Rastislav
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Arc 6 Chapter LXXXV: Approaching The Summit
🕑 Added 2024-04-02 00:27:23 +0000 UTC(Reyvin's POV)
A deathly silence descended upon the now unfrozen lake, the sheer bafflement of everyone present was palpable. Well that and the amusement of the two lizards still present.
"Did they just..." I trail off, unable to actually comprehend a pair of dragons outright fleeing.
"Yup, they did." Scorch sighs.
I too let out a defeated exhale "And we made such a perfect entrance too."
A deep, rumbling chuckle leaves Krein's throat, completely startling the Companions in the process "The twins were always... skittish." And then as if remembering an inside joke he laughs even louder.
"What... what the fuck?!" Vilkas and Farkas shriek in perfect sync.
"Oh yeah" I have Scorch do a perfect one eighty while still standing atop him "Companions, meet Krein, Krein the Companions."
"...a pleasure?" Vilkas asks more than states.
Farkas, to the surprise of many, smacks his brother "Definitely a pleasure."
"Hmmm" Krein hums "To think that Skyrim's greatest warriors have fallen so low."
Before Aela can have an explosive outburst at the dragon's comment, our attention is drawn by the sound of heavy boots landing on ice and we all turn to see Durrak hobble his way toward us.
He stops, looks at Krein, then at me, shakes his head and keeps walking "I am not even going to ask."
"Probably wise, little one." Krein grins a terrifying grin.
As I absentmindedly start healing the now relaxed Durrak I turn to Shalazar "Think you can locate the fuckers, Master?"
"Oh, I can do better than merely locate them." The Lizard Wizard grins and rubs his hand imitating my tendency to do the same "You might even say I have come up with a cunning plan."
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(General POV)
As evening encroaches upon the hidden valley, two massive bronze forms darken what little light was still there, the twin dragons yet unwilling to fully flee as their pride demanded them to strike back.
Voslaarum looks to his brother "Do you sense them too?"
"I do brother." Naslaarum growls "Weakling servants of the bastard that humiliated us."
"Shall we show him the error of his ways?" Voslaarum grins and immediately starts diving for the convoy of soldiers.
Naslaarum, being the more patient one, continues flying for a brief moment, long enough to realize that something was amiss. The trees held far more life than they usually would and the snow around the marching elves was too uneven even for a forest.
"Brother, wait!" Naslaarum called out.
But it was in vain. Ever the eager one, Voslaarum dived straight for the column, already breathing in in preparation for a devastating fire breath, his eyes glinting with pure malice.
And that was exactly when the trap was sprung, as the elven warriors dispersed as one and the snow burst upwards, revealing a dozen automaton ballistae aiming straight for the dragon.
Voslaarum's eyes widened as he attempted to dive to the side, but the cold machines cared little for his struggles as they let loose their enchanted bolts which slammed into him faster than he could blink. The whirlwind sprint which was at the tip of his tongue fizzled out due to the pain and his aggressive dive became a free fall toward the ground.
Naslaarum could only watch as his brother fell and the very ground struck out to meet him as pillars of compacted earth were torn upwards in the shape of jagged spikes. Realizing that things were getting far too dangerous the patient twin lost his patience and dove for his brother his form blurring as he invoked the whirlwind.
He cared little for his own safety as he dove downwards, the image of his brother's wings tearing up as he was impaled first by the ground and then by the many warriors rushing from the forest turning his sight red and clouding his mind.
And then he heard them... the words which struck terror into the hearts of all Dovah "JOOR ZAH FRUL!" The shout connected almost immediately and Naslaarum felt half dead already as his wings failed him, his body creating a long crater as he helplessly slammed into the ground and groaned in pain as even trees were enough to damage him in this state.
To his surprise, no mortal awaited below, leaving him completely alone with nothing to mend his ire as he waited for the curse of mortality to wear off.
By the time he managed to start hobbling out of the forest and into the clearing, his mind had been cleared from the wrathful fog which clouded it and was replaced with terrified worry, an emotion that injected his heart with a second wind as he rushed toward his brother.
Naslaarum barreled out of the woods just in time to see the leader of the elves, the same damned creature that cursed him, approach the mangled and barely conscious Voslaarum with his blade.
"Damned mortals, wait!" The panicked dragon called out "Stop!"
The elf cared not for his cries as he raised his flaming blade for a slash.
Naslaarum bit down on his pride and cried "Spare him and we will serve!"
The elf stopped for a moment, giving the dragon hope that he may be able to reach him and rip him to shreds before his brother expired, and then he swung his blade down without a care, splitting Voslaarum's skull open and killing him on the spot.
Reyvin looked at the stunned twin and smirked "What use have I for cowards?"
Naslaarum's entire being demanded that he butcher the elf for his crimes, his very soul seethed in rage at the insolent little mortal... but he knew it was a battle he could not win, so he turned around hoping to heal and fight another day.
