{ === + === }
…
And onwards we go to the road to Dawnstar!
Or, rather, we meet up with the army tasked to Whiterun first and get our collective ducks in a row before we go.
Overall, the Dawnstar army comes in at maybe a thousand. Whiterun to Windhelm is 3000, and Riften to Windhelm is (supposedly) another 3000. The plan is to have the Riften army engage first and "distract the Windhelm defenders" so the Whiterun army can hit the city when it's underguarded. Windhelm's army is, supposedly, comfortably between the extremely easy to estimate ranges of 5000 and 10000.
When asked about this in the strategic meeting (I imagine as a formality) my response was "Why are we sending a smaller army to distract the bigger one with home field advantage?"
I think I probably rubbed some feathers the wrong way because I wasn't invited to subsequent meetings.
Either way, the day of departure came, and the Whiterun army set out to great fanfare. We're slated to leave the next day.
In the meantime, we get our shit together in meaningful ways. As the highest ranked noble in the detachment, I am therefore the captain of the force.
Which is cool, because I am definitively not the highest ranked noble in the detachment. My second in command is of a higher rank–his family are full Barons. He also doesn't like me very much and I imagine this is intentional.
…then again, technically I'm a Baronet and he's the family's second son, so I guess I do outrank him despite being roughly the same age. He's my second in command instead of the infinitely more capable T'nerem because he'll throw a hissy fit if I don't let him. Ugh.
Anyways, as the Captain, I get a say in how the force is organized, so we spent the time up 'til departure training and organizing the general layout of how our force is organized. Basically, who commands what, how are orders followed, interpreted, what kind of language and keywords do we use, so on, so forth.
I'm not egotistical enough (yet) to believe that I understand all aspects of large scale, long distance warfare in Skyrim, so I'll let the people who are used to the fighting do the fighting, and I'll worry about backline logistics, scouting, terrain, and so on. Let the swordies do the stabbies.
…
On our departure, we have our group of one hundred and three wagons. Per the norm, we're not allocated a support staff at all, so I took the liberty of hiring a team of ten to run the wagons. By default, everyone marches with their combat gear and their day of rations with them. Camping gear is specific to the wagons. I'm inclined to go with the Marius Reforms thing of making everyone carry all their equipment, combat or otherwise, but Marius never had to deal with people literally being invisible and throwing around fireballs, so…
I've also modified the wagons with wider wheels and spikes, so they'll work better in the snow and mud.
…
Our force allocation is: twenty full Legionaries (medium-heavy infantry), eighty militia (levy). No cav, no dedicated archers, no mages. All important assets are earmarked for the bigger operation, after all.
And yet, here we are.
No kidding.
…
After one day of travel, we're now about to enter the corridor of the mountains, the valley of the mountain range between Dawnstar and Whiterun.
"The Stormcloaks know this land like the back of their hand." One of the legionaries says. "Going through here will be tough."
Didn't Whiterun try to clear a different path some time ago? I forget what happened with that. If we're using this one then I imagine that one failed.
Either way. "Alright, then. Scout teams A and B, fan to the left and right. Team C, up front, stay off the road. D, our back." My orders. "Keep at proper distance, and do not engage unless given orders."
"Yeah, yeah." Scout Leader A says. "We get it, boss." He hefts his weapon. "Short leash, no barking." He waves to his squadmate, and sets off to our left.
The squad leaders are all given copies of a crossbow. Three feet long body with three soulstones embedded in the bottom, enchanted for ease of loading, firing speed, and sound dampening. The squadmates are there for signaling and spotting. They're sniper teams. The crossbow is officially named the Warwolf Compound Sniper Variant.
Unofficially referred to as the xeagle, 'Cross Eagle', much the same way that people in videogames shorten 'crossbow' into xbow.
The Scout Leaders, incidentally, are hunters that I've worked with while building the Warwolf Compound. I trust them, and they know how to use the gear they're given.
So whatever happened to the whole 'all the important assets have gone to the main mission'?
Charms and lying, lying and Charms.
It's kinda…well, 'weird', might not be fair. The xeagle isn't exactly a new toy under wraps: the hunter teams have been working with them for a few months, and Falkreath is aware that I have them. They're also aware that I have standard crossbows, designed to take arrows rather than bolts. Yet still, crossbows are not deployed en masse the same way that bows are.
I mean, I kind of know the reason: the crossbow by itself, the one that…what, is ported over from the vampire hunters? That one. It's heavy, difficult to mass produce, difficult to use, and takes special ammo. Mine gets rid of the last two points, but…the key issue is still mass deployment and replenishment.
Like, swords and bows are a part of a fairly robust system of procurement, replenish, supply, etc. So if, say, a warehouse burns down, the stuff is pretty easy to replace. Crossbows are harder to make by virtue of being more complex, and if you were to take the modern approach of having replaceable parts and factories and streamlined constructions…well, one dude can carry both a ring of Chameleon and two hundred fireball scrolls.
Long story short, I made a few, and probably will only stick to just having a few for now.
…
With our sniper teams in play, we continue onwards at standard speed. About two hours later, team A's sending stone turns red.
Communications?
Ayep.
Using what I know from radios and wireless communications (read: very little) the stones are enchanted as a pair to copy each other's state. When given mana, they will turn blue, and stay blue for as long as they get mana. They're wireless, two-way-only telegraphs.
I wanted to get it at least to the point where we could actually have walkies and, y'know, talk into them, but this is as far as I got with how much time I had.
"Team A has spotted enemies." T'nerem reports. She's in charge of monitoring the stones. They flash blue twice. "Small unit." It keeps flashing. At this point she refers to a notebook. "Not noticed, clear vision."
Alright, sounds straightforward enough. "Cleared to engage." Light conditions are good, mid-afternoon. No-brainer.
.
[Team A]
.
"Got the go ahead." The spotter pockets the stone and refocuses on the three Stormcloaks in front of them. "I'd go left mid right."
