Surprise! A new story from yours truly.

Let's all just ignore the fact that I said that I wasn't a huge fan of RWBY in my last story because the latest season changed my mind. Also, I'm going to be arrogant enough to believe that I can add my own spin onto it to make it more enjoyable for myself.

I'm confident that this story will go better because I'll be writing for an original character and because I sort of planned out how it's gonna go.

Anyways, the main character is going to be the Dragonborn, whose past will be revealed gradually as the story progresses, and the pairing will be a surprise. I'll give you a hint though, it's a pairing that I've never written before! Wait- that didn't narrow it down at all...

Oh yeah, I don't own RWBY or the Elder Scrolls series so there's that.

Without further ado, please enjoy my story.

Chapter 1: Cast Away

"FUS RO DAH!"

The shout that had started His servant's journey resounded throughout His realm like thunder on a silent night, the effects bearing down on His other, more traitorous servant oppressively as he was pressed into the platform with the force of a god. Miraak was a fool, that much was made clear when he had sent his servants to provoke one of the only beings that could defeat him. If there was ever a shout that could encapsulate His servant so perfectly, it would be Unrelenting Force. Ever since he had undertaken his trivial quest to save Tamriel from the grasp of Alduin, nothing had stood in his path; not the dragons, not the Dark Brotherhood, not his own people... not even His fellow Daedric Princes could prevent the doom-driven hero from doggedly pursuing his destiny. Which is exactly why Miraak was so foolish; did he really think that he could defeat the being that had absorbed the souls and knowledge of over a hundred dragons?

The deafening shout had a quiet aftermath, only the sound of fluttering papers and staggering footsteps filled the platform as the Last Dragonborn approached the First. Miraak had no more dragons to hide behind and consume, his soul was now laid bare before his superior. His once elegant (and, dare He say it, fetching) robes were torn and tarnished in several places and his mask was cracked in several places and had a couple of holes, revealing what must have been a surprisingly plain face to his fellow Dragonborn.

He wasn't doing so well either, his torso had numerous cuts and contusions and his right arm hung limply at his side, a side effect from the shoulder wound that was inflicted upon him at the fight's onset. Yet, much like his preferred shout, he progressed forward, pushing aside all obstacles as he progressed forward towards his objective.

He took Chillrend which had been resting idly on his shoulder and flipped it, preparing to stab it downwards into the kneeling body of his foe. The numerous blades grasped in his telekinetic grasp surrounded Miraak as well.

Half-lidded bronze eyes gazed at the downed figure. "Honestly, why would you even want to go back to Tamriel, brother? Place is a shithole... Solstheim is pretty much just an ashy wasteland-definitely not the place you're used to. And don't even get me started on Skyrim, that province could make the Shivering Isles seem stable."

"Surely you jest! You would tire of this wretched hellhole within a matter of hours, much less a day!" cried Miraak as he glared up at the Dragonborn, more of his mask falling apart.

His servant rolled his eyes dismissively as he repositioned his sword onto his shoulder, "Calm down you madman, face your death with some dignity. Besides, what's there not to like? You've got books for leagues and even little squid... octopus friends." He leaned down towards Miraak, a mocking grin on his face, "Did I mention the books?"

The First balled his hands into fists and slammed them into the platform, wasting the last vestiges of his physical strength on a petulant tantrum, "You're not even trying to make this place seem more appealing! Imagine waking up every morning to a tentacle whipping you. And, by the dov! Imagine having to listen to Hermaeus Mora's voice constantly, it's maddening!"

The Dragonborn closed his eyes and nodded pensively, "I can see how you would go mad if you had to listen to him yammering on about how he's the Prince of Knowledge for thousands of years. Does he think he's intimidating when he uses that stupid voice? He should be trying to seduce people instead of trying to repulse them..."

Wait. Weren't they supposed to be fighting?

"See! I'm not the only one!" Miraak laughed loudly, extending his arms towards the mass of tentacles in the sky which He was using to observe the two Dragonborn. After thousands of years, Miraak was well-versed in the means his former master used to survey His realm.

He could feel the annoyance growing within Him as His two servants, which were once enemies, continued to bond through their shared annoyance of the voice that He deigned to share with those lesser beings. He supposed it was to be expected as mortals, especially the races of men, were quite willful, a symptom of their short, insignificant lives. Ancient beings such as Himself had to learn to be patient and cautious if they wanted to thrive, though some wielded their power like a troll might use their strength: clumsy and without a higher level of thought.

