dwarven automatons that were feeling lucky, but the explorer hadn't gotten all of them, giving me my first experience with functional dwarven machines.

The things are actually really impressive. I mean, I've seen more dangerous robots, but nothing so advanced that would last thousands of years beyond their creators without regular maintenance. And, the little bastards are fast! The electric, mechanical spiders are bad enough, but they at least ignore you unless you get too close or feel inclined toward vandalism. The big sphere guard things, like well-armed robot segways or something, actively seek out intruders, and they're really well armored. Even a thrust right to the joints doesn't do much damage, and anything else with a sword or bow just pisses them off. A few times Hadvar and I got lucky and were able to push one off a ledge or something, but mostly we had to rely on my magic.

As long as I got the drop on them, that was just fine. After all, it doesn't take a lot of power to yank a few wires at distance, just focus and skill, which I have in spades. However, that only really works while they're still; it's hard to do detail work when you're fighting for your life. For the active ones I had to get my Magneto on, and that uses up more mana than I was really comfortable with. Not as bad as if I had to brute force them with fire and lightning, but still a hefty drain. On the plus side, I was able to retrieve some very interesting scrap that might become part of a left arm in the future, and crossbow person had disabled most of the robots already with the armor-piercing weapon.

After some twisty tunnels and an evil ghost, which I doused in holy water from the temple to Kynareth in Whiterun (never leave home without it!), Hadvar and I heard the sounds of combat up ahead. Rounding the next corner, we were treated to one of the most awesome non-me spectacles I've ever seen.

On one side we had a ravening horde of eye-less, freaky Tolkien-orcs (Hadvar later said they were called fail-mer or something lame like that) armed with shoddy chitin weapons and armor. On the other side, we had a young woman defending a hand-cart of salvage with an actual, slaggin', chain-fed, steam powered, repeating crossbow! I want one. Now. She was wearing a set of badass steampunk goggles and patchwork armor of leather and dwarven metal scraps, and looked to be having a grand old time blasting away at the fail-mer. Still, I think she appreciated it when Hadvar and I took to her back and kept the creepies from flanking her. At least, she didn't shoot us or anything.

With three of us together and a seriously heavy weapon, the stream of fail-mer dried up pretty quickly. With the danger passed, crossbow lady grounded her weapon and vented a stream of vapor from the stock, presumably to keep the thing from overheating.

"Not that I'm not grateful for you keeping those falmer from sticking a knife in my back, but who are you people?" she asked in a clipped accent, "I sure hope you aren't looters. I'd hate to have to shoot you."

"Aren't you a looter?" I pointed out the obvious, "With the cart full of loot and all?"

"Looter? Hah! I am a mechanist!" she crowed, "By studying this recovered technology, I will unlock the ancient secrets of the dwarves. Then, I shall kill vampires with increased efficiency. And SCIENCE!"

"Uh, huh. Well, we're just looking for the Aetherium Forge," I explained, "We heard it's in this ruin. We're going to make something that makes dragons mortal, and then drink from the skulls of our enemies!"

"Not that last part," Hadvar elbowed me in the ribs, and it hurt through my armor, dammit! Why can't I have muscles like that? "I'm Hadvar, Imperial Auxiliaries, and this is Zoe Walker, skilled battlemage. We're trying to create a way to kill dragons without being dragonborn."

"I am Sorine Jorard, artificer extraordinaire, quartermaster of the Dawnguard," crossbow lady introduced herself, "In short, I'm a professional archeologist, mistress of clockwork, and vampire hunter. The three professions go surprisingly well together."

"Vampires, eh? How do you feel about dragonslaying?" I inquired.

"Nothing against it," Sorine allowed, "But I've already committed to helping the Dawnguard thin out some bloodsuckers. I can't start one long crusade until I've finished the one I'm on."

"So, if the vampires need to die before you'll help us kill dragons, then I need to neutralize some vampires," I reasoned. It's a noble goal. Of all the kinds of undead, vampires are the worst. They can spread themselves with no limits to who they turn, have freaky powers, and don't lose any mental or physical abilities by being undead. The things can overrun entire planets, or even habitable star clusters, if left unchecked. Generally, the only acceptable response is orbital bombardment, but even if my starship was in the area, I wouldn't have any way to contact them. Fire and steel it is! "How would we go about signing up with the Dawnguard?"

"You'd have to talk to Isran. He's the head honcho," related Sorine, "But for now, why don't we stick together? I'd love to find the Aetherium forge, and if we do I'll put in a good word for you with the old man, eh?"