"Agree." The leader orients his sniper bow to the back of the Stormcloak on the left side. "Ready up."
The two are flat on the ground, with the leader looking through a sight on the sniper bow.
The Stormcloaks are focused on the troop further down in the valley, on the road.
"Looks like the informants are right on time." Soldier A says. "About a hundred men, going north to Dawnstar." He squints harder. "Is he riding a giant wolf?"
"So it is Windcaller, huh?" Soldier B mutters. "If we get him, good riddance. Fucking blight upon the good name of Skyrim." He readies his bow for emphasis.
"We are scouts, our job is to tell the main force to be ready." Soldier C sighs. "Let's not bring personal feelings into this."
Soldier A chuckles. "This is a civil war. It's all about personal feelings." He stands. "Alright, let's get the message back." With a low posture, he starts to run.
"If only the captain actually got his men ready." Soldier B grumbles, also running. "Then we could just flare and be done with it." Pause. He looks around for Soldier C. "Where'd you go?"
Soldier A stops at hearing him, and turns just in time to see Soldier B tumble forward as if he was struck in the back. He has enough intuition to quickly sight the nearest obstacle and make a dash towards it.
Unfortunately, not fast enough.
"Hit." Leader says softly. "Let's go recover. Also finish off the other two, since I'm sure they're still alive."
"Why do I get the dirty job." Spotter grumbles. The two emerge from their hiding spot, still low, and make their way towards their targets.
Soldier C was hit in the thigh, and was mouthing something with no sound. Spotter takes out his sign to Arkay for Soldier C to see, covers his mouth, and pulls out the bolt. "Don't make us finish you off proper." He says with a smile. The Soldier nods frantically, suddenly recovering his voice.
Soldier B was shot in the heart and screaming his heart out, though no sound came out. He gets mercy-killed and the bolt recovered.
Soldier A, right in the head. The bolt is unrecoverable without opening the man's skull.
"Well, shit." Spotter says. "Sorry about this, then." He lays a hand on the Soldier's skull and puts in the magicka necessary for Healing. Some seconds later, there's a dull thump as the bolt explodes in the man's head. "May Arkay bless your passing."
…
[1st Person Camera]
…
"Report." T'nerem says, recording the flashing and writing it down to interpret. It takes a little bit. "Three targets, one saved." She frowns. "Lost one round. Over."
Bleh. "Alright, report back good job." I gave the Sniper teams control over who they want to spare, so long as the bolts are recovered, because the bolts are expensive as all hell and losing them sucks.
They're titanium bolts with a soulstone core enchanted to Full Body Silence the target. Anybody hit is going down with the sheer weight and power of the shot, and once it hits it takes the target's mana for the spell, so the target makes no noise until their magicka runs out, and in those cases they're usually too tired to keep screaming.
They also have a self-destruct clause when given healing mana, so as to avoid them getting picked up later. From what I've read and seen, standard Tamriel arrow recovery doctrine involves using healing to minimize damage, disease, and poison effects while removing the arrow. Ergo.
We might have to abandon the bolts if things get dicey, if that's happening then we have other issues, so meh.
I have a grand total of one hundred of those sniping rounds, and each team has ten. It's their job to scout, not to snipe, after all.
…
At night, the scouting teams are pulled back and share what they know. Teams A and B both have spotted Stormcloak teams. A engaged theirs, but B did not respond and let theirs go. Too many targets was the reasoning.
B team has been reminded of what might happen if they chicken out again. Not to them personally, but to literally everybody else that needs them to be on the ball.
More pressing is that there should/may be a bigger Stormcloak force somewhere in the valley. They're most likely just meant for defense, but since our job is to raise a ruckus…
…
[Next Day]
…
Recons A, B, and C are tasked to the general region where we found scouts, and D is covering the other side just in case.
It takes them a hot minute (until noon), but they find enough traces of Stormcloak activity that we can fairly reliably pinpoint the camp as originating from a mineshaft.
I…can also fairly say that I've never really paid a lot of attention to the terrain while going from Whiterun to Dawnstar, so I don't have a good comparator. The terrain here has light forest coverage, mostly shrubs, hills, and a gentle slope upwards towards the mountains. There's enough occlusion and height differential that the path is not immediately noticeable if you go up high enough. I guess not a lot of logging happens here? Maybe they're afraid of mudslides or something.
Either way, we get a bead on the Stormcloaks and take a detour to the camp. Its positioning is such that there's no way for us to approach the camp without being sighted, and the likelihood of us storming a defensive position at a numerical parity and no equipment, then getting away with it is…poor.
So we do the most efficient thing and wait until nightfall, at which point I, with T'nerem's help, sneak into the base and block off the entrance with a large rock and a fair amount of dirt. If it's anything like the videogame tunnel (and all tunnels have been like that so far) they should have enough air for like nine years before they have issues.
Why not do this, but aggressively?
I take normal physical damage when ambushed and critical magic damage on all occasions. I have a squad and the goal is to mess with Dawnstar. This is not messing with Dawnstar, so why take the risk.
Anyhoo, problem averted, moving on.
It takes the Stormcloaks about three days of digging to clear the tunnel, which was mostly just used as supplies storage. They suffer no other damage beyond slightly traumatizing a recruit who was locked in with the supplies.
…
[Next Day]
…
No real hassles. A bear wanted to tangle, so it got stabbed a bunch.
…
[Next Day]
…
Out of the valley in earnest. We're making good time compared to other units of similar size. Having our recon not needing to physically come back or compromise their position in order to report is a big help.
…
The problem is what do we do now?
Our standing orders were to just distract the Stormcloaks within the region of Dawnstar, so…
…I guess we go and just be annoying? What can I blow up that will both attract Stormcloak attention while also not making Dawnstar unified against me or the Imperial army?
Decisions, decisions…
…
[Back at the Compound, 3rd Person Camera]
…
Jake is bored. Not because he has nothing to do, because there's always a mountain of work, but because he knows what's coming and has to just sit and wait for it to happen.