It was almost time to step in and punish the foolish Miraak for his treachery but even He was curious to see how the two Dragonborn would interact with each other before the traitorous dragon priest would meet his end...

"I know what you're thinking right now: No matter what he says, I'm not truly his servant, I'm just using him for my own gains." Miraak didn't bother to look at the Dragonborn for confirmation before continuing, "I once thought like that as well. His sweet, yet vexing whispers filled my ears as I used his magic and his gifts to the point where I slowly became dependent on them. Like a fool, I began to trust him despite my previous inhibitions. When the time came and all his poisoned gifts failed me and I cried out for his help, all he had to do was wait until I was helpless to fully ensnare me in his grasp."

"Of course, that doesn't have to happen to you..." Miraak looked down, hiding his face, "You see, there are some things that even Hermaeus Mora doesn't know. He gifted me many a shout, that is true, but there are some that I created as well!"

"Huh? What are you tal-" The Last Dragonborn recoiled, brandishing his sword in an attempt to prepare for whatever Miraak had up his sleeves.

But it was all for naught. Even the legendary glass sword couldn't stop the shout of a dovah.

"VAAZ NOL LEIN!"

One second he was there, the next he was gone, His servant didn't stand a chance. There was no dramatic tear in the fabric of the universe, there was nary a sound. Much like the Dwemer of old, he had disappeared without a trace. His previous annoyance seemed like the petty complaints of a child as it turned into anger.

He manifested a tentacle to punish His traitorous servant.

"What have you done?" He growled out as He let His righteous fury seep into His tones.

"Come now, my lord, surely with all your knowledge you must know the meaning of those words." Miraak choked out in a mocking tone, the tentacle piercing through his gut making it slightly more troublesome to communicate, "Vaaz: to tear. Nol: from. Lein is much more abstract, but it essentially means the universe. I'll assume that you know the implication of those words when put together."

He didn't allow His emotions to overwhelm Him as He twisted the tentacle within Miraak, finishing him off in a most painful manner. Of course not, He was much more dignified than His brutish cousins. He watched the blood pool around his corpse as the tentacle was withdrawn. It would surely begin to rot as his flesh and organs remained due to his soul not being absorbed by the Dragonborn.

He loathed to admit it but, even if He was the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, there were bounds to His knowledge, one example being knowledge from other realities, universes or even dreams, if you would.

That's why, as His Seekers emerged from the depths around the platform to dispose of the body and He stared at the spot where the Dragonborn once existed, He felt something He rarely felt.

Envy.

"Farewell Agent of Padomay, farewell my young prisoner. Sweet dreams..."

"Hey you. You're finally awake."

Where had he heard those words before? Right, at the beginning of his new life. At the beginning of the journey in which he transcended his Reachman identity in order to become the Dragonborn.

Was that the effect of Miraaks' miracle shout, then? To send him back in time? It didn't fit with the literal meaning of the words but, then again, Dovahzul was nothing if not an abstract language. Even now, after having absorbed the souls of many dov, Howl still needed to meditate on most words in order to understand their true meaning.

"Hey, I saw your eyes move under your eyelids, I know you're awake. Quit pretending to be asleep."

The voice decidedly did not sound like it belonged to a musclebound Nord named Ralof so perhaps the shout hadn't sent him back in time. Come to think of it, the surface he was laying on didn't feel like a poorly-driven, splinter-filled Imperial prisoner wagon. Perhaps the shout was a fluke and it simply sent him back to Nirn...

Howl opened his eyes and immediately sighed as he was greeted by the sight of a ceiling of metal bars; it seemed like he had to begin every journey as a prisoner, much like the other heroes recorded throughout Tamriel's history. The ceiling was covered by some sort of material so he couldn't tell what time of day it was, but judging by the darkness outside the cage, it was either a cloud-filled night or they were in some sort of dungeon.

"Welcome back the land of the living, well... I wouldn't say entirely living with all those wounds you have. Man, they must've roughed you up good." said the voice to his right.

"Where am I?" asked Howl as he reluctantly sat up and looked to his right, finding a human-looking woman with... "Deer antlers?"

Her brown eyes narrowed and her tone grew defensive, "What? You got a problem with faunus?"

