Hello to anyone keeping on with this story, i've had a bad time lately due to life throwing me a few curve balls so i haven't really had time to keep this story going, however i'm back to it and with this rather slow outing this story will hopefully ramp up abit.
Anyway i hope you enjoy, thanks for reading!
The old; oaken door resounded with the same dull thump that Ralof recognised as trouble, trouble because it came before his own waking time at first light, and no one with good sense would wake up their commander at such a time; lest they wanted to be responsible for a new complex of latrines he'd always threatened to have built.
Still feeling the effects of having been waken so abruptly, Ralof heard the door being belted a few more times before he shouted out in protest, and he knew only one man he knew could hammer his door as hard as that, it had to be his first captain at his door.
He got up from his expansive feather bed and crossed his quarters, a room with high ceilings and all the fine furnishings that came with residing in the most prominent lodging of castle dour, he unbolted the door and was met by Yohan; his chief lieutenant and acting captain of Solitude's guard, a tall and fierce looking man with hoary hair and a face weathered by age, Yohan wore steel mail and plate trimmed with furs and scales in the usual nord fashion; and over his shoulders he had a mighty looking broadsword that was as well worn as its owner.
Ralof could only guess at how much grim usage the weapon had faced during the veteran warriors service in the legion, with the stories of his prowess then where dwarfed only by those recently told, of a warrior who even well past his sixtieth year had killed two stormblades side to side; who were considered elite amongst all of king Ulfric's warriors in their entirety, not to mention another eight men personally before succumbing to his injuries during the battle of Morthal.
"Good evening commander, I bring news from the western border. Riders have been seen on the mount" was what the aged; yet powerfully built captain told him, striking up the younger man's curiosity even as sleep clouded his mind, "Are they showing banners?" was his question, as he motioned for his second to enter his room.
Yohan did just that; with Ralof having to clear the doorway just to accommodate the man's bulky frame, tall as all nords were Ralof was overshadowed by Yohan by a full span; which only added to the man's daunting look, a veteran of some forty years in the legion; the nord was nearer seventy than sixty, yet he could still swing the mightiest of war hammers and pull the staunchest of bows.
"Not at all, there all on horseback though, some two hundred or so the scouts report. Hardly a force of bandits running the roads" he reported; giving Ralof something to wonder about, though not as much to worry over compared to their recent woes.
The imperials had crossed to strike at Skyrim near two legions strong, passing through the passes at Riften and Falkreath. Soon after Ulfric and all his assembled strength marched southwards, leaving Dawnstar to be lost to some form of vampiric infestation, with only a few refugees to tell a horrific tale. So it was that southern Skyrim shook with war, while the northern towns and cities quaked in fear of this terrifying new threat.
It was all Ralof could do with his garrison to keep the peace in Haafingar, while some unchecked threat mustered strength in Dawnstar, no towns nor cities where able or willing to lend him their strength, and only he and his force remained to march forward, it was a fretful position.
"Two hundred men on horseback, perhaps Reynald has sent on some advanced force to announce his presence?" he pondered aloud, considering with some hope that the dragonborn would be as swift as he had known to be in the past, "We'll need to raise the barracks regardless of who these riders are, perhaps we'll meet them before they can get through towards the lowlands" Ralof thought, but Yohan had seen to it already.
"Agnar is marshalling his men in the courtyard, though I've had Glyfi keep the gates closed until you set out the orders, I didn't think you wanted him out and running amok" Yohan told him; and Ralof could not but agree, Agnar of clan Stone-Fist was the eldest son of Galmar Stone-Fist, just as rash if not more so than as his father, but he was also one of three lieutenants given to Ralof as his immediate subordinates, and the one Ralof could do without.
Glyfi of Mount Anthor and Yohan Arn-Hvatur were both fine warriors, Yohan was better with warlike weapons than most men in the prime of their lives; while Glyfi was a expert archer and keen tracker, but both men alike had been tempered by decades of following orders and answering to superiors, either in the legions or from their clan heads so that they were well suited to keeping their heads; and the peace.
Agnar however was boastful and full of pride, his father having seen to allow him some part in the skirmishes at the later part of the stormcloak rebellions, it had made him impulsive and unsteady, prone to rash outbursts and flaunting of anything he saw that went against traditional 'nordic' beliefs.
His new position had given him leave to harass foreigners and annoy the primarily imperial aligned populace of Solitude, leaving Yohan; Glyfi or Ralof to play damage control whenever he 'exerted' his authority.
Ralof had to stop the aged captain of his from throwing the young man in the stockade for his instigation of a bar brawl against a small group of travelling mercenaries in the last moon, if it wasn't for his father Ralof was sure Yohan would have had the insolent young nord flogged.
"Let's not give Agnar an excuse to land himself in trouble again then" Ralof dryly told Yohan; picking up trousers and a long over tunic left pressed by one of the castle's servants, the garments were darkly coloured and fine; unlike his old stormcloak blue soldering dress. They went well his long and equally rich looking sable cloak. He slid a sword belt around his waist that contained his blade of command; and pulled on knee high leather boots of the same tanned dye, then Yohan led the way out of the room and down through the castles hallways.
Though once bannered with legion colours and sometimes those of high kings of old; castle dour was now filled with the cobalt blues of Ulfric Stormcloak's own family colours, Ralof reflected that he never really thought he'd ever see the stormcloak colours inside the bastion of imperial Skyrim, but then he never thought he'd be the one that held command of it either.
"These riders must be Reynald's, and if not it's another problem before we march against Dawnstar" Ralof told Yohan irritably, not intending the words to come out sounding like grumbling, but Yohan didn't seem to mind and instead told him; bullish as always, "Friends or foes, it matters only a little. We have near seven hundred good men here, enough to deal with matters as they arise, why worry?"
The worry was that for near seven hundred men they had; half were green boys and the other veterans not half as sprite as Yohan, all of them perhaps good enough to face a civil insurrection, but how many could stand against something like a vampire, creatures who fed on the living or worse yet able to turn those stricken by them into undead slaves, could he really expect such men to hold the line against this horror?
Yet he had to all the same, his duty as a commander required it, "And if they've turned whoever couldn't escape the slaughter into thralls, a whole army of them for us to fight?" he asked when they neared the lower falls of castle Dour, near the war room which had once held the chief opponent to their insurrection.
