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Arc 8 Chapter XXVIII: Getting Glassed
🕑 Added 2024-11-10 22:32:51 +0000 UTC(Alor's POV, continued)
Each step we took into the surprisingly bright depths that reflected every sliver of torchlight we brought within a thousand times over came with an odd tinkling noise, not quite unlike the same as one would make by stepping on glass but a lot sharper.
Our approach would not be a stealthy one, that much was for certain.
"What kind of place is this?" One of the soldiers whispers to himself, the surprisingly acoustic space echoing his words loud enough for most of us to hear.
Instead of answering I turn to Hassildor, whose frown was deepening by the second.
He does not notice my gaze for a long moment before startling from whatever thoughts he was stuck in and shaking his head to clear it "This is a vault I built over two centuries ago." He says with deliberate slowness "But it was most assuredly not like this."
"Why would you need such a grand vault?" I ask, my mouth outpacing my good sense.
Hassildor's frown instantly deepens but after a moment he still answers "My wife and I became vampires at the same time. I reveled in the power, she did not." He lets out a long exhale "I built this place to protect her while she hid behind her slumber."
Knowing I already pushed further than I should have I gave him what I hoped was a sufficiently apologetic nod and we focused fully on the path ahead of us, with the vampire leading the way as the structure remained much the same despite the glass-like shards.
As we rounded yet another corner of the distinctly too long corridors we came upon an odd sight that had us tensing up and prepared for battle in an instant.
Odd insect-like creatures of all shapes that looked to be made of the selfsame glass crystal surrounding us stood guard before the sole passage leading forward. Momentarily I considered if the assassins had failed to get past them but the Dark Brotherhood had their reputation for a reason so I rid myself of such folly before it could take hold.
The creatures, Daedra quite plainly, made no noise safe for the echoing grind of sections of their limbs sticking together and twitching in movement, none of them had any hands but were instead 'armed' with long scything blades and terror-worthy pincers.
I did not blame some of my men as they shivered in discomfort at the sight.
Only a moment passed before we were detected and hundreds of glassy eyes twitched in our direction, the creatures letting out odd screeching noises as they began charging at us, their numbers increasing as more of them burst from the crystal embedded within the wall, a good number of them outright dropping on top of us.
Thankfully all of us were experienced hands at combat by this point so we reacted without freezing at the ambush, a veritable porcupine of halberds swiftly encircling the crossbowmen as the marksmen did their utmost to remove any attack coming from above.
The crystalline creatures did not receive wounds in the usual sense as they were shot and struck, no blood came free but instead their forms were chipped once sufficient force was applied and they would much sooner lose all their mobility instead of being outright banished to whichever plane they came from.
Or at least that is what I thought initially before I saw a halberdier strike down one of the creatures with a thrust to the head, the creature let out a burst of force as most of its kin do once banished but its body remained, giving rise to far more questions in my mind.
Of course, the rest of the Dremora would not simply let us fend off their brethren unchallenged and reform in good order as a good number of the still charging ones, the larger specimens specifically as I swiftly realized, began pelting our group with long spikes of crystal, the force behind them enough to throw one of us back if struck where our armor was strongest and outright kill or maim us where it was not.
The vampire and I were forced to focus fully on countering the magi, leaving the soldiers to fend mostly for themselves against the lesser variants all the while.
Hassildor, immediately realizing our predicament, let his bloodlust loose without hesitation, his form turning bestial once again. With a roar of fury he threw himself into the enemy, disrupting their charge and lessening the burden I was under as instead of merely redirecting enemy strikes with my telekinesis I could now strike back.
Part of me felt like throwing their attacks back would be wisest but my lessons taught me otherwise. I would not waste Magicka on what felt right but would instead spend it on what I knew to be right.
These were lesser Daedra, and the sun would take them all.
In one motion I thrust my silver spear forward, the magic within it already vibrating at a high frequency as it struck the chest of one of the larger Daedra bounding for our group. The vibration immediately punched through its crystalline shell, and the solar flames bursting all around me consumed its form in moments.
Some of the creatures paused but it was already too late for them as they had already gotten far too close to me as I began forming fireball after fireball, utterly destroying large groups of them while paying heed to Hassildor's position so he would not meet the same fate.
