Chapter 4
The Inescapable Doom
A/N: The previous chapter had a dremora using a halberd, not available in the base game, but made available through the wonders of modding, specifically Immersive Weapons by Ironman5000.
And since we're rapidly approaching the part in the story where our Hero of Kvatch makes his presence known, he will be (whether it's lore friendly or not, I don't care) a Half-Giant, as introduced by this mod by jr2nd. He'll be eight feet tall, not out of the realm of possibility, but obviously larger than the 10 playable races in the vanilla game.
"Daedroth!" he heard a soldier scream.
"Archers!" he heard another yell above the turmoil. "Don't get too close! It'll tear you apart!"
Having just survived his encounter with the dremora soldier, he had no real desire to take this giant lizard one on one, and certainly not with archers to take it down from afar, but he was compelled to engage it nonetheless. He felt the power of his blade surging into his body, and he knew it was his duty to fight, no matter the odds.
"Loose!" he heard a voice command, and a dozen arrows found their way into the creature's hide. Whether it felt the pain of the darts or not, it certainly did not show any reaction. It simply spat fire from it's mouth in the direction of the archer platoon. A few dove out of the way, but at least half were incinerated.
Richard settled his nerves and took off at a light trot in the direction of the monster. Ignoring the carnage and chaos around him, he scraped a rock off the ground and chucked it at the creature's head to grab its attention. After connecting, the daedroth turned to see the rock's source, and let out a gutteral growl that made Richard's stomach turn, but he pushed it down and went to work.
His earlier skirmish with the dremora taught him that size didn't necessarily mean loss of speed, but he really hoped that this creature was as slow as it looked. He certainly didn't expect it to leap four feet off the ground to launch itself his direction, claws on its hands and feet ready to tear the flesh right off of him.
He ducked and rolled underneath the creature, but took a solid thunk to his left shoulder. Nothing broken, but that was going to bruise, proveded he lived through this.
Regaining his feet, he took a quick swipe at the monster's back side, the Sword of Truth cutting through the thick hide, but he felt a pang shoot through his sword arm.
He quickly backed off into a defensive stance and looked around, curious as to what hit him, only to find that nothing and no one else was around to engage him. An arrow? But there was no blood...
"It reflects damage, Richard!" he heard Ilend shout to him.
"What?" he shouted back, dodging a swipe from the daedroth's massive calws.
"If you hit it, it hurts you too!"
"What kind of sorcery is this?" he yelled in a mix of frustration and anger. Now he was mad, and he could feel the Sword of Truth begin to burn in his hand, feeding off of his fury.
So if he was going to feel the creature's pain, or at least part of it, then he needed to go for the kill shot quickly. The longer this dragged on, the greater his own pain would be. So be it.
He maneuvered himself around the creature's scaly backside, watching out for its wicked tail. It whipped at him as the daedroth turned to face him again, and he could feel the heat welling up near the creature's mouth; it was about to spew fire at him...that would be his opening!
As it reared back its head, he saw what he hoped was the weakpoint. He didn't know of any creature that could live long without air, and so he lunged forward, swiping at its exposed throat, wincing with the pain he felt from his own strike, but delighting in the sound that the daedroth made as it failed to release its flame. Similar to the guttural growl from moments ago, but this one more of a gurgle of blood and the desperate gasp for air. He had cut deeply enough for a fatal blow.
Then the tail caught him hard in the chest, and he found himself on the ground, wind knocked out of him. He coughed, and thought he felt a broken rib. Great, he thought. Just what he needed. Then he chuckled in spite of it. Here he was, wind knocked out of him just a moment after he had taken the breath of life away from another. It was strangely poetic.
"Richard!" he heard Ilend call to him. "You two, get him to the Chapel of Akatosh!"
"SIR!" he heard their reply.
"I can still fight...I just need a moment..." he replied, struggling to sit up.
"I'm counting on it," Captain Matius said to him. "We're regrouping at the chapel; apparently the damned daedra won't set foot inside, but that means we'll have to fight our way in. We're trying to evacuate the civilians, those who are left..." he trailed off, shaking his head.
"Then I'll keep helping."
"I believe it, and I know you want to. Help us get through to the chapel, and we'll discuss our next move."
"Time to move!" Ilend interjected, nodding to another platoon of dremora that was rapidly advancing on their position.
"I think I have a broken rib; is there anything anyone can do?"
"Drink this," Matius threw him a bottle. "It won't heal your ribs, but it will numb the pain and allow you to keep fighting!"
"Right!" he said as he uncorked the bottle and downed the contents. He felt the pain in his side subside almost instantaneously.
"Here we go!" Ilend exclaimed, and the carnage was on again.