"Sound's good," I agreed, "Guess you've got yourselves two new vampire hunters."

"Don't I get any say in this?" Hadvar butted in.

"You mean you don't want to help keep bloodsucking fiends from takin' over the world?" I asked. "Really?"

"Well, when you put it that way," he grumbled, "I suppose somebody needs to watch your back."

With this settled, we continued deeper into the ruin, which was apparently infested with more fail-mer. Strangely enough, after the dwarven machines, foes that die to sword cuts seemed really, really easy. Usually, things get harder as you go deeper into an ancient ruin, not that I'm complaining that I'm less likely to end up dead.

After a while, we came to a large, open, natural cavern, with a tall dwarven edifice occupying the far wall. Three giant, barred doors blocked our progress. Higher up on the structure, a set of six circular mechanisms sat in alcoves. A hulking but inactive-looking construct stood behind the central door in some sort of scaffold.

"Hey, I recognize this stuff," Sorine analyzed, "It's a tonal lock. You don't usually see those in Skyrim. By most accounts, Morrowind dwemer were the ones really fond of these. You have to hit the mechanisms in the correct order, or that centurion there," here she pointed to the construct, "Will come online and try to squash us. However, there's no way to know the correct combination. Unlike the ancient Nords, who favored stone tablets or engraved metal for writing, the dwemer used paper, which rots easily."

I briefly examined the doors, then used a pair of pliers to reach through the bars on the left side, and carefully extracted the hinge pins. With a resounding crash, the now unsupported door fell to a gentle push. Forget the lock. My way's easier.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much interesting in the structure. Sorine gleefully dismantled the inactive centurion for parts, but the only other things of interest were some ingots of dwarven metal, too heavy to carry, and a strange glowy semicircle that got the inventress really excited.

"That's aetherium," she exclaimed, "Raw aetherium, and something engraved in the back. It's a map! Apparently, the Aetherium forge is in a small ruin outside Ivarstead, to the east. Unfortunately, if I'm translating these glyphs right, we need four chunks of aetherium to enter the forge."

"Like we needed to hit the spinny thingies in sequence to get in here?" I pointed out.

"Right. Let's go there right away!" Sorine agreed, "Maybe there's an alternative entrance."

The return trip was as monotonous as the trip to Utterly Unpronounceable. Lots and lots of boring, slow, tedious walking. I'd suggest we acquire horses, but I'm fairly certain none of us have more than the vaguest idea how to ride one. Sorine has a mule for her cart of dwarven junk, but that's about as high-tech as our transportation is. Maybe I can get her to make a steam tank or something later.

Sorine, on the other hand, was loving the trip, and not bored at all. I may not be especially knowledgeable on the subject of mechanics, but I do come from a place with a much higher technology level than Tamriel, and I may have memorized Sir Isaac Newton's Principia Mathematica and a few other relevant texts soon after they were printed on a dare. Regardless, as I imparted carefully rationed and censored bits of future knowledge, some differences between me and Sorine quickly became apparent.

I'm an excellent smith and craftswoman. I can chart out a circuit board, forge a sword, make a mechanical limb, and assemble a suit of power armor with the best of them. It will work great, and look great too. It'll do exactly what it was designed to, with elegance, and it'll last for ages. I'm probably the best engineer and smith alive; after over twenty-five thousand years of practice, I slagging well ought to be.

Sorine is an artist. Give me access to the same technology she has and tell me to make a crossbow, and I could. It wouldn't be much different from medieval standard, but it would work, and it would work really well. Give Sorine this tech, and she comes up with a steampunk machine gun with four distinct and powerful attacks. Belt-fed crossbow, bayonet, superheated steam blast, and semimagical Tesla cannon all in one package. Even if I'm not giving her much she doesn't already have, I almost feel sorry for our enemies. Almost. If I ever make contact with my old crew again, I'm definitely going to offer her a job, or at least get her to take a look at my personal gear. I'll give Hadvar the offer too. He's a solid, reliable guy, and that's worth more than you might think.

Anyway, we reached the Aetherium Forge's location, and scared off the bandits squatting over it with a mild scalding. Wimps. After some foolish waving of the Aetherium shard, a dwarven tower rose from the ground. Sure enough, the door had a finicky lock that had spaces for four aetherium shards. Since we only have one, and they didn't leave the hinges within easy reach this time, I put a plasma bolt through the lock. You have to do better than that to make a lock that a little solar fire can't open.

