The Short Fight (I)

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ 8˂

When Alexander Meteuse woke, it was to a mixture of good and bad news.

"You, sir, are far more trouble than you're worth." He said to the Eye of the Falmer, flicking it and then promptly shaking his hand out. "Ow. But you said they've still got the second one?"

The twelve of them weren't really 'camped', they'd just stopped riding in an arbitrary spot when L'laarzen and Karliah had found them.

"Yes. Khajiit is sorry." L'laarzen grimaced, pacing. "And Quaranir assured us that at least one full Dragon Soul was present."

"What happened to him?" Xander asked, noticing the Psijic's absence.

"L'laarzen does not know. Nothing good."

"Crap…"

"You did good, sneak-thief." Dulurza said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Does this mean they can't absorb the Dragon?"

Xander shook his head. "I didn't teach them how to empty the gem, but that doesn't mean they won't figure it out. And the Dragon Soul they have will still help them secure the kill. This was good, but we're not out of the woods yet."

"It's a potential bargaining chip." Hjar said. "They tried to get it back, right?"

"We had to run halfway to Riften to keep away from them." Karliah answered. "If it wasn't for Shadowmere, they'd have caught us. But that was just scouting parties; the main body of the force is preparing to move."

That made everyone go still.

"They're going now?" Mirabelle said.

"Look to be. I think we forced them to speed up their schedule."

"Might mean their forces are more tired?" Hjar offered.

"So are we." Dulurza rolled her eyes, before calling "Who's excited to fight after twelve straight hours of hard riding, huh?"

She was met with a cacophony of groans.

"Oh, shut it!" Xander said, standing. "I think I made a batch of special stamina potions, right?"

"You did. My horse, left satchel." Mirabelle filled in.

"Thanks. Down one each. You're going to feel awful twenty four hours from now, but you'll be awake until then, I guarantee it." Xander stood, looking up at the Throat of the World. Dark storm clouds rumbled around the mountain's peak, blotting out the moon.

"This is it, everyone!" He called, sweeping his gaze around his allies.

L'laarzen, Karliah, Dulurza, Nazir, Babette, Cicero, Me'Daro, Margret, Hjar, Aranea, Mirabelle…and him.

Oh, crap, I've got to do a speech.

"The people we're after are about to make a huge mistake." He announced, standing as tall as he could. "Some of them are misguided, some of them are evil, some of them are just following orders, it doesn't matter. They're going to destroy the world. So we're going to stop them. And they may outnumber us more than five to one, but we're going to win anyway. You know why?"

He grinned. "Because we have the power of friendship."

…There was a slightly awkward pause.

"…And also the stupidly overpowered gear I made for you all! So check your stuff, drink your potions, and let's go. Are we ready to save the world?"

That was met with a round of cheers.

"ALRIGHT! Hjar and Dulurza are in charge, do what they say." He turned to Shadowmere, expression darkening. "I need to go have a talk with my brother."

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I stepped out onto the whalebone bridge. Spared a glance backwards, and saw Falk waving to me through the door to the Hall of Valor.

"Good luck Dragonborn!" The redhead shouted. "When you get back, tell Elisif I'm okay—"

Tsun grabbed his head and shoved him through the doorway, before slamming it shut and standing in front of it with a sigh.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled, before turning back to the bridge.

"He's cute, the one you brought in." said Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, meeting my eye and tilting her head towards the door. "Might go have a romp with him when I get back from this."

"That normal?" I asked, falling in with her as we started to cross the bridge.

"We're in Sovngarde." Gormlaith said, rolling her eyes. "That means four things: Food, fighting, friendship, and f—"

"Focus, hopefully." Feldir the Old interrupted from beside her, giving her a sharp look. "This battle will decide the fate of Nirn. Perhaps save your libido until we finish?"

"Ah, this brings back memories!" Hakon One-Eye said, apparently just ignoring the other two. I didn't know why he still had only one eye if he was in heaven, but at this point I was too afraid to ask. "Us three, fighting alongside the Dragonborn. We did get to do it once, but the bastard left before he could help us with anything important."

"You knew a Dragonborn?" I asked.

"Aye. The first Dragonborn. Pompous git called Miraak." Gormlaith grunted. "Could have helped us slay Alduin and truly end the Dragon menace, but became too enamoured with Daedric secrets and focused on growing his own knowledge and power. Bad play."

"A powerful Dragon Priest called Vahlok donned the warrior mantle of Konahrik, and defeated him." Feldir filled in. "Apparently, his body was never found."

"What are the odds that he's still alive and I'll have to kill him?" I asked, already feeling tired at the thought.

"Not zero. But let's focus on the present, shall we?"

