Destiny Calls
22 long years ago, the dragonborn slayed the world eater Alduin, preventing the end of the world. Peace soon followed the dragon's death, the ever present layer of fear lifted, and life once more returned to normal. However, the peace didn't last for long with the Thalmor invading soon after and declaring war. All hope hangs on one man to halt the Thalmor advance, to end their incursions and to restore peace to the empire. However, fate has something else in mind.
The dragonborn Imperius looked out from atop the walls of Whiterun with his personal army of Imperial Legionaries, watching with impassive faces as the elven host drew ever closer, knowing that these were their final moments on this earth, but this did not shake them. They knew their end was near, and they were ready. Imperius looked to his left and his right, and saw not the fearful men you might would've thought in this situation, but men who are ready to die for the cause, ready to die for their lands, their people, their families. By this one glance, this one singular glance in their direction, he knew they were willing to fight with all they had, and he was proud.
They were elite soldiers, the best of the best, soldiers whom you could count on to hold the line or secure a victory from the jaws of defeat. He had come to know some of them personally, and considered them good friends. He fought numerous battles with them, and had come to trust them utterly in times of great need. He had seen them grow from the raw recruits oh so long ago to the elite battle hardened soldiers of today. While he kept his legion at peak efficiency and made sure they were well trained, Tullius was given the short end of the stick after the quelling of the rebellion, having his veteran legions that he worked so hard to train, to make battle hardened repossessed by the old emperor before his death, only to be replaced by raw recruits whom did not know the right end of a sword to hold nor how to fight. However, this did not shake Tullius's faith in the old emperor, his faith in the new emperor only intensified, and he went into training what soldiers he was given with abandon, giving his fresh soldiers some experience at the expense of Stormcloak rebels.
The Thalmor, seeing an opportunity to finish what they started all those years ago in the weakened but united empire under a new emperor that had dethroned the Meade Dynasty after the civil war's conclusion, launched a surprise invasion of the empire, taking swaths of territory before being stopped by the legions in Cyrodil and pushed back to the border, neither side being able to invade each other, unable to break the stalemate which formed. With this dilemma in mind, the military leaders of the thalmor send three legions of soldiers to invade Skyrim, thinking it an easy target. What resulted of this invasion was a long, brutal campaign that tore the land of Skyrim asunder, destroying most of the countryside and leaving barren ground devoid of life in its wake. The Thalmor slowly drove back imperial forces from Winterhold, then utterly crushed the imperial garrison at Riften, beating back every imperial army that came to challenge them until they came to Whiterun, besieging the town, trapping the imperial garrison inside. Imperius was ordered by Tullius to defend the town of Whiterun at all costs, they must hold their advance until reinforcements could arrive.
"Legate, Jarl Balgruff sends word. He and his guards are evacuating the city, but there are simply too many, he needs time to get them all out to safety," a runner said.
Imperius nodded. He knew that this would happen, and had planned accordingly. The city of Whiterun had grown so much since he first came to Skyrim that it was almost unrecognizable. It would take time to evacuate such a large population, and the elves weren't too keen on giving the citizens a chance to escape, so he will provide them one. Even if it cost him dearly.
"We will give him time. Send word back to Balgruff that we will hold them off as long as possible to provide him time. Tell him to not expect us to meet him at Markarth," he said to the runner who nodded and sped towards the jarl with all haste.
He quickly called for his centurions and ordered that his legion be moved from their positions in the city to man the walls. He was a man of his word, he would buy Balgruff time if it was the last thing he would do. As his men raced towards their positions atop the walls and various battlements he saw a single rider coming towards the wall, holding a white banner aloft. When the rider came within yelling distance, thousands of arrows were drawn and aimed at the rider.
"May I speak to the commander of the city garrison!" he yelled.
" I am the commander. What is it you want, elvish scum," spat Imperius. He had no respect for the elves, despite him being a loyal servant of the Empire. Their holier than thou attitude, superiority complex, and an ego to rival that of a dragon had all but deprived him of any semblance of positive thoughts towards the elves. The war had all but driven those emotions further, spawning hatred and rage against the elven hosts and lords that assailed the Empire.
"I am here asking for your unconditional surrender. You will not be harmed, but will get the treatment you deserve," said the elf.
