Rastislav
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Arc 8 Chapter XLIV: They Come
🕑 Added 2024-12-06 21:26:31 +0000 UTCSavos and I kept chatting throughout the night, him talking about the new batch of students, now including numerous Nords due to the rising reputation of magi within Skyrim and Winterhold specifically. He was sad he had to give up his position to Phineas but one did not simply leave their sole remaining family when they were capable of helping.
He waved it all off by saying it was nice to be back home at least, but I could feel his sense of loss, well hidden as it was. Teaching gave him purpose for centuries before I came, and the fact he left it to help me was quite heartwarming I will admit.
Well, so long as travelling cross continent to commit mass killing upon another sapient species can be considered heartwarming anyway.
I on the other hand told him about my own experiences, the slowly building disdain for the 'mundanes' of the Empire and my decisions made during my stay in the heartlands. He chided me for some rasher decisions and gave me a bit of perspective on the whole overpowered immortal mage surrounded by weakling mortals situation.
Not that I was going fully power mad, merely ensuring the little spark did not grow into something I would not recognize later on.
Sure I could rationalize the disdain away in my mind but having someone who went through the whole thing explain his own, much greater experiences was incredibly helpful in setting me on the path to actually internalizing my thoughts.
Anyway, the conversation inevitably ended up moving to more inane topics, as they usually do when one can keep themselves active and concentrated for weeks without sleeping straight, and we ended up discussing the weather and climate of all things.
To think it was already winter and Morrowind still felt like a fucking desert half the time. My gaze unconsciously moved northeast, the still smoking Red Mountain was like a cancerous scar upon the horizon.
Before my thoughts could further follow that line, I felt Scorch approaching, the fiery bird shrinking in real time and nearly smashing his current rider atop the walls as he plopped his ass on my shoulder in the blink of an eye.
I gave Karvanni a quick look, realized she was already dozing off due to exhaustion, and promptly decided to ignore the perfectly healthy woman with a deranged smile on her face.
"Pops." Scorch spoke up "They are moving."
I look up at him "How many?"
"Like thirty, thirty five thousand or something?" He tilts his head cutely "So many of the bloody farm tools ended up burrowing into the ground due to overcrowding that I may have missed a few." He shrugs his wings "Shouldn't be too many for us to take down anyway."
"And what of shamans and chieftains?" Savos asks.
Scorch taps his beak for a few seconds "They have some pretty good ones, a few master level but I don't know what their specialization is. Their leader is one big motherfucker though."
Bigger than the usual big ones then "Oh?"
"Oh yeah" Scorch bobs his head back and forth rapidly "Big albino motherfucker, looks more like a small troll than any farm tool really."
Both Savos and I frown immediately, our eyes meeting in brief discussion before the both of us nodded "That may complicate things somewhat." I mutter "We will go with capturing him for 'research' for now, unless things get really out of hand."
"That is probably wise." Savos agrees somewhat awkwardly.
"Go and call the war council" I interrupt any further discussion "And tell Almeril to begin gathering the militia."
He bobs his head and jumps into the air, heading to the city hall turned military base.
"Do you think we may be wrong?" Savos asks.
My face scrunches up slightly, my voice as dry as a desert "We both had the same immediate hunch. We are both diviners. I think not."
Savos sighs.
-----
All the elves, and one human, of note gathered within minutes atop the bastion Savos and I had appropriated for our impromptu lounge. News were shared, information went back and forth, and when the numbers came panic inevitably spread.
Hell, even Almeril looked just a tad disgruntled. The only person that was not currently shitting their metaphorical pants was Furius but that was honestly unsurprising.
None of them were terrified though, they merely lacked... faith.
Rolling my eyes, my rear still firmly planted in my seat, I simply asked "Are you sure Dunmeri? Because I am hearing a lot Altmer cowardice being spouted." A burst of my divine presence flicked into existence for but a moment.
Merin blinks a few times, shakes his head, and scoffs "You can't actually expect us to hold this ground against tens of thousands, right?"
Regnild looks like he wants to agree but he had grown wise to my MO in recent days and seeing as I wasn't calling for a retreat he chose to keep his mouth shut.
"You will find that I can actually do that, Dres." I smirk at him, the slight disdain in my voice telling him exactly what I thought of the implied threat of his house fighting me for my power grab "Even if gramps and my self were not present, the advantage of walls and better equipment, alongside the recently retrained magi would allow you all to hold the place until reinforcements arrived."
Merin scowls but offers a disgruntled nod anyway.
"That is if nothing went wrong." Almeril points out "And in battle things always go wrong."
"True, true" I nod along, my agreement genuine "Which is why the two of us are here to pick up the slack."
Savos offers a slow, mocking wave to all of them.
The Redoran doesn't really take much convincing to agree to the honorable choice, so he nods and salutes.
Vayrin looks hesitant, his eyes fixed to me as if he was attempting to decipher the truths of the universe through my existence. He fails, naturally, and after an almost uncomfortable amount of soulsearching he bows his head without a word.
"Right then" I clap my hands "Since your spines have yet to abandon you, how about we make an actual plan on burning the fuckers, yeah?"
"Did somebody say burning?!" The maddened Telvanni jumps from her comfortable stone bed in one fluid movement, her eyes scanning us manically.