The four of us stopped at the end of the bridge. Scant metres ahead, the mists awaited us. Ominous, dark, hungry.

"If we combine our Thu'um, we should have the strength to dismiss the Soul Snare." Hakon declared. "Alduin will be forced out of hiding to fight us. If not, we can sit here and laugh as his meals escape him."

"Clear Skies is effective." I said. "It's how I got here."

"What, our singing didn't help?" Hakon grinned across at me. "Did you hear that nice baritone harmony in there? That was me."

"Hold tight to what you believe in, warriors." Feldir said, drawing a longsword from his back. "The scrolls have foretold this day, and long after it is done, the halls of the living and the dead will ring out with out with the story of—"

"For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with." I interrupted, moving until I was just a step ahead of the trio. "On me."

But as I inhaled, there was a strange prickle of recognition and amusement in the back of my head. The interruption hadn't just been a random phrase; I hardly ever invoked the gods for anything. Where did I hear that…

"Lok, Vah Koor!"

Our combined Shout resonated through my very bones, and blasted out through the valley, clearing out almost a mile of grassland and exposing more than a few confused and terrified Men.

It was…the day of my execution. I realised. That one brave Stormcloak said it because they were giving Elven rights and he wanted a fearless Nord death. I had to stop myself from laughing at the look on the priest's face.

"Ven Muul Riik!" Echoed a guttural voice from just beyond the mountains, Alduin's voice, and the clouds pushed back towards them.

"Hah! The cowardly wyrm doesn't want to come out!" Gormlaith crowed. "Let's make him! Again!"

But my focus wasn't on the moment. Even as I repeated the Shout, I latched onto the memory of the execution, tracing it backwards.

"Lok, Vah Koor!"

"Hey, you! You're finally awake!" My eyes blearily opened, taking in the mists of early morning, the rocking of the carriage beneath me, tight ropes around my wrists, and a concerned Man's face staring across at me—

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." As we finally emerged from the forest. Sunlight fell on my face, and I saw the stone walls of a settlement coming closer—

"Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe…" As children rushed inside, the sight of a masked executioner by a chopping block making me clench my fists and pull at my restraints—

"VEN MUUL RIIK!" Alduin's Shout returned, the mists returning again.

"The World-Eater's strength is failing! Do not falter! Once more!" Hakon roared.

"Let's go. We shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." And I sighed, standing, looking around, taking into account the overwhelming Imperial presence. Watching as that poor horse-thief was feathered with arrows for trying to flee. Wondering if there was anything I could say or do to get out of this—

"Wait. You there; step forward." Then I was facing an Imperial soldier with a notebook, eyeing him with some confusion and some pity. And the soldier asked

"Who are you?"

And I answered—

It was like an explosion went off inside my head.

"LOK VAH KOOR!" This time, our shout carried all the way across the valley and into the distant mountains, wiping every trace of the Soul Snare away. The answering roar was not a Shout, but a sound of frustration, and a dark shape emerged from behind a mountain.

Alduin looked exactly as he had in Helgen and at the Throat of the World. Glowing red eyes, frayed wings, enormous draconic body covered by twisted black spikes.

"Foolish mortals!" Rumbled the World-Eater, as he flew in to challenge us. "If you are so desperate to die a second death, then I shall grant it to you!"

I just smiled, and drew my sword.

I had a name. I knew who I was. And that was a man who protected the people he cared about.

Knowing that, how could I lose?

Julius twitched, as another fist-sized chunk of ice bounced off his personal wards. Though he had yet to be touched by the elements, the storm that assaulted them was by far the worst he'd ever experienced. The wind howled like a tortured beast, the clouds above them rumbled with thunder, and the hail was damn near lethal. The worst part was that the weather had been perfectly fine for the first thousand steps of their journey up the mountain…then within minutes, transformed into this nightmare. Another characteristic boom from higher up the mountain gave him some idea as to the cause.

"JULIUS!" Beside him, having made the questionable decision to make the journey on horseback, Elenwen had to shout to be heard. Though she too had set up wards to protect her from the worst of the hail, she looked to be straining from the effort. "Our forces will not make the climb in this weather! Can't you do something?"

Four of the greatest Tongues on the planet, and you want me to just undo their work?

But, looking back, Julius could see the trail of soldiers behind them visibly struggling, most pressing themselves against the rocks on the mountain-side in a feeble attempt to gain some cover. As he watched, one unlucky Forsworn was caught up in a particularly violent gust of wind and hurled off the edge of the path.

He grit his teeth.

"I have an idea!" He called back. "But I can't promise it will work!"