Imperius scowled, he has heard of how the elves treat their prisoners of war, like slaves, working the soldiers and civilians to death in forced labor camps. The elves considered themselves superior to all other races, and as such viewed those who were not thalmor as inferior, using the prisoners of war they didn't execute as free labor for tasks they felt were beneath them. He would offer them no terms, no surrender, and no mercy. He would flay every elf in his sights until the ground turned red with blood, only a fraction of the lives stolen by the Thalmor in their campaign, but it would satisfy him nonetheless
"Tell your commander that all he will get is imperial steel!" shouted Imperius. The men along the walls yelled in agreement.
"You will regret those words imperial dog, the Dominion will show you and your men no mercy," said the rider as he turned to ride back towards the high elf army.
Imperius gestured towards the elf, a nearby archer seeing this nodded and notched an arrow and loosed it at the elf, the arrow flinging the thalmor off of his horse to the ground as it struck its target.
"Well that ends negotiations," a centurion beside Imperius said, a few of his comrades snickered lightly beside him. Imperius couldn't help but smirk slightly, then his face turned to one of hard discipline once more.
A signal horn blew from the host before the walls, the low pitched sound echoing throughout the city and the surrounding area. The army began to assault the walls, some regiments carrying ladders, others lining up to draw and fire their bows, and one heavily armored regiment pushing a battering ram, bearing the divine Akatosh as its figurehead, the metal glinting in the summer sun as it was slowly pushed towards the gates of the city.
"Men, we have trained for this our whole lives, this will be our finest moment. It's time to show these elves that they are not superior as they think they are. You are the finest legion in the empire, nothing has stood against us that we could not beat in open battle," Imperius shouted as encouragement to his men.
The men prepare for battle, shuffling into formation and drawing their weapons, sweat dripping off of their faces onto the stone walls below under the midday sun, their confidence rising with his words of encouragement. A loud, droning note from the elvish host sounded out and the thalmor soldiers began to pick up the pace, jogging towards the walls as the regiments carrying ladders pushed to the front of the formation.
"Remember our first victory over the rebels at the Battle of Markarth, where we slew them in droves, and by the battle's end none where left standing. Remember our conquest of the Forsworn, where we decimated them in battle, without losing a single legionaire to the heathens."
The legionaires were silent, but Imperius could feel confidence practically oozing from his men, prompting him to speak further. The anticipation was nearly overwhelming, the energy in his body nearly uncontainable, the wait nearly unbearable. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, nearly making him shake with pent up energy, like a thick poison, worming its way down from his chest to his arms, then down into his legs. He knew that he might not survive this battle, that his end might come by the blades or arrows of these elves assaulting the walls, but he was fine with that. No warrior should fear dying on the battlefield for a cause he deems worthy. He was also a soldier, defending the Empire he served with every ounce of his being. It was his duty to die in the defense of the Empire. Expected even. He was afraid however. Not afraid of dying. It was pointless to fear an eventuality, so why bother. He was afraid he would die in disgrace, to die without honor was the ultimate failure of a soldier.
"These elves are no different than the rebels, easy prey to our swords and arrows. Let them come and impale themselves on our blades, let them come!" shouted Imperius, a thundering roar rivaling a shout from the greybeards themselves followed his speech. He turned to the defensive catapults stationed on the walls, the crews nodding at him, signaling they were ready. He turned back towards the thalmor army approaching, and with a sadistic smile, began the battle.
"All catapults, FIRE!"
With practiced ease, the catapult crews released a volley of stones into the advancing army, killing hundreds and wiping out entire regiments if they were lucky, but the host marched on undaunted, unfeeling to the slaughter of their kin. Imperius raised his sword, the archers on the walls drew and notched arrows, aiming at the ladder crews. He knew that if they were to stand a chance against the overwhelming odds, he would have to funnel them into one spot, where their numbers wouldn't give them an advantage.
"Archers , fire at the regiments carrying the ladders!" he exclaimed. A volley of arrows rained down on the elves carrying the ladders, taking out a fair number of them in the first volley. By the second volley the regiments were shattered, completely wiped out. However, two regiments split from the main host and rushed to the fallen ladders, ignoring the cries of their wounded and carrying the ladders to the walls.
When the mer got close enough to set up their ladders, the legionaires were ordered to tighten the formation, creating a wall of rectangular curved tower shields and heavily armored bodies. An elf soldier, who was first to climb the ladders, climbed with haste as he was eager to be the first into battle. He had been told by his commanding officer that the imperials would break under their assault, and to not expect much resistance. Because they were after all, superior in every way.
