One Last War

By: Dirty Reid

Chapter 2: Landfall

Sixty-three days later...

Hippolyta felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders as she spotted a dark strip on the early morning horizon, spelling the end of their extended journey. "Land ho!" She shouted, her voice echoing across the water and reaching the ear of the nearly seven thousand men and women accompanying her. Ragged cheers and praises to the Divines and a few Daedra went up. Dovmaatdrog raised his head from the churning waters behind the Dream Crusher and roared in approval. When they were not circling the Fourth Fleet, Hippolyta's battlewagons were scouting several kilometers around the ships, keeping watch for other vessels or incoming storms, or swimming beneath the roiling waves, hunting for fish and sharks and whales to eat.

Their expedition had not been seamless. From the Niben to Lilmoth, their journey had been progressing well. Their luck had gone into a steep dive almost as soon as they had veered north, making for Cathnoquey. The first storm had struck two days after Tamriel was no longer visible in the west. Hippolyta's Thu'um was sufficient to cleave a canyon through the inky black clouds... at first. On the next day, another storm cell blotted out the warm sun. As she once again Shouted to the heavens, rending the clouds and rain asunder, Hippolyta felt worry begin to creep through her as the immense thunderheads reassembled just before they rode out of its range, dousing them with an icy sheet of rain. On the third day, even asking her dragons to help clear the skies was of no use; their Thu'um rent holes in the rolling clouds, but they closed like gigantic mouths and pelted the errant Legion with freezing needles, shrieking gales and angry swells. Once they had cleared their latest gauntlet, the sails of the frigates Antipathy and Tumultuous, and those of the supply galley Excess had to be removed and patched before they could resume full speed. Knowing they could no longer sail straight and presume to keep their numbers, Hippolyta had asked Ziiaakkrin and his fellows to begin scouting ahead, reporting instances of storms or cyclones to her.

This strategy worked, but an unfortunate side effect became apparent when their chart master showed Hippolyta their path, and she was reminded of a scribbling she had seen Mirabelle making when she was just a toddler. Their weaving and dodging of storms and numerous returns to their original course added three days to the first leg of their journey. Had she not needed to uphold the image of an unshakable tower of strength, wisdom and compassion, Hippolyta might have joined a few of her subjects as they flopped down on the warm yellow sands of Cathnoquey. Instead, she closed her eyes and relished the feel of coarse sand between her toes for a few minutes before ordering the rangers of the Legion to establish a perimeter around their beachhead. She them ordered the Rune Masters to lay down a series of traps to deter any locals who would use the Legion's fatigue as an opportunity for plundering. Hahlosumah and Vokunnirbo took to the air in search of any sign of trouble that could come their way, utilising an interesting Thu'um that rendered them both silent and invisible.

Perhaps M'aiq was more right about the dragons being invisible and very quiet than she thought.

Their three day respite passed with no major incidents. Her rangers reported that a few animals had to be scared off, but there had been no sign of any peoples from Tamriel or Akavir. For some unshakable reason, Hippolyta could not help but feel as though they were being watched. The sensation persisted even as the Legion packed up and moved out to continue their journey. The answer as to why she felt that way came after their first night at sea, in the depths of a deep slumber.