"Then we do them the favour any of us would want with half a mind. They'll not sing our songs in Sovngarde for it, but vampires cannot get to grips with our nation, not as the war rages on." Yohan told Ralof, and he accepted the advice with a nod, but he couldn't have been happy about it. The war was the reason why the vampires could fester in Dawnstar with such impunity; it was galling how their fight for freedom had inadvertently caused such a turn of events.
He didn't ask the hulking nord what he thought of that however, as even being a former imperial Yohan would tell Ralof exactly what he had a dozen times before, there was no use reliving the past; instead prepare to face the future. With that in mind they exited castle Dour into its courtyard, now filled with hurrying soldiers and hard at work blacksmiths, the former pulling on armor and gathering weapons while the latter filled quivers and prepared saddlebags.
Ralof counted around near two hundred men gathered in the courtyard, walled off by castle Dour and its many arms and quarters, in all the confusion however were two men conspicuous by the gathered supporters they had at their backs. One was Agnar the son of Galmar, a tall youth who was clearly a nord; stocky in the body with a stern look upon his face despite his fair appearance. The opposing man was not quite the same sight though; he was neither as tall as the youth but not quite short, his frame was tough but neither bulky as Agnar nor as willowy as an elf, he was not as fair or handsome but still not quite ugly, Agnar shouted and growled but he only received a measured tone in response to bolster this persons seeming tedium.
He was Glyfi from mount Anthor; a boring looking man that wouldn't appear out of place among the common populace of any hold or city, yet he was a renowned soldier none the less, having hailed from the snowy mountains between Winterhold and Windhelm. His family had been a large group of near nomad like nords who usually bothered with nothing save hunting and their own mountain, so removed that nords from the cities and towns began to tell tales of these people having turned to man-beasts, performing the dark arts along with many other suggestions of perversion; in order to provide explanation for their isolation.
Ralof knew nothing about all of that however; he knew only what was heard throughout the ranks of the stormcloak army, the dragonborn; having decided to look upon the great edifice of Azura had came across a dragon upon the mountain, along with what remained of Glyfi's mountain clan. The resulting battle had been decided when Reynald gave help to the clan; slaying the dragon and settling the mountain, yet another legendary beast falling to the dragonborn.
Ralof approached the near dozen strong party of arguing nords and recalled the other rumour he had heard also, as Reynald had not been willing to take on Glyfi or any of the survivors he had brought down the mountain with him, it was apparently enough for Ulfric that the dragonborn had even suggested the high king put them all away into their mountainfasts again; that Ulfric had taken on their services.
Ralof could not discern the truth of it from mere rumours and half-heard talk, he knew of course that the dragonborn and high king Ulfric had their differences, but such an open slight between them was never seen by his eyes, Glyfi also was a near famed captain within the stormcloaks armies after having carried out noteworthy services in the latter stages of the war, it was more likely the man simply preferred Ulfric's banner to Reynald's.
"Stop this nonsense; the commander is here now!" Yohan ordered loudly; directly at Agnar who turned abruptly before half stepping back, catching himself as he saw who had shouted to him, "We've been waiting here since dawn break to move" Agnar complained while giving the aged captain a look of contempt.
Ralof couldn't blame the lad for the near frightful retreat; Yohan was a beast of a man with a voice to match, but he couldn't understand how nords like him held the veteran in disrespect for merely standing by his word, if Yohan had rightly turned traitor upon those he held a vow to; would that not make him a coward and oathbreaker?
"We'll have time yet to catch these riders if they do run, two hundred horses leave a few footprints after all. See to it that your men are ready to ride when we have news" Ralof told Agnar, firmly enough so that the youth didn't attempt to argue, "Have you any news from your scouts?" he then asked Glyfi; the less impressive looking captain having been given command of the scouts and patrols such was his talents.
His answer wasn't good, it never could be with bandits and all manner of terrible things roaming the hold, "The latest scouting party hasn't reported back yet, though they should have by this watch. I fear that something may be amiss, we should perhaps send out another party and sound the horns", Ralof groaned inwardly at the news, coming out as a desperate sigh that matched his downcast face.
Damn king Ulfric to oblivion, I am not made for this Ralof thought, hating the duty of such a heavy command, it was like a burden upon his mind at near every hour of the day, "We'll go to the gates and wait for the patrol, Yohan stay and muster up the men. We'll march out in force if needs be." he instructed, making for the triple gates of Solitude with a small trail of men behind him; as grim in the face as felt in his core.
The city beyond castle Dour wasn't so downbeat however; in fact it was soon to be teeming with life, alive with the exuberance that always met a city in the ascendency. The city had not suffered any real physical damage in the stormcloak siege Ralof remembered; as his party of five marched past the many different smiths that adjoined to the castles western gates, but rather it had been effectively cut off from the rebel held eastern territories for so that long that it's trade; along with it citizens suffered for it.
Now however each previously abandoned stall post and storefront was filled with traders and merchants, all of them filling out their stalls with wares that for so long had been withheld to Ulfric's original territories and holds. The high king would have gladly threw all of the imperial sympathizers and puppets from their countries maiden city, if he didn't need them to help provide towards the upcoming wars.
"Not one of these people would show king Ulfric an ounce of respect; much less me if the imperials hadn't been routed back to Cyrodiil. How can we lead our garrison out while these lot plot behind our backs?" Ralof asked the only captain accompanying him; Glyfi, while his three guardsmen gave them some semblance of a distance behind, his answer was as usual; blunt.
"Have you ever heard old king Harald's words, 'men and mer alike should be either generously treated or entirely destroyed, because while they can avenge themselves of lighter wounds; those great ones they cannot'. King Ulfric made the decision to spare these people further harm and now must deal with the consequences." Said Glyfi, the reply made Ralof question the mans logic if only for a moment, before he realized the words were true, king Ulfric could not have purged the city either by slaughter or eviction, it was not within him, Ralof would never have wanted to see such a thing happen either truthfully.
"Hopefully the city and it's people won't feel the need to avenge their wounds then" Ralof told Glyfi, though he could hardly think so given the ill luck the stormcloaks had faced as yet, losing both Windhelm and Solitude in such a short time would be a hammer blow to the very heart of their cause, the unease from the thought stayed with Ralof as he approached the main gates of Solitude with his guard in tow.