So saying, he stepped out into the centre of the path. His right hand flicked a switch, and the Dwarven contraption he was holding flickered open. The Right Eye of the Falmer shone through the storm (it's receptacle was basically just a big fancy briefcase), and Julius cast the spell to tap into its power.

This was something of an experiment. He'd used it to enhance his own power many times in practise, preparing for this moment. But what he was trying now was to channel the Dragon's own knowledge. Use the connection forced by the spell to probe around its consciousness, trying to get a grasp on magics it could do intuitively but were far too complex for the mathematically constructed Elven magics to grasp.

Gods, this would be so much easier if I could just get Alex to do it—There!

Magic sparked, words that didn't make sense flowed through Julius' head and—

"Lok Vah Koor!" He Shouted, the power of a Dragon blasting out of his mouth and immediately making his throat feel like death.

But the effect was also immediate. Everyone stood nearby stumbled at the force of the sound, and all the falling hailstones were blasted away. The wind quietened. The clouds above started to fall away.

Julius repaired the damage to his throat almost unthinkingly and grimaced. And now that's Shouting I've stolen from Alex. He's going to be furious… "ALRIGHT, KEEP MOVING!" He called behind him, continuing his stride up the path and shutting the Eye's container.

That was when a screech from above made his eyes snap up to the skies again.

A small, glowing blue shape flew towards him, coming to a stop hovering in the air just ahead and almost prompting him to blast it. It was a small, ethereal dragon, and it was carrying a letter.

"Is that Xander's?" Said Octavia, rushing up next to Julius, but he had already taken the letter and opened it, scanning over its contents.

"It is." He replied. Then flicked his will and set the letter on fire.

"What in Oblivion was—"

"Take this." He held the Eye's container out towards her. "He's here. We're going with plan B. You get this to the top and deal with the Dragon, and I'll restrain Alex and bring the empty gem up. Got it?"

Octavia didn't look convinced. "Julius, if he's here, we should—"

"Octavia, today of all days, can you please just listen to me?" He grit out.

She hesitated, but took the gem. Julius nodded and turned away, briefly getting his bearings before moving to the inside of the path.

"Where are you going?" Elenwen demanded, flustered. "You're supposed to—"

"Dealing with a threat." Julius brushed past her without looking. "Octavia's in charge. Do as she says."

"But—"

"Shut up, auntie!"

Julius channelled magicka to his legs and jumped, propelling himself up to the side of the mountain. Then he stuck his feet to the stone, and started running.

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Hoofbeats clattered on uneven stones. Seven horses, panting from the exertion, charged up the seven thousand steps of the Throat of the World.

Dulurza rode at the front of the pack, eyes locked on the path ahead of her, armour thrumming.

Her blood was up, and there was a grin on her face.

Long Fight: Stop Xander's crazy big brother from sucking up a Dragon's soul and ending the world.

"Last reminder people!" Hjar shouted, from just behind Dulurza. "We need to protect Paarthurnax, and neutralise Julius, Octavia, and Cassia as threats! They're higher up the mountain than us and this path is the only safe way up, so our best bet is to hit them from behind and pincer them against the Greybeards! Remember, Julius should be out of the way, but non-lethal if you can for Oct and Cass! Everyone else, kill them, we don't care! This ends when they're all dead, broken, or running away!"

Dulurza caught sight of an orange glow around the upcoming corner, and her smile widened.

"ENEMIES AHEAD!" She called back.

Mid Fight: Defeat the ragtag army of assholes who are trying to get to the Dragon.

Xander had had his fun with his magic, Hjar had planned this whole operation, L'laarzen had got her little sneak in beforehand. But now, finally, it was time for Dulurza to do what she did best.

"Bruisers up front with me!" She shouted. "Skirmishers, pick them off when we break through, stay mobile! Mages stay back and provide fire support, be ready to block the path ahead of us if we need to retreat! And Stick Together! Use the path, don't let them surround you! WE READY?"

"AAARGH!" Was the best approximation of the noise from behind her.

"ALRIGHT THEN!" Dulurza focused forwards and unsheathed her axe, just as her horse turned the corner. Suddenly, a procession of dozens of armed people could be seen stretching along the path ahead, lit by the torches some carried. The closest few turned and saw her, letting out yelps of alarm.

And finally: Short Fight.

"FOR MALACATH AND MY FRIENDS!" Dulurza roared, and swung.

Her axe cleaved through the skull of an Orc who didn't have time to react, then she pulled it up and swung the other way, beheading someone else. Her horse clattered into a soldier who didn't move, making it rear, and she hopped to her feet in the saddle and jumped off, landing with a roar and impaling a man with the spike.

