After LONG last I appear! Ok, I am still doing stuff with life HOWEVER I will be updating more as it is currently summer. Clone General will soon have another few plot points as well as two more chapters of this little story. Without further ado: The Lord's War: Whiterun. -Cloaked Writer.
City by City, town by town, inn by inn…
It was beginning to drain Dominus's sanity.
But it was necessary; all of the mortals would fall into place under his order and become his thralls.
Not the mindless half-beast thugs, that the Thin Blooded Lords would have positioned outside of their crypts; but true thralls, men and women, and children born and raised to serve.
Markarth Hold was, according to the treaty of Druadach Redoubt, was off limits to the influence of the Volkihar Court; however they allowed the various Nordic crypts that were overrun with Draugr to be used as temporary bases and storehouses for arms and armor, until the sieges of the Orc Strongholds finally gave out and the proud tribes were brought into the stables as powerful beasts of war.
Morthal had been seized easily enough: the Jarl claiming all the while she had foreseen the Dunmer's betrayal.
Old Bat.
However, the final destination before cleaning up Falkreath was to cement control in Whiterun.
~Tirdas, 12th of Sun's Height, Whiterun Stables, 4E 203~
Something was wrong.
The moon shone differently tonight, or perhaps it was the winds…
Regardless, something was wrong. But he could not specify what caused the sense of apprehension as Dominus, Ronthil, and the throng of armored Draugr stepped from the carriage, manned by a pathetic skeleton dressed in a long cloak.
Ortholf and his horde had carefully infiltrated the city for a full month, smuggling in Thralls and cloaked Draugr to seize and hold the city for his arrival.
But no battle had taken place.
Whiterun Guards stood at their towers, bows right across their backs with full quivers, their swords sharp and spotless. One sniff told Dominus everything:
Thralls.
He had enthralled nearly every single guard.
The damn idiot.
Relinquishing control of a Thrall's mind - not to mention wrenching it from the hands of another Lord - was infuriatingly tricky. From the dusty tomes of Castle Volkihar, and a quiet confirmation from the Prince of Knowledge, all attempts ripped the mind of the Thrall asunder. Fine if you wanted a mindless cattle to walk aimlessly and simply provide sustenance, but useless for a guard.
His eyes narrowed from beneath his hood.
He would have some strong words with his Commander when this was settled.
He nodded to the group to follow him as he strode forward, his cape billowing behind as he lifted his gloved hands and threw open the doors to the city before stalking forward with rage in his eyes.
"My Thane!"
His eyes darted to one side, as the Captain of the Guard stepped from the barracks.
"The Jarl has been expecting you, please follow me."
Dominus sniffed lightly.
Untainted.
"Unfortunately," he said, raising a hand and pointing towards the horde behind him.
"I must ask that your… guards… remain behind. There was an assassination attempt on his Majesty, and while I doubt you have such intentions-"
"Security to the hold comes first." Dominus finished with a sigh.
"Wait here with the Draugr, it shouldn't take too long."
As Dominus followed the Captain, he could not help but be uneasy. Had Ortholf failed? It was unlikely; he was one of the greatest warriors in his corporeal form, disregarding the enchanted form of the Vampire Lord. However, he was arrogant. It is possible he failed and fled the city if he was not hiding in the abandoned passages of the Whiterun Burial Crypts.
The doors to Dragonsreach yawned before him, and Dominus stepped inside at the behest of the Captain.
Despite appearing in Whiterun's Court many times - due to his position as a Thane of the Hold - the magnificence of the structure never ceased to amaze him. Great wooden pillars with a lifetime of stories and legends scrawled upon them in the form of carvings framed the greatly raised throne of the Jarl, sitting handsomely under the skull of an ancient dragon, long since slain by one of his forefathers.
Dominus knelt in a bow before his Jarl, falling to one knee as his cudgel let out a great clunk as the metal weapon made contact with the floor.
Ironic, to bow before a mortal while already a host of immortal fiends and nearly three holds of men answered to him and him alone.
"My Jarl, how do you fare?"
"I have been better. Irileth took an arrow to the eye as she ushered me and my family to safety from the assassins."
Dominus looked up towards the Jarl's bodyguard.
The female Dark Elf was as stoic as ever, despite the white bandage obscuring the entirety of the right side of her face.
"I have heard a fascinating rumor, however…" The Jarl drawled, absentmindedly stroking his long blond beard.
"My Lord?"
"...That you were behind the attempt on my life." He finished, looking down at the kneeling Vampire Lord with a hostile glare.
"My Lord, anyone who would suggest that the Dragonborn would attempt to assassinate you is clearly-"
"I have it," He continued, cutting off the Dunmer.
"From a reliable source, that you planned to enslave my mind."
"Isn't that right, Kinsman?"
Orthalf stepped from the shadows with a harsh clap of his fingers, as every soldier and guard in the hall drew out a hidden crossbow and loaded it with a silver bolt.
Dominus inhaled deeply now and saw the truth: Thralls. Each and every one of them. Masked behind powerful illusions. But…
This scent was not of Orthalf, it was… fresh, new… unfamiliar.
"Of all the power I could ever dream of," a familiar, bored voice sounded from the right.
"Vampirism is one of the grandest." Faringar declared, holding back balls of fire in his clenched fists.
"You were a fool to trust me with an army, Elf." Orthalf barked; his accented voice clipping.
"I ordered a pathetic attack and had your entire horde butchered the moment I arrived. I broke your thralls and slaughtered your Thin Blooded Lieutenants. Then, after… Enlightening Farengar - the frustrated court wizard - and having my way with the City, all that was left was to wait for you to arrive."
"But, I am not going to kill you with these thralls. No glory. No honor. I'll kill you myself, on my own."
