A/N: Yeah, I'm still here. Still kicking. Hopefully I can keep it that way :P Btw, if I ever mention the name Miraak, that's my bad, I actually meant Imaar. I get those two mixed in my head a lot. Like, a lot. XD

Guest1: I'll try my best :) I really want to finish this story.

"Dovahkiin?" Jaune whispered, looking at the man standing in front of him. He was tall, blond, and wielded a sword of iron, gleaming in the sunlight. For all intents and purposes, the same words could describe Jaune. But the man in front of him was more than that. He hadn't moved a muscle, but the boy sitting on the ground behind him could see that he carried himself with a purpose, a deadly aura surrounding him in a way that suffocated Jaune, brought a tightness around his chest that he had never experienced, even against Imaar.

Hell, even with the mask on Jaune could tell that the Dragon Priest looked terrified. It showed when the masked man pointed at the buff warrior, commanding the men around him to attack.

And none of the bandits even twitched. Most of them actually lowered their weapons, looking nervously amongst themselves, conversing in low voices. Sure, when they were fighting the Huntsmen they were dying off by the droves. Sure, they didn't get much back for their efforts. But they did get a few hits in. They did seem to push the small force back.

And they didn't know, or at least they didn't care about the reputation that the Huntsmen seemed to carry with them. The Dovahkiin?

Everyone had heard of him.

The woman standing loftily besides him had just as much of a reputation. Black locks styled into a braid, eyes glowing orange, a pin denoting the status of a pureblood vampire clasped around her cloak. Her hood protected her from the sun, but the hood didn't hide anything about the amused smirk that adorned her face as she looked around at the opposing forces.

Finally one of the men broke, letting loose an arrow, the point flying towards the scarred man.

Jaune wasn't sure how to describe what happened next, but he tried his best.

The man reached behind his back, grabbing a beautifully crafted white bow, pulling it out halfway. Jaune blinked, and found himself in the middle of a bloodbath. Arrows stuck out of a dozen men, feathers flowing out of eyes, blood staining several throats. The man in the middle drew the last arrow from his once full quiver, and let it loose towards Imaar. The arrow struck and deflected off of the man's mask, sending him reeling. Through all of this, Jaune could hear the woman sigh, shaking her head in disappointment.

"You always rob all of the fun," She complained, before lifting her hand, a ball of red and black swirling around her fist. Suddenly one of the few men standing around started to choke, falling onto his knees before expiring, the woman giving a more self satisfied sigh. "That's better."

Imaar seemed to curse the man, shaking his fist once before he pulled out the second scroll secured on his back, the air rippling around him, a tear in space forming behind him.

"Fus Ro Dah!"

Jaune felt a shock through his system as he heard one of his most used shouts come out of the man's mouth, but different.

If someone had to compare Jaune's shout to the man in front of him, he would have to say that Jaune's was like a gentle breeze to the tornado that left the warrior's mouth.

Like a bomb had exploded out of the man's throat, the ripple was powerful enough to create a visible ripple, tearing up the ground and debris, some of the smaller trees getting completely uprooted. The bigger, more mature trees had the bark stripped off of them, turned into deadly projectiles, chasing after Imaar, who was lifted off his feet and thrown like a rag doll that weighed nothing. After chaos finally settled, Jaune blinked, trying to get the ringing out of his ears. Turning, he found all of his friends doing the same thing, most of them unused to such caliber of sound, even if most of them have fired large caliber rounds without any hearing protection. The blond knight was pretty sure that there was a crack on Professor Goodwitch's spectacles, which told enough about the strength of just the sound itself.

"So this is the male that Meridia told me to assist?" Jaune started, finding the man, the Dovahkiin kneeling in front of him, examining him. "He is not the warrior that I expected to find." Before Jaune could say anything to defend himself, the woman that had accompanied the man shrugged.

"Maybe he's of the wizarding type. Not everyone can be a beatstick like you, you know." The man raised an eyebrow, turning a critical eye at the smirking woman.

"You're saying that to me?" The man stood up, gesturing at himself. "The Archmage of Winterhold?" She scoffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

"A past-prime Winterhold. And through extenuating circumstances. I'm pretty sure I could've been the Archmage if I wanted to at that moment." The big, burly man stuck out his lower lip, Jaune not recognizing that he was pouting until the man turned to face away from the woman, crossing his arms as well.

"Doesn't matter. It still counts."

"I'm sorry." Professor Goodwitch finally stepped in between the two of them, intent on trying to straighten out the confusion. "I thank you for saving us, but may I ask who the two of you are?"

The man grinned, but turned to his companion. "It's nice to know that no matter where I go, it seems I'm still a mystery." The woman rolled her eyes again, pointing to the sky.

"New world, new rules." She said simply. The man's shoulders shook as he laughed, tossing back his head.

"True enough I suppose." The man turned towards the professor, expression suddenly serious. Professor Goodwitch took a step back.