An Orc, she noticed. She was surrounded by clansmen. Literally surrounded, in fact, as five or so were directly next to her and rapidly pulling their weapons on her.

She almost laughed.

Xander's general multipurpose equipment he'd made for her months ago was excellent stuff, truly. While she'd scoffed at the idea of enchantments as a child, the buffs he'd placed on her armour were so damn useful she'd become accustomed to them, felt naked without them.

What she was wearing now…was not that. This was the result of a madman, high on his own potions, creating something that made her damn near unkillable and damn near unstoppable.

The results spoke for themselves.

Dulurza surged to her feat, swung up, and struck a man so hard that it caved in his chest and sent him flying over the heads of the next three people. Brought her axe down and killed another man. Spun, struck, and killed another. This version of her axe still had the paralysis trick, but Xander had removed the lightning to instead (somehow) make it mimic the vitality draining effects of Volendrung. And of course, it cut through Orichalcum armour like so much rotting bark.

The Orcs near her were desperately backpedalling to give her space. One was bold enough to try and attack her, which she blocked with the haft of her axe before winding up and punching him across the cheek. The armour's enhanced strength meant that the strike snapped his head around and broke his neck, killing him instantly.

Another wound up with his own axe, crying out in rage—Only for that cry to turn into a gurgle, as an arrow sprouted from his throat.

Oh, right, allies.

The rest of the disasters surged up past Dulurza, some giving battle cries of her own.

Hjar smashed in the face of one Orc and shoved him into another, disorienting him enough for L'laarzen to leap off her own horse and slit his throat on the way down.

The Dark Brotherhood gang ran by; the vampire, the jester, and the Alik'r shouting out numbers which at first sounded random, but which Dulurza quickly realised was them counting their kills. Further back, remaining on their horses, Aranea and Mirabelle were using the height of their mounts to hurl spellfire over the heads of the fighters and into the packed throng of enemies. Karliah was nowhere to be seen, but the people who occasionally just died out of nowhere were proof enough of her existence. Margret swept up next to Hjar, hurling her knife into another Orc's forehead before pressing a kiss to her lover's cheek.

Dulurza grabbed the knife in question, yanking it out and throwing it back—

("Thanks!"

"Welcome!")

Before turning forwards again and trampling another Orc into the dirt. Behind them was a face she recognised, and from his widening eyes, he recognised her too.

"Dulurza!" said (ex) Chief Yamarz, backing up in shock. "Wait, hold on a minute, I can—"

His head came off about half a second before she actually realised who he was and why he might be important.

Oops.

But she didn't have time to complain, because there was always another target in front of her, so she swung her axe up and brought it down with a roar—

Clang.

Dulurza's eyes widened a fraction, as her axe slammed down into an ebony shield but didn't budge. Huh. Nobody's been able to block a full-power strike like that since—

The shield moved, knocking her axe away, and revealing the face of the man behind it.

—Father?

Her hesitation cost her.

Chief Larak swung forwards with a mace and buried it in her gut, the strike more forceful than anything she'd received from him before. It didn't break her armour, but it did send her stumbling backwards across the cobbles, desperately regaining her footing.

"YOU?" She demanded.

"Dulurza." Larak said, his voice calm but still audible over the rising chaos. "Then at least I was not lied to about your arrival. Good."

"What in Malacath's name are YOU doing here?" Dulurza demanded, pointing her axe at him. "Where did you go?"

"You expect me to explain myself to a traitor?" Larak raised his shield into a ready position. "I think not."

"You—" He's—That's—

Dulurza wasn't sure what the last time was she'd been this bloody furious.

Around them, the battle had pushed forwards. The majority of the Orcs were either dead or fleeing down the mountainside, leaving Larak utterly out of position, but he didn't take his eyes away from hers.

"Dulurza! You good?" Hjar briefly appeared at her side.

"I'm fine." Dulurza growled. "Keep going. I've got some family matters to take care of."

Arngeir gently closed the front door to High Hrothgar behind himself, and stepped out into the wind. Though his breath came out in clouds of mist, it was not an overly cold night for the season. The moon was full and bright, and the sky was empty of clouds…despite their best efforts to the contrary.

Grandmaster Paarthurnax was right. A Dragon's soul climbs High Hrothgar this night. But it does not ride in the body of Dovah, nor Dovahkiin. What foul sorcery has been wrought..?

And by the looks of it, the soul did not travel alone. A column of shouting, torchlight, and clanking metal approached the monastery.

Arngeir stopped in the snow just in front of the steps, beside his fellow masters. He, Borri, Wulfgar, and Einarth all formed a line before High Hrothgar. There, they awaited their visitors.

