4E 202, High Hrothgar
Kiera Fendalyn
The wind battered against Kiera as she rode Vermithor toward the place they once called home.
High Hrothgar rose from the snowy crown of the Throat of the World, the grey visible like a blotch among the sea of white. Even from afar, the changes were obvious.
The ancient monastery had not survived the Battle of High Hrothgar unscathed. Much of the old towers had collapsed when Alduin and the dragons descended upon the mountain. Most of the outer walls had crumbled, and centuries of tradition had nearly been erased with it.
Yet what stood now was something new.
The stonemasons of Ivarstead had worked tirelessly over the past months, rebuilding the temple under the direction of Gerron's architectural designs. Where the old monastery had been austere and simple, the new High Hrothgar bore a more modern style of architecture, one supposedly blessed by the Champion of Zenithar himself.
The walls were carved from sleek grey stone fitted so tightly together to protect the interior from the heavy winds of this altitude. The roofs were slanted sharply to prevent snow from piling, and wide courtyards connected the many new different halls like open lungs breathing in the cold mountain air.
At the center of it all was a massive drum tower, more than three-hundred feet tall and a hundred feet wide. Its shadow stretched far across the lands when the sun reached its peak, a pillar that marked the strength of the new order.
If Kiera was right, that tower had been built as Paarthurnax's new roost. The summit of the Throat of the World had been devastated during the battle, leaving the ancient dragon without a proper perch.
High Hrothgar had no reason to hide their connection with him any longer, thus now the dragon sage lived within the monastery itself.
It was much livelier now as well, all around the outdoor halls and courtyards, where once only a handful of Greybeards walked in solemn silence, now dozens—no, hundreds—of figures moved about the stone pathways.
The new generation of Voice wielders, men and women that would test their mettle against the Voice of the dragons themselves.
Wide stone walls now surrounded the courtyard as well, a precaution Kiera had insisted upon after the temple opened its doors to students. The Greybeards had learned quickly that training inexperienced practitioners of the Whirlwind Sprint shout near sheer cliffs was a poor idea.
Already, Kiera could see clusters of students practicing. Some were sitting in meditation. Others shouted into the sky, their voices rolling across the mountains like distant thunder.
Far below, the town of Helgen sprawled at the mountain's base. Kiera had circled the settlement briefly earlier, ready to assist if the Legion forces there required aid. But once she saw the Imperial banners and the sigil of Falkreath flying from the towers, she had turned Vermithor skyward once more.
Kiera and Vermithor had spent days prior hunting down all the dragons that roosted in the path between Haafingar and the Rift.
A green-scaled dragon that roosted atop Eldersblood Peak near Cold Rock Pass.
A blood dragon that terrorized the region around Skyborn Altar near Rockwallow Mine.
And even a rare snow-white dragon that had claimed the half-sunken towers of Fort Illinalta as its lair.
Each battle had strengthened her, each dragon soul invigorating. And she had even learned of a few more shouts. Become Ethereal and Cyclone, the latter of which was Odahviing's chosen mastery as a Kruziik.
Speaking of Kruziik… Kiera glanced down at the bronze dragon carrying her through the clouds, his wings cutting through the wind like enormous blades.
The battle at Castle Volkihar had changed him.
His mastery over lightning breath had evolved beyond anything she had seen before. The black storm of power he now commanded rivaled the strength of the legendary Kruziik.
Had he truly become one?
He certainly felt stronger from their bond, like a blade freshly honed, sharper than any other.
It was part of the reason they had come here, to seek Paarthurnax's counsel on what to do next.
As Vermithor descended toward the monastery courtyard, she could see excitement spread among the gathered students.
The sight of a bronze dragon had become something symbolic across Skyrim, something that many people conjoined with the feeling of hope.
Many began to carve wooden dragon figures with the likeness of the Bronze Fury, the sole dragon now visibly seen fighting alongside the mortals of men and mer.
Vermithor landed with a heavy whumph of wings, snow bursting outward in a white cloud. Students scattered before quickly crowding closer again, their eyes wide with awe.
Kiera slid down the slope of his wing. Her boots touched the stone courtyard just as a familiar voice greeted her.
"Kiera. It is good to see you again."
She looked up with a grin. "It's good to see you too, Arngeir."
Her former teacher looked far more relaxed than he had years ago. Back then, the Greybeards had borne the crushing burden of guiding the Dragonborn alone.
