4E, 202, 12th of Sun's Dawn
"Galba, see to it that the new weapons get into position, I want the outer wall crumbling by the time we assault the city," Imperius said, Galba saluting and taking off on his horse towards the siege engines.
They were a marvel of engineering, with a huge weight on one end, providing the power to fling forth huge stones, or ceramic jars of tar if need be at a larger range than regular catapults, making them deadly weapons in the right hands. The great siege engines creaked and groaned as they were moved into position, the wooden wheels turning on steel axles. The legion stood in formation behind the great weapons of war, poised and ready for battle. Before the crumbling walls of the trade city stood a mighty host of eight thousand hammerfell warriors, clad in their lamellar and mail armor, the steel glinting in the midday sun. Before the host defending Whiterun, atop a white steed, sat Harold Hardradda, smirking behind his helmet visor.
The host of men and beasts scared the living daylights out of him of course, but he wasn't worried though, he just hoped that this Imperius he has heard about was a reasonable man and would listen to what he had to say. He was in no way possible going to fight the army before him. He would be crushed before his soldiers' skill could make any difference, despite them being veteran Hammerfell warriors. He turned towards the city and spotted the Jarl he was hired by and scoffed at the pure, visible terror radiating from the nord. He turned back towards the incoming army and, with a pure white flag resting in his right hand, rode out to meet with the commander.
Imperius looked upon the city, taking note of the wooden buildings, and the lack of a military presence within the city, excluding the host before the walls, which numbered around eight thousand in total if he was certain. His host outnumbered the one before the walls by at least four thousand men, with two thousand centaurs on the wings, two thousand extra legionnaires, bringing his men up to a total of twelve thousand, and three dragons including Mirmulnir, providing raw, destructive power if need be. He was almost certain that he wouldn't need them though, for his new weapons should turn the tide of a battle in their favor, and speed up the process of a siege once they dealt with the host before the walls. However, one can never be too careful, and perhaps they could be used as a terror weapon, to frighten the enemy into giving up before meeting his men in battle. Yes, that is what he will use the dragons for in the siege, forces of pure power and intimidation.
He saw a single rider riding a distance before the walls, bearing a white flag. He mounted a horse and with Galba and Valian, rode out to meet the leader of the host.
Jarl Balgruff stood on one of the crumbling walls of his city over the main gate, surveying the vast army at his gates with a terrified look, beads of sweat dripping off of his chin like rain in a storm, forming a fairly large damp spot in the wood he was standing on. He hoped to the divines that this mercenary was worth the enormous amount of coin he paid him. He nearly emptied the treasury just to pay his fee, much less the food for such an army. He saw Harold ride out to the enemy force, and three riders coming to meet him.
'Good, maybe he'll talk some sense into that insane rebel, I only hope he knows what he is doing,' he thought.
Imperius studied the commander of the army before the walls of Whiterun, and could tell right away he was a nord from the long, flowing blonde hair sticking out of the rear of his helmet, which had the influence of the hammerfel warriors. He wore mail and lamellar armor, complete with a round shield with a single boss spike smack in the middle, with swirling patterns of steel coiling towards the spike, complete with a scimitar on his belt. He rode a hammerfel breed of horse, the long legs and arched neck glinting in the sun thanks to its white coat. The two commanders stopped a few feet from each other, both studying their adversary.
"I am Harold Hardradda, commander of the mighty host you see before you. Now before you say anything, I have not come to fight, merely to wish you well on the siege ahead," he said, smirking at the perturbed expression on Imperius's face, which quickly morphed into a smirk as well, realizing what the mercenary was talking about.
The two nodded to each other, and rode off to their respective armies, the hammerfell warriors marching southwest to their home province to celebrate the coin they had swindled. Meanwhile upon the walls, Jarl Balgruff was in shock. His eyes bulged, staring at the traitorous mercenary riding atop his horse, seething with rage and panic. His worst fears have been realized. He had been tricked, and now, he was practically defenseless. He should have known that with these types of men, their loyalty was never certain, but divines it had seemed genuine at the time. Maybe he was just so desperate for a miracle, that the mere sight of one arriving at his gates pushed away all thoughts of betrayal. And now, he was paying for it, dearly.
'That traitorous wretch! If I survive this, I will have his head on my wall!' he thought.
A scream of outrage and terror sounded from the walls, making Harold smile, while it heightened Imperius's disgust for the man.
'He should face his death with some honor, not screaming like a coward,' he thought.