"I apologise, brothers, that you were roused from your sleep by such a clamor." He said, tilting his head from side to side to stretch it out. "Had I been wiser, more observant, I might have been able to prevent this—"

There was a sharp (but small) pain in the side of his head. He glanced to the left to see that Borri had just flicked him in the temple, and was now rolling his eyes.

Arngeir chuckled. "Hah. Quite right. I should not be moping about what may have been. I think I am just practising what I must say to my old student. Ulfric is never going to let me hear the end of this."

Smiles all across the line. Einarth even chuckled briefly, making the ground beneath them shake. Ordinarily, that would be cause for a light-hearted reprimand…but now was hardly the time.

Everyone must draw a line in the snow somewhere. That's what you said, Ulfric. Perhaps the best time to draw that line was days, weeks, years ago…but the second best time is now.

Arngeir inhaled, then muttered the words "Od, Vey." About twenty metres ahead of them, a long, straight cut appeared in the snow, as though a Dragon's tale had been dragged through it. The approaching soldiers all slowed, coming to a halt just behind it. Elves, Men, mages, warriors, people of all kinds. What a tremendous display of unity behind a common goal. Such a shame that that goal is so despicable.

"We are the Greybeards of High Hrothgar!" Arngeir shouted, loudly enough to be heard by at least the first few rows. "Practitioners of the Way of the Voice! Men of peace! We have no quarrel with you! But there has been no blade drawn nor spell fired in these halls in over two thousand years, and that fact will not change tonight!"

Slowly, sadly, but with a twinge of adrenaline the likes of which he had not felt in decades, Arngeir shifted one foot forwards and raised his arms. Beside him, his fellow masters did the same.

This was the opening stance of a kata rarely practised in High Hrothgar, and only taught to those whose dedication was certain. It was designed to maintain breath, balance, and safety while Shouting in combat. The last records of days when Jurgen Windcaller was not a monk of peace, but a general of an army.

"Leave! Now!" Arngeir declared. "Or you will face the power of the Greybeards! And, more importantly…" He couldn't quite help the smile that touched his face, "You will face a bunch of old Men who've spent their whole lives learning epic powers and have finally gotten the chance to use them."

Impressively, the threat did hold the soldiers for a solid few seconds. They shifted closer, looking amongst themselves, pushing and shouting…and then one stumbled over the line.

After that, it was like a damn breaking. Dozens charged towards the monastery, roaring battle cries.

The Greybeards breathed in.

8˂

L'laarzen pushed ahead.

Dulurza had assigned her the combat title 'skirmisher', and with it, the objective to avoid getting bogged down in constant combat, slip around the outskirts of the battle, disorient enemy forces and take out high value targets.

It was…exhilarating, in a way, to have a person properly analyse her skillset and give her a job perfectly suited for it.

Picking her moment, she surged up from the snowy bank just underneath the path, slitting the back of one soldier's knees open and making them scream and fall to the ground. By the time the others had noticed, she was already moving amongst them; a whirling storm of sharp air that cut through half a dozen fighters before smashing a smoke bomb at her feet and diving onto to the snowbank that lead further up the mountain.

Ordinarily, even at night, there would be absolutely zero cover anywhere surrounding the path. Her Nightingale armour could only do so much when she was silhouetted against snow, and even the disoriented soldiers would spot her in their torchlight.

But she wasn't wearing her Nightingale armour. She was wearing the Morag Tong armour (her original suit of Morag Tong armour, from way back when) that Alexander had enchanted for her. This armour was built for combat, not for stealth, its enchantments designed to hone her speed and stamina while also applying a wicked shocking effect to her claws. But somewhere in there, he'd managed to stick active camouflage on the thing.

In this particular instance, it was a better stealth suit than Nocturnal's best, because it shifted colour to be the same white as the snow all around her.

She squinted through the goggles of her mask, looking down at the column of fighters as they tried to reorganise. The vantage point confirmed her suspicions from scouting the village earlier: The Morag Tong were here. She didn't have the time to mull on how hard it must have been to hire them, though. Just had to whittle their numbers down.

She darted down again, sliding through the snow towards a Tong member stood separate to the throng, subtle markings on their armour denoting them a field authority. L'laarzen pounced, propelling herself off a rock and towards the assassin's exposed back—

Only for their left arm to snap out, it's angle completely wrong, and grasp her about the throat, halting her fall.

"Hm?" The Tong looked up, then turned, their arm twisting from stretched impossibly behind her back to out in front of her with L'laarzen struggling in its grip. "Oh, you! Hi, L'laarzen, I didn't see you there!"

