Rastislav
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Arc 7 Chapter XVIII: Battle of Dawnstar, First Clash
🕑 Added 2024-05-09 23:22:45 +0000 UTC(Reyvin's POV)
The cacophony of battle surrounded me on all sides but seemed to recede the closer to me and my challengers it got, almost forming a bubble of relative silence as Ulfric and his most powerful warriors glared daggers at me.
"A good morning to you all." I bow grandly, my hands empty of weapons for the moment "I'd bring out some mead but I am afraid the weather is a tad too tumultuous for such."
Grimnir Shatter-Shield grips his hammer so hard I see his hands go white under his gauntlets "I have been waiting for this." He half rasps half growls.
"Waiting for what?" I tilt my head, ignoring the pot exploding to my side "Getting your other side burned off?"
"You murdered all my apprentices you bastard!" He growls, the hammer crackling with enchanted lightning.
'Kinda respectable now that I look at it.' Scorch ponders the runes as if dozens of men were not dying around us by the second.
"And you brought them with you." I retort easily "Is it not the responsibility of the master to protect the student and not expose them to grave danger? Would that not mean it was you and not me who killed them?"
Whatever he wanted to say next gets stuck in his throat as he simply shuts his mouth and settles on trying to glare holes in me.
"And what of you Ulfric?" I turn to the main shit stirrer himself "You have been awfully silent since your little greeting."
"For what reason do you prattle on?" He growls, his face hidden behind the same helmet he wore when he faced Torygg on that fateful day.
"Oh, you know." I shrug "Just wasting time... greeting opponents" My eyes blaze with cruelty "Casting spells."
In an instant, the very skies turn ablaze as I swiftly cast a fire resistance spell on myself and the entire field around me is covered by a pillar of flames. Even as everything burns and those enemies competent enough to erect wards do so I do not waste time.
Blasphemy appears in my hand and wasting no time I rush through the wall of gold without any fear and start cutting down those who may have survived. Dozens of heads hit the burned dirt before I am forced to suddenly shout "FEIM!" as another blast of unrelenting force rushes all around me, turning the bodies those same heads belonged to into fine paste and dispelling my firestorm.
The Stormcloak contingent, now a good sixty men weaker, turn silent as the grave as their sight clears... before many of them are assaulted by a sense of despair, fueled both by my power and crown and by the mere sight of me.
There I was, standing with not a hair out of place, surrounded by blood dirt, and gore.
I was about to start gloating again, maybe they would fall for it once more I thought, but then I felt the most surprising of feelings... a sense of danger?
I couldn't help but grin as I was forced to tilt my head out of the way of a particularly potent spear of ice that promptly sheared the small patch of dirt behind me to shreds.
It did not take me long to realize the origin of such a spell as I looked at the enemy ranks. Dozens of high adept magi were all overcharging spells and placing them under Shatter-Shield's direction, all of them had bandoliers full of Magicka potions hanging off them and were more than willing to overdose on them if it meant killing me today.
And as if that was not enough the dozen singed men now surrounding Ulfric felt like they too carried Kyne's blessing.
'I guess I have to put some respect on them now, don't I?' I go to shadow step right into their ranks but find the space around us solid as rock.
Grimnir must have been waiting for this moment as he grinned at my empty step, likely expecting some kind of surprised reaction.
He did not like what he got instead "NOW THAT IS WHAT I AM FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!" I exclaim happily and summon the Ebony Blade in my free hand before aiming myself straight at Ulfric "WULD!"
(General POV)
Within the eastern forest of Dawnstar, a thin dirt path crossed a small creek that cut through the thick woods widely enough to provide something of a natural barrier. Hundreds of men, most of whom wore Morthal livery, and the rest that of Solitude and Wintherhold hid within the large trees to the creek's north and made as little noise as possible.
Upon a small rise, two young men in higher quality armor were kneeling and doing their best to glean the distant canopy for any movement.
"Hate the waiting." Muttered the one in Winterhold colors.
"I have to agree." His Imperial compatriot nodded easily "One moment of not paying attention and-" He snapped his fingers "Poof, you are dead."
"Exactly" Thorfinn agrees "Say, has your monstrosity of a cat noticed anything yet?"
Tiberius went to retort his choice of words but thought better of it "Nothing quite yet." He shook his head "I know we are more useful here but I still wish we could have gotten our glory out in the open."
"Bah." The Winterhold Thane scoffs "We will get plenty of glory no matter where we fight so long as we fight. Don't tell me you feel jealous of Reyvin already?"
This time it was Tiberius' turn to scoff "I am nowhere near so foolish as to even dream of it. Where that madman draws all his power from I will never unde-"
His words die in his throat as a distant flash of gold briefly sets the skies on fire.
"Well, I guess we know for sure the battle has started now." Tiberius says with a nervous chuckle.
"Quiet you two." A tall Orc barks at them as he moves up to their position as silently as possible "Eyes up front and keep your mouths shut, if the fighting has already started then they have entered the woods even earlier."
It did not take long for Zarok's words to be proven true as Tiberius' familiar dispelled not long after and the entire force was placed under high alert. Mere minutes later they could hear the sound of marching boots and then they could see them.
Hundreds upon hundreds of rebels, all of them moving through the woods with familiar surety and with what many would call unearned confidence.
Whoever was leading the rebels was no great General however, as the Stormcloak forces did not even pause to pay attention to the creek and the incline it created.