The gates, originally built during the second century of the third era were layered for a triple defence, with the strongest and highest of the gates at the final approach to Solitude, Ralof usually spent a time at the wall each day reviewing patrol findings and sending out parties when necessary, he knew today with the sighting of the horsemen he'd find more than a little activity beyond scouting however, and if he'd been heard by those horsemen themselves, the great horn that sounded from the tower beyond the walls confirmed it as a stark realisation for him.
"That could be the patrol, Anhilm is never late without cause" Glyfi said to Ralof with grim certainty, the man was right of course; as his fellow hill men and expert tracker Anhilm had gained a reputation of being always to the mark since the beginning of his time with the stormcloaks, "Tell Yohan to bring the men from the courtyard, we'll need to be ready for whatever is happening" Ralof told the captain before making for the gates in a rush.
Glyfi turned without a word while Ralof rushed past the few sellers who had gathered around the stores close to Solitude's gates, his men followed behind just as quickly, while only a handful of those assembled gave the men any acknowledgement as they passed on.
"What news" he shouted to the guards up on the walls, all of them armed with bows and wearing the helms and colours of the stormcloaks, one archer he knew as Lethil told him with a shout "Our riders have passed the watchtower, they look to be in a hurry commander", Ralof quickly shouted for the gates to be open and ordered the men above him to string their bows, he motioned for his guards to follow him as he rushed out and towards the first gate that enveloped the small lane to the city.
Coming from the pathway; past the tower and first solid defensive line for Solitude came five riders, wearing ragged leathers and cloaks, they had cloth cowls covering their faces, with short swords and light hunting bows for arms, none of them let up as they beat their horses to reach the city as the first gateway retracted.
The head rider; who was a fellow tribesmen of Glyfi's pulled back his cowl and searched around him for his kinsmen, he was of Glyfi's blood and unlike his fellow he was tall and strong, lean looking with a dark face covered in a bushy beard and wild locks, he had half glad news for Ralof, "Those riders have passed the old rune stone and are coming by way of the high road, they didn't look to catch sight of us but their moving hard for the city. Also we could see that they wore no imperial armours or the golden of the elves, but rather steel cuirasses and round shields, they looked like mercenaries with no banner", exactly half good news it seemed to him, not quite the dread of hearing some force of mounted elves or imperials, but what sort of men where these he wondered?
"Was there any sign of the dragonborn, or perhaps even his companions?" Alfhan shook his head, "At their head was a warrior in white linens holding a long spear, a noble in black and another who we couldn't make out, whoever they are we'll soon find out." The tribal told Ralof and he accepted it for what it was; and let the man trot off with his scouts to get some rest, while from the opposing direction came Yohan and his other captains with a part their assembled garrison.
The garrison was in the few hundreds; which for a city of Solitude's size was deplorable, the only saving grace was that during a siege the cities small exposure from having a single entryway would mean the need for less troops, yet Ralof wasn't thinking about sieges, he was thinking about leading his army out into the wilds and with that leaving the city to whatever imperial loyalists felt treacherous enough to return the city to imperial control.
That thought was bad enough, but even still the six hundred or so men he had were a mixture of fresh faced farmers and village boys; bolstered by veterans too many years past their best to be considered true soldiers anymore, all of the real soldiers were needed in the south of course.
Yet all of them though had good equipment due to the smiths in the city; each one wore long cloaks and padded boots to protect from the cold along with mail and leathers underneath to provide a defensive edge, their helmets were styled simple half helms mostly but with some bears, wolf and dragon helmets within the midst of them.
Save Yohan and his two other captains each man held a round iron and wooden shield with all manner of weapons; there were those armed with swords and axes, spears and bows along with mauls and maces, scythes and even one nord who fancied himself a redguard with a silver finished curved sword, Ralof had thought to arm all his men with a spear; sword and shield but yet again the limited resources available once again prevailed, he'd be hard pressed to get these boys and haggard's working in union.
Yohan at the head of the small force along with Glyfi blending in behind gave him some hope, the huge captain was nearing his elder years yet he could still best any man whether it be sword, axe or mace, Glyfi meanwhile was the best scout Ralof had ever worked with, that had to count for something in the balance of things.
"The men are ready commander, six hundred and ninety four all in, awaiting your orders" Yohan told him as the veteran climbed the stairs unto the wall, following him was Glyfi and Agnar who ascended with the former in his simple leathers and some mail, while Agnar rather bravely decided to wear full plate armour even knowing they had more than a days ride ahead of them, 'never wear enough armor to bog you down' his father; an old warrior for the jarl of Whiterun had once told him.
"Good, then we'll have more than enough to settle these riders once they each the city" Ralof told them, which caused a look of confusion among them, "there coming here?" Agnar asked with evident surprise, "but why?"
"There either some vanguard of the dragonborn or some high born breton dull enough to inform us of his demise in the west at my best guesses" Ralof answered, though he didn't quite consider the second thought to have any potential, "I doubt any breton besides Reynald himself could end his life, and he isn't the stupid type either; if there is truly any stupid bretons. It'll be the reinforcements we've been waiting on" Ralof assured them, they all nodded but looked to be unsettled, marching without support would be like marching without hope.
"How many men do you intend to leave in the city?" Glyfi asked; as always to the heart of things, but Ralof didn't know the answer to that question. An imperial hold since the days of the first unbroken line of the Septim's, Solitude could be considered imperial rather than nordic in both culture and ideals, if he as the stormcloak garrison commander marched out without leaving enough guards behind then he could well see the whole of the city; with or without the jarls approval attempting to revolt against the stormcloaks.
Too many men left however meant he would march on Dawnstar, a city of some thousands with only enough men to garrison a fort, he needed Reynald's men, or Ulfric's fledging kingdom would fall apart at the seams, "We will need to leave at least three hundred men to hold the gate and castle dour, that will leave us with near four hundred men to march with if Reynald's hand isn't in these cavalrymen"
"That won't be enough, we'll be slaughtered if even a quarter that number of vampires is within the city. Remember what happened to the scouts" Glyfi pointed out, and Ralof couldn't help but remember the pure terror that had taken hold of their scout; from a party of twelve no less that made for Dawnstar and only he had returned from, the tales he told were enough to frighten any man. "I have been given a charge by our king, whether to victory or death; we will do our duty" he told the three of them assembled without a hint of doubt.
"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that." Glyfi replied before turning way in something resembling disapproval.
Ralof couldn't blame the in some parts, he was well aware of the tales their scout had told them through chattering teeth and blood soaked cloak, from what they knew from refugees the vampires had first attacked in secret, but perhaps even with some hundreds with all their beasts and thralls to accompany them at the end as the scout told them. They had disguised themselves as the city guard, so that when Ralof's men had come to investigate the reports, the vampires laid a trap which only this one man survived.
