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Arc 8 Chapter LXXIII: Battle At Thorn Pass, Armies Clash
🕑 Added 2025-01-24 19:09:05 +0000 UTC(Reyvin's POV)
The 10th day of Sun's Dawn of the year 201 of the fourth era was an eerily peaceful one, the morning mists lifting comfortably and wakefulness coming to my army without any issue. It was almost... anticlimactic that no air of pre-battle jitters had overtaken the camp.
Probably to do with the small fact all that could have been done to prepare had been done and months of campaigning had taught its lessons ten times over, no one in this army was a recruit, and if they were to begin with they certainly were not anymore.
I teleported up atop the transmuted bastion tower that served as our command center, placed at the tallest point within our camp, and greeted the gathered officers with a nod.
"The enemy approach." Varan Sarano spoke without turning around, his eyes far too focused on the coming horde to bother "Their numbers are great, almost too great."
Letting out a whistle I do a quick scry of their positions "That sure is a lot of beasts."
"Bah!" Demnevanni scoffs from his seat nearby "Numbers will not save them."
"That they will not" I smirk at the bored looking Archmagister "What has Fyr been up to?"
He rolls his eyes at the mere mention of the name "Fucker helped me out with the traps and decided he'd... guard the rear."
"That is just about the agreement we made" I shrug, he would not be instrumental in the fight and I had no doubts he would join in when he felt it wisest. Throwing the useless thoughts to the back of my mind I turn to the other leaders present "Have the Argonians offered any kind of parlay?"
Shaking heads and disdainful scoffs are the immediate responses, but it is Alandro Indoril who asks "Do you... want to negotiate with them?" He seemed genuinely baffled by the idea.
"One can not end a war without making the other side accept their demands" I point out and the wiser of my advisors nod along "Besides, parlays have... other uses." A malicious thought occurs and soon I am moving to action.
(General POV)
The army of the An-Xileel was tense as it marched towards the enemy camp, the reports of complete losses amongst the scouts on the western cliffs and massive casualties on the eastern ones had already made discontent begin to brew within the hearts of the footsoldiers.
The supposed rumors that the Great Warchief had beheaded the sole scout who returned with the maps for 'cowardice' only exacerbated the issue but none were quite so foolish as to comment about it to the now truly monstrous creature that was once their greatest champion.
Their march slowed to a halt as the Dunmer camp came into view and the sight of it made a fair few of them shiver in fear at the task before them. For instead of simple wooden walls they had come to expect from the elves they were greeted with rows upon rows of low walls and trenches, and numerous obstacles spaced out between them so as to make any kind of approach an instant death sentence to the first thousand who tried.
And that was without mentioning their height advantage.
The army of just under thirty thousand elves never looked quite so menacing to the horde of well over four times their number.
In fact, some of the Chieftains and Claw-Leaders began thinking that the Great Warchief may call of the attack so that they could maneuver into a better striking position.
Even said giant lizard thought the same.
That was until a golden streak cut through the skies, causing many of those who had experienced battle to tense in fear and the shamans to ready their shields and protections.
But no grand explosion of fire came as the dreaded bird landed softly before their numerous thousands and just... stared at them.
Valezar considered just having the bird shot to pieces but a slight twinge from his connection to the Hist told him he should hear what it had to say. His patrons were not yet in concert as to how to treat their enemy and more direct information was always useful.
He stepped through the ranks, making sure to drag a dozen Shaman warders behind him, and faced the creature "What do you want?" He growled in his broken Tamrielic.
The firebird tilted its head and chirped something unintelligible before speaking with what Valezar was quite certain was pure mockery "Rejoice farm tools, for you have been blessed with a visit from the great Scorch!"
'Don't strike the messenger' Valezar repeated in his mind over and over again.
It went on as if it didn't notice him twitch "I have come to graciously accept your surrender!"
He could swear the damn bird was grinning at him but still managed to remain calm enough to speak "Why would we surrender to those who invade our lands?"
"Invade your lands?" The bird once more chirped "Deshaan is rightful Morrowind clay n'wah."
'Don't fucking kill the messenger!' He growled internally "It has not been Dunmeri for over two hundred years already." Valezar points out, even as his muscles twitched and begged him to just charge and break and kill "Just because your masters once ruled here does not give them the right to invade us."
The bird stared at him for a long moment before shrugging its wings "Don't play stupid, even if you are good at it, this is a counterattack and you know it."
"So why pretend to not know our intentions then?" Valezar growled.