L'laarzen's eyes widened. She recognised the voice. "Mirri?"

"Yup!" Mirri Ulen reached up with her other hand and pulled her mask down, smiling. "How's it going, kitty-cat! Say, you remember how you betrayed us and then murdered the love of my life?"

L'laarzen (choking in the grasp of a hand that was stronger than it had any right to be) could not say anything to that. So she responded by reaching down, snatching a dagger from her inner thigh, and making to hurl it at Mirri's face.

Shockingly, it didn't work. The moment Mirri saw her moving, the arm catapulted her to the side. The dagger fell away from L'laarzen's hand as she flew right across the path and off the edge, vertigo hitting her as she saw Skyrim spread out ahead of her with the steep incline of the mountainside underneath. She twisted, landed on all fours in the snow, then slid down another few metres before her back cracked against a rocky outcropping.

She groaned. Then wrenched her mask off and got her feet back under her, looking upwards.

Mirri was about ten metres away and fifteen metres up, standing at the edge of the road. She spread her arms.

"Welcome to the playground, homewrecker! I only had a minute or so to set it up, so I hope you like it!"

Playground? L'laarzen looked around, but all she saw was rocks and snow.

"I'll give you the first one for free!" Mirri called down to her. "That boulder's super trapped!"

L'laarzen jumped. The rock she'd used as a springboard exploded less than a second later.

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Okay. Bets on how long I go before having to turn into a werewolf.

Hjar roared and slammed her mace into the face of someone who looked suspiciously like a Forsworn Briarheart, causing some very important things to crumple and smashing him into the stones of the path. She felt a rush of energy at the kill, and used it to charge up over his corpse, swinging at the next person in line who was…probably an Orc clansman?

Her mind was in a weird state, to be clear. The wolf inside her wanted to hunt, to kill, and the mace of Molag Bal wanted her to dominate, to slaughter, to win. She wasn't sure how common it was for two Daedric Princes to agree on anything when Alexander wasn't directly talking to them—but then, apparently not one Daedra alive wanted these Thalmor to succeed. She'd watched, in some amusement, as a Thalmor soldier summoned a Dremora to fight Margret…only for it to swing slowly and half-heartedly at her, and then wink at her when she stabbed it in the throat.

How do you piss off an entire pantheon That Much? Oh, right, threaten to destroy the world.

The effect of all this was that Hjar had basically fallen into a blood-rage the likes of which she usually only achieved while transformed—and that while the Hjar of some months ago would have collapsed in exhaustion minutes ago, she was still going and felt as though she could keep going as long as she had fresh enemies to annihilate.

Also unusual was that her brain was apparently still functioning just fine, in a distant sort of way.

She hurled the mace end-over-end to take someone in the chest and hurl him off the edge of the path (and the mountain), then drew Faolan's Whatever to block the swing of a Thalmor soldier. He grinned, maintaining pressure while charging up a spell in his other hand—

Then blanched, as her mace was suddenly inexplicably back in her hand, and she swung it up under his chin hard enough to…well. He was dead.

Need to keep momentum, take advantage of the confusion as much as we can. Hjar thought, shoving the corpse aside and charging further up the steps. If they have time to coordinate against us we're in trouble. But if we exhaust ourselves pushing uphill, we'll be too weak to keep fighting and they'll crash back on top of us. Xander said he put the stamina drain on everything that doesn't already have it (how in Oblivion he managed to bastardise a Godenchantment I have no idea) so hopefully that will keep us fighting long enough to rout them—

Something flew towards her face and she jerked to the side. Silver metal glinted in the moonlight, as a spike on the end of a chain whipped just past her ear, then recoiled.

It was caught by an Orc woman ten paces or so ahead of her.

Hjar…paused, frowning as the haze fell enough for her to recognise the face. "Urzoga?"

"What's up, werewolf?" The ex-mine boss grinned. She was…half naked, which was weird. Hjar was used to Urzoga being decked out in full steel plate, but now (somewhat ironically) she was dressed more like a Forsworn, cloth rags only covering the essentials.

It wasn't a positive change. Urzoga didn't look healthy. Her veins were bulging, and sweat gleamed on her forehead.

Hjar growled. "Oh, for the love of—why are you here?"

"Well I'd say it isn't personal, but it's absolutely personal, I'm here to kill you specifically." Urzoga gripped the spiked chain in both hands, twirling its end through the air. "Because you won't stop murdering my sodding employers."

"Stop working for assholes!" Hjar raised her mace and scowled. "How many times do I have to teach you this lesson, old woman!"

Urzoga furrowed her brows. "You think I'm old?"

Hjar just charged her.