He masked his disgust and morphed his face into one of indifference. He gave the signal for the siege to commence once the army of mercenaries have left the area. He could make out the faint, fleeting figure of the nordic jarl being escorted by his guards back to Dragonsreach, lining the defenses with whatever men could wield a sword. He pitied the men who were on the walls, haggardly dressed in scale armor, the tunic embossed with the sigil of Whiterun, the helmets barely fitting some of the young boys on the walls. He truly pitied them, but now was not a time for pity. This Jarl must pay for standing against the Imperium. To deny his ascension to power was intolerable. He paused at that unbidden thought, confused as to where it had come from, a look of discomfort grew upon his face. Intolerable? What? The thought felt out of place. He didn't seek power just for its own sake, but to make the world better. So why did he feel the need to exert his power over this impetuous Jarl? It confused, and somewhat frightened him. He resolved to delve into it at a later date. For now, the siege demanded his full attention.
The trebuchet were rolled into position, the men manning the weapons pulling on a mechanism, pulling back the counterweight and loading a large stone in the sling, letting the projectile fly when Imperius signaled for the attack to begin. A volley of stones flew through the air, whistling as they came ever closer to their target, the guards on the walls crying out as the stones hit, smashing through the weak stone structure with ease, loose rock crushing those unfortunate to have fallen to the ground, pools of blood flowed from under the rock.
Imperius mounted Mirmulnir, and led the dragons on a strafing run, burning swaths of buildings and guards in their ferocious assault, with Krilkahjot freezing men where they stood, entombing them in an icy grave. The men manning the inner walls flew into a blind panic at the sight of three dragons laying waste to their city and comrades, fleeing their positions and running every which way, groups of guards turned to scorched skeletons and piles of ash when streams of dragonfire washed over them. He blew a horn attached to his belt, and the legion marched into the gap in the wall, a formation of shields blocking any deadly projectile from killing one of their own. Once they breached the walls, they sprinted to the battlements, cutting down small detachments of Whiterun guards sent to stop their assault or at the very least buy time for the rest of the defenders to shore up the inner defenses.
Galba led the charge, slicing and stabbing his way through the guards stationed on the walls, ordering the signifer to signal to Imperius to let him know that the assault was gaining ground. He then yelled a war cry and urged his men onward to meet the counter attack staged by those that were left on the outer defenses. Shields splintered into fragmented pieces as weapons made contact, swords clashed against armor, and blood soaked the dirt under their feet. Imperius raised his sword in affirmation and flew from the outer walls to the inner walls, the dragons burning or terrifying any resistance. He landed Mirmulnir on top of Jorrvaskr and told him to continue the assault, and to send some dragons to the outer wall to aid the legion. The dragon nodded and roared as he took off, grabbing some nearby guards with his talons, and tossing them into the air, their bodies making a sickening crunch when they hit the ground.
He began to make his way to the keep, noticing an arrow flying towards him out of the corner of his eye, dodging at the last second. He barely had time to recover, for he dodged a swing from a great sword and blocked another strike from a second blade, pushing his attacker away. He backed up from his assailants and recognized them immediately, the companions. The warriors for hire were arrayed in a line at the front of the mead hall, their skyforge steel glinting in the afternoon sun, casting shadows onto the ground.
He scowled. The companions of his timeline were half rate warriors, taking on contracts of intimidating influential people, and killing the unlucky thief who got caught, never taking on bandit lairs, that was always assigned to him before he became harbinger. But this timeline was different from his, he changed too many things for it to stay the same, he didn't know whether or not these were great warriors, or the bumbling drunks of his time.
One eager recruit shouted a battle cry and rushed him, sword lifted high in the air, shield held in front. He dodged the strikes with speed, outpacing his opponent, ducking and leaping from the deadly blows. This frustrated the new blood, eager to prove himself before his superiors, making him strike with heavier, more vicious swings of his sword, unbalancing himself willingly for the sake of power and blood lust.
Imperius saw this, and took full advantage of this, and parried a strike, pushing the companion off with a mighty shove, sending the warrior stumbling. He rushed his combatant, felling blow after blow on his defense, gaining nicks and small cuts on the companion, who was fumbling with his attempts at defense. Their blades clashed for minutes, sparks flying from the steel on steel contact, neither giving ground, shield bashing against shield.
Imperius ducked under a wide swing and head butted the helm less warrior, his nose shattering on contact with Imperius's plumed helmet, blood gushing down his face. He cried out in pain and closed his eyes, giving Imperius the advantage he needs, running around his foe and striking the back of the companion's knees, stabbing him through the back and kicking him off his blade.