"Oh, that?" It asked before having its eyes take on a malicious glint that made Valezar slowly grip for his hammer "To piss you off of course!"
In the next instant his hearing was overtaken with roaring flames and the telltale sound of warding magic. But he had no time for that as his mind and soul roared at the insulting betrayal, his sight turning red as he gave his command to attack.
(Reyvin's POV)
'And that is another scratch of the Geneva Suggestion list' I mentally cackle as I hear the poor fucker roaring in rage and feel Scorch rematerialize inside of my Magicka pool "And that, gentlemen, is how you provoke a dumbass into killing his own army."
Sarano's eyes met mine "An underhanded tactic."
"But an effective one" I point out even if I understood his misgivings.
"Ignore him" Demnevanni scoffs "The animals deserve no consideration."
There was some back and forth between the two but the conversation went ignored by most of us as the enemy army went from a slow march to a near run, still mindful enough to split off into their cohort equivalents instead of going fully mad and just rushing at us.
As the earth began shaking underneath us I turned deathly serious "To your positions, we have a battle to win."
The high officers of my army immediately began shuffling out, soon leaving behind only a small command staff of lesser leaders, Demnevanni, and myself.
"I will fetch the scepter then" The Telvanni Lord rubbed his hands eagerly as he was once more given my toys to play with.
He was oddly proficient with that now that I think on it.
---
My sight beyond sight and the Void's Blink gave me a perfect overview of the battlefield as I stood atop the command tower, each and every enemy move presented to me in a perfectly organized information packet ready for consumption by my ravenous mind.
With blinding speed, I began giving out orders, reshuffling reserve troops and giving out warnings, ordering supplies to where the fighting would be hardest and generally optimizing the incoming clash to the most ridiculous degree possible.
Our western/right flank was made completely safe by Nimhe's actions and was made up of the vast majority of my Sworn Mer, accompanied as they were by Falmer healers and a group of Telvanni mages.
Anondor was also placed there, even as he protested being unable to guard my back.
The eastern/left flank was made up of a mix of Dres, Sadras, and Ashlander forces, and threatened by a passage in the mountains, one that I purposefully let be found out so that the enemy would invest forces uselessly.
Only the Unmourned were left to defend that place, only them and one very pissed off automaton. He still wasn't over the fact he failed to body the white Argonian, though slapping Vivec helped a lot.
Our center, and the place of no doubt greatest conflict, was made up of a mix of Redoran and Indoril troops, all of them more than happy to take the brunt of the attack as they perceived it as a great honor and place of glory.
Which admittedly it was, I was just a cynical bastard about it.
They were also joined by a certain dwemer armor wearing 'no-name' that was seen chugging down unreasonable amounts of elixirs before battle came, so I could rest easy they would not fall without a fight.
The enemy army entered artillery range, one we had spent the past night marking out to meticulous detail, and in an instant Regnild Sadras had our many scorpions raining hell on them, quickly joined by a battery of my own Dwemer ballistae, all of whom were equipped with Gatecrasher grade explosive bolts.
Our attack was so forceful it looked like the enemy army was suddenly covered in a bloody rain, even if the corpses were simply ran over, alongside those Argonians too scared to take another step.
The Telvanni magi and those of my own house still held back even as the clumps of enemy troops came closer, conserving their Magicka for when they would well and truly rend them asunder.
The Argonian Shamans cast a large scale earth spell as I predicted and I felt their magic burrowing to the numerous traps we had placed under ground. I allowed this as they were mere shallow pitfalls made to slow down their advance, and promptly rewarded the mages for their efforts by following the connection of their Magicka and bombarding their positions with beams of fire from above.
The vortex spell I cast at Kragenmoor had been refined greatly in my free time, and the rain of crackling laser bombs proved that a fact thrice over.
I could feel the same mage who fought me at Kragenmoor blocking my attack but she was no longer powerful enough to register as a speedbump and her wards were soon cracked through and the terramancers given their due.
The Shamans panicked and I suddenly felt all of them channeling their magic into a collective ward, powerful enough to stop me from outright annihilating their reserves but not much more than that.
A condition I gladly accepted as I began scything through the ranks of the charging lizards, either simply disintegrating them with skyborne lightning or impaling them on rapidly transforming steel spikes, making their fellow beastfolk impale them further by suddenly running into their backs.
The fools thought they had a chance, even as I felt my magical grip firmly encompass my entire army.
Their battered frontlines soon reached my own, and were greeted by rows upon rows of shallow ridges and trenches, dug out in such a way as to make a proper charge nigh on impossible and make even walking a challenge.