"What's a faunus?" he asked in confusion, attempting to scratch his head but finding that his right arm was still unresponsive; one of his tendons must have been severed.

Truthfully, the concept of men with animal-like features wasn't too surprising to Howl, many members of his former tribe had animalistic features due to the wolfsblood granted to them by the Glenmoril Coven, he himself had some particularly sharp teeth despite not being blessed by Hircine directly. He had also read about a subset of Khajiit that could pass themselves of as regular men or mer.

The faunus woman's tone softened, or at least morphed into confusion as she responded to his question, "You've never heard of faunus before? You live under a rock your whole life?"

"Actually, yes. I was born under one too. And you never answered my question, where are we?"

"We're at Brothers' Refuge or, at least, what remains of it after the White Fang attacked." said the woman, anger contorting her features and malice seeping into her tone, "Now the village is as good as destroyed thanks to those bastards..."

"Come on Carmen, the White Fang would never betray us faunus, we both know that." protested a boy near the edge of the cave, he also had a pair of antlers.

"Then what the hell are we, idiot? Cause they sure as shit betrayed us!" said Carmen with a shake of her head, "You listen to Chester too much, he was probably the moron that went behind our backs and deactivated the defenses for them."

Howl's attention drifted across the cage as the pair descended into an argument, it was filled to the brim with those faunus creatures though there seemed to be some humans as well. He wasn't too intrigued by this White Fang, they appeared to be like any of the bandit groups or cults that inhabited Tamriel except for the fact that they seemed to have some sympathizers among the faunus population if the boy was anything to go by

His attention suddenly shifted inward at the lingering pain that plagued his body, his wounds should've been healed thanks to all of his enchanted equipment. Howl frowned as he noticed that his captors took his enchanted rings, his sword, his satchel and even his amulet of Akatosh. Did this White Fang group have no respect for the Divines? By the Nine, they even took his boots!

"Hey, don't worry. We'll get out of here, Vale's bound to notice if one of the mining villages go off the grid." Carmen said with a comforting smile that no doubt betrayed her own feelings of despair, "What's your name?"

"Howl."

"Howl? What a strange name..."

"How rude. You should be grateful, you know, it's actually the translated version of a much stranger name."

Any retort was cut off as they interrupted by the guard who finally decided to make an appearance.

"Hey! What the hell is with all this noise, y'all better not be tryin' to plan an escape!" shouted the painfully generic guard as he banged on the bars to startle his prisoners. His face was concealed by a hood and a mask with bright red eye slits. he was also very tall and very buff, no doubt a dumb brute sent to intimidate the prisoners and keep trouble away from the main camp. What may have been a menacing ensemble was betrayed by the wagging dog-tail sticking out of the back of his pants, signifying the fact that he was likely one of those faunus and that he was happy for some reason. Maybe he got off on scaring innocent, little prisoners such as himself.

Howl's stomach growled, making him regret having his satchel stripped of him. He tried to think of the last time he ate which made him even hungrier and his stomach even louder. If it meant starving himself to death he didn't feel like playing the prisoner and gathering information anymore, it was time to enact Escape Plan #1.

"H-hey, what's the new guy doing?"

"Is he crazy?"

"Is that asshole trying to get us all killed?"

Howl could only express his disappointment internally as he partially listened to the frenzied whispers surrounding him as he made his way towards the guard, were all faunus of such little faith? Their lives couldn't be in better hands. Or hand, considering his injury. He couldn't really tell because of the mask, but if Howl had to guess, the guard seemed bemused as his injured form progressed further and further towards the bars. That was good, if he wasn't threatened then he wouldn't be prepared for what was about to come.

"What's up with you, huh? Think you can take me on through these bars, little man?"

Howl stared into the slits of the guard's mask, careful not to let the annoyance he was feeling slip into his expression. He had a lot of pride in his height as he towered over most people but every now and then he would run into an even cockier bastard who was taller than him. In this case, the guard had a measly inch on him. Alas, he had no time to correct the man as he suddenly dropped to the ground and groveled like the horse thief from Rorikstead. Escape Plan #1 had begun.

A giant collective "Huh?" came from his audience, including the massive guard he was currently prostrating himself before.

"Please! Please you have to let me out of here, brother!" Howl cried out, tears pouring out of his eyes as he looked up at the guard, "I'm not even with them, I don't belong in a cage like the rest of these people!"

"Is this guy serious?!"