At that moment, the situation that they were in solidified in Jaune's, and probably everyone else's mind.

This man was so powerful that he made one of the strongest professors of Beacon take a step backwards. Nevermind the fact that he had killed a dozen men faster than Jaune could blink, that wasn't something tangible that he could measure. Seeing his professor take a precautionary step backwards, something that he had never seen Professor Goodwitch do before?

That set a bad feeling in his stomach.

"I... am called many things." The man finally said, breaking the tension that had formed in that rough second, created due to every student tensing up, all thinking the same thing that Jaune had thought. "But you make call me Dovahkiin, or Dragonborn, whichever one makes you more comfortable."

"You never like introducing yourself by your name, do you?" The woman said teasingly, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head, turning to look at the professor with her glowing eyes. "I am Serana, Daughter of Coldharbour."

Neither one of the titles rang a bell in Jaune's mind, but sounded heavy enough. And from the stir of recognition that caused Vedrahgol to start, it meant something to the dragon-soul as well.

"Well... Dovahkiin, Serana. Thank you for saving us." The woman bowed deep, a sign of respect from her. The man, Dragonborn, crossed his arms and dipped his chin low, while the woman stood there, eyes tracking Professor Goodwitch's movement.

Almost seeming to ignore the thanks, the Dragonborn turned back to Jaune, tilting his head.

"What makes you so special, whelp?" Jaune wasn't exactly sure what a whelp was, but it didn't sound very good.

"I... don't really know?" Jaune said questioningly, not sure why he was all that special in the first place.

"Don't be so modest Jaune." The boy turned to look at his girlfriend, who looked fiercely at the blond warrior. "You were the one to pulled us through all of the dragon encounters. Killed most of them yourself."

"Oh?" The man said, a spark of respect in his eyes.

"I didn't kill them singlehandedly, if that's the impression that you got," Jaune protested, waving his hands in front of him. Yang pulled him close before he could speak further though.

"But practically... Jaune did. He did most of the work, with his... shouting and swordplay." Jaune wanted to protest further, wondering what Yang was getting from making him sound way better than he actually was. Neither of them got a word though, as the man stepped forward, the respect in his eyes replaced by genuine interest.

"You can shout, boy? How did you gain that ability?" Jaune drew back a little, surprised at the intent interest. The Dragonborn didn't move, waiting patiently for the answer.

"... It's my semblance." Jaune answered warily, causing the man to tilt his head in confusion.

"Semblance? Is that some sort of magic on this world?" He asked, his brow crinkling.

"Sort of." Jaune said, his flow of speech seeming to return as he started to gain the idea that the buff warrior wasn't going to hurt any of them. "It's a sort of... talent. That all of us have."

His eyes narrowed in thought, before he nodded, accepting the idea.

Lightning crackled in the air, causing all of them to turn their heads up towards the sky, seeing dark clouds that weren't there a minute ago forming. Jaune's attention was brought back down to level when he heard a foreign curse, the Dragonborn shaking his head.

"I had almost forgotten the effects of world traveling." He said quietly, turning to face the Professor. "Would you happen to know anywhere we can bunker down for a while? The storm that is to come will be violent, and it is best that we don't stand right in the epicenter of it."

The blonde professor nodded, but her expression made it clear that she wasn't completely sure what was going on. "How do you know that this would be the center of it?" Professor Goodwitch asked, while she gestured for everyone, including the two otherworldly travelers to follow her. This time, it wasn't the man who answered, but the calm voice of the woman, Serana.

"Because we were the ones who created it, when we tore through reality to travel here." She answered, pulling back her hood as the sunlight faded from the sky. Her eyes seemed to glow brighter as the darkness encroached them. "The world doesn't like it when we mess with its very foundation." She shrugged dismissively. "It will get over it sooner or later. But for now, the world is angry, and it intends to mete it out, full force."

Blue eyes flashed under Goodwitch's glasses as she nodded sharply, breaking into a sprint, expecting everyone to follow along. Jaune and the unit did so unconsciously, used to the pace that they had been setting the past few weeks. Realizing that they might leave behind the Aura-less companions, Jaune slowed down for a second, turning to make sure the two of them knew where they were going.

"Why did you slow down?"

Jaune tripped on his feet as he found himself face to face with the pale woman, surprise getting the better of him. In the ten seconds that they had started moving, the group had traveled almost the better of three hundred meters. And the pair of travelers was standing right next to Jaune, eyebrows raised as they wondered why he had suddenly slowed down. They didn't even look like they were slightly winded.

"Okay then." Jaune muttered, shaking his head before taking off again. "Shouldn't be so surprised by everything."

And all of them took off again, speeding backwards, towards the city that they had just cleared from the frost dragon, intent on finding cover from the storm overhead.

Hopefully, they would be safe for a few hours, from all types of dangers.

One would hope.