Seeing their groups dispersing I followed the wisdom granted to me and chose to conserve my power, retreating to the formation as the enemy barrage slowed and ultimately stopped.
My subordinates fought well but a number had fallen already, only Anondor's mastery at combat allowed most of them to live as the ancient Paladin cut through the Dremora like a scythe through grass.
I joined him as soon as I was able, our sun-touched weaponry bringing a swift end to most of the creatures and inspiring the soldiers to greater heights of prowess.
The battle lasted for only three minutes, and yet it felt like hours as I almost felt myself fall to my backside the moment the final creature burst into shards of glass. Wounds and losses were called out and ignoring my growing sense of self doubt at losing eight more I had us move out a mere five minutes after the fight.
Hopefully the Daedra were not as numerous as I feared, one or two more fights like this one and we would not get far.
(General POV)
"You know not wh-what you have done." The imposing horned creature coughed out in pain as a black dagger was shoved into its heart, the obvious Dremora's maul falling beside him as he fell onto the ground, clutching at his chest in agony.
The hand that wielded the poisoned weapon retracted with almost artistic fluidity before the creature fell, the poison coating the weapon ensuring the Dremora's death as well as its prolonged suffering before the time came.
Another pair of steps joined the light barely audible movement of the knife wielder, the clown outfit clad assassin turning to his apprentice with a cheerful smile on his face "Did you find any other, my dear?"
Cantilla looked down to the still living Dremora and shook her head "No, this one should be the only one." She paused "Teacher.... shouldn't we just" She made a throat-cut motion.
"Oh don't be a spoilsport." Cicero giggled "One should get a long gaze at the void before being embraced by it."
"Yes but you also told me you hoped to bait someone by coming here." She retorted with a bit of hesitation in her tone "Distractions could be risky."
Cicero stared at his apprentice for a long while, the sadistic part of him that demanded he take his time with his victims inevitably winning out as he decided his student needed disciplining.
Cantilla twitched with fear as she read his expression but before he could do whatever it was he planned to a large wave of Magicka shook the underground complex, the distinct noise of glass being broken drawing both of their gazes.
Cicero clicked his tongue and turned to the still twitching Dremora "Fine, you were right this time~" He singsonged as he rose his dagger and stabbed the creature three dozen times in a few scarce moments.
The clown man had waited long for this moment, ever since the Night Mother made it clear he was not to be the Listener of the Brotherhood as he had hoped. The honor of the position was reserved for another, a gutter rat from Solitude as ordained by all the signs, a young red haired woman without family or friends looking for a place to belong.
A place that would accept her after all the suffering finally broke her.
It was so very clear in Cicero's mind he could barely wait!
And yet why had none of it happened? Had the void been deceived? Did the Night Mother make the wrong choice?
No, of course not! He had prepared to do his duty for years, to teach the new Listener the ways of the Brotherhood only for a meddling blasphemer to cut it all off and slaughter the last remnants of the order before guiding the Listener away from her destined path.
Cicero had hoped beyond hope he would meet the elf and plunge his knife into his vile heart, oh how he dreamed of such a day coming to pass!
And yet, even as he coated his knife in a new form of poison he could not help but wonder to himself 'Why was the wave of Magicka so weak?'
(Alor's POV)
Finally we reached the last chamber, it too was overtaken by glass and crystal, all of it save for a large ornate stone sarcophagus which dominated the space as a timeless monument.
It only took me one glance at Hassildor to realize who was entombed there.
My gaze trailed from the memorial to the rest of the room and immediately stopped at what looked to be an unnaturally tall humanoid figure laying on the ground, flesh completely replaced with cracked glass.
"What happened here?" I couldn't help but voice, a growing sense of unease in my chest.
That was all the warning I had before a loud clang resounded behind me, my gaze snapping to the sound only to be met with a dagger one inch from my face stopped by a Paladin's shield.
The human-blooded Altmer girl who tried killing me immediately retreated into the nearby shadows, avoiding the rushing house warriors.
A fresh sense of unease came to me and this time I followed my instincts, slamming myself into the ground with a telekinetic pull at my armor as a dagger that felt like death itself narrowly missed my head.
As I was falling my eyes met those of my assailant, a crazed Imperial of substandard height is what I saw but that was not what truly drew my attention in that one moment I had to look before he retreated.