' I will earn the glory and fame as the first Aldmeri soldier to climb the walls and take this hold for the Thalmor,' he thought
With the thoughts of everlasting glory, an easy victory and fame in his mind, he quickly climbed the ladders and jumped onto the walls, only to be met by imperial swords being thrust into his abdomen. He cried out in surprise and shock, clutching the swords buried in his stomach, catching the unfeeling gaze of an imperial soldier.
As the unfortunate elf fell to the ground clutching his stomach, more Thalmor climbed up the ladder and began hurling themselves at the legionaires, faring far better than their comrade did. The battle for the walls was favoring the imperials, but only just, with the elves being replaced faster than they could be killed. Imperius threw himself into the fray, stabbing, slicing and hewing his way through the elves that came at him. The ram was finally pushed into place and began hammering the main city gate. Imperius, noticing this, quickly impaled an elf, and ordered a regiment that was not needed to head to the main gate.
He dodged a fireball thrown by a dominion battle mage and sprinted forward, raising his shield to block the rest of the blasts and thrust his sword forward. The elf dodged it and drew a dagger, stabbing at his shoulder, the blade becoming lodged in the thick shoulder pauldron. Imperius quickly seized his chance and head butted the mage, sending him stumbling back into the battlements. He withdrew the dagger from his shoulder plate and tossed it over the walls, the blade never to be found again.
The thalmor mage paled when he saw his only melee weapon tossed over the side of the wall, quickly returning his attention to the imperial commander. He began throwing fireballs and bolts of lightning rapidly in the hopes that it would distract the imperial long enough for him to find a weapon. However Imperius was undaunted, raising his shield to block the magical attacks and rushing forward, ramming the boss of his shield into the elf's midsection, knocking the wind out of him and quickly thrusting his sword into his chest.
"Savor your victory imperial dog, for it will be fleeting, soon all of Tamriel will be ours," the elf said with his dying breath, slumping to the ground, his corpse laying against the battlements. He withdrew his sword and went to the next opponent, dueling with his adversary in a whirlwind of blades.
His men were faring well, their extensive training and experience from countless campaigns had more than prepared them for the battle at hand, and their armor was better than most, defending against attacks that would lay low lesser soldiers, but the near inexhaustable waves of elves assailing them made the battle harder than anything they've faced. Imperius danced around the blades of the elves, helping his men whenever he could, dodging and parrying any strike that came his way. A spear in his field of view nearly sliced his cheek, but he leaned back at the last second, the spear slightly whistling as it passed by. He sliced the spear in half and cut the throat of the elf wielding it, and threw himself back into the fray.
Suddenly, a ear shattering boom filled the battlefield. Imperius looked over to see the gate in splinters, with Thalmor soldiers flooding the regiment defending it.
"We need to head to the main gate, our forces there will soon be overrun!" a centurion shouted.
Imperius nodded at the centurion before ordering the men to kill the rest of the elves on the walls and to head to the main gate. The legionaires on the wall shouted in acknowledgement and killed off the remaining elves assaulting the walls and broke the ladders, rushing to the main gate. Imperius, leading the charge, crashed into the elvish contingent surrounding the defensive force stationed to guard the gates. He and his cohors praetoria hacked and slashed their way to the surrounded men.
"Thank the divines, I thought we were done for," said the centurion in charge. He was beginning to fear that they would be slaughtered before help would come, but his commander showed up in the nick of time.
"Regroup and fall back to the keep, we're abandoning the defenses here. Make your way to Dragons Reach, and set up defensive fortifications, we will hold them for a short time," said Imperius.
"Your will is my command Legate. Men, to the keep!" shouted the centurion.
The contingent of men under the centurion's command followed him to the keep, wishing the legionaires in battle good luck as they passed. Slowly, the elves were gaining ground, killing more and more legionnaires as the battle wore on. His men were losing more and more of their comrades as they were beginning to tire. Their arms, training and armor made them the best that the Empire could offer, but they could only do so much against so many. He knew they would have to either retreat or die fighting, and he wanted to prolong his men's lives for as long as possible, and buy more time for the civilians to evacuate, but he didn't know how. Suddenly, a smirk replaced the concentrated look on his face as he had an idea. Imperius hadn't used this in a while, he simply had no need, but this situation was an exception. He needed to use his gift, to remind the world why he was called Dragonborn.
