*DAWNGUARD ARMY ENCAMPMENT*
THE REACH
SKYRIM

The drums in the underbrush were the first indication any of the gathered Dawnguard had that the Vodahmin were anywhere in the vicinity. The dull thuds reverberated in the near pitch-black darkness of the early morning, being felt deep in the chests of all present.

"Form ranks!" Isran roared, snatching up the warhammer. "Get moving, you slobs!"

Frantic hands secured armor around shoulders and great helms on their heads. Then they sprinted for the earth-and-wooden ramparts they had erected around the camp.

"Durak, you and Ingjard take command at the gate. Sorine, Celann," Isran rattled off. "Archers to the towers."

Wooden towers had been arranged every thirty yards, giving their archers a commanding view of the cleared land all around them. Likewise, mages sent forward multiple orbs of Magelight, illuminating the field around them in all directions. Isran clenched his fists, eyes scanning the distant tree line, shrouded in the darkness.

"Come on, you blood-sucking shit-stacks," he growled. "Come on!"

Tala looked down from her vantage point, surveying the impressive structure that had been constructed in a matter of days. The lights floating around it resembled nothing so much as fireflies surrounding a bristling hedgehog.

"Oh Isran," she chuckled, shaking her head, "always building forts wherever you go."

She turned back towards the group of figures standing just behind her.

"Order the first wave to begin."

The massive Minotaur grunted and pulled an axe free from his back.

"And Belhar?"

He paused, turning back inquisitively.

"I have no interest in prisoners today," Potema rasped. "Pass the word: kill them all."

The Minotaur and the group of bodyguards chuckled dangerously at the order.

"Borkul?"

"We have everything ready, my Queen," the Beast nodded. "Movarth, Vighar, and Lady Valerica are in position."

"Very good," Tala nodded. "Move your phalanx forward to support. Remember: wait for them to come to us."

The orc's reply was lost in the crashing of underbrush, as well as a trumpeting call. Six mammoths crashed into the clearing, roaring their displeasure at the world. Rather than charging forward, however, they moved right, beginning a circular path around the fort. Then the wooden ballistae on the top platforms rotated left, bringing their weapons to bay. Six projectiles flew through the air, the ceramic jars smashing against the wooden, and blue flames exploded out in all directions.

The Rieklings who manned the ballista cheered at the pyrotechnic sight, chittering in delight at one another. Illuminated as the fort was by their own mages' spells, it made for an easy target for their gun crews, while the mammoths, large as they were, were still shrouded by the dark of the early morning.

"Big boom-boom!" crowed Chief Hexahedra. "Winding-winder gin!"

Tiny hands turned the crank, the multiple gears working to reload the giant weapon. Two, three, four volleys fired, the massive creatures well out of range of anything in the fort. Suddenly the double-gate of the wooden fort opened, and dark figures began running forward.

Gunmar's trained trolls went forward, roaring their challenge. The mostly-dumb beasts were armored from head-to-toe, making the ordinarily-formidable creatures that much deadlier.

"Clever little bastards," Tala shook her head, and leaned back to give an order. "Send in Maddrad and his sons."

Three giants exited the woods at the same location as the mammoths. Rather than the stone clubs that their kind usually carried, these three bent back bows, aiming for the armored figures lurching forward. Six-foot-long arrows plied the air, and the giants were expert hunters. The arrows pinned the trolls in place, writhing like bugs on a corkboard.

"Isran!" Gunmar winced as a giant's arrow whizzed by the heads of those on the battlements. "We need to do something! Now!"

Isran gritted his teeth, and then nodded in answer.

"ON ME!" he called out, plucking up a broad circular shield. "SHIELD WALL!"

The Dawnguard formed ranks around their leader, each of their shields covering their neighbor from thigh to neck. With iron-plated brigandines and heavy helms, this gave their ranks a heavy momentum for the charge.

At Isran's command, massive wooden gates swung open, and several columns of the heavily-armored figures moved out towards the tree line. Volleys of arrows whined through the just-breaking dawn light. Those behind the first rank threw their shields over the rank in front, mimicking the famous testudo of the Imperial Legion. As if in answer, dark columns of troops moved to meet them, broad shields upraised. These were clad in the spiked, blood-red armor of the Bloodlet Throne Clan, the household troops of Vighar Under-lord.

"Here's something for your pikemen, Bitch-queen," Isran muttered. "Wholly together now… Shoot!"

The first rank of Dawnguard knelt, and the crossbowmen behind leveled their weapons. The short stubby weapons twanged, sending barbed death forward; the Dawnguard's lever-action weapons couldn't match the rate of fire of the Dwemer Crossbows, but they could more than match their range. Bolts flew forward and sprouted from the weak points in both sides' armor, but the holes in the ranks were instantly filled with those behind, and both shield-walls remained steady as they neared one another, with mages behind each of the battle lines shielding from the Drain and Sun-Fire spells fired from both ranks.

"STENDARR!" came the war-cry of the Dawnguard as they charged forward to clash with the Bloodlet Clan warriors.

"TA-LA, TA-LA!" came the answering cry, and full battle was joined.