Now they had help. Paarthurnax himself had become the greatest teacher the monastery had ever known, with nearly one hundred and eighty new students now training at High Hrothgar.
Many had initially worried about placing so many novices under the same roof as a dragon. But Paarthurnax had demanded only one requirement from the Jarls sending students.
They must be individuals without pride or arrogance.
The result stood around them now. Young men and women in grey robes practiced quietly with focus and humility.
The murmurs around them grew louder.
"Look! It's the Bronze Fury!"
"And the Dragonborn!"
"Do you think she could teach us the Fire Breath shout?"
"You idiot! She's far too busy to waste time teaching us!"
Kiera chuckled as their words echoed from the din. A majority of them were nords, though Kiera spotted the occasional Wood Elf, Argonian, or Redguard. The Thu'um can be taught through many means to men, mer and beastfolk alike, as long as they were willing to listen.
"I'm here to see Paarthurnax," Kiera told Arngeir.
"Of course, Dovahkiin," he replied. "You arrive at a fortunate time. Our master is currently overseeing the practice of the Unrelenting Force shout."
Arngeir began leading them through the courtyard, the crowd parting as Kiera and Vermithor followed.
Part of the renovations of High Hrothgar involved these massive archways and hallways, connecting courtyards and buildings large enough for a dragon to pass through. They were made deliberately since Paarthurnax' loss of wing meant that he could no longer fly.
Yet despite that, Vermithor struggled to fit into the new chambers, having grown much larger in the past year. He was now bigger than Paarthurnax, if only slightly, and the jagged scars across his bronze scales from the battle at Castle Volkihar only made him look more formidable and dangerous.
As they walked, Kiera passed several statues placed throughout the courtyards.
There were statues of Jurgen Windcaller, as well as the other Dragonborns of old.
Kiera recognized some of them. There was King Wulfarth, whose Thu'um was said to be so powerful that he could not verbally swear into the office, and scribes were used to draw up his oaths.
She even spotted one of Tiber Septim, long before he became regarded as Talos the Divine and when he was just another student studying the way of the Voice from the Greybeards.
It was humbling in a way, to see the man who would later become the Emperor of Tamriel as well as rise as a divine being depicted a young man who was just as confused and eager as any other.
Eventually they reached the northern courtyard. From here, the plains of Whiterun were barely visible as distant smudges on the horizon.
Continuous thunder-like sounds echoed as a dozen students were here under the watchful eye of Paarthurnax, each one shouting into the air as snow and air were displaced from the force of the shockwaves,
"FUS RO DAH!"
Kiera smiled.
They weren't bad. Though admittedly, being Dragonborn had made learning the Thu'um far easier for her.
The whole courtyard paused in the presence of another dragon. Kiera's boots crunched in the snow as took a step forward and tilted her head back to see Paarthurnax in the eye.
"Kiera." Paarthurnax greeted. "Nii los aan eruvos faal grah. A year has passed since our last meeting."
The great dragon merely gazed at Kiera for a heartbeat before what looked like a proud smile graced his snout. "You have grown."
Simple words, but it meant a lot. She laughed softly. "You taught me well. And it's been a long year."
"Indeed it has, and it seems you are not the only one that has grown." Paarthurnax gaze moved to Vermithor, who gave the older dragon a large grin.
"Drem yol lok wuth mun, wo los aan Kruziik nu." (Hey old man, guess who's a Kruziik now.)
Gasps erupted among the students as even Arngeir blinked in surprise. Part of their studies include learning the Dragon language, and it was not every day that a new dragon rises as a Kruziik.
Paarthurnax rumbled thoughtfully. "Indeed, I sense the power within you." He gestured with one great wing. "Orin fin luft. Come, there is much for us to discuss."
As the students began dispersing on the obvious dismissal, Kiera followed Paarthurnax and Vermithor as they began climbing up the spiraling steps to the top of the great drum tower, Arngeir following behind them.
"It is rare indeed for a dragon to rise as high as Kruziik." Paarthurnax began. "Rarer still for one to do so with a bonded rider. How do you feel, Kiera?"
"What do you mean?" Kiera questioned.
"As his bonded rider, Vermithor's rise in strength should impact you in some way as well." Paarthurnax started. "No other Kruziik has ever had a rider, especially not one who was Dovahkiin. Mu los dreh voth fin ni, we are dealing with the unknown, in this instance."