Imperius made his way to the front of the formation, inhaled and shouted, "FUS RO DAH!". The shout sent elves flying over their comrades, the first few rows of elves were thrown to the ground violently and it temporarily halted the Thalmor advance. The shout while powerful, would only hold them back for a short time so he had to be quick.
"To the keep men! Archers, cover the retreat," he yelled.
The archers on the walls rained volleys of death on the elves trying to get back up, killing hundreds and thinning the Thalmor ranks, slowly retreating to the keep as they did. The elves desperately tried to shield themselves from the onslaught of arrows that befell them, but there were simply too many and they couldn't get up and form an effective formation as there was simply too much confusion. Elf officers tried to restore cohesiveness and order in the mass confusion, but many an arrow found its mark in their throat or chest, lower ranking officers not even trying to give orders in fear of their life. The elves were taught a lesson in archery today by their lessers, and it infuriated them despite the current feelings of terror and fear gripping their souls.
"Corcinies, sound the retreat!" shouted Imperius.
The sound of battle horns filled the air as the legion fell back to the keep. Their pace quickened when they turned to look back and saw the massive force of elves getting back to their feet. They knew their commander had bought them time, and they weren't going to waste it.
"Ballistarii, fall back to the defensive catapults!"
The catapult crews and their guards saluted and made their way to the catapults towards the keep killing any stray Thalmor that got in their way. When the majority of the legion made it past the gates near the statue of Talos, the archers fell into a dead sprint towards the keep. Imperius used the Whirlwind shout to catch up to the legion, but stopped at the statue of Talos to glance at the Thalmor host noticing their retreat.
"After them, kill them all!" shouted a elf officer, the rest of the army had gotten to their feet and now rushed after the fleeing imperials, some tripping over the corpses of imperial and elf alike in their mad rush for revenge. Seeing the wall of elves rushing towards him prompted Imperius to sprint towards Dragon's Reach, the elves right on his heels. He couldn't help but openly laugh in excitement as he was being chased. The adrenaline and the thought of getting caught excited him to an unhealthy degree. He suspected that he was mentally damaged for a while, but this only confirmed it. He saw a few centurions standing near the gates of Dragonsreach, directing the legionaires inside. As he got closer, they saw him and nodded and ran into the keep.
As the last of his soldiers made it into the keep, he turned, filled his lungs with air, and shouted.
"OD...AH VIING!"
After the shout, Imperius quickly sealed the reinforced doors. The Thalmor rushed forward, eager to kill their foe and take vengence on the lessers that had humiliated them. Their advance ground to a halt when they heard a familiar, haunting sound, a sound that struck fear into the hearts of men and mer alike. They turned to the sound's origin, some shrieking in utter terror, some dropping and their weapons and fleeing and others making peace with the deities they believed in. As a shadow passed over them, a stream of hellfire followed in its wake, killing all it touched. Only one creature possessed such destructive capabilities, only one could lay low entire armies and kingdoms by itself. A dragon. The elves quickly sprung into action after their initial shock had faded and when survival instincts overcame fear, archers rained arrows that more or less did nothing against their target, the distinct 'ping' of their arrows bouncing off of the dragon's scales did nothing to harm the beast. Battle mages shot fire blasts and lightning bolts, all of it making little effect on the death dealing monster. The dragon landed onto one of the buildings, and shot forth a storm of hellfire, incinerating a large contingent of elves in an instant.
"Dovahkiin thuri, spring your trap!" he shouted as he snapped up an elf in his jaws and crushed him, armor and all, and tossed him aside.
The defensive catapults whom were silent for the retreat came to life and hurled pots of boiling tar upon their elvish foe, the dragon sending those unfortunate that got hit ablaze. The elves tried to move into battle formation, but the flaming tar pots, coupled with the appearance of a dragon kept them from doing so, confusion soundly woven into their rank and file. The gates to the keep opened and out of it poured the imperial legion, refreshed from its rest while in the keep. With Imperius at the head of the force, it smashed into the out of position Thalmor forces, slaughtering many in the charge. Imperius cut down foe after foe, the elves falling to him like wheat to a scythe.
"We are routed, fall back!" shouted a high ranking elf who soon fled from the battlefield.
Seeing one of their commanders abandon them quickly took their spirit to fight, and with the imperials slaughtering them and a dragon helping their enemies to boot, the rest of the army broke and all but sprinted to the smashed gates, trampling a few of their own who tripped and fell. Imperius watched the elves retreat and listened to his men shout with victory. He honestly expected greater losses than what he had suffered. Suddenly, an elvish horn sounded in the distance, this time it was a high pitched sound. This stopped the legion in its celebration and caused Imperius to give pause.