'I saw from the hill…our men taken to the forefront of the town and torn to pieces by wolves…the screams filled the air until the vampires descended upon them in a hunger.' Was what he had told them last of his fellows parting, before his eyes lost their fire and the healers could do no more.
His mind was ill at ease at the thought, but then from the hill overlooking the city came something resembling a fighting chance, a rush of horsemen in polished steel holding lances and bows, swords and maces upon fleet mounts. Their armour in all was that of a rich company and not the one looked a bandit or a brigand, at there head was the three his scout had told him off; and all three looked beyond even their following company.
One was a man in a rich black cloak riding an equally dusky horse, who Ralof recognised easily as he closed the distance, with him was a lithe looking person holding a long spear in a robe of stark white, while the other was the huntress of the companions Ralof could never quite forget, all three came forward along but behind the fiery haired woman came another hardy looking warrior in a silver finished cuirass and similarly fine mail and plate metals, a mace and broadsword at either side of his white charger.
Ralof didn't waste time when he caught sight of the man on the lead horse, he ordered the gates to be thrown open and came down from the first real barrier of Solitude, his captains followed him as the four riders entered; all of them looking proud and hardy despite the look of their travel stained garments and restless horses, "You are a sight for sore eyes brother" Ralof told Reynald he took his horse in hand, allowing the dragonborn to pull himself from the saddle.
He was as Ralof remembered him; lean and youthful looking despite his beard and hair having grown long and wild, his eyes were bright and his face touched by a smile as he took in his former comrade turned city commander. But though he was a man without a place to call his own Ralof could see that Reynald looked princely, his armor was a breastplate and gauntlets of polished silver and snow-white mail; along with a sable dark robe that matched his horse, a weary prince he looked, but a prince nonetheless.
"Here you are; one of Ulfric's own bodyguards and the finest axe men south of the five peaks, even when I hear there is a war in the south that engulfs from the reach to the rift. Tell me, why is it that I find you in this city of all places?" said Reynald, with one of his arms coming to embrace Ralof as a dear friend, and he returned it too eagerly.
"This city and all of Haafingar has been left to my protection, and that of the men you see with me, though hardly would I think this is the best merits I could accomplish in such dire times" he told the dragonborn, despite the great honour bestowed upon him, Reynald nodded in understanding and told him plainly "Men such as us are more content with an sword; or an axe in hand, though I doubt Ulfric could find another man as trustworthy as yourself. Tell me though, who are these captains of yours that have been left out of the war."
Ralof beckoned his three captains forward and told their names, "This is Yohan Arn-Hvatur; who you've probably heard of by reputation if nothing else, and you of course know Glyfi, but this man also is Agnar; son of Galmar Stone-Fist." Reynald appraised them all, giving Yohan a long look before crossing eyes; briefly with Glyfi, and then looking onto Agnar who stood looking bold and proud.
"I have indeed heard of the 'beast of Morthal', though I'd have thought gaining Yohan elf-hewer would have placed you at the forefront of Ulfric's army, rather than holed up inside the safest city in Skyrim" Reynald said directly to Yohan, coming up shorter than a full head compared to the aged warrior, "I've known of you even before the dragon crisis; even before the start of the civil war, you're a hero of mine I'll admit, there aren't many men that could say the dragonborn envied them."
Yohan looked a little surprised for his part on hearing that, but still looked proud and replied "Your words are a shock to say the least; though I suppose my deeds have reached many ears given the length of my reputation. Elf hewer is a name given to me long ago during the battle of the red ring, I wonder how you heard it given that Stormcloaks young and old know me by my actions within the swamps of Morthal?"
Reynald told him with not a little pride "Owing to my own good fortune; I was once apprenticed under an old veteran in the legion, known not a little by his skill with the blade, we all knew him as the elfish half hand; but I'm sure you knew him as Saverus Nern." Yohan now looked fully caught, and with admiration rather than his usual stony tones told the dragonborn "I had heard that you were the finest swordsmen to be found anywhere in Tamriel, in both the elfish races and men. Hardly would I have believed it had I not heard of your mentor; a long lost friend of mine, he was surely the only person; man or mer I have met that could put a stain on my thirty odd year reputation"
Ralof was piqued by that admission, but Reynald didn't indulge them further, "I wouldn't be so bold as to think myself the finest swordsman in Tamriel; much less this hallowed country given such men as yourself, good sir, though enough of our mutual friends teachings have stuck, given the bloody nature of the times. I wonder by what small fortune that we have men such as you to combat a threat lesser men would quail at, not to mention the valorous men I also have brought to bear with me", It was to the point Ralof like Yohan agreed, and the men he had assembled in all looked to be as valiant as their leader.
Reynald took to one side, allowing Ralof and his captains to look upon his own companions, "These are the most respected of my followers; Aela the huntress of my own companions, but all others are from High Rock. They are Zaric of Wayrest and Galien of Northpoint; and I'd wager between them they are the finest cavalrymen in all of the western lands." The dragonborn boasted, and Ralof looked them over and admitted that despite them being bretons, they looked exceptional if nothing else.
The warrior in the stark white robes held a lofty spear in hand that looked to be made of some strange; and by that rare metal, with a lengthy point at the end that looked fit to pierce a troll thigh to shoulder, and though he looked far too handsome and unmarked for Ralof to believe he'd ever been in a true battle, he expected Reynald would not bring such a man unless he was assured of his quality.
The other warrior in the heavy plate and mail looked stockier than most bretons he'd encountered; including his prominent lord, he had at his waist a broadsword and mace at either side of a belt to promise a studier challenge than the former it seemed, "I appreciate your help in these chaotic times, long has the days been of late while looking for your response" he told them, not quite sure why only an assembly of bretons had been brought in response to trouble with the nordic homelands, "Perhaps we should retire inside the city and allow your men some respite?" he suggested to which Reynald agreed.
"Tell me of these vampires and what has befallen Dawnstar, for it is a troubling tale to hear such wild things in an already troubled time"
Inevitable and hard to answer Ralof thought; and he couldn't pick a reply that fitted the question, not with his scouts being slaughtered; and the very nature of sending more a death sentence for his men, "Truly I do not know, my scouts were found and cut to pieces when they first tried to raconteur along the outskirts of the city, nor do I know how these creatures have taken hold of the city completely. Finally I'm afraid I cannot tell you to what extent they have amassed within the city; and I believe there would be no way to find out prior to an attack."