No, what drew the most of my attention was the clown hat atop his head.
Without bothering to get up I channeled Magicka into my voice as determination surged from within "Capture the clown at all costs!" I commanded, and was heeded.
I could feel the clown's surprise at my recognition of him, but I could also not allow myself to be distracted by the hint of smugness I felt.
Levitating myself from the ground I was swiftly surrounded by my subordinates, my will immediately extending to the only entrance to this chamber as I took command of the stone below it, grasping the air with my fingers as I forced the stone brick to extend and close off any chance of escape.
Part of me noticed Hassildor disappearing from sight but I could not permit a moment of distraction as the woman struck once again.
One of my warriors twitched suddenly, his left hand moving to his throat almost absentmindedly as blood began to pour from it in torrents, his assailant practically invisible.
Another warrior tensed but I sensed the movement of the air around him just in time to blast the general area with a wave of telekinesis, eliciting a surprised shriek from the wo- no, from the girl as she smashed into the wall behind her.
Once more I felt a sense of unease in my chest but I remained focused on the presumed apprentice, trusting the Paladin to protect me as I made another grasping motion and prepared to snap the girl's neck.
My instincts screamed at me, the light training in clairvoyance I received barely giving me enough warning to twist back as the clown danced around Anondor and his fellow warriors and attempted to stab me in the side, the black knife striking my hand instead.
An instant passed before I felt absolute agony in my hand, soon amplified severalfold as the Paladin wasted no time in making me an arm shorter, the sudden rot overtaking the severed limb serving as all the justification his act would ever need.
The clown said something but I could not understand a word, my mind still ringing from the happenings as the Paladin lit up like a lighthouse and descended upon the servant of the malevolent darkness, his sun-touched blade batting away the black dagger which sought our hearts.
The ringing noise left my ears with a pop as I righted myself, once more twitching back in response to an attack as the apprentice assassin was shoved away when the lower end of a halberd struck her leg, cracking bone with a loud noise as she used the opportunity to suicidally attempt to take me down.
I was about to simply crush her hand to bits with a telekinetic grasp but Hassildor chose this moment to reappear, his right claw rending the hand off her body before the left sunk into her throat, ripping it out in one swift motion.
Holding back my satisfaction at the deserved butchery I turned to the duel between the clown and the Paladin, and gaped as I realized the clown looked to be winning as Anondor was forced back with each step, making sure he did not receive even the slightest cut of the cursed knife.
The soldiers were far less lucky however, as six rotting corpses surrounded the void worshipper, all of their remaining features twisted into expressions of pure agony. The rest were backing off and I found I could not judge them, they were neither powerful nor skilled enough to be anything but shields of meat.
Resolving myself I took a sharp breath and began channeling all the Magicka I had remaining, raising my remaining arm alongside my spear I grasped the weapon tightly as its golden runes lit up.
The clown sensed my attack, or at least he believed so as he twisted and danced away from what he presumed would be a fireball.
Only for a vibrating crescent of sunlight to cut straight through his legs, cutting both of them off above the knee as the clown yowled in pain.
He somehow managed to make even his distress sound discomforting.
Hassildor immediately pounced at the opportunity, rushing to the clown's blindside in a blur and ripping off his dagger hand in a brutal tug as Anondor stepped forward with a perfectly executed overhead swing and removed the vile murderer's final limb.
"Ensure he does not bleed out." I croaked, and got to work healing those that could be healed.
Minutes later we had ensured that those who could survive would do so, I stepped to the broken glass statue on the ground, soon realizing it was a transformed humanoid, for the posture and form were too perfect to be chiseled easily.
Something scratched at my eyes and I saw a word reflected under the glassy corpse, a word of which I did not know the significance nor why it was written in indigo crystal that almost seemed to resemble blood in how it was arranged.
The word was fading, both from the ground and from my mind I realized quickly. And so, without waiting, I sent an urgent message through the Orbβ’, hopefully Lord Dagoth would find some way to understand what I could not.
With a long exhale I turned to the limbless clown, my expression one that I would later learn mirrored my Lord's disdain perfectly "Now then, little clown." I hissed both in pain and fury "How about you tell us where the coffin is?"
The way he paled almost made the deaths of my men worth it.