Hippolyta's eyes opened to a dark and endless forest. Trees reached up from the ground and disappeared into the inky black sky. Moss hung from dead and fallen trunks like filthy rags and cast finger-like shadows across the ground. A small pond in the distance was black glass, perfect in the lack of wind. Absent were the other sounds of the forest as well. No leaves rattled, no wood groaned, no animals squeaked or growled or skittered. It made Hippolyta's breathing sound as loud as a bellows, and her heartbeat akin to the thunder of a war drum. Looking down, the Empress noted that she was dressed only in her pale golden skin, the many scars and marrings on her flesh as plain as day. Hippolyta forgot the unnatural silence of the forest and the stifling blanket of fear associated with it for a moment as she observed her body. She had given birth to Ariadne, Mirabelle, Earynwe and Casiim over a span of eighty-four years, giving her plenty of time to shed the weight she gained with each pregnancy. The last time she had truly stopped to appreciate her body, her arms were sinewy with muscle, her rear was as round and firm as an orange, and her abdominals cast small shadows along her belly. The muscle was still there, but washboard abdominals had given way to soft curves. That was not good. I've grown lazy during peacetime, telling myself that I'm getting old. While it was true that Hippolyta was old, that was no excuse for becoming slovenly. The oldest inducted member of her Praetorian guard had been a Dunmer pushing two-and-a-half centuries, and even in his twilight years he could match the strength and ferocity of men one tenth of his age.

With a blink, Hippolyta looked up and scanned the forest as the ever-present blanket of silent unease continued to weigh down upon her. It was nigh on suffocating at this point. "You did not bring me here to admire me, I presume." She called to the empty forest, her raised voice perceived to be as loud as if she had yelled.

"... Indeed not." A high-pitched voice rose like a wind from nowhere, localizing from behind the Empress. Blinking hard and wondering what had arisen behind her, Hippolyta slowly turned about to face the speaker.

There she was. The Dream Weaver, in all of her glory. Vaermina had chosen to appear as a skinny young woman of average height. She wore an ankle-length dress with a white pattern consistent of a human skeleton, and black fabric that shifted and twisted into images so grotesque that had they not cycled so rapidly, Hippolyta would surely have felt afraid. A skeever's skull served as a fastener for the dress and hung in the Daedric prince's cleavage, doing nothing to conceal her ghostly breasts. A chain ran through the skull's teeth and attached to piercings in Vaermina's nipples. She wore a high-backed web-like red cape that morphed into two dragon heads at the level of her shoulder blades. In her clawed left hand, she clutched the Skull of Corruption. But it was her face that inspired terror only achieved by the most foul of nightmares. Black markings arranged like tattoos gave her the appearance of having a skull painted onto her visage, and a nose ring attached two chains to piercings in her mer-ish ears, uncovered by dead-looking black hair. The two scaly, curling horns jutting from her forehead and her eerily glowing blue eyes served as the finishing touches for Vaermina's demonic image.

For a moment, Empress and Daedra stared into each other's eyes. While most men, mer and beast-folk would have shrunken away from the nightmare creature before them, Hippolyta had long ago slaked her fear of the prince. It was a necessary action, as acceptance and facing one's fears head on was one of the multitude of tests she had designed for the training to become a Praetorian. What better way to do so than to have one's mind violated by the Queen of Quagmire?

"Vaermina." Hippolyta acknowledged with the barest of nods. The prince did not move. "Still mad at me for banishing your staff?" She guessed, referring to the task she had undertaken with the priest of Mara, Erandur, so many years ago.

"The fact that you are not a brain-dead husk drooling all over yourself should answer that question, Hippolyta." Vaermina retorted curtly. "There would be no point. Eventually, I will cast my Skull back down to Mundus to feast and torment its mortals, and you will be too old and decrepit to stop me." Well, that makes sense in an evil sort of way. Hippolyta grimaced at the thought. "Assuming of course, you survive the coming of the Others." She added almost as an afterthought. Not macabre at all.

"I assume these 'Others' are why you have brought me here?" Hippolyta guessed, crossing her arms under her bust. Vaermina's mouth hardened into a line, the tooth-shaped tattoos moving eerily along with her lips.

"At his request. I am just the facilitator." She jerked her horned head at something past Hippolyta's shoulder, prompting the Empress to turn about once again.

