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Arc 8 Chapter CXXXVII: The Clash At Falinesti
🕑 Added 2025-05-31 20:26:00 +0000 UTC(Reyvin's POV)
With deathly finality, I closed my fingers into a tight fist, choking the life out of the dozens of Wild Hunt beasts stalking the mists around us, draining their powerful lifeforce as I did and channeling it back into the curse as I banished the veil that fell upon us each and every night.
"This back and forth tires me." I mutter as I feel Y'ffre's influence retreat "He must understand by now how useless his attempts are."
"He doesn't need to defeat you" Nerevar "Just tire you out enough to make one fatal mistake."
"I am aware of the concept" I sigh "Hopefully he will surrender as his people do."
"You will have to escalate matters if he does not."
My fingers twitch "Yes."
He places his hand atop my shoulder "No point in thinking about it now. First, we have a battle to win."
"Yes..." I allow myself a few moments longer to watch the lifting mists, and nod "Tullius is probably waiting for us already. Come."
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(General POV)
"Form up you maggots." Legate Zarok barked as he inspected his men, glaring and thumping any who stepped out of line. He stepped into formation beside his signifier and accepted a shield from one of his soldiers.
The scene repeated across the line as veterans of Legion Whiterun checked and re-checked their equipment, the air of excitement growing with each moment as they all formed up in the foremost section of the camp.
Minutes later, just as the rowdy Nords were about to get a bit too excited, the trot of a horse cut through the noise, the familiar sight of General Tullius atop his steed slamming the discipline back into his legionaries' spines.
"Soldiers of the Empire." He spoke out, voice carrying with practiced ease "The time has come, to bring down the Dominion and liberate those who grew too used to the chains around their necks!"
Zarok was distracted from Tullius' words as he heard Hilderbrand snorting behind him "Liberation is it?" The old Nord chuckled.
The orc found he did not strictly disagree, but still made sure to glare at the man with enough annoyance to shut him up.
However the world once more intervened to torment the poor orc as from three ranks to his left he heard Percival asking "Why is the General giving the speech and not Dagoth?"
Another legionary shrugged "Could be he is doing the same with the elves?"
Zarok stepped out of the line before they could go on and marched over to them, ignoring the commotion behind him as he simply walked up to the pair and silently stared at them.
Both men paled and shut their mouths.
But the damage had already been done as the Orsimer could hear the voice of General Tullius rise just a smidgen "-make the Empire proud this day, and bring us victory!"
The vast majority of the legionaries all slammed their weapons into their shields in salute, Zarok however was treated to a piercing stare in his back, and not being a coward he turned to face the source, finding as expected, the General staring directly at him.
Growling furiously, he marched back into his spot and unsheathed his axe, not waiting for a moment more as he began marching, the levity of his troops evaporating into the air as their training kicked in and they followed his lead.
They were the first through the gates, and were forced to wait as the other cohorts formed up around them, though some did balk as they observed a dozen troll-sized automatons step in beside them, each step shaking the sodden earth below and hisses of steam coming out of the odd circular saw-like blades attached to their arms.
That little bit of excitement saved the wait from being truly torturous, but the few minutes they were forced to stand by may as well have been a day to the eager veterans, and they very nearly stepped over each other once Tullius' horn rang out the advance.
The emptied Falinesti seemed entirely too peaceful in the distance.
That illusion of peace was shattered as when the vanguard crossed a line some half a kilometer away from the walls, skirmishing units of Bosmer rushed out of the numerous hidden gateways and began peppering them with arrows.
"Shields!" Zarok called, and was immediately covered from all angles, the thumping of sharp armor piercing arrows ringing out mere seconds later as the world almost seemed to darken under their shade.
The rain of arrows only worsened as those wood elves atop the walls joined the barrage, and turned outright deadly as the Altmer mages stepped in.
Balls of fire, storms of ice, and blasts of chain lightning forked out to strike at the legion, their rune protected shields stopping some of the attacks but not all, as multiple cohorts were struck directly by an area of effect spell and had their shield walls broken, leading to the slaughter of dozens in mere seconds due to the sheer volume of arrow fire.
The defenders were not simply left to their deluge however, as the many ballistae within the imperial camp began launching their massive bolts, cracking the thick wooden walls and shearing the troops atop them by the dozen.
A particularly unlucky Altmer war mage was served a ballista bolt directly into his chest, unbalancing the spell he was weaving and causing a localized firestorm atop one of the many tree-towers, incinerating everyone unfortunate enough to be beside him.
The hellish advance lasted for entire minutes as numerous legionaries died without being able to strike back, their perceived isolation from their camp only emboldening the defenders to focus them down more with each step they took.
But then, just as planned, the gates of the imperial camp were swung open once again, and a loose formation of Dunmer rushed out, drawing just enough attention away from the vanguard for them to lower their shield wall and ready their javelins.
Zarok boldly struck the first blow, his roar and ensuing impalement of a mage atop the walls quickly followed by a volley from his men, killing many of the defenders outright while causing the others to take cover in a panic.