The three of us descended into the sweltering heat of the forge, which is somehow built in the caldera of a supervolcano deep underground. Well, that's one way to get some serious heat for your forge. Man, if this thing goes up, kiss Skyrim goodbye! How is this place not getting melted though? Magic, I guess.

When we reached the forge, Hadvar thought he saw something moving in the magma, but that's impossible. Even if you're immune to heat, like me, you'd still suffocate in the molten rock. Completely slagging… Great Divines! Giant, flaming, lavaproof centurion!

The titanic, glowing red construct stomped up out of the pool of flaming death, lava dripping off its imposing axe and hammer limbs. Pausing briefly to shake off any lingering lava, the humanoid thing advanced on us, radiating menace and furnace heat. Sorine promptly unloaded a volley of bolts into the thing, which mostly bounced off its sides, or burned up shortly after hitting. Hadvar's shield and bow would probably combust if he stayed close to that thing for very long, so I guess that makes it up to me.

How do you kill a flaming, fireproof, metal man? I can't lift him; he's too heavy. He's moving around too much for my wire trick. Working with the same strategies I used on the smaller automatons, I reached out with magnetic fingers, and pulled at his arms and legs, which sent the thing staggering, but did no lasting damage. The monster responded with a blast of flame that sent me running to get Hadvar and Sorine out of the line of fire. Scrap! Not my clothes again! I am sick and tired of fire-based enemies! How come nobody uses good, old fashioned steel anymore?!

So, now I'm stuck dodging around a giant metal juggernaut that could kill me with a single hit. While naked. Again. Last time I did something like this I came out an arm short! I mean, it won't be landing that hit anytime soon, but even with my clairvoyance, I'll get tired eventually.

However, salvation came in the form of Sorine Jorard and her Tesla cannon, which sent the metallic monstrosity staggering and sparking. As the thing tried to recover, I helpfully provided a second lightning bolt, burning most of my reserves for one big hit. If this thing can shake off my best shot, or there's another one, we're dead either way, so I might as well go all out. Thankfully, unlike with the dragon, my best is good enough, and the super-centurion dropped in a smoking heap.

With the safeguards down, Sorine and I went to town. Apparently the dwarves thought a giant fire robot was enough security, and not without good reason. That thing could have killed us pretty easily if not for enough electricity to light a small town. Ah, lightning, the great equalizer. Hadvar, not especially interested in smithing, picked up a few souvenirs for his uncle, and then spent the time Sorine and I were busy camped outside the forge, or going on food and booze runs. Seriously, the booze was important. You do not want to drink the water anywhere in a low-tech place without some alcohol in it to kill off fun stuff like cholera and dysentery.

Out of a general sense of adventure and no small amount of friendly competitive spirit, Sorine and I agreed to keep our respective projects secret until we were ready for a big reveal, each of us taking half the Aetherium and working the forge on alternating days. It was so hot down there that Sorine needed the rest days, and there was only enough equipment for one person at a time anyway.

After almost two months of seclusion and hard work, the day of unveiling came. We flipped a gold piece for the right to go first, and I allowed/caused Sorine to win. The inventress walked off and came back in an actual suit of full powered armor that would've made the Adeptus Astartes drool in envy. Told ya she's really, really good. We found a huge stash of ingots of this apparently super-strong but hard to work metal Sorine called ebony in the forge, which she used for the outer plating, and salvage from the centurion and the other ruin for the innards. With the armor, she had a highly-improved version of her epic crossbow, and doubtlessly all sorts of cool tricks in the armor itself. While she admitted that she'd used all her Aetherium for the suit's power source, she gave Hadvar and I scaled-down versions of her repeating crossbow. They're not as powerful, and have five-shot clips, but it's still probably the best ranged weapon in the world right now, so I'm not complaining. Now then. My turn.

I also created armor, and a new sword. Not with Aetherium, just ebony and dwarven metal filigree because you gotta look good. Regular plate mail is plenty for me, especially since I had no idea how to make something better with what I had. I also came out with a box full of goodies cradled in my hands. Yes, hands, in plural.

I have a prosthetic now! It even blends in with my armor, so you can't tell what it is while I'm dressed. Hah! Ahah! Muahahahahahahahahaahahaha! Now all shall grovel before my awesomeness, for I have two hands!