According to the newly set up information network they have, upon hearing of the major coordinated assault being leveled at Windhelm, Stormcloak cells across Skyrim suddenly activated and did so in tremendous numbers. One of these cells, across the pond, seemed to be getting boats together in order to assault Falkreath.
Now, according to all estimates the cell has about thirty people, max, so assaulting Falkreath is definitively out of the question. The fact that they were seemingly pointed towards Lakeview and the most common water routes to the town, however…
"I don't really care what you do just get here already." Jake mutters, watching from a balcony on the fourth floor. "Fuck."
It's not that he's spoiling for a fight, it's just that while being tasked on defense he knows better than to go out and search and leave his home base relatively undefended. Also, he's spoiling for a fight.
"I don't think I've ever seen you this flustered." T'ma says, surprised.
"I'm not really flustered, per se." Jake says. "The sooner they show up here, the less likely they are of going somewhere else." He cracks his knuckles. "I really want to beat some heads."
T'ma can tell that there's a deeper reason, but elects not to push the issue.
Some hours pass, and at the cusp of darkness, Jake sees boats in the water.
"Ok, in retrospect, I should've seen this coming." He sighs. "Yeah, makes sense, why go during the day." He jumps from the balcony and, because he can fly, land at the docks. Then, with another leap, he flies over the water.
The Stormcloaks rowing the boats were focused, concentrated, and ready to bring pain upon the Imperial Military, and especially these traitors to the Windcaller name. Once they reach the shore under the cover of night, they'll light torches, ring their battlecry, and
The four Stormcloak rowboats are suddenly buckled and overturned by the impact of Jake and all of his gear slamming into the water at an extremely high speed. The soldiers, none of them marines by any stretch of the imagination, do not come back up.
"Well now I feel like an asshole." Jake grumbles, standing on the water surface. "Fine, fine." He, with one mighty leap, goes back onto the pier.
Upon landing again, he feels a sudden chill run down his spine. Deciding to be cautious, he takes another leap back to the Compound and lands on the roof, where he sprints to cover before turning around.
A large, black shape in the sky.
Fucking hell, really? Jake wonders. "Ain't this a good time." He puts up his hand in order to cast, and stops for a moment.
…The dragon is loitering.
"O…kay, that's new." Jake mutters. "He's definitely loitering, yeah?" He stares at the shape. "Is it looking for something? It might be looking for something." He changes his mind on casting, and instead hurries to the armory.
"Oh, uh, hey." T'mare says upon seeing him drop from the ceiling. "What's going on? Is there a dragon in the sky?"
Jake nods. "Got it in one." He goes into the armory and unlocks an undecorated one-handed sword far, far too heavy for its size. "I'm going to engage it. If I'm not back in ten minutes, sound the alarm and go into lockdown."
T'mare salutes. "Yes sir." As much as she would like to help, the fact that this is shaping to be a fight over water is beyond her pay grade.
"Alright." Jake locks onto the dragon again, this time noting more civilian eyes on the circling beast in the distance. "Let's do this."
Jake locks onto the dragon, braces himself against the wall, focuses upon his flight perks, and, with a blast of energy launches at the dragon.
The Dragon feels him coming and swerves to evade, but Jake is far too fast of a human bullet, and the hit sends both of them into the lake.
"Well, shit." Jake lands on the water surface. He does his best to ignore his rapidly wetting socks as the Dragon breaks its fall with its wings.
"{Interesting.}" The Dragon growls. "{An Enlightened.}" He rears back for a breath. "Yuul To–"
"Yeah, no." Jake kicks off the water and slams into the Dragon's chest at maximum speed. The impact forces the dragon to rear back onto its hind legs, and he takes the opportunity to yank and break free as the Dragon regains its posture with its wings.
"Yuul To Shul!"
Jake kicks off the air and flies away from the burst of flames, which sears and boils the lake beneath them, kicking up a large field of vapors and smoke that obscures vision. Not that it mattered to Jake, who was now some fifty feet away, a little dazed, and halfway soaked.
Ok, making distance, bad. Jake notes, and jumps right towards the dragon again. His perk lets him accelerate heavily provided he has a clear visual and focus, but the vapors scramble the accuracy. He slams into the dragon's wing and tears clean through, landing some twenty feet away, skidding on the lake surface. "Having to turn sucks!" He growls and darts in again.
The dragon, sensing him, sweeps its tail.
Jake only gets to go "Fuck" before getting bodied by the tail and whipped away. A little dazed, he botches his landing and is a good two feet underwater before he gets his bearings. That was stupid. He notes, and walks up to the surface.
The dragon tries to burn him again.
Bitch. Jake ducks underwater again. Plan B. He scratches his chin while standing underneath the surface of flames. Its senses are too good for an even fight. He readies his sword. Alright then, ambush tactics it is.
He pulls the hilt of his sword and connects the sword with his mana.
The guard of the sword, responding to his power, crackling with electricity and grows in size, extending to nearly double his shoulders. The sword blade also crackles and grows, extending high into the sky.
The Dragon, sensing this energy, turns his head to watch the sword extend into the sky. 10, 20, 30…sensing danger, the Dragon readies its wings. "Wuld Nah Kest!"
Now in the sky, the Dragon looks down, magically seeing the large blade being readied, and lets loose a breath in its direction. "Yuul Tol Shul!"
In the darkness, Jake suddenly has a bright and shiny target to focus his massive sword onto. Concentrating everything into his flying abilities, he homes the sword towards the source of light and rockets into the sky.
The Dragon senses it before he sees it, and swerves to dodge. It underestimates the length of the incoming sword by a wide margin, and the sword pierces into its wing. Jake, feeling contact, pulls mightily, and cleaves the wing from the dragon's body.
"One more!" Jake jumps again in the air. As the dragon struggles with its position in the sky, Jake hits the apex of his jump, twists in the air, and kicks off one more time.