Thought they had numbers, despite the losses from earlier, these dremora were far superior to the guards in terms of sheer prowess and skill. Ilend and Matius were holding their own, as was he, but the rest were rapidly being dismantled. Some showed bravery in the face of the onslaught, but they were simply outclassed. It wasn't pretty to watch. Or to hear.
"We're getting massacred out here! We're not going to make it!"
Just then, a rain of fireballs and lighting bolts tore into the ranks of the dremora, scattering them and giving the Kvatch soldiers some breathing space.
"Finally, the damn Mage's Guild is getting involved. Where have they been this entire time?" Matius exclaimed to no one in particular.
"Keep firing! Divide them so we can get to the Chapel!" Ilend shouted to their new allies.
"Hurry, hurry! Everyone form up and push forward!" Matius echoed the sentiment.
Richard rushed forward with renewed energy, and their little band of soldiers and mages, along with some other stragglers, made a break for what they hoped was the safety of the Chapel of Akatsoh. He managed to land a few more blows and used his agility to hop-kick the shield of one of the dremora, knocking it out of the way while losing as little speed as possible. And they finally made it to the doors.
"Form a wall! Let the civilians get inside first!" Matius shouted.
The next few moments were a blur. Amidst the screams of the civilians, the shouts of the soldiers, the taunting and growls from the dremora, somehow they found themselves inside the apparent safety of the chapel.
"How do we know that we're safe in here?" he asked aloud.
"This is sacred ground; it would take a power greater than these foot soldiers to break through into here," Ilend assured him, though it sounded as if he was trying to assure himself.
Richard took a look around. The shock and horror on the faces of everyone inside was palpable. He could taste the fear on the air. He hoped Ilend was right and that they were safe in here. He was starting to feel the pain from his battle with the daedroth return. He coughed and grabbed at his side.
"Better get to the Altar of the Nine," Matius said to him. "You'll need to be healed if you're gonna get out of this."
"No argument here, just tell me what to do," he responded through labored breaths.
"Go place your hands on the Altar. Even if you don't know what to say, you seem the righteous type, Richard. The Nine will here your prayer and you'll feel refreshed," Ilend nodded to the front-center of the Chapel.
"Right...okay," he replied.
Finding his way through the crowded sanctuary, he could hear, amidst the sobbing, the "whys."
Why us? Why Kvatch? Why are the gods letting this happen? Why are the daedra here?
It was disheartening to hear, but he pressed on to the Altar. Looking around, not really knowing what to do, he reached out his hands and placed them on the cold stone. Suddenly, a ball of light seemed to appear from the center of the Altar and he was awash in its glow. His pain was gone, his fatigue subsided, and he felt better than he had in days. He felt his ribs, and they were all intact. He wasn't even sure Zed could summon magic such as this.
"Have you never prayed to the Divines before?" he heard a voice off to his right.
"I guess I haven't...where I'm from, we don't have...Divines..." he replied.
"Ah; are you from Akavir then? Perhaps the ruins of the Yokudan Archipelago?"
"What? Where are...wait, never mind. I'm not from this world...I come from a place called Westland. These lands are unknown to me...I barely understand what's happening right now."
"Yes...yes I can see your confusion. Without sounding too condescending, I hope, it doesn't take a scholar of the Daedra to see that this is an invasion happening right now."
Despite the circumstances, he allowed himself a chuckle.
"Yes, that much I gathered. I only arrived a few hours before this all began...so my confusion is only augmented by the sudden appearance of those...things outside."
"That I can understand," the man said stepping forward. "Forgive me, I've not yet given you my name. My name is Martin; I'm a priest of Akatosh."
"Richard Cypher...I'm the Seeker of Truth," he returned, wondering if that title even meant anything here.
"A Seeker of Truth? Now that is a noble cause indeed, certainly worthy of the Divines blessing. It is a wonder that you would receive the blessing of gods you've yet to even learn of, and yet there you stand, fully healed and refreshed."
"Yes, that was...that was unlike any magic I've ever seen."
"It is not magic, my friend," Martin said warmly. "The power of the Divines goes beyond what we mortals can fathom, though every mage is tied to Aetherius just as the divine pantheon is. Forgive me, I digress. This isn't the time for exposition. Just suffice to say that should you be and remain righteous, the gods will look favorably upon you."
"Thanks for explaining it to me...at least a little. I still don't know what all is going on."
"Nor do I, Richard. But if you are a Seeker of Truth, then perhaps it is your destiny to discover the source of our current distress. Kvatch, Cyrodiil, perhaps Mundus itself may come to rely on your very efforts discover this truth," Martin said, looking toward the crowd of civilians. "I need to tend to the wounded. I sense something in you, Richard. I suspect that this is not the last time our paths will cross."