With a grin, I began unveiling my other creations to my awestruck audience. Behold: A powerstone! The Aetherium Boom Box! The Aetherium Monocle! The Aetherium Insoles! The Aetherium Flashlight! Ok, so maybe awestruck isn't the right adjective. Confused, annoyed, resigned, and appalled seem more apt. Sure, my new arm impressed them, but the rest of it? Sorine flat out told me I'd wasted priceless Aetherium. Maybe I should explain. Then they shall understand my genius!

I used the bare minimum of the metal to power my new limb, but that meant I didn't have enough for anything else big. The powerstone didn't need any Aetherium, just a lot of heat and pressure from the volcano. So, I made lots of small things. The boom box, the insoles, the flashlight and enough monocles for six people, in case we have more recruits. What makes them so awesome?

Well, the boom box will make the music in my head audible to everybody else! Clearly an essential item. Of course, though I didn't tell them this part, it also can send and receive radio, so if my ship is ever in range I'll be able to get home again once Alduin is pushing up daisies.

The insoles will help stabilize me for better traction and freer movement, even in my new, heavier armor. Maybe not the flashiest thing to have, but I used a similar magic item before I found myself in Skyrim. A little gravity manipulation does wonders for mobility. And a little is all I've got; I suck at earth magic.

The flashlight can create radiation anywhere on the spectrum; somewhat dangerous if misused, but fantastically useful. From simulated daylight for vampires or dark places, to infrared light to blind night vision goggles, to radio-foiling white noise, to the occasionally-vital Kryptonite radiation, this thing will rarely fail to be useful. It's another item that mimics something I am very used to having in normal times.

The monocles are the real gems, arm aside. I'm never going one-handed again! Each one is an adjustable headband and box of electronics that can fit under a helmet. They project a holographic display over the right eye (or the left eye, depending on which side the box is on). With magic. AND SCIENCE! AT THE SAME TIME! How cool is that?

Each one has a motion tracker, infrared sensor, and magebuster, and can tag everyone around you with color-coded threat levels in a heads-up display! For those of you who are ignorant, a magebuster is like a fuzzbuster, except it detects magic use rather than speed traps. The monocle's also got a laser rangefinder, and a shortwave to communicate with other people wearing one. Knowledge is power, and power is awesome. The thing will even give you a crosshairs and scope for those really long shots with a bow or crossbow! Scorn my creations now, why don't you? Fortunately, Sorine and Hadvar were much more accepting once I explained what my gadgets actually do. Also, they each took a monocle. Those things are really useful. Not all combat power comes from explosions and pointy things.

Now significantly better armed, Sorine, Hadvar, and I travelled to Fort Dawnguard, home of the Dawnguard (who else would be living there?), just outside of the city of Riften. We avoided the city proper, though. According to the locals, Riften is a festering cesspit of corruption and lamecloaks. Not interested in visiting that.

Isran, the Dawnguard's leader, was rather happy to have Sorine back, especially with a couple of capable hands in tow. Apparently, the headquarters of a rival group of monster hunters, the Hall of the Vigilants, was hit by a bunch of vampires, who are now investigating a cave called Dimhollow by the locals. He wants us to strike back and find out what the vamps want at the cave. This will hopefully keep them distracted from Fort Dawnguard until Isran can recruit enough people for an effective defense, as well as set the enemy's plans back. Long-term strategy. I like it. I may not be great at it myself, but I can sure appreciate a good gambit.

As we entered the cave, we heard voices up ahead. A couple of people, apparently security guards, discussing the fate of a Vigilant who got himself killed attacking them and how tasty his blood was. Ugh, definitely vampires. Hm, something just occurred to me.

"Hey, Sorine, Hadvar!" I stage-whispered, "This is probably a bad time to realize I need to ask this, but how do you kill Skyrim vampires anyway? Stakes? Decapitation? Silver? Fire? More Fire?" Somehow, the guards didn't hear us, nor did their weird mutant dogs.

"Hit them with anything," Sorine related, "You have to damage them enough that they'll turn to ashes, but aside from that, anything will work. Same weak points as a regular person. Fire is particularly effective, as are strikes to the brain or heart. But, you need to be careful to get both the first and last strike with a single attack. Vampires have a ranged, blood draining ability that can turn or kill you if you aren't careful. Don't let them make a single attack against you." Seems easy enough.

Hadvar kicked off hostilities by putting a crossbow bolt through the head of dude-vamp-redshirt. He's a better shot than Sorine or I, especially at these distances. The mutant dogs and chick-vamp-redshirt immediately charged us like idiots, and Sorine mowed down the dogs with her crossbow, while I bent the laws of physics a bit to rapidly close with the vampire, and put my sword through the convenient cleavage window in her armor. What an idiot, giving me a straight shot to her vitals! The point of armor is to stop the pointy bits before they reach something important! Putting a hole right above your chest is so very, very stupid. Being a Skyrim vampire does not give you natural armor, morons!