He ran his eyes over the guard's form with years of careful discretion and cursed under his as he realized that he wasn't carrying the keys to cage on him; it was beginning to look like he was going to have to take a more direct approach in his escape strategy.

The guard had a mocking grin plastered onto his face and rubbed his chin as if he were contemplating letting him go, "That is true, you don't really belong with these poor fuckers now do you? Then again, the way you showed up on our perimeter all wounded, you probably tried to fight through a bunch of grimm. You tried to save them, didn't you? I can't let you out of here if that's the case." he said with an exaggerated shrug.

Howl stood up from the ground and laughed, "Heh, you got me!"

Suddenly, as quick as a flash, his eyes narrowed and his hand shot out of the bars, gripping the guard by his neck. "I am trying to save them." He wouldn't be winning any commendations from the Bard's College for his acting but it worked nonetheless.

He then slammed the guard's face into the bars, strong enough to shatter his mask but not strong enough to knock him out. "Oh, you weren't taken out by that? Let me try again."

"Wait- no! Help!"

Howl slammed his face into the bar again, again, once more, another time and again before the guard was knocked out. His victim even resorted to calling out to the prisoners for help, for all the good that did him.

The Dragonborn turned back to the rest of the prisoners with a heroic smile and a solitary thumbs up but was only greeted by looks of horror. Come to think of it, some blood did spray onto his face...

Carmen was the first to speak up, "You moron! He didn't even have keys! Now we're trapped in here, one of the other guards is going to come back and see him and then they're going to slaughter all of us!"

Howl picked one of his pointy ears, checking for any physical damage from her shout, "I'm sorry but you're going to have to be a little quieter, sister, wouldn't want to attract any more guards now would we?"

Carmen grit her teeth, creating a grinding noise that emanated throughout the cage, "I'm not the one that dealt with the guard in the loudest fucking way way possible!"

"Don't you worry, I'll get us all out of here, just sit back and watch." he said with a confident grin only to receive several death glares from the despairing prisoners. Apparently, they didn't appreciate his bravado.

"How... how could you possibly do that?" she muttered before burying her face in her hands then preparing for her death with a prayer.

"Like so. FEIM!"

Much to the wonder of the prisoners surrounding him, Howl's figure turned spectral and walked through the bars of the cage. He relished the feeling of some of his cuts healing before the shout faded shortly afterwards, leaving him in his weakened mortal form. He knelt by the body of the guard and relieved him of his sword, testing its balance and weight. Howl nodded in satisfaction, it wasn't skyforge steel or Chillrend but it would do. He then turned towards the door of the cage and broke the lock in one strike, freeing his fellow prisoners.

The prisoners shuffled out one by one, unsure of themselves as they seized their freedom, some nodded their thanks while most kept their heads down and were careful to step over the body of the prison guard (though some took some liberties as revenge for his cruel treatment.) Carmen was the last one out, her shoulders seemed less tense and she looked to the ground, careful to avoid Howl's gaze.

"Thank you..." was all that she muttered, stopping in her tracks.

Howl shook his head causing a couple of loose strands of his dark brown hair to fall over his face.

"Don't thank me yet, there's still the rest of the bandits to take out before you're free." Howl said as he blew the strands out of his eyes with an annoyed huff. He would have to braid his hair soon with how quick it was growing.

"Bandits?" Carmen asked in confusion. Howl ignored her.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asked without waiting for a response. It was the type of question that wasn't really a question, just an order disguised as one, "Stay out of my way while I get rid of the rest of them, I don't want any of you to get hurt because of me."

"So what? We're just supposed to stand by while you take the White Fang on by yourself? Who cares if you can turn into a ghost or whatever, you shouldn't be taking them lightly!"

"Fine." he said with a sigh, "If you really want to help, gather any weapons you can and free the rest of the prisoners, if there are any. If you're finished with that before I dispatch the rest of them, then you can help out."

"But-"

Howl looked back at her with a grin as he marched forward into the d, "Trust me, sister; I can do a lot more than turn into a ghost. Now get!"

Tall buildings and twisted trees as silent as the dead surrounded Howl. Though he could see some sources of light in the distance, it remained, for the most part, pitch black as the moons hid behind the cover of the clouds as if they were anticipating the bloodshed that would soon occur. He rested the stolen blade on his shoulder as he walked through the husk of a village, taking comfort in the familiar gesture.