Kiera held up her fist before clenching and opening it. "I don't feel any different."
"We shall see." Paarthurnax started as they arrived at the top. At the summit stood a massive Word Wall facing the western sky. "Now Vermithor, shout and show the world your mastery."
Vermithor took the challenge as it was, walking to the center of the tower before he raised his head to the skies. "QO SPAAN LOK!"
Black lightning tore out of his gaping maw like a beam, it launched through the skies, splitting the clouds as the black pillar of destruction continued on, disappearing towards the skies beyond.
When it was over, Vermithor turned towards her, his face looking smug.
Kiera just rolled her eyes with a smile. "Show off."
"Incredible." Arngeir said from beside her. "To see a new Kruziik rise with my own eyes. It is an honor, Master Vermithor."
"Vermithor's strength shall prove useful in the times to come." Paarthurnax spoke again, earning their attention. "A Kruziik's strength lies not only in their mastery of Thu'um, but the magic that runs through their body. The physique of dov is connected with their Voice. From tail to snout, you will be enhanced, young Vermithor. You shall fly faster, your talons sharper. Fin ruz few sulle hi fent, the next few days you shall spend in practice. Master your shout, master yourself, and you shall find that the heavens are the limit for beings such as us."
Vermithor bowed his neck. "Thank you for your wisdom, Paarthurnax. Geh, I shall do as you say."
"As for you Kiera, tell me, the form you took on during the Battle of High Hrothgar. Dragon Aspect, have you ever done so again?" Paarthurnax questioned.
The question made Kiera blink. "...No. I achieved that last time due to absorbing five elder dragon souls all at the same time. I don't think that's something that can be achieved again."
"Hi los kos forlaas. You would be wrong, for one joor has created a shout that would replicate its effects." Paarthurnax rumbled, hesitant.
Kiera's eyes widened in sheer surprise. That state had allowed her to go toe to toe with Alduin for a time, and there was a shout to recreate that? But why would Paarthurnax hesitate…unless the creator was a person who had been deemed an enemy of the dragons.
"Miraak created it, didn't he?" Kiera questioned.
"Geh, indeed." Paarthurnax confirmed. "Dragon aspect was another shout of his creation, one that gave him the strength to match even the most powerful of Kruziik, for we are the only ones proven to be able to resist his Bend Will shout. When Sahloknir, the Kruziik of Frost, went to challenge him for the second time, Miraak used the Dragon Aspect to defeat Sahloknir in single combat, nearly killing him. Weakened as he was, Sahloknir lost all resistance, and was enslaved by Miraak until today."
Kiera grimaced. 'What an evil man,' Kiera thought. And to think that he was Kiera's predecessor in a way, for he was the very first Dragonborn to be chosen by Akatosh.
Then again, was his actions not the same as what Alduin and his kin did long ago? To enslave another race simply because they could. Cut from the same cloth, those two truly are.
"Then what should I do?" Kiera asked.
"You have proven to be trustworthy, and Alduin grows more powerful still if the words of the Champion of Zenithar are to be believed." Paarthurnax said slowly, and Kiera grimaced once more.
The news from Gerron and Serana regarding their jaunt to the Soul Cairn was met with open surprise by many. Specifically regarding Serana's mother Valerica, as well as Alduin's actions while he was there.
Gaining another Kruziik as an ally, as well as absorbing the souls of the Soul Cairn meant that Alduin's overall strength and forces had tripled. Their next fight would be immensely more difficult than their last one.
The other surprising bit about the Soul Cairn was that it was also the home to the being known as the Reaper, the Daedric entity that Kiera defeated in Castle Volkihar.
"You must learn it. To have Dragon Aspect is an advantage we cannot ignore." Paarthurnax continued. "Should you combine it with Dragonrend, then perhaps it might be enough to actually force my brother to the ground."
Guilt warred in her chest at those words. Dragonrend was supposed to be their secret weapon, the shout that could knock a dragon out of the sky, the one the ancient used to defeat the World-Eater.
But the fact was, to use the Shout fully, one needed hatred. Hatred for dragonkind that would be used as fuel for the Thu'um. Hatred that she did not have.
How could she, when she knew there existed dragons who were just as benevolent as any other. Dragons who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice limb and body for the sake of the greater good.
Kiera had seen regular mortals who were more of a monster then they were.