With the security guards out of the way, we opened the gate into Dimhollow proper. The place was an ancient, zombie-infested crypt that reminded me a bit of Bleak Falls, and evidently vampires and zombies do not get along well. The vampires were still in the middle of cleaning house, which gave me and my allies the perfect chance to ambush them. Nothing like a target-rich environment to keep one's spirits up. Between Sorine's firepower and Hadvar's skills I barely had to use any spells, too. Good help is endlessly useful.

Eventually the three of us came to a large open cavern filled with an underground lake. A big, circular structure sat on pillars high above the lake, connected to the land by a stone span. Below where we entered, three vampires and some thug were torturing a mostly-naked guy for information. Naked guy was apparently 'Brother Adelvald', a vigilant of Stendarr, and the vampires were led by a vamp named Lokil. Whatever. Not like the vampire's gonna matter once we kill him. Rescue time!

I hopped off the ledge and dropped to land heavily but unharmed in front of the vampires. The Aetherium insoles are proving their worth already! "Mind if I drop in?" Since no one around has seen any movies, I get to reuse all my old lines!

"You don't want to attack us," stated Lokil. What? Of course I do! But, now one of the voices doesn't… Oooh! He's trying to mind control me! If that sorta thing worked on more than one of me at a time I might be worried. Yes, I can turn insanity into combat advantage.

"I don't want to attack you," I informed him. Then I added a flaming head-butt that sent him staggering to the edge of the cliff. "Let's be friends!"

"What madness is this?" the vampire exclaimed, spitting out a fragment of broken tooth, "You are under my power! Stop immediately!" Oh, he did not just give me that setup. Well, he is asking for it…

"Madness? You call this madness?!" I yelled gleefully. You can't plan moments like this. "THIS! IS! SKYRIM!" Then I punched him in the junk. With my superhumanly strong mechanical arm. Right. In. The. Junk. He folded like a wet tissue, so I stabbed him a few times and stomp-kicked him into the lake, just like the Spartan in that campy movie. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Or your coffin. Whatever. "Next?" However, no one else was available.

While I'd been busy, Sorine had followed me to crush the thug on impact with an earthshaking crash, before unloading a steam blast and some lightning into the second vampire while Hadvar fired a full clip of quarrels into the third. With the enemies taken care of, we cut Adelvald loose and Hadvar, the only one of us with any medical skill, started checking the monk over for wounds. Fortunately, he seemed largely fine. No missing digits, no serious blood loss. I guess they were waiting until he cracked before they ate him.

"Thank you so much for saving my life," Adelvald said, "I shudder to think what those monsters would have done to me, and I don't think I could have resisted their mental assault for much longer. But, if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

"I'm Zoe Walker, battlemage and dragon-vanquisher," I introduced myself, "This is Hadvar, my trusty partner, and Sorine Jorard, master artificer. We're working for the Dawnguard. Well, Sorine's in the Dawnguard. The rest of us are more like interns. We help them with the vampires, and then they help us with the dragons."

"Dragon-vanquisher?" the vigilant asked, "Don't you mean dragon-slayer?"

"Not yet, but maybe someday," I informed him, "Only dragon I ever fought I couldn't kill, because I'm not dragonborn, and I didn't have an alternative way to kill them. So I convinced it that if it stuck around I was gonna eat it, and it ran away. Kind of hoping I don't have to do that again. Fighting a giant, immortal dragon nearly killed me. Now we might have a way to make dragons die permanently. But, we need allies. So we're trying to get the Dawnguard to help."

"You seek to slay that which preys on the citizens of Tamriel," Adelvald stated, "Your mission is not far from that of the Vigilants, and honestly, with all that has happened lately, the Daedra-worshippers we usually fight suddenly seem like much less of a threat. Vampires destroyed our hall and shattered our order. Dragons have claimed more lives in the past months than I have seen lost in a lifetime of hunting those who consort with Daedra. I would be honored if you would allow me to join your quest, that I might continue to protect the people of Skyrim and repay you for saving my life."

"I'm not necessarily opposed to that, but do you have what it takes?" I inquired, "You said you fight worshippers of the Daedra. Fighting people is pretty different from dragons, and kind of different from vampires."

