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Arc 8 Chapter CV: The Scouring Of Solstheim
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 00:45:12 +0000 UTCThe sun had already reached its zenith by the time the meeting came to an end. Lines were drawn, routes planned, supplies drafted, and inspiring words shared, the latter utterly unnecessary even as I spoke them.
My subjects knew why we were here, or at least they knew enough to understand the importance of the mission, and the Nords of the Dragon Banner needed no motivation save for the chance to participate at all.
And yet the act had grown on me, as ridiculous as the very idea sounded.
(General POV)
His lord's words echoed through Varen of House Dagoth's mind as he marched at the head of his formation, his three hundred Silruhn Fell elites joined by one hundred veteran Nords and a few dozen Indoril knights, all of them blooded in war and battle.
They marched northwards, into the mountain passes and fjords, to hunt and cut down every beast, cultist, and creature that would threaten the land and expunge their taint from existence.
'"The world saw what happened when my people were threatened once already" He spoke, his air that of rule incarnate "It would seem the lesson has yet to stick." The Hortator's eyes darkened as did his tone "And that just will not do."
He paused for but a moment, his eyes meeting those who followed him.
"Solstheim is a domain of Morrowind, and the last fools who thought they could run roughshod over land under my aegis tasted but ash and flame. And no creature, worm or god will escape this just punishment." None doubted the ridiculous words spoken as he rose his hand and pointed it at them all "And so I order you thus: Scour the island, slay all who stand against you, but save those who can still be saved. When we leave after our work let only certainty remain: That those who stand against us may await only death and despair."'
"-ou good there lad?" A voice jerked Varen from his recollection.
He kept his reaction from showing and slowly turned to the ginger Nord man beside him "Yes, Volkmar?"
One of the more renowned champions of the Dragon Banner patted his shoulder with enough strength to buckle a weaker elf "Just thought to tell you we are closin' in on the Altar thingy."
Momentarily, Varen thought to rebuke him for voicing his distraction aloud but in the end decided against it and merely shook his head. Nords were rarely ill intentioned about such things "Get your fellows ready, His Grace said the enemy has begun taking control of trolls and other beasts now that his influence is diminished."
"Aye, I was there to hear it" Volkmar gives him a searching look "You sure you are good?"
Varen jerked his hand up to forestall any further questions "Don't worry about it."
"Well if you say so..." The Nord frowns before slowly turning and walking away.
The Dunmer stares off into the distance once more before scoffing and shaking his head "Get your head out of the clouds boy, if Oren was here he'd slap your ears off."
He took a deep breath and turned to face his men "Soldiers make ready!"
As one the troops he cared for formed up with perfect accuracy.
That the Nords took a few moments longer to gather was a nice balm on his worried mind.
-----
Indoril Nerevar looked on as his new vampiric friend? chatted with the pack leader of the werewolves they met recently, their leader Majni making an admirable effort at resisting his instincts before the ultimate predator as he attempted to barter for their help.
Well, it was more like he and Volkihar had already butchered every single werebear they met on accident and were trying to get something out of the act from the vengeful, yet surprisingly peaceful, pack of werewolves.
Nerevar couldn't help but snort "This island is just as fucked up as I remember..." He chuckled.
Serana's ears perked up but she continued her negotiation and only after five minutes more did she approach Nerevar's spot in the shade "They agreed to serve as guides so long as we 'put in a good word' with the 'conquerors.'"
The quotations were very audible.
"Not like they'd be of much use if they wanted to fight, werewolves or not" Nerevar shrugged, packs like these were usually too disorganized and focused on hunting for actual military missions "Kid will probably employ them as gamekeepers or something so they probably shouldn't worry."
"Going to make that recommendation?" Serana quirked an eyebrow.
He shrugged "If they prove themselves."
Once more her ears perked up and she turned vaguely north-east "I hear battle." She muttered before turning to the werewolf "Majni" She called "Are you hearing this?"
The werewolf frowned before sniffing the air "Aye, sounds like a right big scuffle that."
"We should probably check that out." Nerevar pipes in.