If this shout would allow her to utilize it to her advantage, then by Stendarr above she'll learn and use it.
She looked at Paarthurnax. "Teach me."
"I can only give you the words, Dovahkiin. But not the understanding." Paarthurnax warned.
"Good thing a dragon's soul is all I need, and luckily enough, I have three waiting right in the tank."
"Then listen well and carefully," Paarthurnax stated, wisps of light moving from him to her. "Take on the mighty aspect of dov and gain the strength of those who rule the heavens. Strength. Armor. Wyrm."
The words resonated inside her as Kiera closed her eyes. Energy roared through her lungs like a gathering storm. A heartbeat later, they snapped open and she shouted. "MUL QAH DIIV!"
…
4E 202, Shor's Stone
Serana Volkihar
Autumn had well and truly arrived in Shor's Stone.
The forests surrounding the city had begun their yearly transformation. The vibrant greens of summer had faded into warm shades of amber, crimson, and gold. Leaves drifted lazily through the crisp morning air, gathering along cobblestone roads and at the base of timbered homes.
The sun hung high above the valley, bathing the town in gentle warmth as it was alive with activity.
Merchants called from their stalls, advertising breads fresh from the oven, cured meats from the Rift's many hunters, and bolts of wool dyed in deep autumn colors. Women walked the streets with baskets hooked over their arms, chatting about household matters and the coming winter stores. The smell of roasting venison drifted from an open tavern window.
Serana walked quietly among them, absorbing the simple rhythm of daily life.
She loved mornings like this, even if they were still new to her.
For most of her life, mornings had been something she only knew through memory and imagination. Vampires were creatures of darkness, bound to shadow and night. The sunlight that now warmed her skin had once been something she could never touch.
But that life was long gone. Now she could walk beneath the open sky, and she cherished every moment of it.
Workers moved through the streets with little ceremony. A blacksmith hammered iron at his forge. A pair of farmers pushed a cart loaded with sacks of grain. A group of children ran laughing down a narrow street, chasing one another with sticks they pretended were swords.
It was ordinary, but it was home.
"Are we to visit the orphanage again today, my lady?" the voice came from just behind her.
Ranessa walked half a step back and to Serana's right, exactly where a sworn shield should stand. Her posture was relaxed but attentive, eyes scanning the streets even as she spoke.
The Breton woman had been assigned to Serana not long after the announcement of her betrothal to Gerron.
Soon Serana would become Lady of Shor's Stone, and with that title came responsibilities… and dangers.
Ranessa had proven herself worthy of the role.
Her new sword shield was young—barely twenty-three winters—but there was confidence in her movements that spoke of training and discipline. Her long brown hair was tied into a tight bun behind her head, and her fair skin held little scars. Many would call her a beauty for it, but what mattered to Grogmar was her skill and the way she carried herself.
At her hip hung a slender longsword, its pommel engraved with the sigil of Shor's Guard. On the other side, a small spellbook rested in a pouch at her belt.
She was what many people called a spellsword, a deadly one at that. A capable swordswoman as well as having reached the adept level in the destruction school of magic as well as an apprentice level in alteration.
Gerron's guard captains had spoken highly of her abilities.
"Yes, Ranessa." Serana replied. "Afterward, I'll continue to the gardens for meditation."
Ranessa inclined her head. "As you wish, my lady."
Serana took the chance to gaze back at the streets of the city, where members of the Shor's Guard already began patrolling the streets in organized groups of three. Their ebony brigandines gleamed darkly beneath the sun, and their sallet helms gave them a disciplined, uniform appearance.
Each carried a square shield and a short sword at their side, along with a cudgel meant for subduing troublemakers without bloodshed. A bow was slung across their backs, accompanied by a quiver holding twenty arrows.
They were deliberately less armored than the soldiers who guarded the city walls or the warriors stationed within the Ebony Palace.
City watchmen were meant to keep the peace, not intimidate the populace. Being clad in full plate fought that purpose as the weight would merely encumber them and would have been highly excessive.
Serana spotted another new addition to the city as she passed through the market square.
Members of the fire brigade were running drills.
A group of men hauled heavy buckets from a nearby well while others practiced forming lines to pass water quickly from hand to hand. Standing nearby with his arms crossed was Housecarl Ralof, barking occasional corrections at their formation.