"I'm pretty good with a warhammer," the monk replied, "And I have considerable skill in the arts of Restoration and Alteration. I can heal wounds-"

"Welcome to the team," I interrupted. A healer! Yes! Yes! Yes! Now if someone gets hurt we can help beyond some bandages and sympathy! This is great!

We searched the vampires and found Adelvald's armored robes and gear, alongside a hammer that according to him was enchanted to force low-level Daedra to return to their home in Oblivion. Pretty cool, if of limited utility. We supplied him with an Aetherium monocle. He supplied us with amulets of the Divine Stendarr. Stendarr is one of the local gods, and of the martial inclination. He does mercy, healing, destruction of abominations, defense of the helpless, etc. Supposedly, the amulets make you better at defending yourself, but I couldn't feel any magic in them. I'm not exactly a great enchanter, though. Whether that's true or not they look pretty spiffy, and it's usually a bad idea to scorn the team cleric's god.

With that sorted out, we checked out the structure above the lake. The place looked kind of like a Roman-style arena, with empty braziers scattered about. The architects had helpfully carved grooves in the floor to allow the braziers to be pushed around. A large button on a column protruded from the center of the circular space. Sorine, ever-curious about ancient mechanisms, prodded it, and the thing tried to stab her. I don't think the people who made it counted on armor over a foot thick, or arousing the curiosity of an actual engineer with spellcaster backup.

Between Sorine and Brother Adelvald they puzzled out the mechanisms and did… something. Lines of seemingly-harmless energy spread out from the button, following the grooves in the floor. According to the two, the enchantments on the device formed a lock. The first part was meant to draw blood, to confirm that the person who found it was alive. The second part required you to line up the braziers with the energy lines, to prove that you're sapient. Whoever hid this stuff wanted to keep it out of the hands of the vampires. So, of course we opened it. If the vamps came back with a pickaxe, all the elaborate locks would just go to waste.

As Sorine pushed the last brazier into place, a hexagonal monolith of dark basalt ground up from the floor. One side of the monolith then fell away, dumping the contents unceremoniously to the floor. The secret inside all the security was a woman, dark of hair and pale of skin. She looked kinda like one of those kitschy porcelain dolls you see in antique collections sometimes, except she was all dolled up in a red and black dress that looked like it might be armored. Of course if it was, the cleavage window pretty much made that irrelevant. Idiot. And her makeup somehow stayed perfect after being locked in there for Divines know how long, and she looks like a supermodel. I think I hate her. I don't even know her and I hate her.

"Ugh. Who are you? Who sent you?" Slag it! Even her voice sounds freakin' perfect. Ok, that's it.

"This will hurt slightly less if you hold still," I graced her with an evil grin as I drew my sword, "But either way it will be quick."

"Wait, what?" said pretty miss perfect, along with everybody else in the room.

"Divines, Zoe! You can't just go killing people for no reason!" Hadvar exclaimed, wrestling my sword away from me, "What's gotten in to you? Usually you at least pretend that other people's lives matter to you!"

"Why not?" What part of sociopathic mass murderer is he not getting here? I am not a good person. Though some of the voices might give me trouble sleeping for this… Wait a minute! Scrap! Psycho killer voice, stop hijacking my mind! I'll give you some nice bandits and lamecloaks later, so quit it! I can't just kill people because they make me feel insecure about my appearance by proximity. With her stupid perfect skin and perfect hair after being locked in a tomb for maybe centuries… "Fine. But I reserve the right to hate her to the depths of whatever bits of my battered, tarnished soul I still have a legal claim to." Hadvar accepted this with a sigh. He probably figured it was as good as he was going to get from me.

"Don't worry, ma'am," he turned to the lady we just rescued, "You're safe from the vampires now, so you don't need to stay locked up in there any longer. I'm Hadvar. This is Sorine Jorard, Brother Adelvald, and you've already been aquainted with Zoe Walker. We're with the Dawnguard, the order of vampire hunters. I assume you locked yourself in that ancient device to get away from the bloodsuckers out here?"

"Uh, no. I don't even know how long I was in there. I feel like it was a while though." The lady replied, "I'm Serana. Thank you for freeing me. Who knows how long I would have been trapped in that, uh, stasis spell if you hadn't come along. I really am curious how long I was out. Hmm, who's Skyrim's high king?"

"Jarl Elisef the Fair will be crowned by the moot soon enough," Hadvar stated confidently.

"Ulfric Stormcloak has a strong claim, though, and lots of popular support," Adelvald rebutted, "I may not support his racism and personal brutality, but you cannot deny he has charisma and a very good chance."