The rest of the companions rushed forwards, eager to avenge their fallen comrade, and to wet their blades with his blood. He dodged a cut aiming for his stomach, parried another aiming for his head. He stabbed Farkas in the thigh when the man missed with a heavy swing of his two handed sword, making the man stumble back, and blocked a strike from his brother intended to cut his throat. He pushed the blade away and engaged the Companion, sending lightning fast strikes aiming for the chinks in the warrior's plate armor, his attacks blocked by the skillful defense of Vilkas. The Companion sidestepped a thrust and swiped at Imperius' chest, the sword scraping against the segmented chest piece, leaving him open, and Imperius took full advantage. He broke Vilkas's nose with a strike from his shield and stabbed the younger brother in the chest, piercing his steel armor. Farkas roared with rage, and stumbled towards him, his great sword raised high. Imperius dodged an arrow fired from the huntress and sidestepped Farkas's heavy strike, taking the man's head with an upward slash, the body slumping to the ground moments later.
Aela the Huntress loosed arrow after arrow at her target, but at the last second he dodged them with incredible speed. She saw him make short work of two of the most skilled swordsmen in the companions without breaking a sweat, and was striking at the defenses of Rika, the second new blood that joined them a few weeks prior.
When Jarl Balgruff came into their mead hall, borderline begging for their help against a belligerent would be conqueror, she knew that something was coming to destroy their city. She didn't expect that their doom would come in the form of an imperial, but when she saw him riding a dragon, and the army at the gates of Whiterun itself, her doubts about his capabilities vanished.
Imperius thrust his sword forwards, surprised to see that his blade met air, quickly ducking under a swift horizontal strike from the companion's war hammer. He sidestepped a mighty downward swing, the metal hammer digging into the stone beneath them, and quickly sliced her arm, sending her backing away from her weapon. He grabbed the hammer, and threw it towards Skjor, the war hammer flipping end over end towards its destination.
The old warrior never saw it coming, only knowing what happened when he felt a sharp pain bloom in his chest, looking down to see a steel war hammer buried in his wolf armor, blood leaking out of the cracks and shattered bits of his chest plate. He slumped to the ground in front of Jorvaskr, sharing a loving look with Aela, before falling onto his back, life draining from his eyes.
Imperius felt a force shove him forward, and he turned to find out it was the new blood, blood streaming down her arm. He then noticed that there was a dagger in his shoulder plates, wedged in deep. He pulled the dagger from his shoulder plate, and flung it at the companion, lodging the blade in her shoulder, making the warrior cry out in pain, tumbling to the ground near the statue of Talos. Deciding that his current adversary was neutralized, he turned to Aela, who was staring at the still form of Skjor, tears running unabashed down her face, the look of grief quickly turning to rage when she noticed him out of the corner of her eye.
She screamed like a banshee, throwing her bow away in exchange for a small dagger, and rushed towards him, her eyes screaming that his blood be spilt. She slashed at his chest, aiming for the chinks in his breastplate. Imperius dodged the swift blows, striking when he could, but never even getting close to hitting her. This continued for some time, with Imperius ducking, dipping, and sidestepping the vicious blows, while Aela became more enraged at the fact that she has yet to land a hit on her lover's killer.
Then, she stopped. Her heavy, labored breathing began to change to something akin to panting, like a dog. Then she doubled over, her arms growing longer and longer at an alarming rate. Imperius was a little shocked, confused at this sudden change, before dread began to rear its head. He had forgotten about the council members being of wolf blood. He had killed the two brothers and Skjor with such speed that he had thought that maybe in this timeline they weren't werewolves. Sadly, he would come to regret not considering it. Aela was finishing her transformation, the dark fur covering her body, and with a terror inducing howl, she finished. Her body was still sleek and thin like her human form, but the werewolf form had much more muscle and towered over most people. Her features resembled her human form as well, but only slightly, the red beady eyes glaring at him, her jaws filled to the brim with hellishly jagged teeth. A rage induced roar barreled out of the werewolf, and with a mighty leap, she attacked Imperius.
He barely had enough time to raise his shield to block the incoming strike before the werewolf's claws made contact, and he was sent stumbling back from the force of the blow, his shield missing a part of itself at the top right corner. He attempted to strike at the companion turned werewolf, but the beast outpaced him in terms of speed and agility. He couldn't land a hit, and as he came to realize his mistake, Aela went back on the offensive. Rapid strikes struck his armor and shield, the laminated steel plates barely holding back the deadly claws from ripping open his chest and stomach, the shield not faring any better. He could hardly keep pace with her attacks, he would block one then be struck by another, only to try and block a strike and be faked out and struck with another blow.
He couldn't take much more. His armor was being literally torn apart, and his shield was close to shattering. He had to make a move. As Aela began to strike at him once again, he made his move. As her left arm swung towards him like an over sized warhammer with blades, he ducked under the blow and rushed the werewolf's guard, stabbing the beast's shoulder. Unfortunately that didn't kill the werewolf, and he paid for it when Aela turned her head and bit down on his arm, shaking from side to side, nearly mangling his arm. Imperius shouted in pain and bashed the werewolf's face with his shield, making the beast relinquish his arm, stunning it. He wasted no time in cutting its throat, its life blood spurting onto the ground, the beast clutching at the wound, trying in vain to stem the bleeding, but it was no use and it fell to the ground a few moments later and went limp.