Just as the Dragon finally gets itself steadied, Jake slams his sword onto its back and drags it down onto the lake surface. The impact with the lake gives him the force needed, and Jake cleaves into the Dragon, his blade eating well into its body. Jake bolts into the sky again, and with one final twist brings all of his power to bear on the dragon's neck. The head sails high into the sky and disappears into the darkness of the night. The rest of the corpse sinks into the depths of the lake.
Jake, now spent, throws up some magelights to confirm the kill and only sees a growing patch of blood. He hops gently to the nearest piece of solid land he could see and collapses onto it with the giant sword. Without Ash's mana pool it will not shrink, so he simply lays it on the ground next to him.
His adrenaline gone, he flops onto the grass.
T'ma's voice calls out from somewhere in the darkness. "You good?"
"Yeah, just need a minute." Jake replies. "Unless you wanna carry me home?"
"I think we have rope here somewhere." T'yanna says brightly. "Where's your foot?"
Jake sticks up his foot and pops a magelight on it, and a moment later a rope latches onto him. The T-sisters, rowing, bring Jake onto the water, where he slides around the water surface without a care in the world.
T'mare shakes her head. "To think we're used to this already."
Jake grins. "We're basically gods."
T'yanna laughs. "Then be careful not to get smote."
Some months later, a rumor circulates on the opposite side of the lake about something big leaving the water. It comes as quickly as it goes.
…
[1st Person Camera, Within the week of the above fight]
…
…So…um…
We're watching a dragon circle over a patch of snow far in the distance.
…That's not good, right?
We've been messing with Dawnstar for about two weeks now and the Stormcloak resistance has been nothing short of pitiful.
It's now bright and early in the morning and suddenly, y'know, that.
It's far away, though. At least a good mile away. The fact that it's visible from this distance, though.
"It's not that scary when we're this far away from it." T'nerem quips. She's shivering though.
"So, what's the call, boss?" Mell asks. "What do we do?"
I mean, it Dargon.
I see Dargon.
I kill Dargon. Unga bunga optional but highly recommended.
…that said, it's a long approach distance to the Dragon with basically no cover, over problematic snowy terrain. 'Easy' is likely not going to be the word of the day here.
Still. Dargon.
I sigh. "Time to learn, I suppose."
Of all the wagons we have, there is one wagon that is never touched. It is my panic wagon.
Y'know all the things we picked up and learned over the past year(s) with regards to Dwemer stuff? Yeah, it's about to get used.
…
[3rd Person Camera]
…
Ash pulls a cumbersome looking weapon from the cart. A quad of four stakes, ten feet tall and connected to each other like a massively tall stool, and definitely too big for him to use. He sets it into the ground.
"Hoo boy, this is happening." T'nerem says. "Alright, the captain will go fight the dragon, everyone else is to keep hidden." She says to the watching crowd. "Keep the camp hidden as usual." Nobody is listening in favor of watching Ash piece together his gear.
Ash snaps his fingers and summons the wolf. "Really should've packed the cart differently." He mutters and unloads the cart, loading the gear onto the wolf, finishing with a metallic harness. He then mounts the wolf and pats its head.
With a howl, the wolf suddenly expands in size, growing to double the size of a horse through raw magicka.
"Really, really should've tried this beforehand." Ash says with a somewhat wobbly laugh. "Oh lordy it's high." He straps himself into the saddle and clips an arm-like piece of gear from the wolf's mount onto his right wrist. Then, he picks up the quad-rails. "Alright." He says to T'nerem, looking some five feet over her head. "I'm off."
T'nerem's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, and her tone isn't as snarky as she'd like. "Don't screw yourself over on this one."
Ash smiles back. "No promises."
…
[1st Person Camera]
…
I did not think it would be so high up. I mean, I'm used to jumping high distances with the wolf but this sense of…instability, is new.
Anyhoo.
I guide the kilowolf towards the Dragon, and it takes off at a speed and I am definitely uncomfortable with this
Each stride of the wolf causes us to rise and fall for a good two feet.
It's kinda fun once you get used to IT
It runs over a boulder and causes a massive difference in height.
NOPE THIS IS STUPID I WILL NEVER DO THIS AGAIN
…I should be blindfolded next time. This is fun. It's like a roller COASTER
Another boulder.
NO ITS NOT
And so on.
Anyways, I'll need to adjust it with something else later, but for now this works.
Once I get within my range of…short, I'll be able to shoot at it.
But I have to say. After switching to mana vision…a dragon? That dragon specifically? All dragons? That dragon right now is a mass of hyper concentrated magicka. Like…y'know how in Physics, all physical objects have a slight gravitational pull for just existing? The Dragon's like that, only with magic. It's so dense the ambient magic around it is actually being pulled into it. It's kinda neat, not gonna lie.
Hmm.
Well, for now.
My new weapon is the Prototype Anti-Dragon Railgun. The four rails have soulstones built into them to let them charge magical lightning. Once charged, I use a steel stake and fire it at the target. Very straightforward.
The mount for my wolf is, in essence, a testbed for Power Armor…ish? It uses a lot of magic-based equipment to augment my ability to, say, heft the railgun and actually aim it at the target. Can't punch with it because there's not enough length for that kind of elongation, but it's still real fuckin' neato. I mean, I can bludgeon with it, but it'll stop working after that point.
The railgun is a good 120 pounds. It's not something designed to be carried and used by one person.
Alright, closing in the distance.
The Dragon is still just circling. It's moving its neck like it's looking for something. I'm not comfortable with not knowing what that something might be, but it's not like we can question it, so…
I halt the wolf. Let's aim.
We park the wolf sideways and level the railgun at the circling form of the dragon.
I feel like a weird mix between a Zoid and a Toyota Pickup. Toyota Pickup with a weapon nailed to the bed.
Anyhoo. Charging…charging…
Charging…
…Ready.