"I will be high queen! A dark queen! All shall love me and despair!" I assured her, "Bow before me, mortal!"

A voice backed by more ominous and incomprehensible chanting that no one else seemed to hear whispered in my ear as the shadows started writhing like snakes or maybe tentacles. "Miraak. Miiraaaaaak." However, since I hear creepy voices inside my head and see things that don't actually exist all the time, I decided to ignore it. Hope I'm not getting another voice, though. My head's crowded enough as it is.

"As you can see, it's actually a matter for debate," Sorine finished, gently cuffing me upside the head. "And rest assured that Zoe has absolutely no claim on the throne whatsoever. Why do you even say stuff like that?"

"Because she's delusional," Hadvar explained. See, I've got him so well trained he does exposition for me! Hadvar is awesome. But not as awesome as me. No one is.

"Great, a war of succession. Good to know things didn't get boring while I was out," Serana quipped, retrieving a big scroll from her monolith and slinging it across her back. "I hate to impose, but as long as you're rescuing me, do you think you could help me with something simple? My family has a castle off the northwest coast of Skyrim, or at least we did before I ended up here. Even if it's abandoned now, I need to go there to confirm some things. Could you… escort me? I'm certain I can come up with suitable compensation, if you need it."

"Uh, why not?" Hadvar offered, after exchanging glances with us, "We don't really have anything else planned, and Isran did tell us to deal with the situation in Dimhollow. That job isn't done until you're safe."

A few days walking saw us to the shore, where Serana's family home loomed far out in the ocean. The locals insisted the place was haunted, and we had to buy an old fisherman's boat just to get out there. I don't think he expected it back, but he was rather happy about the flaming sword I enchanted for his legionary son and the increased chances of surviving the war it promised.

The castle itself was gothic architecture at its finest. Spires, spikes, gargoyles, and black marble were everywhere. It was the sort of place that mad scientists and evil monsters set up shop in in those old horror movies. The sort of place that no monster ever lives in, because its just too obvious. The angry mobs always look in the creepy castle first! Better to live somewhere inconspicuous.

The gate is manned though, so at least Serana's family is still around, even if they won't recognize her. Except they do. The gate guard knows her face, despite the fact that by her own estimation she's been trapped in stasis in Dimhollow for several hundred years. Not suspicious at all, nope. Hadvar and I subtly loosened our swords in their sheathes and checked our weapons. Brother Adelvald suddenly developed a slight limp, requiring him to use his hammer as a walking stick. Sorine shifted her crossbow to a ready position, because who needs subtle when you have power armor?

Still, we enter the castle with Serana. It isn't like anyone but me would feel comfortable abandoning the damsel in distress in such suspicious circumstances. The gate opens into a staircase above a grand hall, garishly decorated but in a state of slight disrepair. Definitely getting a 1950s Universal Studios vibe here. We get challenged by some random chump right away, but once he recognizes Serana he starts groveling and is quick to announce us to the court. "My lord, Lady Serana has returned!" Serana herself leads us down the stairs, and- oh, slag.

There seems to be a feast in progress. A feast on recently dead or still living people. No silverware required, blood everywhere. What kind of stereotypical loser monsters are they? I guess there is such a thing as being too genre-savvy. The four of us who aren't a part of the crazy cannibal cult made sure to keep our backs together and weapons ready.

"My daughter. You have returned to us at last," says the guy at the head of the table, who stands up and discards the still-living person he was chewing on – scrap, that's nasty – before walking toward us, arms spread in a deliberately magnanimous gesture. He'd look real friendly if he wasn't still covered in the blood of his last meal. "I trust you have my Elder Scroll?" Serana twitches toward the big scroll she carried out of Dimhollow.

"After all these years that's what you ask about?" Serana sounds annoyed, but also like she was expecting the cool welcome, "No 'glad to see you', 'thank goodness you survived'?"

"Er, of course your continued existence is a most pleasant surprise," He awkwardly bluffs, before turning to us, "Greetings, strangers. I am Harkon, lord of this court. I would thank you for returning my… precious daughter and my Elder Scroll to me." He gives the impression that his priorities are the other way around, though… "By now my daughter will doubtlessly have told you what we are." Uh, no, she didn't.

Think Zoe, think fast! They aren't vampires, because they're actually taking bites out of people. Not zombies or ghouls, they're too coherent for that. A reclusive cannibal cult? That just sounds cheesy. No way.