The other companions stared at the corpse in shock. Shocked that, for one, their leader was a werewolf, and shocked that their best warriors were taken out by this one man. Imperius quickly disposed of the rest of the companions with some difficulty due to his injured arm. Then, he remembered that he forgot one, and turned to finish off the companion.
He took one glance at the companion he wounded from earlier, and he was frozen. She was a light brown, the sun glinting off of her smooth skin, her hair an onyx black, waving in the wind. Her face was perfect, subtle cheek bones, full lips, and the most beautiful thing he ever saw, her sparkling blue eyes. Oh divines they were perfect, sparkling like the sea underneath the light of the sun, he felt like he could gaze into those eyes forever. Then her eyes suddenly hardened, staring right back into his chocolate brown eyes.
Imperius was brought from his reverie when a dragon roared, followed by the sound of fire and screams, reminding him what he was here for. He turned from the beautiful companion and rushed towards the keep.
On the way up the steps he ran into some Whiterun guards, stationed at the bridge and the gigantic doors that barred his way. He made short work of them, no lowly hold guard could match his skills with a blade, even if he was injured, and pushed open the doors, finding a group of about twenty more guards at the fire pit, the long tables overturned, silverware scattered around the room. Jarl Balgruff stood on his throne, a wild crazed look in his eye. A guard moved closer to the Jarl, and was cut down by the man he was protecting, the body was paid no mind. Imperius was a master of the sword, but twenty armed and armored men was a bit too much for him to handle, especially with his injury.
He considered charging head first anyways, the battle needed to end quickly, but whipped his head around to see a group of ten legionaries and Galba running into the room, their eyes focused on the guards. Galba nodded to Imperius, and barked some commands to the ten legionaries, the men forming a shield wall, with Galba in the center. They rushed as one unit and met the guards in combat, providing the necessary distraction Imperius needed. He rushed past the fight, lobbing off one head of a Whiterun guard to help his men, and made a beeline straight to the Jarl, who widened his bloodshot eyes in surprise, which quickly morphed into a hard glare.
The two combatants met each other halfway, their steel creating sparks with the force behind the strikes. Imperius smashed the butt of his gladius into the jarl's face and kicked him in the gut, making the man hunch over and hurl up the tankards of mead he apparently had before he showed up. He kneed the man's face, shattering his nose and making his head snap back, flying dangerously close to the fire pit, standing up on wobbly feet. Imperius rushed the Jarl, pushing him back to his throne, kicking the man into the chair and knocking away the sword. He pointed the tip of the blade at the nord's neck, and Balgruff lost his composer, begging and pleading for his life with tears streaming down his face.
"Please let me live! I will give you my lands, my gold, my title. Anything, just spare me please!" he shouted, groveling before Imperius's feet. Imperius' faced morphed into one of disgust, an kicked the man's face, sending him back into one of the chair legs.
Valian and Galba finally arrived, and he discussed what to do with the broken Jarl, all the while Balgruff wailed and cried. They reached a consensus and walked to where the jarl was sitting, with Imperius to pass the verdict.
"Jarl Balgruff, on the charges of killing soldiers of the Imperium, threatening to slaughter its citizens, and for taxing your people to death, stripping them of their wealth and food to feed your greed, we have decided to turn you to the judgement of your people. They deserve to see the man who makes them suffer endure a punishment of their own making."
When those words registered in the drunk and distraught jarl's mind, he flew into a panic. He knew what his people would do to him now that they were no longer under his control, and he was only in power because of his nobles, and they had fled long before the siege even began. He was alone, and the people would grant him no mercy. He decided that he wouldn't meet this fate, grabbing a sword from the guard he killed and thrusting it towards Imperius, who sidestepped the blow and caught his arm. He wrenched the sword from his hands and broke the man's arm, the jarl shouting for him to end it now, quickly pushing the jarl back and stabbing the man in the chest, silencing the cries for death, granting the man his wish, despite wanting to see the people get their retribution. The jarl slumped off the blade onto his knees, and looked around at his hall.
The twenty guards who had sworn their life to protect him lay dead, a huge pool of blood forming around their bodies. He saw flames dancing on the wooden pillars, quickly engulfing the rest of his former home. He turned to where Imperius was, but found the general to be gone, being followed by his lieutenants out the big oak doors, which were quickly engulfed in flames. He fell forward onto the floor, blacking out on contact, never to wake up again.