A figure shrouded completely in a swampy green cloak stood before her. As it raised its hooded head, Hippolyta shifted in surprise when she saw not a face, but a gigantic eyeball with a pupil shaped like a sideways eight. And now that she took a closer look, Hippolyta forced a shudder down as she saw that the cloak was in fact tentacles as thin as the edge of a sword. Only one Daedra would choose a form as bizarre as this. He was the one to whom she owed loyalty for his assistance in striking down Miraak, the First Dragonborn, as well as gifting her with powers from his ominous tomes of secrets. He was the Keeper of Forbidden Knowledge, and the one who scryed the past and future by way of the tides of fate. He was the ever-omniscient Hermaeus Mora.

"My lord." Hippolyta acknowledged, the words feeling strange as they rolled off her tongue. It had been a very long time since she had addressed anyone as a superior instead of an equal or subordinate.

"The years have been kind to you, my Champion." Mora observed in his persistently echoing, hollow voice. Others might have taken his words as a compliment, but Hippolyta saw his words for what they were: A reminder of the knowledge given to her that had seen her outliving almost everyone she ever knew. For Mora to bring it up meant that he wanted something.

"What is it you want, my lord?" She asked, hoping that Mora would not prattle on, as he was so inclined to do.

"You wish in the back of your mind to know all there is to know about Westeros, and the 'White Death' you have been tasked with defeating. It is an interest I share." He intoned, much to the surprise of Hippolyta. Why she was surprised was a bit of a mystery. It had been proven in the past that secrets could be kept from the infinite and all-seeing eyes of Hermaeus Mora, who had tasked her with rectifying such and persuading Storn Crag-Strider, shaman of the Skaal, to give up his knowledge. Why should this have been any different?

"And as your eyes on Nirn, you would have me bring it to you." She deduced.

"Indeed." Mora nodded, and his robe shimmered at the motion. "My influence in this land is sorely lacking, and to see so many wells of knowledge erased by these abominations would be a travesty." The enormous eye moved to stare off at something in the distance. He continued to do so for a few seconds before refocusing on Hippolyta.

"So you see, mortal, I stand to lose a great deal if my sister succeeds in using these Others to bring the men and women of The Shrouded Land to its knees. I charge you with bringing me the knowledge of its people with all due haste. And to assist you, I leave you with this: If you are truly lost, the deepest depths give rise to the oldest light." And with his cryptic words, Hermaeus Mora began to drift backwards, slowly melting into the shadows of the silent forest. Hippolyta blinked hard and cast her eyes downwards as she pondered Mora's words.

"I don't suppose you know what he was talking about, do you?" She asked Vaermina. She didn't need to turn around to know that the Daedric prince was smirking.

"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" She asked. "Now get out." and after everything faded to black, Hippolyta woke to the sensation of falling from a great height.

From Cathnoquey, the Fourth Fleet weaved through fewer storms, but curious doldrums left their sails empty, save for the breezes Hippolyta's battlewagons managed to raise for short bouts before growing tired. Every ship cam with oars to boost their speed, but the rowers could not hope to propel them across three thousand kilometers of water. Hippolyta had once entertained the thought of using the Storm Call Shout, but even at this time, she did not believe herself capable of exercising enough control to keep the raging lightning storm she would summon from burning their ships down. With that in mind as they approached Akavir four more days behind schedule and later continued to sail east with yet another six days added to their trip, Hippolyta ensured that the Legion did what it always had done, and would continue to do:

Endure.

And now, as she sank to her knees on the beaches of The Shrouded Land, she felt the stress of being cooped up on her dreadnought for two months evaporating. More than a few Legionnaires and sailors had done the same, and Zahkfonaaryol lay curled up by a large black rock, deep in sleep. Lotstrunnah perched upon a mountain of stones, balefully scanning the lands for any men or riders who did not bear the sigil of the Legion. The other six floated about in the water. Hippolyta stopped focusing on her battlewagons and continued to rest for another two minutes. Once over, she got up and retreated to her tent, the largest of the few that had been set up so far, and proceeded to change into a cotton shirt, breeches and well worn boots. A silver circlet encrusted with rubies perched on her head and served as the only hint of her station, should the locals come calling. She exited the tent and made to helping expand the immense cloth city. The lower ranks of the Legionnaires assured her that troubling herself with assisting them was not necessary, but she heard none of it. She demonstrated her immense magickal power by grasping three tents at a time and simultaneously erecting them. With the mages who quickly joined her, they erected one hundred tents in the span of an hour. Afterwards, combined with the unwavering strength of the Legion and the Praetorians, they managed to raise all sixty-one-hundred remaining tents in less than six hours. The members of the Navy felt more comfortable on their ships, and would continue to bunk there.