The werewolf frowns "Our agreement was to serve as guides."
Serana's resulting smirk made all the dozen or so gathered Hircinites shiver "It is cute that you think I would need your help."
The poor puppies were silent as the grave before the leader gathered some of his guts and made an audible gulp "There is the Altar of Thrond up north before a cave entrance, some witches took refuge there but with all the madness going on I don't rightly know if they are still there."
"Excellent." Serana smirked, showing off her fangs "Lead the way then, hopefully the fun won't be over before we arrive."
"Hunter willing..." The halfbeast mutters halfheartedly.
None of them noticed the imposing automaton standing just to Nerevar's side, watching over them like a hawk.
-----
Vels Karvanni took a long gulp of his personal stash of sujaama, taking a comfy seat on a large square rock as the small swarm of automaton spiders he was given got to work unearthing the circle of rock and earth before him.
"Kolbjorn Barrow, eh?" The far too toothy mage mused "I do so wonder what secrets you contain that that monster would specifically seek you out...Ahzidal was it?"
Tasked as he was with the unearthing, and instructed to protect his mind, the Telvanni Master felt himself salivating at the prospect of a good find and further advancements of his own arts.
Let the mortals campaign around and play at conquerors, this is where the real victory was won.
-----
Skirnir Stormcloak stared at the woman, utterly dumbfounded.
"So, tell me if got this right" His voice was utterly flat "Even before all" He waves his hand round to indicate the whole island "This. You got so utterly drunk and comfortable in your mead hall that accursed reiklings managed to take a Nord village to the sword?"
Those of the Dragon Banner behind him silently bristled with each word he spoke, even the Dres and Sadras troops that followed after him were indignant, hidden as their disgust was.
Bujold of Thirsk, the meadhall and the village surrounding it, shuffled on her feet before frowning and glaring daggers at him "And since when do we have to account ourselves to you? You barge in here like a brigand and expect us to just prostrate ourselves, is that it?"
"Yes" Skirnir answered instantly "My name is Skirnir Stormcloak" Some of the Thirskers startled "Of the Dragon Banner, representative of Crown Princess Minthara Septim, the Dragonborn."
Now even Bujold looked worried.
Skirnir took a few threatening steps forward and jabbed his finger into the bridge of her nose, causing her to take a step back in turn "Now here is how this is going to go."
He moved his hand to point at her belt "You either pick up your sword, follow us back to your village, and do your utmost to slaughter the little beasts" His eyes narrowed as his hand slowly moved to the sword on his belt "Or, you refuse and I send you to the ancestors myself, by carving your lungs out of your back." The woman paled but Skirnir pressed "Am I understood?"
She shook and not trusting her voice, merely nodded rapidly.
Before he could go on and calm them down now that they were (tentative) allies however, a distinctly irritating melody reached them from the north and the familiar figure of Marco stepped over the rise, strumming his lute as his magic shimmered behind him.
His serene expression shifted as he realized he had reached his destination, turning from serene to utterly terrified as he began running "Stormcloak get your men ready, the spell worked a bit too well!"
Skirnir grinned "Excellent."
Just in time as well, as the Jagged Crown should be closing in from the east of the camp.
He stepped before his reforming soldiers, uncaring that their formation would not be perfectly ordered, and began breathing deeply.
He felt the earth shudder as numerous small legs rushed towards the source of the spell that so irritated them and just as the first blue head crested the rise above the Thirskers' camp...
Skirnir Stormcloak took in a deep breath, his eyes turning manic as he remembered the lessons he was awarded for his deeds and loyalty, and he shouted "FUS!"
The air cracked as dozens of the goblinoids were launched back, and he charged forth freely, his sword raised high and a war cry on his lips, uncaring that even his own people were scared shitless.
The Way of the Voice may be the path of the wise.
But it is the Way of the Dragon that ruled the land.
--
Storn Crag-Strider stood beside his daughter, atop a clear rise above Thirsk's mead hall that gave a perfect view of their distant cousins' camp, and the current face of a battle so utterly one sided that he almost felt pity for the reiklings.