"I should hope not, Martin. It was good to meet you...if we survive this, I hope to see you again...thank you for explaining what you could, given the circumstances."
"As would I. Good luck, Richard. It seems the good captain is in need of your services now."
They exchanged solemn nods, and Richard turned back to see Matius and Ilend meeting with what remained of the city guard and some other, less professionally dressed but rugged looking types and a handful of robed figures.
"Richard! Come here!" Ilend invited him to their circle.
"Ilend, Matius," he nodded to them.
"So what's the plan, Matius? Our numbers are dwindled and theirs seem to be without end," one of the rugged ones said. Were those tusks coming out of his mouth?
"You've seen the Gate? It was right in the city square. That's how they were able to emerge and overwhelm us so quickly. But that gate is gone...I don't know how or why. But there is another outside the city walls. It seems they wish to keep us locked in," one of the robed men said, he being as tall as Merendil.
"So what are we to do? Wait out here until the Imperial Legion arrives?"
"That could be days! And even if they show up, can we survive that long in here? I doubt the food stores here are enough to go beyond a week...and not with this many mouths to feed."
"You want to charge out there and get slaughtered like the rest of the Guild? Be my guest. I'm staying put."
"Coward!"
"Don't be so self righteous, kurr!"
"Enough!" Matius called them back to order. "We know that the Gate is responsible for these bastards showing up. So how do we handle it? We're soldiers, you're mages and mercenaries for hire. Follow me into the Gate, let's find a way to shut it down, and then Count Goldwine will reward you with lots of gold. How's that sound?"
"It'd better be a lot of gold," one said.
"Is that really what you're thinking of at a time like this?"
"How are we supposed to shut down this Gate, assuming we even make it inside?"
"It's a Gate to Oblivion," one of the robed men—a mage, Richard guessed—interjected. "If it can come into existence, it can be placed out of existence. We'll just have to figure out how once we're inside."
"That's asking an awful lot," the one with tusks-for-teeth put forward.
"Never known an Orc to back down from a challenge," a tall, fair haired looking fellow mentioned.
"You wish to challenge me, Nord?" the Orc puffed up his chest.
"Stop!" Richard found himself saying. "Are you really doing this? Now? A pissing contest? People are dying out there; perhaps there are still some we can save, and you're debating taking action as if we had a choice. How long do you think these walls will hold? How long will those doors keep the demons at bay? Perhaps they cannot get in, but what happens when one of them goes through that gate, tells his master to tell his master, on up the line until something stronger comes in? Something that sacred ground isn't strong enough to hold back. Are you still going to be debating whether to take action or not? Or can we make an attempt to save what's left of your city?" he finished, exacerbated.
The circle was silent a moment, but only a moment.
"And who are you? What stake do you have in this?" the Nord asked him.
"This is Richard," Ilend put in. "He's a guest of Count Goldwine, and be careful if you want to challenge him. He took down daedroth single-handedly, right after dispatching a dremora kynmarcher. He's quite the swordsman; and his courage is beyond your questioning."
"Whatever," the Nord said, though he didn't sound very convincing.
"Here's what's going to happen," Matius took back control of the group. "We're going to push through to city gate, then we're going to push into that Oblivion gate. We're going to find a way to shut it down. One of us is going to have to go for help; find some legion soldiers, or somebody. But the rest of us are going to push back to Castle Kvatch to ensure Count Goldwine is still alive."
"And then get paid," a short, pointy eared fellow put in.
"And you'll get paid, Maglir, you greedy kurr," Ilend interjected.
"Stowe it, Ilend. Save that fury for the daedra," Matius cut him off.
"So that's the plan?" the Orc asked.
"Yes. Say your prayers to Stendarr, Akatosh, any you need to. Once we exit that door, we're not coming back til we're done."
"Sounds ominous," Richard muttered, shaking his head.
"Stick close to Ilend," Matius told him. "You watch his back, he'll watch yours."
"What should we expect once we're inside the Oblivion gate?" the Nord asked.
"Anything," the tall mage with the pointy ears said. "Everything."
Richard glanced back toward the Altar, wishing he could take it with him. He saw Martin and caught his eye. His faced looked grim, but he managed the faintest of smiles, placed his hand to his heart, and then extended it; a gesture of blessing.
He hoped whatever blessing it was, that it worked wherever he was about to go.
A/N: Sorry for the long stretch in between Chapters 3 and 4. Had work stuff come up and didn't have the time to write. Hope you're enjoying it so far. Let me know what you think of the pacing of the opening. Trying to get Richard immersed in a world that isn't his while trying to make the Siege/Massacre of Kvatch feel as frenetic as a Daedric invasion should is something of a balance beam to walk, but so be it.