It certainly wasn't a dungeon, nor was it in Skyrim either, the architecture was simply too advanced: if it were a village in Skyrim it would be comprised of huts with thatched roofs, not sturdy-looking buildings made out of brick. Perhaps Miraak's shout had sent him forward in time, or maybe it even sent him to a different continent like Akavir. Come to think of it, he did see some snake-like faunus; were those supposed to be the fabled Tsaesci that he had read about in the archives of the Blades?

"Hey! Is that one of the prisoners? How'd he get out?"

Howl was torn out of his reverie as he noticed several White Fang pointing and shouting at him. Maybe it was a symptom of his arrogance, but he tended to space out while walking around, even in bandit camps, much to the distress of his companions.

Or would it be former companions now that he had no idea when or where he was? That idea disturbed him so he chose to save it for a later date when he was in a more convenient position to experience an emotional breakdown.

"He's totally spacing out right now, who does he think we are?"

He shook his head, forcing himself out of his thoughts, "Sorry, I got lost, could you point me towards the privy?"

They looked at him in disbelief and he stared right back before he realized he was supposed to be eliminating them for his fellow prisoners.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

A torrent of flame spouted out of Howl's mouth and eviscerated the White Fang lackeys in his path, turning them into ash. He sighed despondently as he watched the rest of the flames devour benches and crates; more lives lost due to the path of greed and villainy.

'Curse you Divines, for creating men with such inhibitions' thought Howl, his soul heavy as he looted what remained of their bodies for any valuables. He usually wasn't one for looting the corpses of bandits but he was in unfamiliar territory and drastic times call for drastic measures.

"Wha- What the hell?!" and a loud bang was all he heard before he felt an impact hit his already-wounded right hsoulder.

It felt like he had gotten punched by a troll. Then came the heat. Then the pain. Pain unlike any he had ever felt before.

Thanks to his instincts, Howl was able to not dwell on the new sensation as he scrambled to take cover in an alley. Another bang and then a slight pinging sound followed in his wake.

He peeked around the wall. and saw another White Fang member, one that was holding some sort of device with a smoking barrel. Howl didn't have time to marvel at the foreign technology, though, and retreated behind his cover before the henchman could get another shot off. Howl wondered if it was some sort of advanced crossbow, perhaps a Dwemer invention that made its way to wherever (and whenever) he was located at the moment.

"Alright, jackass, you're surrounded! Come out from behind that wall-no sudden movements, and let's seem them hands!" a rough female voice called out from the street he had evacuated.

Howl didn't even have a moment to curse before he notice the forms of several other White Fang members seemed to melt out of the shadows, each with a malicious grin on their face as they surrounded their prey. Some emerged behind him in the alley while most stood in the street, their strange weapons pointed towards them.

"Thank you Lady Nocturnal..." the Dragonborn muttered to himself as he dropped Chillrend before walking into the street, carefully avoiding stray pieces of glass that could cut up his bare feet.

The biggest one, most likely the leader, emerged last. His apparel was unique from the mask and hood combo that appeared to be the standard White Fang uniform. Instead, he left his chest bare, exposing the numerous battle scars that dotted his torso. He was a wolf faunus, judging by the one ear that poked out of his grey hair, the other looked like it was gnawed off by a rabid dog; not unlikely considering the company he kept. Howl sighed and braced himself for the bravado that bandit leaders seemed to exude.

"Heh, did you really think your escape attempt wouldn't be noticed by the commander of the White Fang's Vale Branch's Seventeenth Division: the Grey Demon, Lloyd Farrand!"

Howl cursed silently, of course it had to come in the form of a speech. By the time he had begun his speech, his lackeys had fully surrounded him. He cursed again-he would have to buy himself some time.

"Do you always talk in the third person? And only the Seventeeth Division, huh? That must mean that you're pretty low on the food chain, right?" the Reachman called out with a dopey grin plastered onto his tattooed face, his mind racing for solutions.

"You bastard... " Apparently he wasn't one of the villains that liked to banter before battle, "Everyone get your guns out, we're gonna make him regret ever messing with the White Fang and then we're going to kill the rest of those fucking prisoners!"

'Guns... so that's what they're called.' If they were going to surround them while using those strange weapons, then he had the perfect shout to counter their attack. The trouble was using it at the right moment, that sweet spot right before they-

"FIRE!"