But I was not yet done. Oh no, I needed to make a statement here, I needed to make them understand.
With Surge in my hand I reached out with my magic, connecting lightly to the thousands of soldiers whose loyalty I could feel on a tangible level... and pushed.
Numerous Dunmer along the frontline flinched minutely as they felt strength surging within their veins and felt their skin turn to stone, and their blades be set alight with an enchantment of fire, temporarily powered by myself.
I could practically taste their elation in the air as the first Argonian who survived the constant barrage of artillery and crossbow bolts reached the frontline and was promptly cut to pieces by the rows of spears and swords, many of whom were now empowered well beyond their usual might to strike down my enemies.
It was inevitable however, that no matter how many were slain, the Argonian numbers would make their value known and a heavy melee spread out across the entire frontline, our formations barely holding together while their rampant assault threatened to break through with each passing second.
Which is exactly when I felt Savos finish his spell, and saw thousands of Dremora appear amongst the lizardmen. The distinctly Good Daedra-aligned demon creatures immediately fell upon them with all the enthusiasm of a rabid dog and tore through thousands before they were put down.
Savos' gambit crushed many and bought us minutes of advantaged battle and while he would continue summoning throughout the battle, he was now lessened on a strategic level.
But I could not spend my entire time watching my grandfather fight for his life, and focused elsewhere, at a point where a group of Dres spear-elves were nearly pushed back fully and their formation broken through.
Not a catastrophic event but also not one I would allow to happen.
"Demnevanni" I commanded and slammed his mind with the relevant information.
The Telvanni groaned in surprise but soon I could see him directing a dozen of my recently crafted centurions to reinforce those ranks, their large hammer-hands and flamethrower-mouths searing through the Argonians while their armor allowed them to hold their ground without being overwhelmed.
Within a minute, I saw Sadras redirect the artillery to that position and the Dres lines were fully reformed, yet still weakened enough to take the centurions' attention for a long while.
The first hour passed thus.
(General POV)
He felt his heart thundering in his ear as his suddenly flaming spear pierced through an Argonian and pushed the creature behind it back, his arms vibrating with strength he did not know as he was forced to hold back from simply charging forth and impaling as many of them as possible.
A fresh surge pushed his spear back and he quickly yanked out his saber, cutting through the head of an Argonian that attempted to leap at his comrade, only to himself be rescued as the elf behind him struck the beast in the throat.
Yrel of Kragenmoor, once cobbler now warrior, picked his spear back up and kept the saber he inherited from his friend and mentor in his other, stabbing and cutting for what felt like hours but he knew were mere minutes, not once taking a step back.
He and his fellow Kragenmoor elves were only emboldened as the truly worthy of their number began summoning ancestral spirits, cutting through the lizards with no concern for their own safety. They were already dead, and it would not do to not drag back as many with them as possible.
Yrel's heart thundered on in his ears but it was not fear that made him quake so, but exaltation, for today he joined the ranks of heroes!
-
Up and down, up and down, Nerevar's hammer crushed everything it touched as the sea of scaled flesh attempted to drown him only to itself be split with barely any effort. His Magicka surged under him, shuffling the ground and channeling the spilt blood of his enemies into draining spells that made his hammer as light as a feather while making each strike a roar of thunder.
It did not matter what came to face him as he continued his rhythmic movements, mounts were crushed, shields were shattered, weapons broken, and Argonians died, one, then ten, then a hundred, he stopped counting somewhere around three hundred fifty.
It was after all, just another day at work.
-
Davos leaned back against a storage shack holding a massive amount of artillery munitions, his hand moving to his mouth as he yawned lazily, ignoring the explosions and screams some few hundreds of meters south of him.
His current job was to be the dumbass supply guard, and that is the job he would do.
Even if he would prefer to be out there and guarding the kid's back.
Shaking the thoughts away he focused his gaze forward as a figure approached, a noticeably non-descript Dunmer fellow that walked up to him with an easy grin and a scroll of parchment "Hail there brother."
"Eh?" Davos looked up "Whaddaya want?"
The 'elf' grinned "New guard shift, you can go join the frontlines no-"
He did not get to finish the sentence as Davos stabbed him through the throat, still looking as bored as ever even as the 'Dunmer' transformed into a black-shrouded Argonian.
"Toss him with the rest of them." He ordered and a pair of his fellow guildsmen ran up and dragged the fool away.
With another yawn, Davos picked up his crossbow and began walking to the next spot his boss warned him about.
Scrying really took the fun out of everything, he found.