Reynald looked to contemplate the information for a moment, clearly displeased by the lack of it by the crossed look on his face. Then though he turned to his comrade Aela and asked "Do you think you could scout out the city; vampires and all?" the fiery haired woman answered with a lazy air of certainty "Of course I can, I'm no lumbering dolt. Summon me a fresh mount and I could ride on to carry out this duty?", but Glyfi started up in protest, not liking the idea of her attempting this thing alone.
"I wouldn't be so quick to rush off to Dawnstar, these vampires were smart enough to know any scouting party would come from the west. They have some of their own brood patrolling the woods and hills, and these vampires are notorious for their sharp sight and perceptive-
"I know more about those vile creatures than you ever will" Aela contempt fully told Ralof's own head scout, leaving Glyfi to look at her with as much indignation the usually stoic man could muster, "It was your lot that got themselves caught and killed in the first place, though if I follow suite then you can reproach my corpse".
Ralof could barely suppress a grin at the woman's scathing; though humorous barb, Reynald was the same and told her with a small smile "I'm sure one of Ralof's men can provide you with supplies and a fresh mount, if you really wished to attempt such a thing. I could even tell you to be careful, for all the good it would do me".
"I've yet to meet one of those leaches that could come within a breath of me; without a fair few keenly tipped arrows to speed them on their journey towards full death. Nevertheless I would say that you shall look for me on the western spread of Dawnstar's mountain expanse, when you march for it's relief, I shall take my leave now and await you at the hills; do try to make good time, I would hate to have to feather all those blood letters myself." Aela said, waxing proud and humorous before she left them to return outside the first gate of the city, "That woman has taken so many fair kills from my blade she almost makes me wonder if she isn't trying to out due me; if not at least protect me, let's hope we'll not leave her too long while our men assemble together" Reynald said while watching her go, distracted by his thoughts it seemed if only for the moment.
"The rest of my men could do with settling down for awhile before we march for Dawnstar, only for a watch or two while your own men are prepared" the dragonborn told him then, and Ralof could only agree, he couldn't expect these men nor their horses to march so quickly after arriving, "how long will it take the remainder of your force to arrive" he asked, eager to hear when they could move out in strength, but Reynald gave him a curious look.
"This is the entirety of the force I have brought my friend, two hundred cavalrymen I had guarding Farrun while I moved west. All of my strength remains in High Rock" Reynald told him; causing Ralof to involuntarily clench his sword hilt in what could only be anger, two hundreds bretons? He could only think, "I had heard some hundreds of nords had crossed the borders to join your cause, could you not have returned them also?" was his question, as they approached the final defence of Solitude, draped with the wolf's head of Ulfric's banners.
"For me to pull back some six hundred foot soldiers…it would have taken weeks, time we do not have. Rather I decided to move fast and quick to settle this matter quickly, besides these two hundred of mine are professional soldiers who can sustain a charge, nothing a horde of thralls and minions could endure", a strong argument Ralof knew, as he'd heard of what damage a cavalry charge could do against unorganised opposition when executed, but a vampire powerful enough to overthrow an entire city surely had creatures and powers at his commander that bettered two hundred bretons surely?
He asked him just that, but mindful of the two warriors behind him he was careful, "Surely the nords would have suited better though, they would surely wish to fight in defence of all of Skyrim; even if Dawnstar was not their own home", but Reynald shook his head however and rounded on Ralof just before the main gate, he told him plainly "If I had to sneak out of my own base dressed like this, then how could I have marched hundreds of soldiers back towards Skyrim without drawing the attention of those that opposed? I could not, which is why one dragonborn; a huntress; a Wayrest lancer and two hundred cavalrymen will have to settle Dawnstar and these vampires. Tell me though; just how many men do you have at your command to make you fret so?"
"Six hundred, minus those that I'll need to keep to hold the city" he answered, Reynald pulled a face and replied in confusion "Six hundred men; militia and all, Solitude holds thousands of men who didn't leave with the fourth to call for a militia. Not to mention that hasn't there always been a stock surplus of arms and armours in case of regional defence?"
"There is" Ralof answered again, knowing where Reynald was going, "but this city was almost wholehearted in its support for keeping the empire in Skyrim, which is nothing to say for their love for the high king. You can't expect me to arm them, there more likely to stab my men in their backs; more than likely now given the legion marching in the south"
Reynald shook his head as if trying to dispel a malady; his pleasant face became indignant and he said to Ralof patiently "You nords pride yourselves on loyalty and honour, yet you all on either side of this war think the other treacherous and vile. How can you hope to stand against both the empire and the dominion if you do not stand together?" the dragonborn asked him with such conviction that Ralof could see his thoughts as true if only briefly, but then he remembered the hard years of the civil war; and all the injustices that had befallen his friends and answered, "I must protect as I know best, and these nords to me are nothing like those who stood against the tyranny of the dominion; and the corruption of the empire. You cannot expect me to hold them as brothers the like of you"
"I suppose I cannot, but remember that in all battles both familiar and strange, it is better to march forward with twice your host than two parts of a whole. That will become clear before the end" Reynald replied with some disappointment, though not quite sullen, Ralof led him off into the city to beyond the assembly of men.
There he saw what Ralof saw; a collection of fighting men that looked rather like a reserve rather than any true fighting force, farmers and city guards weathered by age, Ralof knew with a hint of indignity that Reynald was a veteran legionary, he would not be impressed.
"men fit to take on an empire" the dragonborn said with a sigh, and he turned to Ralof said "While my men rest for awhile I would like to ask for compassion from the nine, would you show me the way to the temple?", "Of course" Ralof said and led the way after saying to his captains, "Prepare the men and have them ready for nightfall, let those behind know of their duties".
He dismissed his men then as did Reynald, and the two marched through the throng of soldiers who themselves were told to disperse and ready themselves for a night march, many though stayed and looked upon Reynald as he passed; as did those in the town so that Ralof could not forget what this man was to the people of Skyrim.
