Chapter 10

At the ruins of Ald Sotha, an incredible battle had commenced. It was the scrib versus the combined forces of the Ordinators, the Bouyant Armingers, the Imperial Legion, and House Redoran (Telvanni and Hlaalu weren't much for fighting, more concerned with money and their own internal politics than the fate of the Universe). Everywhere there were severed limbs and heads, squished scrib, there was even the occassional trampled merchant who had been killed trying to collect scrib jelly and jerky. No one thought it too strange that the sun had somehow mysteriously set at two o'clock in the afternoon, they simply cast a lot of light and night eye spells. The scrib didn't notice at all because they had no eyes. Divayth Fyr noticed nothing as well, but that was because he was dead. No one had actually tested the limitations of the games processing power, but were nontheless surprised that it could manage thousands of soldiers and possibly millions of ravaging scrib, but the battle music skipped some and the animation was a little jerky, which led some people to accidently stab each other in the face sometimes.

It seemed as though no matter how many scrib were slaughtered, there was no end to them. They kept pouring over the horizon or marching up from the sea. Poison spells worked fairly well, as it happened. Consequently the wind would end up carrying it to a lot of other people and killing them as well, but at least the poison tipped arrows would be less deadly in that respect. Then again, you could only kill one at a time like that and they were very small and hard to hit anyways so you were better off just using regular arrows, darts, or bolts. Some people weren't happy with just that though, as there were some guys running around with warhammers, batting them out of the air with wide swinging archs and actually breaking the ground some when they'd bring it down on them with all their might. Showoffs...served them right whenever they got their hands full and were eventually overrun, devoured alive and screaming. They'd get swarmed over, scribs covering their whole body and leaving nothing but stripped skeletons and weapons behind when the scribs finally got off them. For some reason, the skeleton archers and warriors, though incredibly underpowered compared to your average human, seemed to be doing the best, probably because the scrib couldn't eat them. Atronachs would probably have sufficed, but as I said these were no Telvanni wizards, and the best any Imperial Battlemage could do was a Daedroth, which got served up as alligator soup.

What made matters even worse was when REAL Deadra came up to see what all the commotion was about, only to discover a bunch of humans and elves fighting little insects and using their brothers for their own twisted desire. Always one to root for the underdog, the Deadra joined with the scrib in annhialating everything. This wasn't to say that the scrib felt the same way, a meal was a meal, but they'd usually stop whenever a Dremora or Atronach would turn to salt or ash. Needless to say, the fact that real Deadra were now fighting only served to confuse the humans and elves, so eventually they either stopped summoning their own or continue killing every Deadra they saw like they'd been doing since before any real ones had even shown up. The battle could have gone either way until everyone expended their magicka and couldn't cast anymore night eye or light spells, which was when pretty much everyone except the few Khajiit that were fighting died. Of course, the Khajiit couldn't very well fight off the hundreds of thousands of remaining scrib by their lonesome, so they just ran away, but then realized that they were on an island surrounded by water, which they hate, and the scrib had eaten their boats, which was how they'd gotten their in the first place. Some them ran inside of the ruin, where the Deadra had also filed into, and were killed, and the last five or so huddled together on the waters edge, hoping against all hope that scribs didn't eat pussy. When all was done and over with, the scrib took their Queen and carried her off into the persistenly long night towards Vivec.

Meanwhile Ndugu was still on his way over there himself, but was constently interrupted by his instinct to annoy the piss out of everyone who wandered within a mile of him. Somehow he'd gotten lucky and avoided getting himself killed, weak as cliffracers are it wouldn't take much, but he eventually made it to Vivec about 14 hours after he left Tel Fyr, what would normally have taken about 20 minutes, tops. As he approached the city he saw that most of it had been destroyed, all of the unsuspecting townsfolk eaten from their beds. You'd think they'd wake up when their door was broken down, or by the sound of screaming people and burning buildings, or perhaps that they shouldn't have been sleeping at all because it had been night for well over 12 hours by now and that's plenty of sleep for anyone, but the scrib took no prisoners. They'd just finished with the temple compound and were on their way up the steps to Vivec's Palace when a cliffracer landed neatly in front of them. At that same time the sun rose and the cliffracer transformed into Ndugu. The scrib swarm stopped in unison and Ndugu looked down and smiled darkly at them, his Deadric armor gleaming dully in the morning sun, as if most of the light had been absorbed into the black void that was his armor. Never taking his eyes off the scrib or his strange smile off his face, Ndugu cocked his head to the right and cracked some of his neck bones. The grip he had on his Creasant Blade tightened slightly and he jumped at the scrib, charging full force!

"LET'S DANCE!" he yelled as he laughed maniacally and plummeted into the frontlines.

Wow, only one line of dialogue? It's starting to become a bit more action oriented eh?