Shor's Stone had grown considerably in the past year, and with growth came new challenges.
Better to prepare now than suffer disaster later.
As Serana continued her walk, townsfolk began to notice her presence.
Smiles spread through the crowd.
"Lady Serana!"
"Bless the Divines, we can't wait for the wedding!"
"It'll be the greatest celebration Shor's Stone has ever seen!"
Serana greeted them with warm nods and soft laughter.
Their excitement was genuine.
She was already a beloved figure before the announcement. But once news spread that she would marry Gerron and become their Lady, their affection had deepened into something almost celebratory.
'A tale worthy of song', some of the gossiping women in the markets said. 'A princess trapped in darkness, rescued from her prison by a gallant and brave warrior. Two companions who journeyed together through danger and adventure until love blossomed between them.'
It was cute, if a little inaccurate. But Serana and Gerron had merely laughed when they heard the rumors.
Sometimes a good story was better than the truth.
Eventually, Serana's steps took her to the Faith District.
At its center stood a modest but beautiful Temple of Mara, positioned where two streets crossed. White stone pillars framed the entrance, and a small garden of red and pink flowers bloomed along its walls.
There had been discussions recently about expanding it. Gerron and Filnjar had spoken of transforming it into a full Temple of the Divines, one that would honor the Champions who had fought during Skyrim's recent wars.
But such a project would take time, and Shor's Stone already had many.
Next to the temple was a series of three dormitory-like buildings, each one made of solid stone and timber.
The Morningstar Orphanage.
Constance Michel had requested additional funding months ago to expand the orphanage, anticipating the growing number of children who had lost parents during the wars.
Her foresight had proven tragically correct. The orphanage had filled quickly.
Sons and daughters of soldiers. Nephews and nieces of fallen warriors. All the children of the many brave men and women of Skyrim who perished in their bid to free their land of tyranny.
That was why Serana visited as often as she could.
Many of those children were the offspring of the men and women who had stood beside her during the Night of Convergence. The warriors who helped her defeat her father. She owed them more than she could ever repay.
She passed through the gates and made her way to the backyard, where she could see a group of children sitting in a semicircle around an elderly man seated on a wooden bench.
Esbern held a thick book in his hands as he read aloud in an animated voice. Constance Michel stood nearby, smiling fondly as she supervised.
Serana had learned that many of the children had been rescued when Riften fell to the Dragon Priest Rahgot. Honorhall Orphanage had lost its cruel matron, Grelod the Kind, during the chaos.
From the stories Serana heard, that loss had been a blessing.
Ever since then, the children started calling the man 'Grandpa Esbern', a nickname that always made the old Blades loremaster beam with pride.
Ranessa announced her arrival, and instantly the children erupted with excitement as they rushed toward her in a swarm of tiny feet.
"Lady Serana!"
"It's good to see you again!"
"Look! I can do a cartwheel now!"
A young girl flipped clumsily across the grass while several others cheered.
Serana laughed warmly. "Very impressive."
Constance Michel approached and bowed respectfully. "Lady Serana, thank you again for coming. The children always look forward to your visits."
"Of course, I'm happy to be here." Serana smiled as she took a seat next to Esbern, who gave her a nod. "What books have you been reading?"
"We just finished Kolb and the Dragon," shouted Runa Fair-Shield proudly.
"Grandpa Esbern did the dragon voice!" another boy added.
Francois Beaufort tugged lightly at Serana's sleeve. "Can you read us a story, Lady Serana?"
Serana smiled. "Of course. How about The Cake and the Diamond? That's always been my personal favorite."
Excited murmurs spread through the group.
She began reading.
The story of Aelle Chriditte—a clever Breton alchemist who outwitted a scheming Dunmer merchant and escaped with a priceless diamond—captivated the children immediately.
They gasped at the clever tricks. They laughed at the foolish villains. And when the hero triumphed, the backyard erupted with delighted cheers.
Nearly half an hour passed before Constance Michel finally ushered them inside for lunch.
The children waved enthusiastically as they disappeared through the doors.
Serana returned the gesture.
Beside her, Esbern watched them go with quiet fondness.
"I'll miss them," he said softly.
"And they'll miss you," Serana replied. "You did great work here, Esbern. The kids would know the feeling of grandfatherly love, all because of you."
The old loremaster inhaled deeply.
"I'll be retiring soon," he admitted. "After this next mission."
