Cold Blooded Love

It is the final days of Skyrim's civil war. General Tullius and his Imperial Legion stands at the gates of the Stormcloaks last bastion, ready to end the long days of this bloody conflict. None of the soldiers wanted the war to end more than Guallis Annium, an Imperial Legate in command of a cohort of six hundred men at the start of the war but is now down to half. What was left were some the best front line fighters of his cohort. Most of them clad in steel armor and trained heavily in short sword and shield tactics.

Guallis stood at the banks of the heavily frozen White River with his cohort looking north towards his final fight, Windhelm. Catapults beat their salvos of flame against the cold grey stone wall like drummers who have lost their tempo. The fires on the city walls glimmer in his cold grey eyes. Frigid winds from the Ghost Sea, carry glowing embers dancing along with falling snow that pass through his short charcoal grey hair. His tanned hands grasp his helmet tighter as the cold metal bit into his palms. The red feathers that distinguished his rank along the top of the glimmering steel helmet swayed playfully on the wind. His normally kind face was set into a harsh frown and glare as he waited for his orders to march.

. . .

Inside the city was discord. Stormcloaks were tearing into peoples homes and grabbing anything they could to make barricades in the streets. Some soldiers were looting valuables and jewelry in all the chaos and a few simply abandoned their uniforms in the street. The cacophony of noise this fearful city was producing was deafening and carried on the winds over the wall to the docks where the Argonians were kept outside of the city.

Scouts Many Marshes was locked inside with the other Argonians in the Assemblage. "We have no reason to fight in this war." Scouts could here an argument break out near the door. "The Nords of the city won't even let us within the walls during their war, why should we follow what the soldiers told us." Neetrenaza says with disgust in his voice. "The legion has done nothing to us and they will continue to do nothing."

Muffled horns could be heard through the rotten door, adding to the suspense of the already uncomfortable room.

"That's the problem! When this war is over those Dunmer will swoop in and take the city for themselves and the Imperials will do nothing! Do you want us to be slaves to them again, is that it?!" Stands-In-Shallows said in a harsh whisper. His old age and years of hard work giving a raspy sick tone to his voice.

"No one is saying that old man, your just being paranoid. How much skooma have you had today, huh? That stuff is rotting out whatever's left of your brain. Look at you! your shaking all over."

"Who isn't shaking? There's half a city full of those ash skins who would like nothing more than to see us under their boots and a legion of men on the other side of the river supporting them!"

Scouts was watching Shallows as he was becoming more and more unhinged. He was shivering all over now as he edged closer and closer to the locked door. Neetrenaza was eyeing Shallows and moving to block the door now.

. . .

The catapults had stopped firing and the room had become dead silent.

"You're with them, aren't you" Shallows was speaking quietly now, his head down as if in shame.

"What was that you old lizard? I didn't hear you."

"Traitor!" was the only thing Shallows yelled as he charged at Neetrenaza standing in front of the door. He held back his fist clutching a long iron nail between his fingers. Neetrenaza widened his eyes in surprise unprepared for such an attack, he had no time to react. Before Shallows could make contact with his scaly skin both were knocked off their feet. Everyone stood in shock and were staring at what had happened. Neetrenaza and Shallows were both on the ground but no one even glanced at them. They were looking past them to the shattered, rotten door and to the group of soldiers that stood beyond.

. . .

Horns began blaring over the sound of the catapults from the rear of the legion. Guallis closed his eyes as he slipped on his cold metal and feather helmet, sending fast paced prayers to all nine divines, even if he was only allowed to pray to eight. He finished his quick warriors sermon as the last clasp on his helmet was tightened. His eyes opened and they reflected the same cold grey shine of his steel. His face set to emulate a disciplined emotionless mask.

The main forces were marching directly for the main gate along side General Tullius. Guallis chose to take the docks. He wanted to be sure the warehouses on the docks were secure and didn't hold any enemy troops preparing a counter attack.

His men had already begun marching across the frozen White River and had already made it half way to the docks. All the while their own catapults continued to fire overhead; the engineers were instructed to continue their assault until the first boots had touched the shore, Guallis just hoped they had good enough skill to stop their barrage on time.

Wanting to lead his men from the front, Guallis chose to run on the far left flank of his cohort to come along side the first wave. The frozen river cracked and groaned from the heavy steel boots set upon it but still held together.

Guallis noticed that the catapults had indeed stopped firing as his men approached the dock gates. He had now reached the top of the docks and took a moment to calm his mind; he whispered a quick spell to detect life through the stone walls. Guallis looked around to see if any men lay in wait and noticed the only visible clump of pink light was within the Argonian Assemblage.

. . .

"Well well, what do we have here?" said a soldier drunk with mead, slurring his nordic accent. The soldier turned to look at the three other Stormcloaks behind him. "Looks like we found a group of lizard Imperial sympathizers hiding out waiting for rescue. It's because of you freaks that our city is in such a state. You and those damn elves caused our city to rot from the inside. Maybe we should clean out all them troublesome races now before we toss those weak Imperials out of our city." He smiled cruelly turning back around to face those inside the Assemblage.

The three Stormcloaks laughed as the one in front landed his foot hard on one of the argonians on the ground. A sickening crack followed by a raspy cry of pain was heard from Shallows as the others stepped on and past him. They continued to slowly approached the frightened argonians, frozen in surprise and fear. "Look, they're not even going to put up a fight. Heh, this will be like fish in a barrel." one of the Stormcloaks said. "Or more like lizards in a barrel. Hehe." another said.

Scouts was in front of the other argonians, and so was the stormcloaks first target. "Wait, we are not your enemy! We've lived as neighbors for years!" Scouts shouted. "My neighbors are fighting those Imperial dogs! But you will die just the same as those dogs right here!" shouted the Stormcloak in front of Scouts.

Two thumps and a muffled shout was heard behind the man in front of Scouts. The Stormcloak quickly turned around at the sound and found himself standing in front of a legionnaire. Steel armor slightly dripping with blood from the body that just dropped to the floor. The Stormcloak found himself looking into cold grey eyes glaring behind a steel helmet embedded with red feathers.