...And then his eyes met those of burning gold.
The last twin only had the time to gulp, before Krein's claws descended upon his throat and killed him on the spot.
The field turned completely silent... and then the troops burst into a cacophony of cheers and declarations, their leaders plan to eternally cement their loyalty well on its way to completion.
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(Reyvin's POV, the following day)
Things turned pretty wild by the time we returned to camp, as some-fucking-how even in this backwater the rumor mill was still going full force. So instead being welcomed back with an attentive garrison force, we were met with a pre-prepared feast which stretched well into the night.
I was going to stop it seeing as we were in the middle of a military campaign but Shalazar said it was ok, and I wasn't about the question the great one.
And so, by the time morning came and we marched out in full force toward our final target, the spirits of the men was incredibly high, even the loss of an additional eight of their number did nothing to deter their enthusiasm to finally conquer this place.
Their resolve held even as we approached the narrow canyon, filled to the brim with furious feral Falmer, all of whom were glaring at us even through their disgusting little scabs. A massive barricade of wood and chitin stood in front of the rudimentary city, hundreds of archers at the ready to loose their poisoned arrows at us.
The ferals expected to hold a last stand, a glorious rallying cry that even their little minds would understand and would allow them to rally the disparate tribes lost in the cut off caves.
But we were not here to play fair.
My army, under the supreme command of Davos and with the military advice of Isran, stood before the city, just outside of arrow and spell range, and simply waited.
The wind blew violently against my face as the veritable fortress became bigger and bigger in my sight, my sight allowing me to easily notice the thousands of little Falmer within. For a moment I appreciated the sheer ingenuity of their strategy, as each and every passage was filled to the brim with ambush spots and kill zones for their archers, the entire battlefield obviously designed for a defense in depth.
Whoever was leading them was not stupid or naive.
I spent a moment longer appreciating the work of art in front of me, and then I spoke "What a fine welcoming committee, wouldn't you say?"
"I feel so respected." Krein drawls from below me.
"Well, best not keep them waiting." I smirk and breathe in, my dragon following in perfect sync.
The air seemed to still, and I noticed many of the Falmer still with it, their instincts warning them about what was to come. We let the tension grow for a moment longer... and then we spoke ""FUUUUUS RO DAH!!!""
Before the shout hit its target I whispered "Tiid." and time slowed, giving me a glorious view of the forceful impact.
I watched with perfect clarity as the combined unrelenting force of both tongue and dragon struck the wall, shattered it into barely more than dust, and launched the debris deeper into the city, showering the entire settlement in improvised shrapnel and ruining most defenses behind it.
Following this signal, my own army charged into the city, automatons first of course, and started butchering everything that still had the fucking audacity to remain standing.
For hours they ascended into the canyon, the Companions leading seemingly suicidal charges and coming out on top more than once, the Dawnguards hunting down the seemingly exclusively vampiric shamans, and Shalazar causing chaos wherever the concentration of enemies seemed to be getting a bit too problematic.
Resources were thrown without a care, as I declared nothing was to be held back in this battle, easily throwing thousands upon thousands of septims worth of equipment and potions down the drain in an attempt to create a genuinely elite force.
Whoever was leading the defense seemed to realize just how outmatched they were, and so they called up all of their remaining forces to retreat to the peak of the canyon, just before the final wayshrine in fact.
The large Falmer, evidently a vampire by his jagged fangs, barked out orders for his minions to follow, having them form up at the best possible chokepoints which would allow his depleting force of bowmen to rain havoc at my men.
It was a valiant effort, I admit. I genuinely respected the little bloodsucker for doing his absolute best to slow us down and kill as many of my people as possible.
But respect did not equate to mercy, and so as my people approached the final kill zone, Krein and I descended once again.
The Falmer commander had only a single moment to widen his uncovered crimson eyes before he, and most of his force were engulfed in a breath of dragon fire.
Damn, I almost pitied the fuckers.
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Once again my forces stood gathered, even if this time they were merely to observe.
The Daughters of Coldharbour, Nightshade and I stood behind Gelebor as he finished his final prayer, and filled the sacred ewer with the final waters of the wayshrine, the water within looking more akin to liquid sunlight as the ritual was complete.
Solemnly, the Knight Paladin led us toward the dilapidated bridge of the Chantry of Auri-El, its ancient marble walls still carrying an air of sanctity even after Virthur's defilement. The ancient elf poured the golden waters into the sunburst-shaped basin and as they touched the engraved gates the way was opened.
The stomping salutes of the army followed our every step as we ascended into the temple.
Virthur's days were numbered, and Serana would finally gain closure for her torment.
A good day indeed.
Comments
Raff
Can't wait for Harkon to die, hopefully Molag gets extra creative in torturing him.
Surtur
A chapter before bed What a good way to finish my day