"Another tongue" His daughter Frea gasped.
"It is as I feared" Storn spoke gravely as he saw the forces of his erstwhile visitors utterly butcher all that stood before them "They will not leave this island once they are done."
His daughter looked at him aghast "Truly?"
"The elf made no secret of it" Storn sighed "And I fear we can do nothing to stop them..."
Hotblooded as his daughter was, she would still remain Shaman after him, and so instead of panicking or lashing out she closed her eyes, and thought deeply of his words.
And yet, no matter how many times she thought it over, the conclusion would remain one and the same "Fuck."
Before he could chide her, Storn felt the air shudder, both as one of the All-Maker stones was released and a beast roared in the skies, its dreadful voice descending towards the battlefield at blinding speeds.
"We must help them" Frea said immediately.
And for all his growing resentment, Storn could only agree "All-Maker guide our path." He nodded, and readied his axe.
-----
Minthara strolled away from the freshly freed Water Stone, kicking away the loose stones thrown about by the feeble Lurker that appeared once she had done her work and humming happily as she did, followed closely by Lydia and Junia, who she decided needed a bit of fresh air.
No matter how happy she was with her progress though, a thought refused to leave her "This is all kinds of suspicious." She muttered.
"What is it, my lady?" Junia asked, hand instinctively reaching for a shortsword.
"No resistance" Minthara pointed out "No resistance at one of his most important anchor points..."
"A scheme then." Lydia nodded.
"Without a doubt" The Dragonborn agreed before utterly ruining the serious moment by pouting "I really need to learn to teleport soon or Reyvin will keep having all the fun!"
Her two followers could only smile wryly, even as the roars of dragons echoed across the island.
-----
(Reyvin's POV)
The book on the dark forest slammed shut as I felt a presence descend upon me specifically, the familiar power of Hermaeus focusing on hobbling me in every way that mattered for the day's operations.
It would not be an overstatement to say I was rendered completely and utterly incapable of seeing what was going on on the island.
I let out a wry chuckle, feeling the Good Daedra already working to counter him "This is all kind of sad, my dear overgrown mollusk. We've already been through this song and dance a few times already..." My face twisted into a grin "You think to cage me, to damage my followers by slowing me for but a moment."
"Sadly for you" I rose a hand "I don't need to see to act." And snapped my fingers, activating the mark I placed on Varen.
-----
(General POV)
Serana kicked the now headless troll away from her, splattering the thing and barely stopping herself from a quick feast as she realized the battle around her was dying down and she really didn't feel like explaining herself to those not in the know.
She saw Reyvin's Commander walk up to her and bow slightly "Lady Volkihar." Varen spoke "I thank you for coming to our aid, those Briarhearts were... unexpected." His mask hides a wince.
His heartbeat does not.
"Our new friends did tell us this place was full of witches." Serana nudges her chin towards the pack of werewolves currently doing their best to hide in the foliage "Local allies" She explained before the question could even be asked.
"Very well." Varen nodded after looking them over "And the rest of your group?" He asked.
Serana smirked and merely pointed at the small walled cave to her left, just in time for said wall to explode under the force of a flying hagraven, Akulakhan's blurring form following soon after as he proceeded to re-christen his glaive by impaling the witch into the mountainside with a gloriously violent throw.
Just after him came Nerevar, dragging with him another limp arch-witch and humming an annoyingly half-memorable tune.
He went to speak but Serana felt a tingle at the edge of her senses, and looked up.
Just in time to see a trio of exceedingly silent dragons hurtling towards them.
She licked her lips at the thought of the feast, the memories of dragon hearts filling her mind utterly.
So utterly she did not notice Varen stumble as another figure materialized next to him "So that was his plan, huh?" Reyvin muttered thus promptly startling the shit out of her.
She directed a flat look at her friend, to which he of course only grinned.
'Right, don't let the smug shit steal all the kills now, dragon hearts later.' She nodded to herself, and prepared for battle.
Comments
Hakkira
Thank you kindly for the chapter 😁
Speide Hardy
Thanks for the chapter
