Prologue

Prologue: The Flame of Time and Nature

The Bosmer lands were once serene, a place where the whispers of the forest told stories older than the world itself. But in recent times, something had shifted. Patrols, sent to safeguard the borders of Valenwood, began to disappear without a trace. Reports came back of eerie silence from the deep woods—of agents feeling an overwhelming sense of being watched, and of strange, horrific scenes left in the wake of these vanishings. Convoys torn apart, their supplies scattered, but curiously, not a single coin of gold was ever taken. Only pelts, the bones of animals, and the relics of nature were missing, while the bodies of the fallen appeared to merge with the earth itself, as though the forest had claimed them.

The rumors grew into a nightmare. The old stories spoke of a primal, terrifying force—an entity that would return in a time of need, a creature of both fire and nature. It was whispered that the forest was waking, and that something older and more dangerous than the Thalmor was stirring beneath its roots.

In response, the Thalmor Justicars, ever vigilant, dispatched an expeditionary force to investigate. They hunted relentlessly, tracking the source of these strange occurrences deep into the heart of Valenwood. It was then that they found him: Aegrotarion, a creature born from a convergence of two impossible forces. The Horned One, a beast of primal nature, his very presence a manifestation of a power that defied both the laws of time and the boundaries of the Green.

The Justicars set their trap, a carefully planned ambush meant to subdue or destroy the anomaly. When the time came, Aegrotarion revealed himself, his form shifting into something monstrous—horned, terrifying, a symbol of untamed fury. In a burst of raw power, he tore through the Thalmor’s ranks, leaving a path of destruction in his wake. But when the carnage was over, only a single Bosmer Wild One remained. The Thalmor approached cautiously, expecting to face a remnant of the forest's wrath. Instead, they found him surprisingly docile, even agreeable to meeting the Thalmor outside the woods.

Recognizing the power within him, the Thalmor decided to harness it, seeing an opportunity to use Aegrotarion as an unwitting agent of chaos within Skyrim, where tensions between the Stormcloaks and the Empire threatened to tear the land apart. His mission was simple: infiltrate Windhelm, recover the Jagged Crown for the Stormcloaks, and destabilize the region further, all while keeping him under control. But this was no ordinary agent.

Aegrotarion's journey into Skyrim was far from a straightforward one. He initially blended in with the Stormcloaks with relative ease, using his primal strength and enigmatic presence to earn their trust. The Jagged Crown was recovered, a small victory in a much larger war. But the events at Helgen, the appearance of the dragon Alduin, and the chaos of the world-changing attack soon shattered the Thalmor's carefully laid plans.

It was not just the conflict with the dragons that threw everything into disarray, but something deeper—the stirrings of Aegrotarion’s own inner conflict. The more he engaged with the people of Skyrim, the more he found himself drawn into the currents of their struggles. He had come to Skyrim as a weapon, a pawn in a larger game, but he was beginning to see that he was more than that. He was a son of Akatosh, a vessel of time's dominion, yet also a child of the Green, the forest's untamed fury. Aegrotarion's very existence was a conflict of these two forces, and the land of Skyrim—brimming with political strife, war, and old magics—was a battlefield that threatened to push him into a role he never chose.

And in the midst of this turmoil, something unexpected happened. Aegrotarion, ever the solitary figure, began to attract allies—companions who had witnessed his terrifying transformation and seen the raw power he could command. Their loyalty to him grew not out of obligation, but from a shared understanding of the larger forces at play.

The first to join him was a stoic Nord warrior, a man who had joined the rebellion for reasons of his own—curiosity, perhaps, or debt—but now stood by Aegrotarion’s side out of respect for the raw power and mysterious aura that surrounded him.

Then there was the mage from the College of Winterhold, a scholar fascinated by Aegrotarion's primal form, eager to learn the secrets of his arcane powers. She saw in him a bridge between the arcane and the natural, something that could change the very nature of magic itself.

Finally, a rogue—a thief or scout—whose life had been saved when Aegrotarion manifested his monstrous form to defend them against a wounded but terrifying spider in Breakfall Barrows. To this rogue, Aegrotarion was not just a protector in a world full of danger, but something deeper: a force of nature that demanded respect.

Together, these individuals formed a loyal party, bound not by duty alone, but by a shared experience of survival, mystery, and awe. Their bond transcended the goals of the Thalmor, and as Aegrotarion’s monstrous form became both weapon and symbol, they stood by him, knowing that his future might reshape the entire war.