Or they could just announce when they would attack, Howl certainly wasn't going to complain.

"FEIM ZII!"

The sound of his shout intermingled with the sound of twenty-ish guns going off at the same time leaving little distinction between the two. The cacophony of the two competing noises was followed by the sound of those twenty-ish guns dropping to the floor along with their owners as their leader looked on in shock, his dangerous reputation abandoning him after having watched his men get mowed down by each other thanks to their foolish formation.

"I should be thanking you for that, brother, I hate fighting and you made this process go by oh-so-quickly! Thank the Divines for those guns you speak of, eh? The marvels of modern technology..." said Howl casually as he returned to his mortal form, several of his wounds having been healed by the effects of the shout.

"You bastard..." Farrand growled once more.

"You already said that, brother." Howl reminded him.

"Fuck it." Howl could hear Farrand mutter as some sort of energy coalesced around him before winking out of existence

The wolf faunus pulled out a blade that looked like it had seen better days but was recently sharpened, clearly it was a murderous tool that been put to good use. The Dragonborn instinctively reached for Chillrend but cursed when he remembered that he had left his most loyal companion in the alleyway to his right. He sighed as he realized that he would have to draw upon the training beaten into him when he was a child-a whelp born into the one baddest tribes in the Forsworn.

He positioned himself into a careful stance, his feet shoulder-width apart, and his arms positioned loosely in front of him in a position that would invite his opponent to make the first move in their confrontation but would still allow him to counter effectively. Howl took a deep breath as he reached into his vast magicka reserves only to frown as they had yet to regenerate after his showdown with Miraak. A concern for another time, he decided. He shivered slightly at the feeling of cold energy racing along his skin. Dragonhide was perhaps one of the most advanced alteration spells but the feeling of magicka forming a shield that cocooned his body was not a pleasant one in the slightest.

The Reachman beckoned for the faunus to attack him.

Farran charged at him with a determined expression peeking through below his mask. Howl prepared another spell as he braced himself.

"Our day will come!" shouted the faunus as he emerged in front of Howl with an overhand strike prepared.

His sword was perhaps only a few inches away from meeting the Dragonborn's head but the latter was prepared for such an attack. Howl's only good hand shot up faster than lightning and quickly gripped the blade. Hard, wiry muscle rippled beneath his dark skin as he held the attack back, his hand protected from harm by the magical dragonhide.

Farran grit his teeth as he stared into Howl's eyes.

"You'll pay for that, you bastard!" he cried out as his opponent's strength began to falter and his sword pressed on victoriously.

'His eyes are grey...' was all that the Dragonborn could think at that moment.

Thunder roared.

'FUS! RO! DAH!'

And that was that.

The faunus was shot into a wall with the force of a meteor. It was miraculous that he even survived such a blow. When the Dragonborn had first learned the shout, it was only good for sending opponents stumbling and buying himself some time. But as his understanding of his innate language grew, so too did the power of the shout that crowned him in the eyes of Skyrim. Lesser opponents would be eviscerated, better opponents would be smashed into a paste, and the most hardened of his enemies would find themselves hard-pressed to recover from such a devastating attack.

Yet in this new space he found himself in, a bandit chief found himself buried in a wall, some form of energy flickering around his defeated, broken form. He survived. Barely.

"Ebony..." the man muttered, a forlorn name escaping and dancing upon his lips.

No matter.

A shot rung out across empty street. A gun bathed in a golden glow floated in the air, its barrel smoking. It dropped to the ground, finally free from Howl's telekinesis spell.

The Reachman stared at the dead body for what felt like hours. In Skyrim, he had a bodycount that most likely was in the hundreds yet he felt no joy or sorrow whenever he contributed the mass grave that seemed to dog his steps at every point in his journeys. On one hand, the people he killed were generally people that needed to be stopped for the safety of common people. But on the other hand, people weren't born evil. Some were born into conditions that could only allow one kind of life. Some were twisted by the people around them. Some simply saw no other alternatives for themselves.

Howl sighed as memories of his family flitted through the forefront of his mind before retreating into the dark depths. Such complicated thoughts did nothing to help his psyche.

He wiped the nonexistent blood off of his hands before getting back to work.

Howl felt a chill run up his spine. Maybe Miraak's shout had worked as intended-has magicka reserves were showing no signs of regenerating. Perhaps Miraak had cast some sort of spell or used some sort of shout that would prevent him from recovering his depleted powers. Or perhaps something more drastic had happened...