-
Dagoth Ulthis of the Tribe Unmourned kicked the corpse of the final animal off his ancestral blade with disdainful ease, his magic channeling his strength to new heights as he turned to count his kinsmen and potential casualties "This the last of them?" He asked the silent automaton.
In front of the aptly named Akulakhan stood dozens of broken corpses, of champions and veterans of all kinds from amongst the enemy number, yet all the magical mechanism did was look on with the disdain Ulthis himself felt deep within his heart.
These beasts were unworthy of facing their lord, that he had to bother with them was insulting.
"You serve your purpose well, meatbags." Akulakhan the Younger spoke in his usual booming voice, his words the highest praise Ulthis heard him give "We may return to the reserve."
Ulthis scoffed and sheathed his blade, ordering the remaining three hundred of his kinsmen to carry the few dozen they had lost. He did not even consider sifting through the thousands of fools who had attempted to flank their mighty army, such unworthy warriors would not have worthy trophies.
And then the distant earth shook and they were no longer strolling back but sprinting.
-
(Reyvin's POV)
Once the enemy had clumped up enough, and their backlines began pushing their frontlines hoping to overwhelm us and break through with their very bodies, I sent the signal to the Telvanni and felt all of them cast their spells at once.
For while I may have allowed the numerous pitfall traps to be destroyed by the shamans, I did not allow them to disturb the runes that awaited below, and thus the true trap was revealed.
Suddenly, the entire battlefield shook as storms of fire ice and lightning overtook the enemy army, the screams and smells of panic almost deafening the sounds of battle as thousands upon thousands died in seconds.
The enemy army buckled and just as they were about to begin fleeing, I felt a wave of... something come from the enemy camp, making the Argonians pause even as hundreds died, and suddenly throw themselves at us like the rabid animals they now were.
'So that is the Hist...' I narrowed my eyes as the multiple presences focused on my position and I felt my mind come under assault, a lesser one would have broken in seconds but the trees were too far to affect me in any real way except exert some minor pressure to my protections.
It was still incredibly fucking annoying and so I began weaving together illusions spells, copying the feel the Hist was presenting so eagerly and blasting the entire Argonian frontline with it.
They were at each others throats in an instant.
Hundreds died before I felt the tree fuckers begrudgingly retreat and reassert their influence on their troops.
But I was not so generous as to let them go without reprisal, and I focused all of my considerable power into striking at any chink in their proverbial armor as the moment they 'looked' away from their troops the very same event would happen once more.
It was incredibly satisfying to my petty soul to fuck with them like this, and after a while I could swear they knew it, as their forces turned even more feral.
Which also played right into my hands.
See, Argonians growing stronger and more aggressive would be a gamechanger in any other battle, but when faced with professional veteran soldiers who had just gone through a campaign and were buffed to hell and back their increased strength only served to throw them atop my spears more quickly.
And so the slaughter continued. For hours.
At one point I had to order a controlled retreat, because the Argonian bodies had piled up so much they were getting a height advantage and they were beginning to simply jump over my formations.
I bathed the entire frontline in ravenous hemomantic fire that consumed the blood of the fallen, and gave my troops a full minute to reorganize, replacing the now exhausted frontlines with fresh and eager warriors while the others went back to rest.
But the lull was just that in the end, a lull.
The Hist and its minions were not foolish enough to give us more time, and the moment the spell ran out of time they charged through, the large salamander mounts of their cavalry almost ignoring the terrain issues as they slithered forward and slammed into my ranks once more.
They were slaughtered in seconds.
And yet they still managed to inflict damage, damage that had begun to accumulate as the battle went on, and would no doubt become unsustainable before the day was out. They had the bodies to throw away and the will to do it, I did not.
Even with my automatons constantly swarming each and every buckling position, even with the very ancestors of my soldiers coming to aid us, and with the forces of Oblivion eagerly tasting Argonian flesh even as they were banished back in mere seconds, we would still inevitably lose to simple calculus in the end.
Tens of thousands of Argonians were dead already, but so were thousands of my own, and while I was fortunate enough to place those who mattered to me in places they would not die on accident, the rest of my army were not so blessed.
I supposed the time had finally come.
My subordinates and vassals would be able to hold without my direct intervention. The center had Nerevar, Sarano, and Almeril to lead them, the right had Davos, Anondor, and the two brothers, and the left had Alandro and now Akulakhan.
"Demnevanni." The tired Telvanni perked up, his eyes bloodshot from directing so many automatons "Call for a dozen masters to take over overwatch. I am going for a walk."