Galmar had once in his anger called Reynald 'a soft sworded imperial sympathizer', when the breton had allowed Rikke and her men safe passage from the ruins where they had unearthed the crown of the kings of old, but all in their wrath and not knew he was the saviour of them all. It showed as when the pair waded throught he city soldiers and citizens alike called out for his blessing; or gave theirs in returns, while the more uplifted soldiers saluted with their swords and spears, "You have the hearts of this lot" Ralof said into his ear and Reynald smiled back, "I have done them no disservice to make them hate me" he replied with an easy smile.
The two of them got away from the crowds and began to ascend the parapet which led to castle dour, all chiselled stone and hard irons that cast no doubt as to how many battles the chief fortress of Skyrim had seen, "Tell me of how Windhelm; the kings own keep has fallen, and more importantly to whom" Reynald asked after they had ascended away from the fairground, Ralof was no less forthcoming with his tales; yet no more insightful.
"I know little of what happened in Windhelm, save that it was taken while Ulfric marched south to meet Tullius and his bastard legions. Some say that it was an uprising of the dark elves in their entirety, but then others say that some company of redguards had betrayed the king's trust and rallied the elves for the imperials, others yet speak tales of nords having a hand in the foul business. No real report has been given light just yet, though it is a hammer blow regardless of those at it's heart"
The news looked to have unsettled Reynald, who couldn't fathom the treachery needed to carry out such an act, such guile was beyond the comprehension of Ralof who had dismissed the news as quickly as it had came, finding it to be true in latter days had been a decisive blow to his confidence; and all those who called themselves stormcloaks he knew, "you have much to ask of me then, to wrest Dawnstar from a host of vampires and restore Windhelm to your charges; who had lately lost it, I say it should be me having the lordship and the titles friend"
"Would you take it if I offered? To fly Ulfric's flag for him instead myself? I wonder if that would not be a better thing" Ralof said to the dragonborn's jest, but Reynald put a hand to his shoulder, and calmly told him "You are the man placed in command, for now I'm only a captain looking to aid you, we would not quarrel as some would; but instead we will settle all these threats together." Ralof agreed wholeheartedly with a smile as they passed through castle dour's courtyards towards the temple, built into the same smoothly carved stone which in all was a huge; interlocking maze of ramparts, high towers, fortified temples and palace buildings centred around the imposing mass that was the castle grounds itself.
The temple was just off the eastern side of the great bastion, and Ralof said to his companion as they entered through the strong; amber coloured doors "Did you ever think you and I would sit in these grounds together, as commander and honoured guest alike?" Reynald asked, "never did I think I would ever see this city as a safe haven friend, though we'll need to work hard to keep ourselves in these warmer cities" Reynald joked, leading into the temple that Ralof always found smelt of fresh honeycomb and fresh pine, and seemed welcoming whether it be stormcloak or citizen alike.
One amongst them came forward, a weathered looking nord named Rorlund who was the new highest priest of the divines, from a face of wrinkles and worry lines he greeted them "Divines grant you a fine day dear fellows. Have you come to make an offering to the nine?"
They both gave a half bow and Ralof said amiably "My fellow here would like to make his prayers if it be allowed, I suppose I would do well to do the same, by your leave priest of the nine", "of course, all are welcome here" , the old mad said under a lame smile and gave them leave to proceed inwards.
Both men approached the nine carvings of their worship, which stood at the end of a room at an oval high roof; which under held sombre looking stone that was carved into nine individual tear shaped shelves to house the shrines of mankind's pantheon, wild berries and dusky plants stood around the pantheon while offerings both bright and muted skirted around the edges of the effigies.
Ralof always did prefer the smaller; out of the way shrines that one could take time to make for and in that reflect, but he admitted to have all the nine in one place made his prayers work over all those who he gave his faith, and life towards upholding, and in all they included the chief diety ; Akatosh dragon god of time, Kynareth the goddess, Arkay god of the dead, Julianos god of wisdom, Mara goddess of love, Zenithar god of works, Dibella goddess of love, finally there was the emblazed sword hilt that made up that of Talos; the god or war and near sole component for the war against the dominion, it seemed like a very small thing then to have so many fall Ralof always thought.
The pair of them; now within the spectrum of the temples shrines made obeisance to the nine in all, both of them going to a knee and bowing their heads reverently. Reynald and Ralof alike spoke words to the deities in a whisper; the dragonborn to Stendarr for his vigilance against the dead, Ralof as always gave his words to the now restored shrine of Talos in the hope for strength against the coming battle, it was something that he had prayed for since his first battle amongst his stormcloak brethren.
There after a time both men relaxed and sat to prayer for awhile, and all Ralof could hear was the murmurings of priests and priestesses. After a small while though they rose up on shaken legs and could feel a wisp of magicka in the air as it swelled and became potent around them, "the divines' breath on your neck" priests of the nine would always say, Ralof could only feel that they would need it before this new battle was done.
It had not been a seamless transition from imperial province to free nord nation after all, even for him to stand in Solitude as commander and confidant of a true nord king had cost countless lives of his brothers and sisters, he could hardly have hoped that once they where liberated there country would never again suffer wars and death.
"If you wish we can have a meal in the dining rooms while your men recuperate some of their strength, discuss perhaps how we will approach Dawnstar?" Ralof proposed to Reynald who readily agreed, the dragonborn had suffered dry meats and stale bread for far too long on his journey and was keen for some fine food, but a new arrival had entered while the men had made their prayers.
The person was well known to both men; Ralof had not soon forgotten the look of his chief nuisance and Reynald was always able to remember a face, or more aptly such a pleasing face, the jarl of Solitude was of course who they had to see, and it seemed Ralof's bane was working directly to ply pleasantries with his chief ally.
The lady was there with her entourage; including three handmaidens all of whom were fair looking but veiled, a hulking bodyguard in plated armour who never left her side, another steward Ralof could remember was called Falk Firebeard, and the newest addition to her revenue; a dark elf who had taken up the position of court mage.
Ralof did not mind the three handmaidens who said nothing, nor the bodyguard who said little and seemed little interested in any politics, but her steward was a miscreant; always eager to push Ralof with his chipped comments and veiled insults, the new wizard, IImyna Hlaren was as secretive as she was cunning, already people from street criers to family heads had been seen in her company in the past few weeks, it unsettled him.
"Jarl Elisif" Ralof said neutrally with an incline of his head, meeting her halfway as the jarl finished exchanging words with the priest, "Commander Ralof" she replied; a moment before she caught sight of the person behind the stormcloak, and her eyes widened and she near pushed passed him to greet Reynald.