Load rail and HUUUUUUUUUUGH
We're loading it with our left hand. There is a second arm brace for the left arm, but because the arm braces are designed for the wolf when it's small and the mounting it designed to expand when the wolf grows large, the second arm brace is too far away to reach comfortably with our current posture, too difficult to connect with one arm, and too short to reach the gun. Ergo, only muscle power.
I REGRET NOT DOING A COMPLETE DRY RUN BEFORE TODAY HAAAAAAAAAAAGH
But it gets done, because we now have appreciable muscle.
HOO my god that was tough. My arm is not used to bending that way. Ok. Nevermind. Aiming.
…I should also build something that would make aiming easier.
We are, in essence, looking at a dot in the sky.
How far away am I? Five hundred feet? Shorter?
I dunno. It's in the crosshairs and not really moving, though.
Fire!
Impact. The Dragon, hit in the torso, spins violently and haphazardly before hitting the ground with a plume of snow.
Hoo wow. Like a skewered bird.
…That being said, there's basically no difference in its magical signature even after it was hit.
Let's get closer.
So we do. As we get close, we can see that the size of the round and the hit location made it difficult for the dragon to get its feet under it, to the point where it's still struggling by the time we reached it.
The Dragon is skewered through the chest. I have three more rounds.
HUUUUUUUUUURG
At a distance of fifty feet and against a very panicked dragon…
SHISH!
Bang
KA!
Bang
BOB!
Bang
Fuck yeah! That…was not satisfying in the slightest. It feels like bullying.
Welp, that's how it's supposed to be, I guess.
There is now a badly mauled corpse lying inside a growing pool of blood.
Dragons bleed a lot. Jesus.
I'm continuing to stay fifty feet away because I expect it to do shenanigans at any moment.
Some five minutes pass.
The Dragon not losing any magical power despite being a corpse is weeeeird. I mean, it looks…less 'together'. But…
Still. Can I butcher it now?
A chill runs up our spine.
Guess not.
We unsummon the wolf and whip up some wind and snow to cover our position.
And finally, create a ward that is magically loose on one side and tight on the other to cover against mana vision. I really, really hope this works.
Soon enough, in the air.
Alduin.
Oh fuck 3.
…
[3rd Person Camera]
…
Alduin, intrigued by the blot of magic that is Ash near one of his young dragons, had flown over for a closer look. Upon arriving at the site, he found, to his mild surprise, the dragon dead, and the blob hiding.
"{I see.}" Alduin murmurs. "{One of those people.}" He then roars.
Ash sees incredible amounts of mana being channeled from Alduin to the dead dragon, fortifying its magical signature until it resembles itself before getting shot four times. With a lurch, it recovers and returns to life, the spikes in its body disintegrating into dust.
"{Return home.}" Alduin commands. "{You have been disgraced.}"
The young dragon growls and spreads its wings. "Wuld Nah Kest!" And is gone.
"{As for you.}" Alduin says to the hiding Ash. "{Bring your dragonborn the next time we meet, and I'll consider your life to have been worth saving.}"
…
[1st Person Camera]
…
We watch as Alduin flies away.
So…it growled a lot. Does that mean it saw me? It didn't attack or whatever, so I don't think it saw me properly…
…but…how do I say this…?
After being able to see its mana, it feels like Alduin is invincible. If having a core like that dragon meant that it could be restored to life, then Alduin's core is so dense that it might as well be life itself.
…
…I…guess that means I need a bigger gun, huh.
The young dragon ate some needles and went down. If I hit Alduin hard enough with a bigger bullet, then it should go down as well.
…but all my bullets are gone. Boo.
Oh well, at least I'm alive. With mana like that nothing conventional would even scratch it.
Hmm.
.
We get back to camp and return to normal operations, so the following is more or less summarized over a few days.
.
Given that mana naturally regenerates, does that mean that the other dragon would have eventually recovered and revived on its own?
Hrm.
That's right, right? A Dragon not killed by a dragonborn would still have its soul, and therefore would revive lore-wise, no? So does that mean that the ball of magic is its soul?
Yes, I guess? I'm looking at, say, T'nerem, and she has innate magic, but no 'ball'. A bear also has innate magic but no ball. So…
…something caused its magic to coalesce into a ball, and it's better ("better") than having magic permeate throughout the body.
Maybe.
I'd say that taking too much damage has an effect on the ball, but that's probably a secondary effect due to getting the shit shot out of it.
Mm…a lot of things I don't understand.
…
[A week later]
…
Hey guess what
Guess
Go on, guess
Spoiler alert the Imperial army fucked up and fucked up bad
So!
It may come as a surprise to the Imperial Army Planners that Windhelm and Riften have a much, much better understanding of the water systems between the two cities than a dude in Solitude, and that, oh, I don't know–
Ahem.
I'll stop now.
I mean, I think we can all understand that, on some levels, the Imperial army is being set up for failure in Skyrim on multiple fronts, so the fact that they failed therefore comes as no surprise.
Anyways, the two Imperial armies, understandably, got double-ambushed by the more locally experienced Windhelm army and were crushed.
In roughly the same time, Windhelm sent reserves to Riften via the riverworks and took back Riften, so we're right back to where we started.
I wonder if the Thief's Guild was specifically paid for this outcome? Seemed like Riften didn't put up much of a fight despite all of the efforts the Imperials made on securing the city's loyalty.
Hrm.
As such, our unit is recalled back to Whiterun despite having some pretty good records. No casualties, though I made a point of not getting into any big fights.
There's a lot more I can say about this, but all of it would just be shitting on the Thalmor, so it's kind of pointless.
…
[3rd Person Camera]
…
In the halls of Dragonsreach, General Tullius was busy grumbling at the expected results of the campaign. He stands, staring down at the large table with the map and pages and pages of notes, along with Jarl Balgruuf, his housecarl Irileth, and the Court Mage Farengar.
"Look on the bright side, you only lost what you planned to lose." Jarl Balgruuf says in a semi-consoling tone. He was against this attack from the start for the exact reasons that caused it to fail.