After finishing the brunt of the work and the soldiers and sailors began to unload the essentials from the supply galleys, Hippolyta was holding court in General Tonje Fire-Eater's tent. On the table where a map of the realm would go, there was simply a piece of parchment detailing their general strategy. Under the column with the title 'Primary Objectives' there was one entry: 'Stop the Oblivion Crisis'. A rather broad objective, but they had nowhere else to start. A second column occupied the right half of the parchment, titled 'Secondary Objectives'. There were two entries written down: 'Identify and establish relations with persons of influence' and 'Persuade persons of influence to join our cause'. Their plans would have to wait a short while as the Legion found its footing here in Westeros.

"Have your scouts found anything General?" Hippolyta asked without preamble.

"Aye, Excellency. Firstly, we seemed to have landed in a small inlet; that gives us some shielding from the eyes of pirates looking to pillage, but opportunities for ground troops to engulf us. I've sent men to begin erecting temporary watchtowers until we relocate to somewhere new." She opened quickly. "There's a river mouth perhaps forty miles northeast of here. Were we to go looking for locals, that's where I would start. There is naught but forests to the south. A Wood Elf could wake up there and think he was home." She smirked lightly. Hippolyta's lips twitched but she otherwise showed no amusement.

"Have you sent any envoys to search for local peoples?" She asked. Fire-Eater shook her head.

"No. Some of the sailors say they saw an island with fires burning bright before we made landfall. We have surely been seen approaching, and I would not expect us to remain alone for long." She explained. Hippolyta nodded, grasping the General's plan.

"We're waiting for them to come to us. We're the bait, enticing them into our grasp." She deduced.

"Precisely." She answered with a small gleam in her eye. "A risky gamble, sure, but I've taken steps to ensure we will come out on top if things run afoul."

"Hm," Hippolyta hummed as she grasped her chin. She would have said more had a lightly-armoured Imperial came rushing in.

"Your Excellency, General Fire-Eater." He said in a rush, bending over to try and catch his breath.

"Calm yourself, soldier." Fire-Eater ordered calmly.

"Yes, ma'am." He said after a deep breath. As he stood, Hippolyta noted the sweat on his brow. He must have sprinted the entire way here. "A dozen riders make for our beachhead from the southeast, one carrying a standard. I believe we have caught the attention of the locals." He stated. Hippolyta and Tonje shared a look, a silent conversation passing between their eyes.

"Good work, Auxillary. Take rest and have a drink. Her Excellency and I will take it from here." Fire-Eater ordered, moving about to collect her ebony war axe. Hippolyta hurried out of Fire-Eater's private tent, intending to change into something a little more befitting of an Empress.

"Darioth! Blackfire!" She barked to two passing Praetorians. Both of them stopped with near impossible speed and stood at attention. "Ready four mounts for a journey. We're about to have company." She ordered before dashing off. In record time, she had wrapped herself in a slim white dress with long, flaring sleeves and a neckline cut low enough to be provocative, but at the same time maintain decency. A golden circlet with three diamonds inlaid perched on her golden locks, tied up in a ponytail. A necklace with the silver dragon of the Empire dangled from her neck. As she finished slipping on a set of enchanted rings she looked at Freedom, which stood against the edge of her bed, contemplating whether or not to bring it along. In the end, she decided against it. She wanted to appear as non-hostile as a woman who brought six thousand soldiers and a fleet of warships along with her could be. If diplomacy failed, she had her spells and her Voice with which to defend herself.