"Right on cue," Tala laughed, as she watched. "Sarissa!"

Teyrn'garwch charged a spell, sending a firebolt high into the still-dim light of the growing dawn. In perfect order, the Bloodlet Throne clan warriors disengaged, wheeling to march towards the rear, leaving only a thin wall of shields between them and the Dawnguard's' crossbows.

But before they could press their advantage, more ranks of Vodahmin came forward, these grasping much longer poles, 16 feet in length. They pressed forward, and the spells designed to harm the undead impacted uselessly against the very-much-alive Vodahmin ranks. As they advanced, a chant arose, building in pitch and volume with each step forward:

We are the point!

We are the edge!

We are the wolves that Potema fed!

We are the bolt!

We are the shaft!

We are the darts the Daedra cast!

Step by step, the Dawnguard ranks were forced back. Many of them dropped to their hands and knees, trying to crawl under the infernal hedge of spear-points in front of them. But the fact was that with the longer spears, the first five rows of the Vodahmin could bring their long pikes to bear, presenting five separate rows of spearpoints impossible for any man to penetrate.

A horn sounded from the Dawnguard ranks, and their ranks parted ever so slightly. War dogs, clad in crude-but-effective armor, rushed forward beneath the hedge of spears to bite and snap at exposed ankles. The front lines of Vodahmin began to waver.

At the same crucial moment, a large party of cavalry rode out of the earthen fort. Tala hissed through her teeth as she saw them moving towards her army's right flank. She had hoped that they would not have identified her formation's weak points so quickly.

"It's a shame when the enemy, the dirty dog, doesn't do what you want them to," Potema intoned sarcastically. "You might even say that's why we call them 'the enemy.'"

"Shut up."

Tala made another motion, and two firebolts fired into the sky.

"What new devilry is this?" Raerek the Exile wondered aloud, watching the obvious Vodahmin signal coming from the distant hill. "What are you up to, bitch-queen?"

As if in answer to his own question, a trumpeting sound echoed even above the drum of the cavalry's hoofbeats.

Mammoths.

Raerek's head whipped around to see the half-dozen beasts bearing down upon them from the rear. After firing their initial shots, the beasts had veered off into the forest again, disappearing from sight and, apparently, from memory as well.

"Wheel left!" he called, pointing with his sword at the incoming threat, "Wheel…"

Raerek the Exile died without so much as a whimper as the massive ballista-bolt sent both him and his mount toppling backward at the force of the impact. Scattered by the ballista fire, the disorganized cavalry charge was torn to shreds by the pachyderms' impact, large spikes having been lashed to the mammoths' already-formidable curved tusks. Those who survived found themselves facing a line of armored giants, these armed with their signature stone clubs, which swung in deadly coordinated pendulums, like a line of harvesters swinging scythes in a wheat field.

"ARKAY!" Florentius Baenius called out, casting out a massive 'Vampire's Bane' spell that detonated uselessly against another enemy spell-ward. "Push forward, my brothers! Push…"

A sarissa spearpoint caught him in the hip, the force of the long, thin weapon piercing the steel and leather brigantine. Baenius stumbled, and then another spearpoint caught him in the neck, choking off whatever his last words were intended to be.

"With me! With me!" Gunmar called out, one hand grasping the Burning Sun standard of the Dawnguard. His section of the ranks broke off, moving left to outflank the closely-packed Vodahmin ranks. "FLANK THEM!"

From the tall grass, tall figures arose from where they had apparently been lying prone until now. These were stark-naked, devoid of any weapon… or any armor, for that matter, save for the mottled cloaks that had helped conceal them.

What in Stendarr's name? Gunmar wondered, and then horrible realization struck him.

"Close ranks!" he called out to the men running in loose formation towards the scattered figures. These paused as they beheld each of the figures throw their heads back, shedding both the war-cloaks and their human forms. Were-wolves and were-bears came on at a gallop and there was a horrible sound of sharpened claws and fangs rattling against steel…

Taken from the left flank by the Hunting Pack, the press of the sarissas from the front, and the mammoths and giants in the rear, the Dawnguard ranks began to waver, and then to break. As the heavily-armed figures broke ranks, the more lightly-armored figures of the Bloodlet vampires pushed forward to pursue.

"Send in the rest," Tala stated, her voice growing slightly grim. "Finish them off."

From the far left of the battlefield, horsemen and centaurs pushed forward, cutting off the fleeing figures from going back into the earthen fort, forcing them to turn right. It was a long run over open ground… and from that, there could only be one outcome.

Sorine Jurard reloaded her crossbow, smiling thinly as she saw a Vodahmin stumble and fall. She stood over the bodies of Mogrul and Durak, both orcs having given their lives guarding her from blades and Dwemer Crossbow bolts. The battle was lost; even the most inexperienced of the new recruits could see that. The whole thing had gone wrong: they never should have left the fortifications.

But then they could have bombarded the place with siege works until half us were dead, her brain countered.

Now, the heavy armor that was supposed to help them overrun the more lightly-armored vampire units now were just weighing them down, making them easier targets for their faster pursuers. She hadn't seen Isran since the Vodahmin's last charge, but she had seen Celann go down, a half-dozen bolts in him. Beside her, Agmaer whirled dual axes, clearing a way forward.