The Nord drew a hatchet from his belt, embedding it within a wooden pillar before seized a two-handed battle-ax from the back of an uncaring Thrall.
"I challenge you, Elf."
Dominus stood, his fingers flexing around his cudgel.
"I accept."
With an Atmoran battle-cry, the Nord hurled himself towards Dominus with supernatural strength, hoisting the ax over his head in a downward arc to cleave the Elven Vampire in two.
Dominus sidestepped, swing wide with his weapon to attempt to catch the Nord off balance-
He hissed as the cold steel of the battle-ax grazed his right cheek.
Orthalf had used a feint and bashed the Elf.
The pair both backed off of one another, the Nord practically bursting with glee.
The so-called 'Master', wounded by such a simple maneuver? Pathetic magic user.
The Elf felt his wound, his gloved hands feeling the light trickle of blood dripping down his cheek as if surprised he was wounded.
He then *smiled*, before hefting his weapon his both hands.
Orthalf's crimson eyes widened.
He had been holding back.
Enraged, Orthalf cast aside his ax and began to morph into the dark form of the Vampire Lord, his bones breaking and reforming in horrible cracks, the scent of blood overwhelming his senses…
Until the internal door to the palace was smashed open, and the dreadful sunlight poured in with the shouts of fury and hatred.
Dominus stood in the midst of the carnage, a sigh escaping his lips.
Dearest Ronthil, who would most certainly be trusted with a governorship after this, rallied the Captain, and a few men who miraculously remained free from the spell of the traitorous vampires, had rallied together with a mob of angry townsfolk and stormed the palace with murder in their eyes.
Eleven enemy Thralls were dead. Faringar and Orthalf were captured, restrained in silver shackles provided by the Companions.
While the Mortals were expendable, their symbols were not.
The Jarl was dead; slain in the confusion. As were his children; cold and ridged.
Orthalf had slaughtered the entire court, all save Dominus and the Jarl, likely in order to name himself Heir before slaughtering the King.
Balgruuf the Greater was a mortal like any other, yet he had softened his heart more than any of the other Nordic Kings and Lords of the realm. Riften was full of corrupt governance and inadequate leadership, while Falkreath, Dawnstar, and Winterhold were all military zealots, obsessed with war. Markarth was filled with special interests, and Solitude was filled with poor leadership before it had been seized by the Court.
But, all that was over now. He was dead.
"Now what exactly, happened here?" Captain Caius asked, stepping over bodies to stand beside the Dark Elf.
"The Vampires attacked me as soon as I knelt. They slaughtered the entire court and had the Jarl and his guards under their spell. I fought them off, until Ronthil seemed to tell something was off and rallied your forces to storm the palace."
The Mortal shuddered.
"Regardless, I am glad this business is over, Captain." The Dark Elf said, moving to turn away.
"We can now return to the day-to-day business after we execute the traitor-"
"Actually, Sir, we have a… problem."
Dominus turned, a frown creasing his face.
Never, in his now immortal life, had he heard that Captain refer to him as 'sir'.
"What kind of problem?" Dominus said, turning fully to face the man.
"The Court, and the Jarl's heirs have been murdered. Housecarl Irileth, Proventus, they are all gone. Only you remain, my Jarl."
Dominus's breath caught in his throat, shock spreading like a viral disease before the antibody of glee threatened to show itself on his face.
This was better than he could have hoped for.
A clean transition to power, and a legitimate way to the Throne of Skyrim, no less.
Dominus approached the Throne and sat upon it, lounging with his elbows resting upon the arms as his fingers folded.
"There will be an execution at noon. Spread the word. It will be at the foot of the Shrine of Talos, in the Winds District. Inform Heimskr that he will need to cease his preaching of the Man-God and make way for the Hold's Justice."
He bowed slightly at the hip.
"Certainly, My Jarl."
The crowd hissed and spat curses as the two vampires were brought out in chains, gagged and holding back tears as the sun singed their undead skin.
A common Iron ax severed the head of the Nord Vampire from his shoulders, his last look of anguish forever emblazoned upon his face.
A nameless guard had dealt the blow. A symbolic gesture, to the vampire: even a powerful man can fall to a mortal.
Orthalf was the next to die, and Dominus had planned quite a spectacle for him.
The thrumming of aetherial magic filled the air as a bound battleax appeared in Dominus's hands, the shimmering blue weapon pulling on the air around it. He knelt to the kneeling vampire, sitting pitifully on his knees while he glared malevolently at his foe.
"Let it be known that it was magic, that ended your life. I give you an ax. May it serve you well in Coldharbour." he whispered, before nodding to the Draugr that held him in place to push him to the ground.
The crowd erupted with cheers as the magic ax fell, guards banging the hilts of their swords to their shields and warriors letting out boisterous battle-cries.
Someone began to chant the praises of Dominus, which quickly devolved into a great call: Long Live Dominus.
And he smiled.
Dawnstar was in ruins, but his Advisor would be dealing with that. Winterhold would be seized with ease within the next few days, as the Mages would be too busy studying to deal with matters of a civil war.
All that truly remained was Riftin, and Windhelm.
And in truth, they did not worry him.
Let Ulfric scare the bandits into joining his cause. Let the Dawnguard launch fruitless attacks against his court. It was far too late to unseat him now.
Whiterun has been brought into the fold, and plans are being drawn for the fate of Dawnstar... Mwa haha (lol) I am sorry I have not been able to update, I am now out of school and am in the process of looking for a job sooooo I have a lot of time on my hands haha. I will be posting my stories more regularly and will hopefully finish this one and get at least a few arks in the Clone Wars series, hopefully finishing it before 2019. But, that is in the future. Until then, ~Cloaked Writer.