Tullius growls. "Yes, at least that plan went well." He sighs. "Damn the Thalmor." He reads the reports of what was left–a handful of cavalry, a complete loss on all non-Thalmor mages sent (no surprises there), and a near total devastation of the infantry sent.
"How convenient that there are no mages left after the Thalmor are done with them." Balgruuf laughs coldly. "Truly, their sense of 'damage control' is a truly wondrous thing."
Tullius shares the cold laugh. "If Windcaller was sent like they wanted, do you think he would have died too?"
"Unlikely." Irileth says immediately. "He's an intelligent coward. If it came down to it, he would have escaped on his lonesome without a backwards glance."
Balgruuf laughs again. "Is that meant to be praise?" He turns serious. "Well, Tullius?"
Tullius has a slight, if thoughtful, frown. "And? What of him in this last campaign?"
Irileth directs some notes his way. "A resounding success, if anything: Dawnstar seemed to have been under the impression that they were fighting the main force."
Tullius nods slowly. "I see. In that case, add him to the list." He glances at Balgruuf. "We serve the Empire, and only the Empire. The more skilled hands we can get away from the Thalmor, the better."
Balgruuf nods. "Oh, I understand, alright. Farengar." He smirks.
Farengar sighs at the extra work, though his bags were already packed. "I'll bring a gift."
…
Some days later, he and a squad of promising young mages™ arrive in Falkreath, spend the night, and head to the Windcaller Estate in Lakeview.
The young mages are roughly around 14 years old.
"That looks almost as large as Dragonsreach." One of the mages (Mage A) says as they see the Warwolf Compound, walls and all. "Does he fancy himself a Jarl?"
"He's merely fancy." Farengar says. "Now mind your manners, we're here to beg."
Mage A takes a moment to look around and sees nothing that catches his interest. There's the mansion, large and imposing and grandiose. There's the village of some fifty roofs nearby, and a dock in the distance. He finds himself begrudgingly respectful of how relatively wealthy the village feels, a sense reinforced by the stone-paved roads. How'd they get lined up so well?
As he ponders this, the group arrives at the front gate of the estate. They enter the Compound's garden grounds, where villagers taking a break loiter freely among the colorful bushes and lush grass.
"Pretty open place." Mage A notes of the poor. "I'm surprised he'd let everyone into his walled garden."
"As the saying goes, fuck around and find out." Mage B says, using a phrase that had come into vogue in Winterhold about two weeks ago. She does look at Mage E with a scathing eye. "Must be nice to know you'd be accepted here, huh?"
Mage E just dodges her eyes as they reach the doors of the Estate.
A sharply dressed guard in gleaming armor raises his arm. "Halt, state your business."
"I am Farengar Secret-Fire." Faregar says officiously. "Here to speak to the Windcallers about a private matter of state."
"Of course." The guard says in a bored tone and checks his notebook. "Farengar…understood, please wait here." He touches something on his arm. A short while later, a servant opens the front door.
"Sir Sacred-Fire." The immaculately dressed man says with a small bow. "I'm afraid the lords of the mansion are currently occupied. If you do not mind, you may enter and wait until they are free."
Dandy older gentleman, perfectly tailored suit, monocle, the works.
"Of course, uh…" Farengar takes a second to 'remember' this man's name. "Alfred, was it? We'll be more than happy to wait."
"That's a first." Mage B mutters under her breath.
'Alfred' bows again. "Understood. Please, follow me." He leads them to a waiting room and bade them sit. "I'll arrange for tea in the meantime. Please make yourselves comfortable."
"He's kind of old for a manservant, huh?" Mage A notes as Alfred leaves. "Is security going to be ok in a place like this?"
Farengar smiles, in a rather pleased sort of way. "I'm sure 'Alfred' has things under control if needed." The old man was, after all, personally recommended by him.
They waited in the sparsely furnished room for about ten minutes until a lady dressed in a rather oddly flamboyant outfit showed up with their tea on a cart. Everybody stares while she politely serves the tea before leaving.
"She's…a servant, then?" Mage A says slowly. "What kind of dress is that?"
It's a maid outfit. Frills where they're needed, but otherwise cut to make sense for the local environment and temperature. Blue dress, cream apron.
"It, uh." Mage C moves uncomfortably. "Is certainly something. She's really pretty for a mere servant." Good thing his robes are roomy.
Can't say I dislike his way of doing things. Farengar notes, but otherwise just enjoys his tea.
"Also, tea?" Mage A eyes his drink. "What kind of person plucks grass just to put it in the water?" He sniffs it. "It doesn't even smell like anything."
"Don't judge." Farengar says, rather enjoying his minty herbal tea. He's come to the Warwolf mansion enough times that they know his tastes. That the students are inferred to have the same tastes is an unfortunate consequence, not that he cared.
"I like it." Mage E says quietly, sipping her own cup.
Eventually they all try some and judge it to be somewhere in the realm of not awful, and wait for another minute for Ash to show up. Instead, the maid returns with a rather apologetic bow. "Beg your pardon, master Secret-Fire." She says to the floor. "Master Ash would prefer if you were to join him in the courtyard instead."
"Fine by me." Farengar says, ignoring the noises of disbelief from Mage B. "Let's go, children." He claps his hands as if to get their attention. "Lead the way, if you please."
The maid bows again and leads the party down a straight hallway to the other side of the building. It takes roughly thirty seconds.
The party enters the more isolated section of the mansion that's completely walled off from the outside. They see, at a glance, some training dummies, archery targets, racks of practice weapons, a sand pit for some wrestling. They watch for a little while as a mercenary and a guard practice some takedowns in the sand pit.
Mage A whistles. "As expected from someone with a mercenary background, he doesn't skimp on the facilities, does he?"
"So where is he?" Mage B looks around. She sees two men stretching and warming up next to the dock. She recognizes one of them as Jake the Mountain, and infers the other as Ash. "Is that them?"