We can still make it, her mind raced. Dragon Bridge is only five miles away. If we can cross the bridge…

A massive figure tore out of the underbrush in front of them, broad-shouldered, and sprouting horns from each side of its forehead.

Minotaur.

Agmaer roared a challenge of his own and pushed forward to the attack. But the Minotaur almost seemed to ignore him in favor of watching Sorine work the lever action on her crossbow. She was scrabbling for another bolt when something struck her full-on in the chest. She went down, and everything felt… cold. The throwing axe in her chest had managed to bite deeply through her armor.

Ribs…sternum… probably my lung, too, some part of her brain informed her, calmly and matter-of-factly. Everything felt heavy… but there wasn't any pain.

That's the shock kicking in.

Then the giant Minotaur was suddenly above her, wincing as he pulled an axe from his own shoulder.

That's Agmaer's ax…

The massive creature slowly knelt beside her, placing a massive hand beneath her head, and putting another one at the small of his back. The gesture was almost tender, and the head cocked sideways, looking down at her. Sorine looked down at the axe that had almost cut her in half, and then nodded back up at the figure above her.

The mercy-stroke ended her life quickly and painlessly.

Tala turned from the figure of Raerek the Exile, pinned to the body of his horse. With the sun just now coming over the distant mountains, the light showed that the frozen expression on his face was one of utter surprise and incredulity.

"Cut him free," she ordered. "Take the body our side of the Dragon Bridge and hang it high for everyone to see."

She continued across the battlefield, looking for other faces and figures.

"Anyone find Isran?" she asked.

"Not yet, my queen," Skoberth Black-Song answered.

"Then do it now," Potema snarled. "His is the body that the Nords most need to see."

"QUEEN TALA!" came a call from Movarth Piquine. "OVER HERE!"

The party around the queen took off at a run, coming to where the Warden of the South stood. Beside him, another body of a fallen horse lay still. But what was of significance was who lay beneath the horse.

"Faleen Dark-sword," Tala said in greeting to the Redguard woman. "So… it comes to this at last."

"You… may have…triumphed today…" came the wheezing rasps of the dying woman who was once housecarl to Jarl Igmund of Markarth. "But… one day… you will fall."

"That may be," Tala nodded in sober acknowledgment. "The gods are inherently indifferent to the affairs of their creation, and the blessing of the Daedra is certainly a fickle thing. It may be true, indeed."

Tala Niwot drew the Dragon Priest Dagger that Lydia of Whiterun had given her… so long ago now, when she had first come into this realm.

"But not today."

She paused, only for a moment.

"I will bury you beside your jarl and lord, whom you have served so well."

The dark hatred in each of the women's eyes faded somewhat, and a moment of mutual respect passed between them. And then the dagger flashed, and the last vestige of the House of Markarth perished on the field of battle.

Author's Note:

So… Isran's plans for the reborn Dawnguard die with him… or do they? But certainly, the hope of a restoration of a Nordic Jarl of Markarth is well and truly crushed under the heel of a truly coalition army. Now Tala is free to move south towards Hammerfell and the border the Vodahmin Covenant share with Cyrodiil.

This chapter was a bit of fun experimenting with different tactics and units facing off against one another, and kinda became Crusaders vs. Ancient Macedonians. Full credit to tylermech66 for giving me the idea of mammoth-mounted Rieklings.

As always, please leave all thoughts/suggestions/reviews/comments/constructive criticisms in the reviews below, or PM me directly. I always love hearing from you, even if it's just "Good job," or "I liked it." You are all awesome.

ROCK ON, my friends!

-Tusken1602

Reviewer Responses:

derpysauce – No UNINFORMED people present then. ;P As for afterlives, yes, Tala is absolutely planning on living forever, given her choice of mind-companion and royal consort. As for the other two, I'm pretty sure they're betting on a happy eternity in Sovngarde (*cough Lawful Good *cough)

Galactic Halfling - Tala as Empress? Maybe. Potema Septim as Empress? No thanks.

FourLivingCreatures - I'll see what I can do. :P

siddharth1998m, JimmyHall24, tylermech66, NotRevan, Cristobal Alvarez - Keeping the guns secret only works until you use them. And after that... can you spell ARMS RACE? And gunpowder does not automatically equal victory.

Tech Warrior Ender, BarricadesDemon216 - I also enjoyed see all 3 Travelers just... being themselves. And I think you're spot on in your assessment of Lewis in that he does not want power... but it keeps on getting handed to him all the same.

Bloodwolf432 - A girl's gotta do what girl's gotta do...

Spartanzerg75 - Yes... we will, won't we? As for snow elf survivors... as far as I know, Gelebor is the only one left alive. And he's committed to guarding the Wayshrine.

Guest - Tiberius vs. Tala will be something that does down in the future. And the Tyranny of the Sun is a temporary spell, even with a Blood-cursed Arrow.

AlexFalToh - With someone like Tala... is peace really an option?

Mirrius Rusticulus, jdboss1, Wiwerse, badkidoh - Thanks so much! Appreciate your support!