The barrage of javelins was followed up by another volley of artillery, far more focused this time as multiple cracks in the walls exploded under the force of their bolts, opening the way for the infantry and Dwemer centurions to cut their way through the scrambling defenders.
By the time the first legionary managed to reach the automatons, the Dunmer had already reached their position, and the walls were now bathed in spell and enchanted bolt.
The incoming counter fire from the defenders responded only moments later, and as the deadly spells from both sides collided against each other one would not be inaccurate in describing the scene as the skies themselves being set alight.
Zarok cared not for such poetry, and with a mighty war cry on his lips he rushed past the stumbling automaton, decapitating the spear-elf that had just struck it with his axe, and falling upon the waiting Altmer legionaries beyond.
Enemies fell left and right, and the slaughter turned into a blur.
Shieldwalls pushed and pulled against each other, hundreds of bodies strewn between the two sides as the physical might of the Empire faced off against the skill and magic of the Dominion.
And at first, the Altmer seemed to be winning, their spells giving them the edge to push back against their attackers as they teamed up on every legionary that in their eagerness overextended the line.
However, the imperials were relentless, and the elves began to flag as the endurance of their enemy proved itself the deciding factor, the sheer grit of the Tamrielic soldiers allowing them to simply keep pushing through damage that would have felled a high elf or the few Bosmer still in the frontlines.
Zarok did not quite remember when it happened, but as he buried his orichalc axe into the face of yet another far too young-looking Thalmor officer he saw the elven lines buckle, and then break, the cheers all around him quickly informing him that the walls above him had already been overrun by Dagoth's own elves.
'That would explain why we weren't getting showered in magic.' The tactical part of his brain noted, but was ignored.
He allowed his breathing to calm as he watched the retreating Thalmor be buried in waves of crossbow bolts, holding back a light shiver at the sight of a heavily armored elf being killed just like the rest of them.
The Legates around him rounded up their wounded and soon they all found themselves staring at each other.
Every one of them knew that their work was meant to be done, the vanguard had penetrated the enemy's defenses and they were to rest and recover while the second column took over the assault.
None of them were having any of it.
They paused only long enough to ensure that their position would not be overrun before reinforcements arrived, and as one advanced.
And what a painful decision that turned out to be.
The streets of the Bosmeri capital, if they could even be called that, followed no specific layout as many turns split into both tiny alleyways and massive boulevards with seemingly no logic behind it, and to make things even more confusing, every single passage was filled to the brim with Dominion troops.
What was at first a straightforward advance quickly turned into a hellish grind, as the emboldened Imperials were constantly peppered with arrows from the many tree-houses, ambushed through the smaller passages, and faced with fresh enemy shield walls at every junction of the paths proper.
And yet for all the elven resistance they faced, and the inevitable casualties they suffered, their grit once more proved itself stronger, as they simply kept pushing forward without heed for themselves.
There was blood in the air, and even the Nords knew the addictive taste of a well justified rage.
That rage was instantly replaced with utter bafflement, as they cut down yet another unit of Altmer infantry and marched out onto a market square, only to be faced with the sight of a unit of Redoran spear-elves cutting down their enemy like a scythe did grass, their leader flowing through the high elves without pause as he did art with his bloodletting.
The final high elf, a war mage of some power, clutched at her stomach as she was stabbed by the Redoran commander, the Dunmer showing no remorse as he flicked his long blade and removed her head, already turning away from the still twitching corpse.
"Legate" Almeril Faren greeted "I see we are not the only ones eager to prove our might."
"Lord Faren" Zarok grunted "Spent too long marching, and the boys wanted to let loose."
"A feeling I can relate to, truly" The dark elf did not quite smirk, but there was a certain air of glee around him "Do your men need rest?" He asked both genuinely and tauntingly "My warriors can buy you all the time you need."
He could already hear the competitive shuffling of the legionaries behind him "Appreciated, but there is no need to worry about us" Zarok grinned a fanged grin "You can rest if you want though, we don't mind taking all the glory."
The two commanders stared at each other just as their subordinates did the same, the air grew tense for a moment before the elf let out a barley audible chuckle "Do try to keep up."
Zarok's grin only widened "Right back at you."
They both took a minute to reform, falling in beside each other in silent agreement.
However, just as the advance was about to be called for once again, the air around them shifted with the telltale tingle of potent magic, and those who could feel it tensed in preparation.
Yet the feeling did not stop at a mere tingle as soon the very air became difficult to breathe, Zarok's instincts allowing him to notice that despite it feeling like much longer only a split second had passed as the numerous runic symbols lit up below them.
'A fucking trap.' He cursed mentally, and prepared to die.
A crisp clicking noise rang out across the market square, and as if nothing had ever been wrong, the air returned to normal.
Or not, as the humidity of Valenwood once more retreated before the curse of Red Mountain, and their savior made himself known.
Zarok let out a sigh of relief as he saw Dagoth materialize in front of him, his two pet automatons standing guard at his flanks, and all three of them looking distinctly unimpressed.