The ambushing Imperials waited until a good three hundred of them had crossed, not a one of them making a single sound as their hated enemy passed them by, and then at Zarok's nod Tiberius focused his magic below their ranks.
The rebels barely had the time to react to the purple runes before an entire unit of Dremora appeared within their ranks and started butchering them, the sudden attack being all the signal the legionaries needed as their javelins were soon followed by their blades and shields, the rebels' flanking attack swiftly turned into a charnel house as the battle lines soon descended into a bloody free for all.
As for the Stormcloak commander, his body was the first to fall, Thorfinn's knife sunk deeply into the side of his neck. The young Nord did not even glance at the gurgling Riften Thane and simply flicked his knife back before descending down upon the rest of his subordinates, his entire body tingling with alteration magic.
The forest was filled with screams, curses, and the sound of battle for what must have felt like hours but was in all likelihood mere minutes before all sound disappeared and a deathly silence descended.
With mechanical efficiency, the Imperials picked up their wounded and retreated to their next ambush point, leaving the forest creek in complete silence, the once transparent waters now flowing red.
(Tullius' POV)
'We are holding well enough for now, but they are using their weight to force openings in our lines and then flooding them with bodies if they have to...' I ponder the developing battlefield while absently giving out orders for certain cohorts to move into the reinforcement range of those already engaged in the fighting 'I am going to need to wait for an opportunity to present itself, Rikke is holding the west perfectly but has no good offensive troops and the east already has us at a number disadvantage...'
"Marneus!" I call out.
The Legate of my personal guard salutes "Sir!"
"I want the western center to start letting some of the rebels through, once they start swarming I want you to draw them in before having the Bretons crush through their formation." I dictate the order while using figurines to give him an idea of what specific units to use in the maneuver "Should you fail I want them showered in arrows and artillery until the line is stabilized."
"With all due respect General, isn't this too risky?" He asks.
"It is." I admit begrudgingly "But we cannot permit the battle to turn into one of attrition, even if we were to win the costs would be disastrous."
"Who dares wins, eh sir?" The veteran Legate smirks.
"Quite." I nod in turn and we share a salute before he steps out.
"Report!" I call out the moment the messenger steps into the command post.
"General, sir!" He salutes, both his voice and posture holding a fair bit of panic "Report from the siege camps General, the Dawnstar garrison is sallying out on the eastern fort!"
'Shit! Just what I needed right now.' I curse internally but do not let it show "The forts should hold, soldier. I want reports from that clash every twenty minutes, should the enemy manage a push inform me immediately." The Markarth infantry should be more than enough to deflect any attack, even while outnumbered.
"At once General!" The messenger salutes and rushes out.
As more and more reports on the battle came in I could not help but hum internally... How wrong was it that I enjoyed the utter chaos of commanding a battle?
(Reyvin's POV)
I duck below a Dane axe, one of my shades jumping out from behind me and impaling the offending Stormcloak through the throat with its blade, not stopping for even a moment I jump out of the way and find myself to the side of a surprised mage.
He attempts to step back but I have already grasped his head and moved him into the way of Ulfric's axes, the weapons enhanced by the elemental fury shout cleaving through the young man without a hint of resistance.
The rebel leader snarls in rage as he is forced to block a flurry of counterattacks from both myself and those shades I could free up from keeping his other men at bay.
Grimnir, who was attempting to smash the back of my head, is forced to step back as I slow time and summon my glaive, almost impaling him in one movement.
He still lost his remaining ear for the trouble though.
Scorch claws out the throat of a nearby mage who was attempting to heal his teacher and is promptly blown away by another one who now lacked an eye.
As blades and spells flash all around me I allow myself to sink deeper and deeper into the zone.
I duck under another of Ulfric's swings and deliver a jab with my dagger through a small gap in his armor.
Pulling back swiftly and avoiding another swing of Shatter-Shield's hammer I pivot into another housecarl's path and shove him onto one of his friends, before they can reorient I rush away and toward the mage.
The one-eyed mage only has the time to slightly piss himself before I twist myself around him and promptly rip out his spine with my clawed gauntlet.
The very important group of bones soon found themselves in the face of a rather surprised Grimnir as I used his stunned state to deliver a fully powered punch, crushing straight through the excavated bone and crumbling a good chunk of the man's face including his nose.
I step back from another swing of a duo of orichalcum war axes and unsummon my weapons as I find myself fully surrounded by another group of housecarls.
Neither of us was dumb enough to think that fact was to their advantage.
My hands blazed with fire as I blasted everything around me with crimson flames, Weapons, armors, flesh... it did not matter to the ravenous magic as it consumed everything it touched, only those with enchanted equipment or those lucky enough to be protected by the trio of still living magi surviving the blast.
"He must be getting tired!" Ulfric exclaims "With me sons and daughters of Skyrim!"
The mental image of my spiders finding the underground ward currently hindering my teleportation and promptly consuming an integral part of it enters my mind as I let out a cold chuckle and immediately teleport myself away from their group.
I lazily flick a cigar in my mouth as they realize their little attempt was thoroughly foiled "Tired Ulfric?" I ask mockingly "I am just getting started."
Comments
Speide Hardy
Thanks for the chapter
Rastislav
He has that stuff on autocast
Surtur
I think Reyvin is constantly using vicious mockery