"My lord Reynald; I had not heard you were expected on this day, though I had heard that the commander had sent for you-but it is a fortunate thing that you are now here" the fair woman beamed, and Reynald couldn't help but smile wide and offer her a more courteous; and well meant bow, "It is a pleasure to see you well my lady, I had not thought I would have time to share a moment with you I'm afraid" he told her, but Elisif took his hand in hers and lead them both away to the front of the priests dais.
Ralof forced himself not to glare as Elisif pleaded in that sickly sweet toneof hers, "I have heard terrible things from Dawnstar, evil things tat keep me fearing for the safety of my people. I'm glad you have come here to provide some true safety that I fear is now lacking in Skyrim, and perhaps even I may be able to help you through my new friend IImyna here." Ralof heard the jab at him but ignored it, he could hardly berate the Jarl of the city in full view of her court and the priests.
From a mask of nightshade coloured skin and sea green eyes the dunmer told them "I have an old friend who in travel from Winterhold to the western holds came by a passing company; for lack of a better word, of strange men and elves alike. She reported they held no banners nor sigils yet marched as if they were a war party. There is something more terrible that that though; for within their ranks were creatures in all manner of terror, vile spiders that were giant and festering, wolves as fierce and vicious as the most feral dog, and skeletons and shambling zombies. They marched westward towards the coast; surely towards Dawnstar, and many of them she sensed were not of the living," was the report, troubling so that Ralof could not even bring himself to accuse the dunmer of holding such knowledge back; yet it was upon his mind, "What sort of number are we speaking of here?" he asked more importantly, but IImyna could only shake her head.
"She could not say completely; as some of the wolves caught her scent and chased her for a time, but she said it looked like a mustering of some many dark places and twisted minds, these wild men and elves marched in loose smatterings but she could count some hundred at least, of the creatures she could see a pack of wolves; at least a dozen of the spiders and more than a whole three dozen of skeletons and zombies alike."
"What can I make of this? An army of terror mustering around Dawnstar like a cretin upon a corpse. This is a fear as terrible as could be imagined!" Ralof miserly exclaimed, not a one there could contest his words, each one of them could not believe the report. "If all the evil is gathering towards Dawnstar for some malevolent purpose, then this is a fight that will take more than our assembled might. I believe it is time enough to consider gathering more men Ralof," said Reynald, and hard as it was the stormcloak commander could not bring himself to disagree.
The jarl noted their intent keenly it seemed, "You mean the militia of course?" she asked Ralof and he answered with a curt nod, with that Falk Firebeard came to the jarls side. Tall and fair like all nords, the steward had a head of fiery locks and wore always fine garments; rings and lockets as befitted his station, he spoke in rich tones and informed them "I have kept in constant contact with the old captain of the watch, and he often keeps checks with his men. There are enough to restore the guard to somewhere near it's old strength in time, but for now he could at least guarantee you some hundred or so men ready to defend the city if needed," Ralof paused at that, and looked twice at both the steward and jarl, "Tell me Falk, why before would you need word of the previous captain and his men?" he asked, and for a moment the steward looked troubled by his question.
"Isn't it always wise to know the dealings of allies in these dark days" he answered and Ralof looked hard at him for a long moment, "We need to stand together now more than ever Ralof" Reynald said beside him, and the jarl agreed, "You may not trust me commander, and I do not trust you, but should we not stand together to help liberate the people of Dawnstar from such a horrible foe?", Ralof could not find the refusal that he wished for then, and the news startled him more than enough for him to look on the fair lady and wonder if she truly wished to secure their people.
Then owing to his precarious position he said "If your friend tells the truth, then in all we face a mightier task that we could have imagined before. I for my part will allow you to provide these militia men for the use of Dawnstar's liberation, but first now we must settle the terms of their services"
"It is as you say commander, and for once I am keen to hear what you have to say, let us retire to my palace and speak of these things," said the lady, Ralof agreed much to Reynald's delight, all together they left the temple and started for the jarls own palace.
Though the day had came on, and the sun shown high in the sky to offer them a day resembling something like summer, Ralof could only think of how he could limit his danger this situation provided, "Empower one enemy to destroy the other" he muttered to himself, and started off towards the palace looming high in the distance.
The smell of death was near; Aela had caught wind of it since she first ascended the high hills; which were the not quite mountaintops that lay on the western flank of Dawnstar, it was from here she was to survey the city that lay below, on the edge of sea that once led to the nordic homelands of ancient times. Here nothing lay save for some remnants of a long abandoned campground, a few rocky outcroppings to protect from the chilling northern winds, and the husk of a wolf that had long died in what was an icy open grave.
Beyond the expanse of the hills; which would have been more impressive if not for the five impressive mounts that dotted Skyrim's landscape, Dawnstar lay in an open bay that once amounted to one of three vital ports between the nord nations northern trade route to the eastern High Rock and beyond, she could not quite see it however; as she lay behind a withering hut inside the ruin of the long dashed campsite.
From beyond the site came voices hoarse and skittered through the high winds, and one clearly to her honed ears shouted "find the fleshling, find the feast!", that voice belonged to one that did not mind the weather when on the hunt she suspected, and her response came with her freeing her hollowed birken-tree bow; with an arrow loose in hand.
Then up the steep incline of the hillside came five figures; bathed in furs and cloaks to protect against the howling winds that the night had brought on, but Aela looked at them through the sheen with only some small leathers and cloth covering her lithe figure; a huntress persisted in all weathers to catch her game.
As they came up to witness the camp; swords and axes alike naked in their ready hands, she pulled her arrow taut against the ancient bow she wielded and let fly an arrow, fierce enough to defy the winds and find the chest of the most forward member of the party.
Quickly she moved away with fleet footed speed to distance herself from the direction of the shot, and she looked from some twenty yards; behind another overturned hut that the man indeed lay dead with an arrow buried in his upper torso, the four around him found quickly that the arrow felled him from the flank of the camp and rushed forward.
Aela noted another arrow and with sublime skill loosed an arrow at the man to the rear of the charging four, and it caught him full in the left cheek so that he fell to the ground with a cry, the others quickly took to his side and saw that his wound came eastward of them.
"Surround that hut flank to flank, there's no survival over the cliff edge behind" one of the men; cloaked in a heavy dark cloak ordered, his two other companions rushed forward to do just that. One was near around the bend of the hut before Aela sprang fourth and with an arrow already pulled sent him to the void with an arrow that caught him clean through his gullet; numbly he clawed at his throat with blood pumping fourth from his mouth and his grievous wound.