Serana looked at him curiously.
"With Mjoll and Aerin. We'll scout the Velothi Mountains. After that… I'll step down." He continued thoughtfully. "I've already spoken with the Grandmaster and with Jarl Gerron. I intend to transcribe everything I know about dragonlore and store the tomes here in Shor's Stone and at the College of Winterhold."
"Until the Blades build a new headquarters?"
"Precisely."
Serana nodded. "You've lived an honorable life, Esbern. Just promise me you won't take unnecessary risks. I'd hate to tell the children that you won't be reading them stories any longer."
He chuckled. "I'll try."
Soon after, Serana departed.
Ranessa resumed her silent watch as they returned toward the Ebony Palace.
Just beyond its walls lay the palace gardens. The grove-like space had become one of Serana's favorite places in the entire city.
The garden was kept pristine by servants, resembling a grove more than the typical yard. Many alchemical ingredients grew here. Deathbells, the various mountain flowers, dragon's tongue, and juniper berries. The trees were home to chirping birds who built their nests, as well as bees whose honeycomb can be extracted.
A small glass chamber stood near the center, illuminated by magical lights Gerron had designed to simulate the interior of caves and swamps. Inside, rare mushrooms flourished—fly amanitas, blister pods, and other fungi prized for concoctions and potions.
Her mother had called this place heaven on Nirn, for they bore almost all of the ingredients an alchemist could ever ask for. Serana merely laughed softly, for she came here for different reasons.
Hidden deeper within the grove was a secluded clearing. A quiet place, perfect for meditation.
Recently she had begun to feel an imbalance inside herself. Three different forces stirred within her soul. The only reason she could notice it was due to Meridia, who was widely known as the Daedric Prince of Energies.
There was the radiant energy gifted by Meridia.
The dark corruption inherited from Molag Bal.
And the lingering necromantic essence left behind when she absorbed the soul of Potema.
They did not clash violently, at least not yet.
But if left unchecked, the imbalance could become dangerous. But if she mastered it… Her magical abilities could grow beyond anything she had known before.
She stepped into the clearing and sat upon the grass, crossing her legs. Ranessa moved to a nearby tree, leaning casually against its trunk while scanning the grove for any disturbance. She would stay watchful and make sure none disturbed her focus.
Serana closed her eyes. She inhaled slowly.
Then Serana began to meditate.
…
End of Act 5
…
AN: Here we are, the finale of Act 5!
Probably the most difficult act to write, for the many pieces of plot moving at the same time. But in the end, I'm satisfied with it, and it felt right to end it with a Kiera and Serana POV. It was quite crazy though, I planned this chapter for 2800 words max (my usual chapter length) and it ended up with a little under 5000, almost twice as long.
The words just kept on coming for both of them, and I'm happy with how it turned out.
Vermithor finally rises as the Kruziik of Lightning, with Paarthurnax tutoring him on how to control his new strength. Kiera herself learns the Dragon Aspect Shout, all the while Serana walks the streets of Shor's Stone to take it all in. Ranessa is an OC I made to act as Serana's sworn shield / housecarl, since her position as the future lady of Shor's Stone warrants her to have one.
It felt good to end Act 5 on this now, which encompassed the wedding of Vittoria Vici at first, the many events of the Soul Cairn, as well as Gerron's actions as he took the position of the Jarl of the Rift. Riften was retaken as the Thieves' Guild finally involved themselves in the war.
The Automaton Armada was fully built and the Dark Brotherhood was destroyed. The battle of Castle Volkihar took place, along with the Siege of Bthardamz, where the last vestiges of the Mythic Dawn and Court of Volkihar were pulled root and stem.
The Blades were reduced to half their number, but had discovered Skuldafn as Alduin's fortress.
Gerron and Serana's relationship develops and we're rapidly approaching the wedding, which will be held in the final Act of the novel.
This novel has been a blast to do and part of the reason is the genuine response I've been getting from you guys. Thanks a lot for the love and support, reading your comments have been a joy and the fuel I use to churn out more chapters.
I'm probably gonna take a week long break from posting ACF (A Craftman's Journey) to prepare everything for the next act. Big updates and changes are gonna happen on my P-word as well, so look out for that. In the meantime, I'll probably be continuing with the Dark Swordsman for a handful of updates before continuing with this again.
What a journey this has been and I can't wait to see in the finale. Cheers lads.