The maid nods and leads them straight to the pair warming up, then bows politely and retreats.
Farengar waves hello. "Good morning." He sees that the two are geared up for a fight. "Is there something interesting going on?"
Jake waves. "Yo, Farengar. We're about to do some sparring."
Farengar sees that Jake is armed with no less than four different swords. "...Sparring." None of them seem blunt.
"Yep." Ash says. "The last few fights we've had taught us a lot, and so we're getting our ducks in a row. More or less."
Last few fights. Farengar notes. I heard that Jake fought off a dragon and Ash single-handedly stopped the Stormcloaks in Dawnstar. He doesn't believe the rumors one whit, but…So the two feel that there is something in the future that demands improved readiness.
"So what brings you here?" Jake asks him.
"Ah, that." Farengar smiles slightly. "It's about the message I sent last week." He sees Ash scowl. "But I believe I have it in me to delay official work for yet another hour."
Ash rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. C'mon, Jake." He finishes stretching.
"He's not even armed." Mage A notes. "So he's a magic wielder, too?"
Mage B puts two and two together. "I take it the Jarl is looking for him to be one of our new instructors?" She glares at Farengar. "Seems a bit much of a drop to go from the court wizard of Whiterun to some backwater mercenary."
"Now, now." Farengar laughs. "Just consider today to be a vacation." He finds the nearest large rock and perches himself upon it with rather un-Farengar-like enthusiasm. As in, it was obvious.
"Yeah, yeah…" Mage B sighs, drops nearby, and starts to read from a book she brought for just the occasion, when Farengar starts doing Farengar things.
…
Following the fight against the two dragons, Jake and Ash came to a consensus: firepower aside, they both needed flight. Even if it can't grant total freedom of movement, being able to maneuver to get that advantage was more than worth it.
To that end, Ash picked up as many ranks of flight and flight-related perks as he could, and is currently breaking them in.
…
"Ready."
Ash and Jake huddle over a Septim. Ash flips it into the air.
"Heads." Jake calls. It lands tails. "Fuck. Alright." He sighs and moves away thirty paces.
"So…" Mage A is confused.
"Three bouts, best of two, I go first." Ash says largely to the benefit of the audience. "I get first hit." He cracks his knuckles.
"Yep, go for it." Jake draws one of his swords, a longsword of a one-hander. "Just don't–"
Ash raises his hands over his head.
"No." Jake says, half laughing. "No please."
Electricity begins to crackle and form between his hands, forming vaguely into a spear. After letting it charge for five seconds, Ash hurls it.
The instant the spell leaves his hands, Jake charges forward, covering the thirty paces with one strong step. He levels his sword for a lunging strike.
Ash twists and evades the strike. As he twists, he brings his left arm high over his head, wreaths it in flames, and brings it down onto Jake's arm.
Jake, still in the charge, rams into Ash.
Ash blocks with a barrier and allows himself to be blown away and throws fire between them. Jake backsteps for distance, then leaps over the flames.
Ash tags him with some lightning before Jake closes in.
"Jeez." Mage A mutters as the two continue to exchange blows. "People shouldn't move like that."
Farengar waves a hand dismissively. "Pay no mind to their athletic prowess. There's no magic there."
Jake leaps a good twenty feet into the air.
"So you're telling me there's no magic being used." Mage B says flatly. "Right."
Farengar shrugs. "The world is vast."
Ash fires Flames like a machinegun at the airborne Jake. The Flames explode at random times to try and intercept Jake's flight.
"Magic shouldn't get to do that!" Mage C insists.
Jake flies away from the interception, lightly smoking. Ash switches over to lightning.
"So what's that, then?" Farengar points at Ash.
Ash starts flying.
"Talent? Luck?" Mage C demands. "Definitely not something we can learn."
Farengar smirks. "You're not wrong. However, you are, as usual, missing the point."
Mage C rolls his eyes and grumbles.
"So what is the point, master Farengar?" Mage B says tiredly.
"The point." Farengar says with his gaze fixed upon Mage E. "Is that this is something that is possible. Right in front of you is the perfect showcase of it. Stop being concerned with what you cannot do, and focus on what you can." He looks back up at Ash and Jake. "The skilled adapt, the fools complain about not being taught well enough." He finishes with a glance at Mage B.
Mage B scowls. "Point taken."
Jake catches Ash, the less capable flier, and pile-drives him into the lake.
…
[1st Person Camera]
…
Bah, best two out of three goes to Jake.
"Woo!" Jake celebrates by pile-driving T'ma into the lake. She asked for it. It's honestly a lot of fun, especially since Jake makes a point of randomizing his drop time for shits and giggles.
So, yeah, after fighting two Dragons, we've come to the conclusion that, putting aside whatever bullshit Dragons have to make them revive after death, we should be more than capable of killing one with optimal plus ambush conditions. So, to that end, we should train so that we're able to create those optimal conditions during an engagement.
Like, yes, we can't kill one for good, but if we can knock it out for a few days and, I dunno, bury it in a tomb, then we would have completed the objective of protecting whatever it is the Dragon was trying to attack. It's great if the followup is 'get Aria nearby so she can soul-suck'.
Now, that said, practicing against each other doesn't really simulate fighting a Dragon, but, eh. Nobody else can keep up with us, and Aria is still not back yet.
Alright, now… "Farengar."
"Yes?" Farengar is aaaaall smiles after that performance.
Elephant in the room. "Balgruuf wants me to teach? I'm a Falkreath noble, technically speaking."
Farengar waves me off. "Yes, but nobody believes that. Not even you, I'd wager."
He's not wrong.
"Besides, this will give you something legitimate to do in the eyes of others." Faregar smiles. "Certainly, it's not as if protecting all of Tamriel against the threat that heralds the end of days has political value. Surely, training one or two battlemages in the next five years is more important?" He smirks.