"Die fetcher!" the other screamed, now behind the huntress and with a sword in hand, but Aela was quicker and dropped under his sword swing, and as it struck the arid ground her dirk had been removed from it's place at the small of her back to cut across his mid-section. But it seemed then that he was armoured with mail and brought his blade up to catch her in an upstroke, but the huntress easily side-stepped his stroke again and cleanly brought her wicked blade across his throat, leaving the poor man to fall down clutching with that same futility.
It had been but a second or so for the huntress to finish these two, but she only turned to finish the remaining one who looked on her from the centre of the campgrounds, she saw that he had removed his heavy cloak to show some strange robes; ashen coloured and very mage like, with a small broach on his left breast. He was a dark elf she could tell from the dark shine in his eyes, and he looked very old with a short cropped mane of hair and scarring that looked to represent his many trials in combat.
"Most impressive I must say. I think I'll enjoy seeing the fire drain from your eyes my dear" he said to her then, with a smile wide enough to let her catch sight of his fangs, in his hand was a dagger; laden with gold at the hilt and a serrated blade that screamed of being a torture weapon, Aela's own dirk felt like survival in her own.
She came forward though, into the openness of the central camp and forgot about any ideas of her bow and dealing him damage from her usual range, "Do you think you are enough to fell Aela the huntress, of those that dwell within the undying halls then foul creature?" she asked him, with more pride that insult, he began to set the pace; circling around to her left and then said to her fiendishly "I have fell beauties and beasts alike from the sands of the cats; to these lands of your fallen ancestors, your bow or your blade are no defence for you"
Aela stopped the circling then, and with a nod said "Perhaps you are right, these mere trinkets will not stop one so deadly as yourself, but perhaps I have something that will match your will." And with that Aela took her own blade and loosened her leathers, dropping off those and her cloth under in a practised fashion.
With interest the dark elf watched her reveal herself and took not a step forward or back, until she stood before him bare against his eyes, "Perhaps there is life for you yet" he said to her with an devilish grin upon his cruel face, but even crueller still was the smile upon Aela's as she said "For me yes, but not for you; wretched leech", with that she screamed in a way that was terrible and inhuman in the same sort, and from her fair skin and fiery locks came a mass of muscle and wild hair; all of it a mess as her body morphed to become a ravenous beast many times the size of even the tallest nord.
There was a mouth there too; filled with teeth to tear through armor in it's strongest or bone at it's thickest; and claws that where like dagger tips upon a five pronged blade. The vampire could not fathom that here now he would encounter a were wolf; and it availed him little to summon fire to his oft-hand while he pulled his blade with the other, for as soon as she rose the huntress turned creature of the night leapt forward; and with a ferocity unmatched dove into his flesh with her voracious hunger so that he became nothing more than flesh and bone to her.
It was the same for his lame companions also, and the one who had an arrow sticking from his face could only weep and expel at the sight of the creature tearing his once master to pieces, then she feasted on him, and then his comrades until the night then became subdued and quiet again; free of the sound of ripping flesh and the sickening pull of bones.
After the night then had passed into it's twilight, Aela finally took up her discarded clothes and made her way to the edge of the hillside, not but a drip off blood upon her as she did so, the carnage left behind her as she looked over the periphery onto the city that waited below.
There she found Dawnstar waiting; for the most part as she had always known it, a city that skirted the very edge of Skyrim on the sea front towards Atmora and the sea of ghosts. She saw that like her last visit to the city, it had not changed in at least it's build up, as on both side of the bay sat the wood and stone built districts that made up the cities housing for it's citizens still stood; tall and proud looking houses that where well afforded to keeping away the sea born chill. Also the city still held it's Jarl's longhouse upon a second level of buildings rowed along the inner of the cities half-moon like shape, around that most prominent house was also other buildings including the barracks; jail and offices of the hold and the temple of the divines in their entirety, while in front of these few buildings was a larger slope that were for the general carryings on of the city.
It included inns and taverns; smithies and fletchers along with trade houses and a large dock warehouse that stooped along into the bay, and previously all around this was a mess of a trading place filled with stalls and booths, that encompassed the city from the two rows on it's inner edge until it met the beginning of the bay; out onto the docksides planking and surrounding quay buildings.
Though it all still remained for the most; un-burnt or raided Aela could smell the changing of things, if she could not but see them clearly, for this was not a city content and prosperous; but a place that she could see was twisted and mad. Where once guards would patrol in heavy cloaks and fill themselves with warm liquors; instead there stood snarling beasts and vile spiders held by men who looked wicked themselves, unmoving and shadowy as they were.
Where forges would beat only in the daylight now came the fires of the forges throughout the night also, along with harsh voices and the beating of metals upon the many smithies that occupied one of the four quarters belonging to the cities market ground, there also from the pale moonlight she could make out hitching posts and one platform that had been turned into makeshift torture devices; as bodies now lay unmoving and festering among them.
The night also gave the city; in some parts lit up and in others in the complete darkness a look of ill omen, she could not quite remember the last time she looked upon a city so muted and unsettling. At the two approaches of the city also lay now a ramshackle of barricades. Made by carts and stakes large enough to deter a force overrunning them outright, such a thing would deter Reynald and his planned sweeping away of their defences in any case, he would have to be told before he committed to the battle.
She watched for a little while longer; looking over the city like a bird curious as to the doings of those that walked below, before resolving to make way and reach the path in which she discussed with Reynald to take. Then however there was the sounding of a ruckus below and soon from the darkened alleyways of the cities housing districts came a throng of people, destined it seemed for the western and eastern gates alike.
Some were being marched by men behind with clubs and axes, while others shuffled in front to avoid the wrath of these men, and soon all of them were marching forth from the city on both headings, despite the cries or protest and then harsh words to greet them.
Aela could not make heads or tails of it, for marching these people from the city seemed foolhardy, giving away hostages was perhaps a way to feed fewer mouths, but where would they march them? Into dykes and ditches to be butchered like unneeded cattle, it seemed unlikely given the little amount of guards in proportion to the number guarding them.
Aela resolved then that she could at least have an idea of what rested in Dawnstar; including spiders and feral wolves to compliment the few hundred men and women she had seen moving this way and that, it was now time to make way back to where she would catch Reynald upon the road. Then knowing she had to venture west she could see that it would be beneficial to discover the thought behind this new occurance.