Octavia Meteuse staggered at the BOOMS from up ahead, grimacing. Behind her, Cassia whined and clasped her hands to her ears.

The first wave of forces (the expendable ones) had encountered the Greybeards, it seemed. The fortress of High Hrothgar was some distance in front of them, but it had become obscured by a swirling localised snowstorm. Flashes of light could be seen within, accompanied by the Shouts that were loud enough to probably be causing long-term hearing damage, even at this distance.

I was planning with worst-case scenarios in mind, but Divines, those old bastards really are like mini-Dragonborns.

"WE NEED TO GET THROUGH!" Elenwen shouted from behind Octavia's ear, which would ordinarily have deserved rebuke, but here was necessary to even be heard. "YOUR BROTHER SAYS THEY GUARD THE ONLY PASS TO THE TOP!"

Does she think she's saying things I don't already know? Octavia thought, with a scowl. But it wasn't worth arguing—her focus needed to be on solutions. She looked down at the container for the Eye.

Julius knows I'm not as good at using this thing as he is. He could probably tear High Hrothgar down with the damn thing; I'll be lucky if I can stop that snowstorm. Lord knows how he Shouted with it—

"CAN WE GO AROUND?" Cassia shouted, watching as a trio of fighters were flung out through the snowstorm and sent tumbling off the cliff.

Elenwen glared at her. "I JUST SAID—"

"SHUT IT!" Octavia snapped. Cass had a point.

There may be no other safe pass. Doesn't mean I can't make one.

She opened the Eye's case. Everyone nearby stepped backwards.

Dragons fly, Octavia thought, staring up the cliffside. There's no way I'm getting a hang of that, but there are simpler ways to get a group of people up. Now, how did that one Telvani prick work his tower…

She cast the connection spell with one hand, and lashed her magicka to the gem.

Every time she tried this the power hit her like a mammoth, threatening to use the connection to overwhelm her and burst free. Half her focus went just to keep it in check, the rest to running through the matrices of the spell in her head.

She was trying to change what would usually be a permanent stable enchantment into a single-cast spell. It wasn't efficient and it wasn't pretty. It didn't need to be. She could afford to blow ten times the usual magicka cost of the spell for the duration, and the Dragon's soul wouldn't even notice.

She flexed her other arm, and runes burst to life beneath the snow just to her left. Said snow was rapidly propelled into the air, as a column of flickering blue light carried it upwards.

"EVERYONE ASSIGNED TO DRAGON SQUAD, ONTO THE GRAV LIFT!" Octavia shouted. She disconnected her hand from the Eye, and winced, shaking it out. "CASSIA!"

She turned and grasped her sister by the shoulder, leaning in. "The Greybeards cannot be allowed to pincer us against Paarthurnax, you understand?"

Cassia looked rattled. "Oct, every second this is looking like a worse idea, our rear is getting pounded, and—"

"Do you understand?"

"And you didn't even make a joke about our rear getting—"

"CASS!"

"FINE!" Cassia yanked her arm away and ran towards High Hrothgar.

Octavia sighed, turned, and hopped into the gravity lift, letting it carry her up the side of the mountain.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

Xander closed the lid on the box, and carefully positioned it on a rocky outcropping.

Certainly don't want that falling over, or a certain Khajiit will be angry with me…

He sighed, pat it's lid a few times, then stepped backwards.

The Throat of the World was a big sodding mountain. Xander was currently stood at about the height of High Hrothgar, but on the other side of the peak, where he'd found a nice plateau of mostly flat stone to rest on. A (regular) soul gem was laid in the middle of it, launching a pillar of light up into the sky that should be visible from a long way away.

It was dark, and cold, and generally miserable. But the sky was clear, and the view was excellent.

"You can come talk to me now, if you want." He said aloud. "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you for so long."

"I should hope so." Xander turned to see Azura standing in the snow behind him, arms crossed. "A yes or no is one thing, but it is quite rude to leave a lady hanging for an entire day."

"Well, possession's a big thing to think about. I wouldn't want to give you a premature answer." He said, smiling.

"But you were perfectly fine chatting to Meridia about it."

"Azura, are you jealous?"

"No." Azura said, huffing and turning away.

Xander tried not to laugh. And who said gods are difficult to deal with?

After a moment, Azura looked back at him, expression hesitant. "Your brother's coming, you know."

"That was the plan." Xander nodded. "Fancy telling me if he's going to win?"

"The Dovahkiin engaged Alduin three minutes ago." Azura replied, making his eyes go wide. "We've hit the blind spot. I have no idea what's going to happen, and will continue to have no idea until after the battle concludes."