General Fire-Eater and her two Praetorians stood ready to move out, four rounceys saddled and ready. Hippolyta guessed that the sleek silver horse held in place by Fire-Eater's left hand was her mount, which she took and ascended with cat-like grace. While her armour was mostly leather with a mail shirt beneath for added protection, and therefore quite light, Fire-Eater's mounting was significantly less graceful, but swift. Darioth saddled up with almost as much grace as the Empress, but little Lena Blackfire wore a full set of Daedric armour and had to move slowly, lest she fall or harm her mount.

"Move out." Hippolyta ordered, and the four began a trot out of the camp, heading in the direction the riders were coming from.

It did not take long for the two parties to meet. Hippolyta noted that they were all men, wearing armour that varied from simple boiled leather to chainmail hauberks all the way up to full plate mail. The standard carried by one of them depicted a red fox head encircled by twelve lapis lazuli flowers. One man bore the same sigil on his steel cuirass, and rode ahead of the other eleven. His dark brown hair parted to the left, his beard was neatly trimmed and Hippolyta noted that his ears were ever so slightly pointed at the tips. A blue cloak fell over his shoulders, but left the fine sword at his left hip quite visible. Taking the initiative, she urged her rouncey forward a few steps to meet the leader. He seemed slightly put off at her advance, but that could have been surprise as he craned his neck to look up into the eyes of the seven foot tall Empress with ears the shape of seashells, slanted eyes and golden skin.

"Hail, men of Westeros. What brings you to our quaint little City of Cloth?" She asked with a small smirk in her best Empress voice. It seemed to give them pause if the murmurs from the back of the ranks was any indication.

"Your arrival has caused no small amount of alarm, m'lady. I would speak to your leader about his intentions in our lands." He said in a tone that brooked no arguments. It was what he said that gave Hippolyta some understanding of how rule was established in Westeros: Men ruled, and women were kept to the side. Here she was in all her finery and he did not even consider that she may have been someone important. Now that she thought about it, that look he gave her earlier probably meant he did not understand why a woman came forward to greet him. She firmly resolved to disabuse him of his preconceived notions.

"Well, here I am." She said while raising her arms. The murmurs and looks of surprise and intrigue began anew.

"You lead these men?" He asked just a little to incredulously. Hippolyta's carefully neutral expression gave way to a flicker of annoyance, and she did not need to look to the side to know that Fire-Eater was grinding her teeth at the disrespect blatantly being directed at her.

"No. I rule these men and women. Do you think I wear this fancy getup just because I feel like it?" She asked. She heard Darioth snort quietly behind her. The man quickly backpedaled.

"I apologise m'lady, I meant no offense. Women in positions of power are rare here in Westeros, you see. I suppose it is different where you come from." He visibly swallowed under the woman in mail's withering gaze. The tan-coloured man with black eyes and a face even pointier than the woman before him simply watched his cohorts, and he could not look long upon the figure in hellish-looking black armour for long before fear diverted his gaze.

"I suppose I can forgive your slight as simple ignorance this one time. But back to the matter at hand: You and your fellows have rode out to learn who we are, and why we are here. It would cast a slight pall on our meeting should I offend the first people I meet in a country most of my subjects still believe to be a myth." She cleared her throat and reared up to her full height, light from the trees catching the golden circlet on her head and causing some small amount of awe in the twelve riders.

"I am Hippolyta Septim the First, Empress of Tamriel, Magister of House Telvanni of the province Morrowind and former General of the Free Army of Tamriel." She announced proudly. The few titles were less than half of what she could have said, but should she have listed them all, they would have been there all day. "To my right is Tonje Fire-Eater of the province Skyrim, General of the Third Imperial Legion and Mistress of Pyromancy." She gave a nod to her General. The men of Westeros regarded her with interest, curiosity, and some disbelief.