As usual, though, he saved such troublesome thoughts for when he was on the privy and instead picked out his wardrobe-heroes had to look dashing after all. Howl decided to stick with the same short, enchanted robes that made him identifiable as the Dragonborn to the citizens of Skyrim, the dark green fabric seemed darker at night but the bronze dragon script that ran along the edges still looked as radiant as ever; say what you want about Taarie and Endarie, but they could make some damn fine clothes. He also decided to stick with the loose grey trousers that he usually donned, tucking them into his enchanted, hardy leather boots. He decided to stick with Chillrend despite its ever-decreasing charge. He had plenty of other weapons to choose from. Volendrung and Ulfric's axe came to mind but the Redguard in him made him prefer blades as opposed to other instruments of death. The sword was tucked into a bronze-colored sash tied around his waste.

While he mopped up with the main White Fang groups the rest of the prisoners apparently had armed themselves and wiped out any of the stragglers and freed any of the villagers who had not fled into the wilds. Howl didn't know why they didn't just try to fend off the White Fang in the first place, but he wasn't one to judge, it all worked out in the end anyway...

Though the villagers had won a key victory and had secured their freedom for the near future, the mood among the adults was more pessimistic than cheerful as they had learned that they would have to abandon their homes for the time being. Apparently, they had managed to repair a device called the radio which allowed them to communicate with people over long distances but were unable to repair the defenses that protected the village from the beings known as Grimm which, in this universe, posed a great threat to humanity and whatever the collective term for the faunus was. Using the radio, they informed the powers that be of their situation and were able to secure reinforcements to aid in the repair and reinforcement of their defenses but, much to their irritation, they would also be sent to aid in their evacuation.

The mood among the children of the village was decidedly more joyous. Unlike the adults who were either mourning the loss of friends and family or preparing for the long voyage to the town of Lantana, which held the nearest military base, the tykes decided to crowd around the Dragonborn and badger him for details on his battle with the White Fang.

"So, Mister Howl, are you a hunter?"

"Hm, what's a hunter?" asked Howl, idly adjusting the straps of his satchel as he waited for the Bullheads (a prevalent form of transportation in this universe) that would take them to Lantana.

"You know-it's the heroes that protect the people of the different kingdoms from the Grimm."

"Alright, what makes you think I'm one of them then?" he asked with a bemused smile on his face, still not truly paying attention.

"You can use aura, that's how you turned into a ghost." said the boy in a tone that children often used to demonstrate how they were right, even if stupid adult logic disagreed with them..

Howl looked down at the boy, now actually interested, "Aura?"

"Yeah, that's how they use all their fancy semblances!"

"Semblance?" he asked, his confusion and curiosity growing at each elaboration.

Any further enlightenment was cut off as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to his right and saw Carmen pointing up towards the sky with a melancholic smile on her face.

"You can find out more at Lantana, there's bound to be some real huntsmen over there."

Howl looked up to where she was pointing and saw a group of flying contraptions that would make the Dwemer green with envy heading towards them, framed by a single, shattered moon.

One moon.

His magicka reserves not regenerating.

Strange technology.

Animal-human hybrids...

He most definitely was not in Skyrim, or even Nirn anymore.

A/N:

So that was a thing...

As you can probably tell, this story is going to have some humor in it, or at least, my attempts at humor. It was originally going to be more serious, Howl was going to be more of a solemn knight-like character who was going to be transported to the RWBYverse after losing to the Thalmor who succeed in their goal of destroying the boundaries between Nirn and Aetherius. But then I rewatched Fullmetal Alchemist: Brother and was influenced by Ling Yao's character and I also decided that that would've been a depressing start to the story.

I guess this story has a bit of Gintama influencing it too with how comedically Howl treats some of his fights and interactions with his enemies.

In terms of how frequently I'm going to update, I'm not going to stick to a schedule because then it'll start to feel like work. Instead, I'll just update whenever I've finished a chapter or once I've built up my backlog.

Anyways, please review, even if it's to troll or flame me, I really appreciate any feedback and I'm sure that you will too after I use it to improve my writing. Also, feel free to send me pm's about the story or any suggestions you might have. I'd be really glad to answer any questions you might have about my story.

Hope you enjoyed it, see you next chapter!