Rastislav
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Arc 5 Chapter LIII: Royal Rumble
🕑 Added 2023-12-22 08:39:15 +0000 UTC(General POV)
The sun had barely moved after the issuing of the challenge yet the entire courtyard of the castle had been turned into something resembling a tournament arena. The seats had been moved around to create space and give everyone a good view of the fight while the center of the courtyard had a fighting ring assembled within.
This was after all a military garrison where legionaries trained so the set up took a ridiculously short amount of time, just as the challenger had intended before his attempt to forgo debate was utterly crushed.
The Queen tried insisting on watching multiple times but considering her state and what everyone believed was about to happen she was outright forbidden from leaving a heavily guarded chamber within the Blue Palace. If Torygg survived he would probably not be allowed within his own room for some time at least but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
The Jarls, much like during the caricature that the moot turned out to be, were seated at opposing sides of the ring. Those still loyal to the King and thus the Empire were either scowling or looking resigned at what was to come while their Stormcloak counterparts looked either gleeful or reluctant in the case of the Jarls of Dawnstar and Falkreath.
Oh, Skald and Dengeir were not reluctant to fight the Empire, both were frothing at the mouth Talos zealots after all, what they were reluctant to do was end up completely surrounded by Imperial-aligned territories with practically no support from their allies for most of the early war.
Dengeir was especially nervous considering his southern neighbors.
The same could however be said for the young loyalist, Jarl Assur of Winterhold but he could at the very least rely on the support of the college, or namely one Tolfdir Ebon-frost in case of an attack. That and Winterhold would be a nightmare to invade for most of the year.
A bit more time passed in silence and the two sides started muttering amongst each other, already forming pacts and alliances and giving out promises for what was to come. While the Jarls were politicking, the Dunmer Thane of Solitude went around the housecarls of those allied to him and started handing out scrolls and potions. They questioned him about it but he merely winked at them and called it a gift if they were lucky, once Balgruuf's housecarls took his gifts without a fuss all the others quickly followed.
Finally, the two contestants arrived, dressed in full battle armor and both glaring at each other with barely restrained fury.
To the west stood High King Torygg, clad in ebony plate with golden edges, a crown adorning his full helmet. In his left hand, he held a steel-edged round shield that carried the wolf emblem of his hold and in his right was tightly gripped the heirloom skyforge steel blade of his ancestors. Two bracers stood somewhat out of place upon his combat armor, a trio of odd runes aglow with protective light.
To the east stood Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, clad in orichalcum lamellar and with an aventail of chainmail covering his entire face under a Nordic nasal helm. Unlike his opponent, he eschewed a shield and instead bore two war axes, both were shaped in the usual Nord style of forging but a sense of danger coming off the orichalc blades could be felt by all those present. A short pointed cloak of bear fur hung off his back creating the image of a warrior of old.
The elder High Priest of Solitude stood between the aggrieved parties and spoke with authority "Before we begin, in the name of Kyne I ask that the two parties take the time to consider a peaceful solution to today's grievance."
Torygg nods to the priest but says nothing.
Ulfric on the other hand shakes his head "The time for peace has passed."
"So be it." The old man sighs "Then in the name of Shor I charge you to be honorable in battle." He ignores the affronted scowl on the Thalmor Ambassador's face "And in the name of Kyne I charge you to give mercy where you are able. May Stendarr protect the righteous and may Arkay accept the fallen into his realm. May the better man prove himself before the gods and men alike!"
The priest swiftly turns around and the two lords take their stances.
Ulfric prepares to rush his enemy but Torygg gives him no such opportunity as the moment the priest left the circle he had already started with his own attack. The Stormcloak had only the time to blink before the edge of a shield found itself right in front of his eyes.
With practiced ease, he hooked the shield with his axe and went to finish his unbalanced foe but was instead greeted with the point of a sword going for his throat. The sound of metal against metal resounded loudly as Ulfric was forced to jerk back to avoid getting his head removed.
He recovers quickly and throws out a low kick.
Torygg steps back and avoids, aligning his sword with his shield while keeping a defensive stance.
Ulfric rushes, both axes swinging.
One is deflected to the side while the other gets dodged.
He deflects a sword blow going for his gut, forcing it upwards.
And realizes his mistake too late as the pommel smashes into his helmet ringing his head something fierce.
Ulfric steps while lightly shaking the stars out of his eyes back and growls "The whelp has teeth."
Torygg twirls his blade while still keeping his shield in front "Oh please, the Reachmen gave me more of a challenge than this."
"Very well." Ulfric declares and without another word attacks again.
The two combatants become a whirl of violence with deflections and strikes happening at a frightening pace. The older and more experienced Ulfric was able to leverage his size and strength to an extent but was utterly surprised by the King's skill and power.
Sparks fly as both combatants rapidly manage to land glancing blows against each other, their heavy armors protecting them from potentially grievous wounds and allowing them to keep fighting where lesser men would have long since fallen.
The battle soon turns into a dance of feints and fakeouts as both try their best to at the very least batter their opponent into exhaustion.
The exchange went on for another three minutes, something which lasted for hours within the combatants' minds, both of the warriors looking like they had just been through oblivion and back yet neither had managed to draw blood.
Both were panting with exertion yet to the surprise of all those present it was Torygg who still stood up straight "Give up Ulfric, your cause is as flimsy as your axe hand."
"No." Stormcloak growls "My people need me, and I will do all to save them." There is a finality to his voice that causes his own camp to tense up in preparation.
"Is this what they call being delusional?" Torygg quips, though even as he does he sends a prayer to Arkay just in case he was about to get turned into paste.
As the words leave his mouth Ulfric glares at him and takes in a long breath.
Two things happen at the same time.
Torygg's eyes take on a victorious glint as he mutters "I win."