"Bummer. Still, freeing, in its own way…" Xander took a deep breath of mountain air, then let it out. "I can't let you take control of my body for this, Azura. I'm sorry."

"Very well." Azura said.

Xander waited.

It took about seven seconds for her to blurt out "But why? Say the words and you can win instantly!"

"But it won't mean anything." Xander countered, smiling wryly. "I'm opposing Julius because I believe he's wrong. This is the first time, perhaps ever, that I'm actually standing up to him. I need to prove I can match him. It won't count if I'm hiding behind you while you beat his ass for me."

"And what on Mundus does fighting ability have to do with philosophical debate? Why are you risking the entire plane by making this a fair fight?" Azura demanded, striding closer to him. "This is so stupid!"

"Well, I never claimed I wasn't stupid, and I also never claimed I would fight fair." Xander chuckled. "Besides, my friends are gonna take care of saving the world. This is personal."

"…I simply cannot understand you, Alexander Meteuse." Azura reached out, put a hand on his cheek. "Maybe that's why I like you so much. Don't you dare die here, understand me?"

She faded out of existence, slowly, and in doing so revealed the figure stepping around the curve of the mountain some distance away.

Julius Meteuse looked…pretty damn badass, actually. His fancy cloak was whipping about in the wind, and he stepped along the top of the snow like it wasn't loose and two feet deep. It was hard to make out his features from that distance, but his gaze did snap to Xander (and the box behind him) the moment he came into view.

Xander cupped his mouth and called out to him. "Hey there, Julius! You didn't tell me the Thalmor were making you custom threads! That cloak looks awesome!"

"Yeah, it's one of the perks of the evil apocalypse cult!" Julius called back, quickly covering the distance between them. "You join now, you can still get one before the world ends!"

"I'll pass, thanks!" Xander said. "Still, thanks for coming all the way out here!"

"Well, you robbed me, so it was the least I could do." Julius stepped onto the plateau. His gaze shifted behind Xander, to the box sat on the outcropping. "Is that the Eye?"

"Yep." Xander stepped in front of it. "I had to get you out here somehow, didn't I?"

"You needn't have bothered. I was planning on dealing with you personally anyhow." Julius shrugged. "Still, I appreciate it. I'm sure if you wanted to hide it from me, finding it would have been a real pain in the ass…I assume your friends are down there fighting my army?"

"Yyyyyep. That a problem?"

"Nah, it's fine. Just means I have to be quick." Julius hissed in a breath. "Why are we doing this, huh? Since you left such a hurry, I didn't have a chance to check why exactly you weren't down with the plan."

"I'll be honest, in the moment, I was just panicking." Xander admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "There wasn't much thought going into it. I realised my friends were in danger and I reacted. Sorry, it was a bit excessive."

"Understandable." Julius nodded. "And now?"

"I just don't think that what you plan to do is the right call." Xander said. "What you're offering, immortality in the goop, it…it's not any kind of life I'd want to live. No way to change, no way to grow…it would be a half-life."

"And you're fine making that decision for the entire world?" Julius asked.

"You're about to do the exact same thing, so that's not a valid argument."

"Point. But there's a lot of nuance you're missing here. Are you sure we can't sit down and talk about it?"

"Oh I'd love to. Cos my team's winning over there." Xander smiled. "I don't even have to win! I just have to delay until the Dragonborn gets back, and then he can kick your ass."

"You're being remarkably childish, and remarkably stubborn." Julius said, his voice turning cold. "Alex, be smart about this."

"You're trying to end the world; the disappointed big brother act doesn't work anymore." Xander sighed. "You might be right, Julius. And when this is over, we're going to talk about it, and you'll get your chance to convince me that you're right, and if you do then I'll apologise and help you. But tearing the Towers down isn't something that we can take back. I will not be rushed into it."

"And you're aware that everyone who dies between now and then will be on your head?"

"I can live with that. Once I'm a god I can bring them all back anyway."

"And knowing how long I've spent thinking about this, if I ask you to trust me—"

"I don't." Xander's heart was heavy, as he said it. "Not about this. Not anymore."

The wind whipped around the plateaux, blowing snow into the air. Julius narrowed his eyes.

"Then we are at an impasse."

And so it begins.

...I'm so excited guys I've been planning these fights for a long time.

IT'S 1V1 TIME! The core Disasters facing off against blasts from their pasts while everyone else tries to deal with an army and the other Meteuse siblings 2v5 the Greybeards. Or like 40v5, but lets be real, fodder characters never get anything done.

Also three cheers for the Dragonborn finally learning his name. Can you imagine I said he learned it and then never told you all what it is? That would be really funny. Anyway-

Next Time: Fite