'Bastard probably waited for the most dramatic moment to appear' A small part of the orc's mind decided, a thought he would immediately bury so deep no drink could ever dig it out of him.
(Reyvin's POV)
"Well, well, well" I drawled and slowly clapped my hands "What an awfully rude way to invite me over oh dearest Elders" I faced the west and bowed mockingly "Why I'd dare say it was almost cliche, but I suppose one must appreciate the classics when they reach your venerable age."
Almeril Faren shifted behind me "Your Grace-"
"Save it, Faren" I rose my hand to forestall him "Leave and find other enemies to face, this is not something you can participate in." I halfway turned to the orc "Same goes for you, Legate."
The elf hesitated only for a moment before he started calling for his men to move, while the orc took a while longer, staring at me before offering a gruff nod and doing much the same.
"And what makes you think they are allowed to leave?" A voice rang out across the square, its source revealing itself to be a heavily armored Altmer radiating a respectably potent aura.
Without bothering to answer, or fully face him in truth, I summoned Surge into my off hand and let loose a blast of crimson lightning faster than most could perceive, carving a massive gouge through the market square and almost striking the arrogant little shit dead center as he summoned a powerful ward and twisted away from the blast just in time to only get a bit singed.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." I clicked my tongue as I gave the elf a quick once-over, my eyes immediately drawn to his well enchanted armor "Mediocre work for someone of your rank, I must say."
The elf immediately bristled and unsheathed an enchanted sword that looked to function as a focus but was stopped from immediately attacking as the rest of the trio I spied joined him.
A tall and stringy fellow that practically screamed ye olde Altmer aristocrat, a demure woman that looked like a mix between priestess and noble lady, and a short crone that had to hold herself up with a cane.
The same one who tried peeking at me yesterday.
"And so the four fools reveal themselves" I spread my arms welcomingly "How delectably generous of you to gather in one spot for me."
"Lord Dagoth" The tall one inclined his head slightly, taking me somewhat by surprise "Your reputation precedes you."
"And yours does not" I fired back, even if I knew damn well who he was, just to add insult to injury I waved my hand about "Whoever you are."
He frowned for a moment before returning to his placid expression "There is no need for you to hide behind such childish japes."
Immediately, I placed a hand atop my heart "Ah but what am I but a child compared to your honorable personages?"
"He is obviously not taking us seriously, Merthus" The armored one scoffed "Why are we entertaining this fool?"
"Because you are too afraid to actually fight me." I chirped.
"Because there is no need to be impolite with an equal, Grimval." Merthus' eye twitched "Even if we are about to kill each other."
"My, how cultured" I chuckled "Very true though, I have no personal hatred for any one of you." I then tilted my head "Though I do have to wonder, why bother with this war if you already know that there is no stopping us?"
"Are you truly so assured in yourself?" Merthus blinked "You stand before elves thousands of years your senior, and yet you are still so very certain of victory?"
"Ah, ah, ah!" I wiggle my finger at him "You answer first."
I knew I was already getting under his skin as he visibly held back a scowl and proudly declared "Our people have been subjugated by human tyranny for too long. I would see them freed at last."
"At the cost of millions of lives" I point at him.
"Such is the price of freedom" He spreads his arms somewhat "Or are you telling me you would not have done the same in our situation?"
"Oh please" I roll my eyes "Are you serious?" Before he can actually answer I go on "Are you seriously telling me the Thalmor were your best option?"
His lips settle into a thin line "They were the option that presented itself at the time, yes."
"Of course" I scoff "And now they have united the entire world against you."
"Pardon?" He blinks.
"I always did tell you, boy" The crone spoke "Those fools were going too far."
"My lady Zanariel" He actually bowed to her "There is no way you believe the rumors."
"Is she the seer" I cut him off with a teasing lilt to my voice "Or are you?"
His face reddens slightly and his arm twitches but he does not snap at me.
'Impressive for an n'wah of his caliber' Scorch notes.
"No matter." The elf spokesman waved his hand "Even if our younger generations have truly shamed themselves so, I would still fight for Alinor's freedom, no matter what." His eyes meet mine "And you will find that it is arrogance to stand before us. You are talented, yes, but you are young still."
"You are all powerful, yes" I parrot him on purpose "But tell me-" I allowed my full presence to seep out from beneath my shroud, causing the ground to shake and the trees to groan "Are you gods?"
The three physically capable elves all tensed, while the small crone just sighed and shook her head "If only you were born as one of us..."
"Apologies ma'am" I shrugged "I would have still fought you all the same."
"I know" She sighed and firmed her grip on her cane "But an old woman can dream."
I inclined my head in agreement, and flicked Blasphemy into my right hand.
"Very well then" Merthus spoke up "If you will not see reason, then you shall fall."
Smirking below my crown, I delivered my response in the most impactful way possible 'Umbra. Kill.'
The automaton disappeared from behind me.
And all hell broke loose.
Comments
StarlightGhoul
Thank you for the chapter!
StarlightGhoul
Spicy.