"She didn't tell us a thing, but I figured it out anyway," I told him, "It's obvious. You're communists!"

I love that moment when absolutely everyone turns toward me and gives me that flat, toneless "What?" It makes my immortal life worth living like few other things.

"Don't feel bad that the glorious revolution didn't turn out so well, and you're having to eat each other to survive," I consoled Harkon, patting a part of his shoulder not stained with blood, "After all, we can't all be the next Lenin, and there are some critical flaws in the Marxist system. When everybody has equal shares of the responsibility for the means of production, everybody slacks off, assuming somebody else will do the work. Then no food gets grown, and you fall to cannibalism to survive the harsh Skyrim winter. These things happen when you follow an economic system built on fallacious but well-meaning assumptions. The sad fact is that human nature can't handle collective ownership of anything important or valuable. Honestly, your best bet at this point is to cover up the cannibalism and reintegrate into capitalist society. I mean, sure the system isn't perfect, but at least you'll have a chance to fill your basic needs that way… What? Come on, you can't tell me you didn't understand that! This is basic sociopolitical theory, people!" Ok, now the blank stares are getting slightly creepy.

"Well, I only understood about half of that, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only person here who attended a university," Sorine told me in her best 'talking to crazy people' voice.

"We're vampires! The oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim," Harkon made a visible effort to pull himself out of his me-induced confused haze, "And the only gift I can give of equal value to my daughter and the Elder Scroll is my blood. Take it and you will walk as a lion among men-"

"I have a counterproposal," I butted in, allowing my hair to ignite. So they are vampires. Just weird ones. "It's called 'Everything dies… again!' It's the part where I start setting you slaggers on fire." I tapped the Aetherium boom box with a sparking finger, and the sound of mariachi trumpets and acoustic guitar filled the air.

"What in Oblivion?" Once again, confused Harkon is confused, "Where's that racket coming from?" Oh, he did not just insult my tunes. Before, I wanted to kill him for being an abomination. Now, it's personal.

"Love… is a burning thing!" My voice rang out clear and bright against the gloomy atmosphere, "And it makes a fiery ring." I allowed the flames from my hair to sheet down my body, concentrating around my hands and feet. "Bound… by wild desire. I fell in to a ring of fire!"

"What the- Kill her!" Harkon screeched at his minions. Wow, that generosity dried up fast. Fortunately, he already let me start my invocation. Big spells are always easier with a focusing chant. But, pseudo-latin gibberish is boring. Classic tunes are just part of what makes me so much cooler than the average spellslinger.

"I fell in to a burning ring of fire! I fell down, down, down, and the flames… went higher. And it burns, burns, burns, in the ring of fire…" I slammed a fist into the ground to emphasize the lyrics, blowing the vampires back with a radial blast of fire and concussive force. "That ring of fire!"

"What the hell?" Sorine and Adelvald both asked Hadvar as one. Well, the monk said heck. I guess they assumed Hadvar knew me better.

"I have no idea," Unfortunately for them, Hadvar doesn't really understand me any better than they do. The perks of being unpredictable. "She just does this sometimes. On the other hand, last time she tied a dragon in single combat, so…"

"The taste… of love is sweet. When hearts… like ours meet!" I flattened out my left hand, fingers together and extended, and thrust the flaming, metal limb into a nearby vampire's torso. The greasy bastard went up like dry wood. "I fell for ya like a child! Oh, how the fires went wild!"

As the blaze around me intensified, Hadvar and Adelvald quite sensibly sought refuge to the lee of Sorine, who dropped the visor on her helmet and checked the seals on her armor. "I fell into a burning ring of fire! I went down, down, down, and the flames swept higher!" I gathered the heat into a single, glowing ball of doom. When everything's on fire, my music shall be appreciated! All shall bow before me! "And it burns, burns, burns, in the ring of fire…"

Harkon, missing his eyebrows and hair and smoking slightly, came staggering out of the inferno I'd been building up since the music started. With a slightly manic look in his eye, the lead vampire made an arcane gesture and suddenly the four of us who weren't undead found ourselves elsewhere. Teleportation, true teleportation is so very overpowered.

My target-rich environment suddenly gone, I had to put my full attention into suppressing the giant fiery explosion. I'm pretty sure Sorine could have shielded my friends from the worst of it, but there's no reason to test that out now. But, the big boom is finally under control, and- what was that?

I recognize that roar. And my suspicions are confirmed by Sorine's understandably panicked cry as she recognizes the source.

"Dragon!" Oh, slag.