In Windhelm, Aegrotarion’s presence added layers to the already volatile atmosphere. The Stormcloaks were unsure of him, seeing his power as both a boon and a threat. His companions, each with their own skills and motivations, helped him navigate the intricacies of both the city’s politics and the larger war outside its walls. They completed missions for the Stormcloaks, retrieved artifacts, dealt with local threats—each action earning them trust or sowing further chaos, depending on Aegrotarion’s ever-shifting choices.

But with each passing day, Aegrotarion felt the weight of the forces within him: Akatosh’s unyielding grasp on time, and Jephre’s chaotic, transformative power of nature. His horror form, the very essence of his being, had become both a weapon and a symbol. It terrified some, while others saw it as a sign of nature’s fury, a reckoning. His allies, and even his enemies, could not help but feel that something larger than the civil war was at play.

Aegrotarion had come to Skyrim as a puppet of the Thalmor, but now, as the fires of war burned brighter, he found himself at the center of something much more dangerous—a battle not just for the land, but for the balance of time and nature itself.

The Gathering of the Wild

The chill of Skyrim's breath was a stark contrast to the warmth of their newfound camaraderie. The cold winds whispered tales of change as Aegrotarion and his companions made their way from the chaos of Breakfall Barrows toward Windhelm. Each member of this eclectic group had been drawn to Aegrotarion for reasons as varied as the landscape of this harsh land.

Faendal of Riverwood walked beside Aegrotarion, his bow ever-ready, his eyes scanning the horizon. The archer had seen in Aegrotarion a reflection of the forest's own spirit - wild, untamed, and vibrant. The sight of the Horned Lord had not been one of fear but of kinship, as if he had met an ancient guardian of the Green, one whose protection extended beyond the mere trees to the souls that dwelled within.

Jenassa of Whiterun moved with a silent grace, her dark eyes piercing the gloom. She had been drawn by the promise of gold, but now there was a glimmer of curiosity, perhaps even respect, in her gaze. Aegrotarion's transformation had offered her a glimpse into a power that transcended the simple exchange of coin for service. She was now part of something larger, something wilder.

Uthgerd the Unbroken was a force of nature herself, her laughter loud against the wind's howl. She had challenged Aegrotarion, not out of malice but to test her own strength against what she felt was a worthy adversary. His transformation had not intimidated but rather inspired her, seeing in him a warrior whose battles were fought on a plane beyond mere mortals.

Stenvar of Windhelm brought the discipline of a soldier, his steps measured and his mind always on the next move. The display at Breakfall Barrows had shifted his perspective, from viewing Aegrotarion as an asset to recognizing him as a force that could change the tide of war. His loyalty was to the cause, but now, it was also to this enigmatic figure who seemed to embody both the chaos and order of the battlefield.

Windhelm's cold embrace was the stage upon which this party would dance, each member finding their role. Faendal became the eyes, scouting and soothing the political winds. Jenassa was the shadow, her presence a silent threat to any who would oppose their will. Uthgerd was the heart, her strength a beacon to those warriors who would see in Aegrotarion not just a commander but a new kind of leader. And Stenvar, the strategist, his mind weaving plans that would serve both the Stormcloaks and the deeper, perhaps unintended, mission of Aegrotarion.

Their quests were not simply to further Ulfric's cause but to delve into the heart of Skyrim's mysteries. Each mission was a thread tying them closer together, revealing more of Aegrotarion's nature to his companions and, inadvertently, to himself. They encountered more than mere bandits and beasts; they faced the echoes of ancient power, the whispers of dragons, and the silent threat of the Thalmor's long reach.

The Thalmor had seen in Aegrotarion a chance to extend their legacy, to claim mastery over one who was both of the Green and of Akatosh. But their understanding was shallow, their control a mere illusion. As they navigated the complexities of Skyrim's civil strife, Aegrotarion's actions began to diverge from the path the Thalmor had laid out. His companions were not part of the equation they had calculated, and their loyalty was not something they could dictate.

With each passing day, Aegrotarion felt the pull of his dual nature - the dragon's call of time and the forest's song of growth and decay. His transformations became less about control and more about expression, his decisions less about serving the Thalmor and more about understanding his place in this world.

The Thalmor's miscalculation became clear as they watched from afar. Aegrotarion was not a tool to be wielded but a storm to be weathered. His legacy would not be one of purity or control but of chaos, of the untamed will of nature and time. As they stood in the shadow of Windhelm's walls, Aegrotarion and his companions knew they were not just participants in a war but harbingers of a change none could fully anticipate.