As this occurred, fresh contingents of elves poured into the city, slamming into the disorganized lines of the legion. Imperius parried a overhead strike from a Thalmor soldier and disarmed him, slicing off his arm as he did so. He blocked another strike with his shield and thrust his blade into the abdomen of another elf. He thought that was the entire Thalmor host, that they had thrown everything behind the attack on the walls, but apparently he was wrong. He grimaced at the sight of his soldiers being cut down, the elves wolves amongst sheep.
As Odahviing was taking off from his perch to assist in the defense, a catapult stone struck his chest and he was sent flying into the walls of the city, elves swarming his crash site. The dragon tried to right himself, but his efforts were being hampered by the elves who hacked and slashed at his scales. He flailed his limbs with the hope that he might strike a few, and smirked when his clawed foot met an elf, who was sent flying by the force of the kick. He spied Imperius amongst the chaos, dodging and sidestepping strikes from elvish soldiers before striking them down in turn. He was reminded of his predicament when an elf managed to pierce his armor and slice his stomach.
With his elite soldiers being cut down in droves, Imperius fought like a madman, cutting off heads, slicing bodies in two and crushing elves' skulls with his shield, helmet and all, desperate to turn the tide so that his men could survive. But it was for naught. No matter how many elves he killed, no matter how many of his men he managed to save, there were always more elves to fill the gaps, more soldiers being cut down far from his reach. It was maddening, how he tried and tried with all his might, but it amounted to nothing. When Imperius heard the death scream of his dragon ally he turned to look, but as he turned, a Thalmor soldier thrust his spear into his side, piercing deeply.
As he gasped in pain and shock, another elf ran up to him and swung his battle ax into his chest, knocking him off his feet. He turned his head, and was greeted with the sight of a dead centurion, the very same centurion he saved at the entrance gate an hour earlier. With the elvish forces streaming past him, slaughtering his soldiers like cattle, his vision slowly darkened until he could see nothing.
'So this is where you go after you die. It's kind of empty if you ask me,' he thought. It was a vast empty expanse of space, with no light to speak of. In the place of light was the all consuming darkness, moving in a similar manner as a wave would when crashing onto a beach and then receding to begin the cycle anew. He walked around for a minute, looking to see if there was anything other than the ever present darkness, but found nothing.
A voice chuckled with mirth, and as if it had read his thoughts, said '' No, this is not the afterlife Dovahkiin, I brought you here to make you an offer."
Imperius turned in the vague direction he thought the voice was coming from.
"And pray tell, who am I speaking with? I will not make blind deals with daedra or princes of oblivion," he said. A light shown through the darkness, too bright for his liking, revealing the form of a dragon standing in front of him.
"I am Akatosh, father of the many dragons you slew in your time in Keizaal and the greatest god amongst the mortal pantheon of gods and goddesses," Akatosh said. Imperius looked at the dragon/divine, secretly wondering if the divine was going to kill him for slaughtering his children. If he were in the divine's position, he wouldn't have even hesitated, not even giving it a second thought. After waiting for a moment, and seeing as he was not dead, he took it upon himself to ask the deity a question.
"What deal do you wish to make with me?" he asked.
Akatosh looked him in the eye and said, "A deal in which you rewrite history and change the fate of Keizaal forever."
Imperius was skeptical, as many should be. He would never publicly admit this, but he was an avid reader, always fascinated with legends and stories. And with such avid attention to the legends of the past, he made sure to not fall into any traps as many heroes of old have done, be their situations realistic or pure fantasy, and this situation would be no different.
"What does this deal entail, I don't want to make any rash decisions without knowing what's on the table first," he said.
Akatosh nodded. " Wise decision Dovakiin, many mortals would jump at the chance to go back in time and change their fate, without knowing what they must do to complete their tasks. You will be transported back to the moment where you fight against the dragon Mirmulnir. You will retain all memories of your past exploits and knowledge of the events that transpired in your old life. You will know and be able to use all your shouts you have learned in your life, even the ones you get from Herma-Mora during your quest in Solstheim. Prove the strength of your Thu'um to Mirmulnir, without killing him, and I will reveal your quest to you, mortal."
Imperius sharply looked at Akatosh. "What quest will I undertake?" he asked.
A smile spread across Akatosh's face.
"To rule all of Tamriel."