"Behind us are members of my Praetorian Guard: Darioth, Master Archer of the province Valenwood," She twisted about to look at the Bosmer, who flourished his hand and bowed on his mount. "and Lena Blackfire, Battlemage of Skyrim." She indicated the figure in Daedric armour, who nodded imperceptibly. The men's reactions varied from double takes to outright scoffs at the notion of pyromancers and battlemages, something to consider for the future. Hippolyta redirected her verdant gaze to the Westerosi.

"And who are you, who fly the banner of a fox in a blue field?" She asked in a voice so commanding that the leader with the fox on his breast felt that his tone was piteous when compared to not simply that of a noble lady, but that of an Empress.

"I am Ser Imry Florent, Your Grace. I am a Knight of House Florent and sworn sword to Alester Florent, Lord of Brightwater Keep. It is my lord's lands that you and your... Legion have landed upon." Imry Florent stated. All four of them knew that the knight had intended to say 'trespassing', but held their tongues.

"Well, Ser Imry of House Florent," Hippolyta said with a smoky undertone to her voice that Darioth and Blackfire knew all too well: It was the voice she used when she intended to get what she wanted, and would take nothing less than a 'yes' for an answer. "Perhaps you could show me to Lord Alester's Brightwater Keep so I might allay any notions of attack or invasion he may harbour? I know he sent you to learn of our intentions, but I despise repeating myself more than necessary, as I am sure would happen if I told you and was then asked to entreat your lord." She reasoned with a bat of her eyelashes and a small grin. The charm worked, much to her surprise. Normally, she would have to put on more of a show for almost everyone.

"Very well." Imry relented. "If you will follow me please, I will show you to Brightwater Keep." He tugged on the reins of his destrier and his company followed suit. Behind them, Hippolyta, Fire-Eater and the two Praetorians trailed along silently. As Empress and General shared a short look, each gave a tiny smile before returning their attention to the bannermen of House Florent.

If it was this easy to sway the opinion of those in power here in Westeros, they might actually wind up facing the Oblivion Crisis with a few men willing to fight and bleed and die alongside them.

Here endeth Chapter 2. I know almost nothing happened, but I've found that my usual chapter size of 6-10k words is just too much to pump out on a regular basis. There will be a little action in the next chapter, I swear by the Seven and the Nine! But first, would you kindly:

1) Tell me whether or not you liked this chapter

2) Tell me what you SPECIFICALLY liked about this chapter

3) Tell me what you DIDN'T like about this chapter

4) Recommend a suitable improvement

BONUS: OC Submission

Dearest readers, I am in need of your help. As I wrote, Hippolyta Septim is sailing to Westeros with 6 000 Legionnaires, 100 Praetorian Guards and 800 sailors. I may be creative, but even I can't come up with that many new characters for some parts of the story featuring them. That's where you come in. If you wish to see a character of your creation appear in my story, please submit him/her with the following details:

Category of submission (Legionnaire or Praetorian or Sailor)

Character's name

Character's race (And place of birth) (NOTE: Mixed breeds are accepted)

Character's appearance (NOTE: The more detailed you are with their appearance, the more likely I am to use them)

Character's Personality and Past (Growing up, previous experience, previous hardships, personality type and quirks, subject(s) of worship, etc.) (NOTE: The more creative you are with their personality, the more likely I am to use them)

Character's Attributes (Fighting style, armour/clothing choice, weapon(s) choice/magical talents. etc.) (Please be as creative as possible; do not simply adhere to the weapons seen in the Elder Scrolls series)

And finally, YOU MUST SUBMIT YOUR REQUESTS IN THE FORM OF A PRIVATE MESSAGE, OR THEY WILL NOT BE CONSIDERED. Submissions will be considered valid until April 28, any submitted afterwards will be rejected.

Divines smile upon you,

DR