And Ulfric shouts with pure hatred "FUUUS RO DAH!"
(Reyvin's POV)
"Tiid." I state and time slows down around me.
I had positioned myself just behind Torygg when I predicted what was about to happen, my clairvoyance had been utterly focused on the fight the entire time it was going on and I wasn't about to let him die now.
Ulfric's unrelenting force slams into the King, his bracers glowing with power and as I had expected, breaking but a moment later. The reason I wasn't panicking just yet was that the power they held was still enough to protect him from getting killed then and there.
And I would do the rest.
I approach in a leisurely pace, though I guess it must look as if I was gliding through the air to the others, and with a flick of my hand move Torygg out of the way of the shout and as the wave of force approaches me I shout "FUS!" dispersing the remaining energy and probably saving the dozen or so legionaries behind me.
Time resumes at its normal pace just in time for Ulfric to realize what just happened.
"You dare interfere with our sacred duel?!" He fumes at me, pointing his right hand axe at me threateningly while most of the Jarls, even those from our side, are staring at me with open outrage.
"Incorrect." I state with finality "Steward Firebeard, please do inform the oathbreaker of his fate." I take a defensive stance in front of Torygg just in case.
The Steward stands up "This was a duel between men for the right of Skyrim's rule." He recites calmly "You, Ulfric Stormcloak have abused the way of the voice taught to you by the Greybeards, an order which you deserted without honor. You have spat upon every tradition of our people in your mad rush for power and now you have spat upon our very gods, the very same ones you claim to champion."
Confused gasps of outrage can be heard from all around the courtyard as the Steward finishes his declaration.
He looks to the legionaries behind me "Guards, arrest the traitor."
"No!" Ulfric snarls "The people of Skyrim will not be denied!"
As I stealthily blast the groggy Torygg with restoration magic many things happen in the same moment.
All of the housecarls from both sides immediately declare for their sides while rushing at each other with blades drawn.
Ulfric immediately turns to flee like the hypocritical little bitch that he is, just in time to see his bodyguards get near surrounded by the elite legionaries of Rikke. Galmar has to practically drag him away as he is forced to watch his hardened guardsmen get slaughtered like pigs before the hardened veterans.
Potioned-up hardened veterans might I add.
A group of suspiciously tall 'thieves' interpose themselves between Ulfric and those chasing him. Many a guardsman is cut down by their magic but they quickly fall to my own servants' magic and blades. Unfortunately, the short burst of combat had allowed Ulfric to flee far beyond most people's sight.
I note that Elenwen had long since made herself scarce as well.
Just as I shadow walk beyond the 'not Thalmor' and am about to follow behind him and put the fear of Dagoth into his bitch ass, a group of oddly dressed... cultists, for that is the best way I can describe them, bar my path.
The symbols on their clothes are enough to clue me in on just who these idiots might be but the words they speak make it a certainty. "Sovengarde saraan!" The masked leader of the Dagoth damned dragon cultists declares while pointing a staff with a dragon motif at me.
Of bloody course the fuckers somehow got their hands on the prophesy as well.
Lazily I deflect the lightning bolt he launches at me and without a shred of mercy I declare "Yol Tor Shul." All dozen of them turn to ash within a moment.
I am just about to follow after Ulfric once again when the sudden feeling of foreboding assaults my mind. I activate my clairvoyance full force and finally notice the odd discrepancy that had been hiding away from my sight for the entire day.
A simmering light glowing with malice waiting patiently at the edge of the courtyard.
I do not think, for I have no time to do so, as I rush back to ensure whatever divine fuckery was about to happen. Without even giving them the dignity of looking at them as I take their lives, I cut down many of the slowly retreating Stormcloak camp housecarls. Their Jarls already being long gone... unfortunately.
I step into the courtyard and see that the battle is still ongoing though the rebels are getting cut down slowly but with utter certainty. My eyes drift over the entire place, trying to locate the malicious light I felt earlier, and just as I am about to leave my eyes snap toward the passage leading to the Temple of the Divines.
...Just in time to see a Stormcloak run Sybille through with a brightly glowing Dawnbreaker.
Her eyes find my own for but a moment stretched to infinity, but that too short a moment is all we had as she turns to dust, her soul either completely rent apart into its basest form or forever captured by Meridia.
I stare at the murderer in stunned silence.
The fact that it was my fault I decided to provoke the Daedra attempts to assert itself within my mind but I crushed the foreign thought as soon as it arrived. Something must have also been happening around me as I also noted absently that the courtyard had turned surprisingly quiet.
Then everything went red.
"WULD!" I appear in front of the murderer before he can even blink. He looks ready to gloat, to declare whatever hollow victory he thinks he may have achieved for his patron here. I grant him neither the pleasure nor the dignity as I ram my staff through his groin and out of his mouth with a speed that I knew not I possessed.
I stare down at the neat pile of vampire ash below me and quickly scoop it up with telekinesis, swiftly depositing it within a leather pouch.
After solemnly depositing the ashes within my robes I turn my gaze to my hated enemy's weapon. I grasp Dawnbreaker without a single care and immediately feel the utter glee of Meridia. The glee turns to outrage as my own power dims any influence she might have thought to exert on me.
I turn around and see everyone staring at me, the path of my whirlwind sprint leaving a groove in the stone floor of the castle. Without a word I snap my fingers, striking all the remaining rebels with lightning and killing them on the spot.
Then I summon Scorch and take to the skies...
My vengeance shall be swift and brutal, and only then will I allow myself to grieve.
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A/n: *Evil giggle*
Comments
Alfonso Zaes
Jodidamente triste, pero es bueno saber cuando introducir una muerte de un secundario así.
Rastislav
Because you should not fuck with eldrich deities, obviously :D
JayJonnaJamison
But why 😭
