Aight got the next bit. Im thinking about blazing through this before I work on Clone General any more just to get this out of the way, maybe today and tommorow. Also, name change as that chould be obvious as I am ARH writer now haha. Anywho enjoy Dominus's Wrath.
~Loredas, 1st of Hearthfire, Siege of Windhelm, Eastmarch, 4E 203~
Dominus stood upon a hill, watching the siege while a pair of Dov flanked him on either side as waves of Draugr fired burning and wailing rounds over the walls, lighting the houses like small fires of matchwood. The Vampire looked to his left, locking eyes with the Crimson Dragon.
"Odahviing, I have a task for you."
"Tinvaak, speak Dovahkiin."
"Fly to Riften, and assess if it has been destroyed by my forces. If it is ash, return and inform me. If it still stands, torch it to the best of your ability; I do not want to see you harmed."
"Moorus, Laughable, Dovahkiin. Their petty arrows and swords could not hope to scratch the superior hide of a Dovah."
"Of course. Paaz Ven, Odahviing."
"Paaz Ven, Dovahkiin."
And with a mighty roar that echoed to the eastern mountains, Odahviing took to the skies and made good time south, to Riften.
"Durnehviir, are you prepared to take to battle once again?"
"Geh, Qahnaarin. I see you have used my ancient strovodinok stone, and the wisdom of the Dwemer to good use; you are truly worthy of the title Konahrik."
"You flatter me, Durnehviir." Dominus mused, casting a half smile and a sidelong glance to the ancient and decaying dragon.
Age had not been kind on Durnehviir.
Once it had been easy to call him rotting, befitting his former life as a Dovah of the art of Stovodinok, Necromancy, but what skin that was not protected by the Soul Cairn had rotted away in his time on Nirn again, leading to a more skeletal appearance than of one that was undead.
"Are you ready?" The Dunmer asked.
"At your command, Qahnaarin."
A nod was all that was needed.
With a mighty roar, the undead dragon took to the skies and signaled the besieging army to rush the gates as a gout of flame broke open the doors to the ancient City of Kings. Durnehviir let out a mighty shout, and by his summons, dead spirits entered the city from the land of the dead and began to shred the defenders.
Dominus's siege towers constructed by his army from the north made use of this destruction to dock at the relatively undefended walls and allow nearly four companies of undead and hollow eyed Draugr to storm the now empty grey quarter and slay any guards found there.
However, Dominus's gaze was taken, by a distortion. A loud bellow that bent the air.
A shout.
Ulfric Stormcloak, leader and namesake of the Stormcloak Rebellion and Kingslayer of the High King of Skyrim, Torygg the First, had entered the battle with his chief commanders.
Dominus was intrigued, and with a thought, he ceased the small armies advance in the city as he rode forward into the city.
However, he was not so much a fool - or as the Nords would say, 'honorable' - to allow his forces stand stoically while they were cut down, so he ordered them to defend themselves.
If attacked, of course.
The horde of the dead parted for Dominus astride the skeletal undead horse Arvak, he approached Ulfric Stormcloak.
"You, Grey Skin tyrant! You dare stand on the ground Ysgramor once stood upon? You are not worthy to stand on the earth where he once pissed! Face me!"
Dominus's fiery eyes narrowed, but he nodded and dismounted his steed.
As he turned, he saw Ulfric rear his head; about to try to shatter the Elf-like he bellowed down the High King.
But Ulfric was fighting another speaker of the voice, not a boy-king.
Dominus spoke in the dragon tongue faster than the failed Greybeard.
"Rii-Vaaz-Zol!"
Ulfric was blasted back by the purple energy of the Soul Tear shout, coughing and spluttering, as alas he seemed too strong to be shouted down.
Dominus simply took his Cudgel and hit him across the temple, splitting the skull and killing the Jarl of Eastmarch.
With the Bear of Markarth slain, he turned his eyes to the returning form of Odahviing as his troops rounded up and slaughtered any of the remaining soldiers and imprisoning the surviving civilians.
"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin. Riften lays in ashes."
"Thank you. You are dismissed, the both of you." He said, both to the flying form of the crimson Dovah to the perched and decaying form of the Necromantic Dovah.
The City of Kings was now a graveyard, and Riften was now ash.
A shame the Argonians were now serving as Thralls, instead of settling the ashes to build a new settlement as the Dunmer of the Grey Quarter had, but they had forced his hand. The war needed to be completed.
And now, with the Stormcloaks out of the way, he could now focus on the feeble Dawnguard, and his revenge against Isran.
~Tirdas, 11th of Hearthfire, Fort Dawnguard, The Rift, 4E 203~
It had been just a few days since they had heard the news; Riften engulfed in flames, Ulfric shouted down as he shouted down the High King Torygg…
The entire Dawnguard was on edge.
None more so than Herti and her partner, assigned to guard duty at the valley mouth.
It was a great defensive and tactical move, building the fort in the secluded valley; especially as it was first intended as a prison, and what better place to put a prison but somewhere where people do not know where it is? However, as a military installation, there was a flaw.
The small cavern was the only way in, and the only way out. If the Vampires discovered them, which they probably wouldn't, then they could simple engineer a rock slide over the mouth of the cavern, and they would promptly starve, along with the small community of refugees they had amassed.
And thus, it was crucial that they had at least some guards over by the mouth of the cave.
Just the two of them. Alone. Against whatever horde was out there, led by a vengeful Vampire lord that now ruled almost all of Skyrim, through legitimate means.
She remembered when Toryrd had ridden his horse to exhaustion getting back from the meeting with the Vampire at the Elf's old home, alone.
By the Nine, a whole company of archers with good crossbows…
And his cryptic message; the gloves were off.
Suddenly, her partner heard movement and they both raised their crossbows, the metal arms bent and the bolt straining to be set free-
Only to see a rabbit crawl from the brush and scratch behind its ear with a hind leg.
"You must be getting jumpy." Herti teased her partner, who only replied with a grunt.
It was then that she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder as every nerve in her body tensed as she fell to the ground, frozen and screaming through clenched jaws at the pain. Her partner reared back in surprise, rushing forward before raising his own crossbow to return fire before he too was shot with one of the paralyzing arrows.
Her blood ran cold as she saw dozens of shadows move forward from the cave and surrounding brush and move as silent as ghosts toward the fort, while a pair of dark figures painfully adjusted their tense limbs and tied their hands behind the pack and bound their feet together with chains.
They were under attack.
And she could do nothing to warn her comrades.
aaaaand The Dawnguard fall by an assassins poisoned dart. What will Dominus do in retribution? Fair warning, next chapter is a bit graphic with scenes of torture, just saying. -A.R.H.