Ha. "Considering my current situation I don't see that as being all too valuable to my status." I mean, all the factions in Skyrim have very…distinct, impressions of who I'm supposed to be.
"Indeed." Farengar's smile widens. "And we have the distinct impression that you'd make for a passable teacher."
Double Ha. "Fine, I'll take them. No guarantees." Also I like how he's presenting this like I have a choice when one of the agreements we had with Balgruuf and the Empire was that I'd do pro-Empire things when it came to magic. Yay titles.
…
So, the kids™. There's a total of five, and they're essentially…what did I say before? They're like a year off from that guy that used to do enchanting in Whiterun.
…No, not really, not quite. They're all fourteen-ish, some months apart, and are…uh, of dubious relation to each other. Mages A and C are friends. B doesn't like E, and D's happy doing their own thing.
All are Nords, though D has enough of a fascinating ancestry to have pronounced argonian traits.
I'm sure they get picked on enough, so I'll lay off the barmaid references.
A and C are dudes, B and E are girls. D doesn't care to elaborate. I don't spend enough time with Argonians to figure it out. Or care.
The plan, as described by Farengar, is that I'll have one year–ish to whip this batch of five into battle ready status. There are others scattered across the Empire portion of Skyrim.
…Let me back up.
So, standard magic courses end basic magic practice at the age of fifteen. Going over is fine, but is generally not a good look for someone that's trying to be a dedicated mage. Once basic magic practice is finished, the student then gets the option to do something else to advance their studies–battle magic, enchantment, apprenticeship, whatever. After that, whenever the student or teacher (or both) believes that they're ready, the student graduates to Journeyman and strikes out on their own. There's more nuance to it, and people are people, but that's the general guideline.
It's worth noting that these five don't have a choice in their track after basic training–they're going into combat magic. Which, if you consider the very recent news of Imperial battlemages getting wiped to a man, means that they've basically been told to die in a year's time.
Quite understandable that they're having some behavioral issues, to be honest.
…
[Next Day, ish]
…
"So what are you planning to teach us?" Mage A asks after we're done getting our shit together and the kids settled in.
I shrug. "First, I want to see where you are, then we'll go from there. You've all been foisted upon me and are expected to become Imperial battlemages, and it's always better to be alive than dead, so, yeah."
"Way to get our hopes up." Mage B sighs.
I should note that they're all fairly well kept, which means that they do come from some level of wealth. They have good manners, attitude aside.
We're on our way out to the training area.
I laugh. "Hope rides alone." We get situated in the outdoor training area (the yard). "So, rules. If you get knocked on your ass, you lose. If you seriously injure your training partner, you lose. If you let yourself get injured, you don't lose in the training, but you're an idiot and still would lose. Straightforward, no?"
"Yep." Mage A stretches slightly. "Are you going to fly or whatever?"
I shake my head no. "Defeats the purpose. We can do that later." I stretch too. "Alright, do it like we briefed. Whenever you're ready."
We make some distance.
Mage A takes his position, readies two charges of Shock, and throws them at me. They plink off of my autoguard.
Autoguard: wards/skins that we're casting as an innate reaction.
That was…wow. "...really?" I frown at him.
"Hey, not all of us have a bottomless pool of Magicka." Mage A grumbles. "The reason we're here is because we're not blessed with talent to begin with." He readies two more Shocks.
He hits for nothing. "I mean, I get that, but your kneading is god awful." They scatter so fast. "Alright, I get it. Now guard."
"Isn't dodging better?" Mage A asks but gets his wards ready.
Yes. "Technically yes, but a good guard stops you from being stance broken." I ready a Shock with about as much power as I think Mage A put into his. "For now, humor me."
Mage A puts up a ward. I could just wait it out, but that would be a dick move, so.
Our Shock hits Mage A's ward dead center and he's forced to stagger back several steps, shaking his hand in some pain.
Understood. "I'd hit you again, but that's just bullying. Alright, I get the idea. Next."
…
So I go through all five kids.
Verdict: they're very aware of their limits and have a broad, if shallow understanding of magic. That their understanding is shallow implies that Faregar isn't their teacher, or at least did not teach them for a long period of time.
Farengar had them for about two weeks, then that Imperial campaign went sideways and they got transferred over due to 'wartime logistics'.
Starting from the basics then!
…
[Two Weeks Later]
…
For the record, the basics isn't really anything reductive. Magic's effectiveness is rooted in understanding, so it's just a revisiting of that understanding. How does lightning work? How does fire work? So on. They're fundamentally good kids (insofar as they, y'know, don't want to die) so they learn quickly and well.
That being said.
"Are you Ash Windcaller?"
We are currently in Falkreath doing some shopping. In front of us is a mix of Imperial and Thalmorian troops, armored splendidly with a gleam that is definitely not available to rank and file troops or officers.
Military Police, I suppose. "That's me. What do you need?" The leader of the group, and honestly the leaders of the group in general, are all Thalmor. No points for guessing who's running the show on this one.
The lead Thalmor smirks. "'What do we need', he says." He pulls out a scroll. "Ash Windcaller, you are under arrest for being in concert with the cultists of the Wolf Mother." He glares. "Submit quietly or by force."
…now why would they think of a thing like that?
Smash cut to the past month where Falkreath residents could see lightning visible past the mountain, in the direction of Lakeview, literally every night.
Hmmmmmm
Also flying
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
And the giant wolf
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
And the giant magic lightning flying wolf
HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Yeah no I totally brought it on myself.
This was a completely understandable development, I'm just surprised it didn't happen sooner. "Interesting." I raise my hands in defeat. "I don't agree, but I'm willing to see what happens." Somebody's arm got twisted, maybe?
"In that case, please," The Thalmor practically spits, "follow us to the Jarl's Hall."
In any case, Potema's probably going to be a problem, so if I'm getting the opportunity to solve said problem, I might as well take it.
.
.
.
{ === + === }
Author Notes:
It's a weird trip to do this in google docs and have google docs correct me on Shout spelling.