"And it seems consensus has been reached as well" I take her awakening in stride "So, Almeril, the state of the troops if you would?" Being a nice guy I summon seats for everyone else, toss Cyna a scroll of restoration to play with, and begin the meeting for real.
---
The dust cloud of the approaching army is unmistakable, tens of thousands of scaled feet striking the dry earth as one as they came to bring us our doom. Poor fuckers.
It took them hours to set up camp, an hour I used wisely to unleash Scorch and Cyna upon them, burning ladders, siege towers, and even a few of the ballistae by sending the near suicidal elf and very suicidal bird on far too daring assaults, always having them retreat when things got too dangerous.
That delayed them for a few hours more, the attacks stopping only when Cyna once more ended up knocking herself out. That is of course until both Savos and I sent our familiars on their own, the constant firestorm already wearing on the attackers morale.
On the twelfth aerial sortie, we felt a bubbling of Magicka from within their camp, and in a flash of rich and vibrant green, the army was surrounded in a light anti-magic and anti-movement wards, most of them focused on countering air assaults.
"A bit shoddy in execution." Savos hums "Still, appreciable speed."
"We could crack it in minutes" I point out.
He nods a few times "True, but it would reveal our power, something which you have invested great effort into hiding."
"Ah, to be read like a piece of parchment" I 'lament' "Anyway, their siege weapons are closing in."
The enemy lines, now covered by a boundary of rapidly and shoddily positioned stakes, shuffled, revealing dozens of wheeled mechanisms being pushed by teams of burly Argonians.
"Well..." I try not to sigh "That is quite disappointing."
"Second era ballistae, I can't even..." Savos doesn't even bother.
"Oh wait" I interrupt and grab his shoulder, pointing behind the lines "There come the catapults."
"Still shoddy as all hell" He mutters.
"Can't expect great woodworking from swampfolk" I shrug "They probably need to magically treat that shit so it doesn't bend and warp too much."
"My lords" Merin's voice reaches us, the Dres elf far more clipped and deferent now that we were in a combat situation "The Commander recommends stepping back, artillery has been known to take overconfident magi from time to time."
Instead of answering I turn to Savos "How is your battle telekinesis, gramps?"
He looks like he wants to wave the question away but stops before waving his right hand in a vaguely 'so-so' motion "It could be better if I am being honest."
"Then you better leave" I tell him "No need to risk things."
"And what about you?" He immediately asks.
I hum and begin tapping my foot, pulses of Magicka following but an instant later "Oh, I am sure I will manage."
(General POV)
Valezar, the Great Warchief of the An-Xileel Host glared hatefully at the walls of the slavers' city. His fury barely contained by years upon years of training and discipline.
"Warchief" One of his subordinates called, causing him to look down at the much smaller egg brother "The artillery is ready!"
"Excellent" He allowed himself a moment's satisfaction "They may begin when ready."
The officer bows and runs off.
"We should have waited for a greater muster" Grand Shaman Xelnara spoke in her usual cold harsh tone "Young Iritza's warnings need not go unheeded."
"I did not ignore her, Histspeaker" Valezar kept his annoyance from his tone, an utterly useless act before the old woman "Her information was taken and our plans adjusted, to flee would be to shame us all before our kin."
"Ah yes" The woman hisses disdainfully "Your 'tribe's' desire to see us all united. Want to turn us in nothing more than the mirror of the Imperials as well?"
"Do not test me." Valezar growls.
She raises her hands in mock surrender "I would not dare."
"Unity is all that matters" Valezar goes on "Otherwise we will only end up slaves once more, once we are gone and our descendants grow complacent and weak."
"Such is the cycle of life" The shaman shrugs uncaringly "But I see the time for words has passed."
"On that we agree." The Great Warchief huffs through his nose "Our success here will prove our truth, and Argonia will be as one." As he spoke he clutched his massive hand, exactly as the first bolts and stones were launched at the walls.
Dust rose, shamans tensed in preparation for retaliation, and they waited...
Only for the dust to settle and reveal walls without even the barest of scratches.
Valezar huffed in annoyance "We really need to get some better designs."
The shaman woman makes a non committal noise but doesn't say anything.
The bombardment continues for two more hours, the artillery crew working as well oiled machines even if they were limited by their equipment's capabilities.
But with each passing moment, and each shot launched, Valezar felt his eyes narrowing further "The walls of Kragenmoor are not supposed to be thick enough to take this level of bombardment." He comments loudly enough only for his closest council to hear.
What their equipment lacked in stopping power, it made up for in sheer numbers, and he knew for certain they had twenty catapults and forty ballistae on field focusing on a single point of the wall.
"Something is suspicions" He mutters before loudly ordering "Bombardment cease!"
It takes a good third of a minute to happen but his orders are followed, the full minute passes and the dust begins to settle, revealing the situation clearly for all to see.
The walls of Kragenmoor looked battered on the outside but at no point did they look ready to crumble under their own weight, and exactly above the area most targeted and facing the Argonian army stood a figure dressed in black.
Glowing red eyes met the more mundane red of Valezar's glare as the armored figure atop the wall made an universal motion of challenge 'Come at me.'
