Seven days remain until the DeSade ultimatum expires…
Morthal outskirts, mid morning…
Vega stumbled through the filth and decay of the swamps surrounding Morthal. His hair was matted with mud and sweat from his disastrous escape from Solitude. The mission to infiltrate the Thalmor headquarters the week before had gone off without a hitch, until his escape was thwarted by a guard with terrible timing. As he dropped from the roof, he startled an Imperial soldier, who then alerted the already swarming guards. The chase went on for days, winding through Dragon Bridge, down to Rorikstead and through the tundra of Whiterun, ending in the ominous mountains surrounding Labyrinthian. The resident trolls made short work of the remaining pursuers, allowing Vega to slip into the forgotten catacombs.
He sat in the gloom, surrounded by the dead for four days, a terrible blizzard kept him in the forsaken monolith for another three days. Luckily for him, frost troll tasted excellent roasted over the ceremonial pyres of Labyrinthian. With the storm finally breaking, the dark mage could continue his trek to Dawnstar.
"Namira… Curse it all…" He mumbled, finally pulling himself out of the swamp and onto solid land. "Those damn trolls were probably tainted by eating those disgusting Imperials…"
He could feel his blood running through his veins as a fever started to take over his body, slowing his pace even more. His boots felt as if they were filled with iron, and that his muscles had been replaced with solid dwarven metal. His feet began to drag through the mud as more and more control was lost to his violent food poisoning. A chill wracked his body, causing him to hit the ground with a painful thud. He shivered in the muck, cursing all the divines as his vision blurred. Vega growled as he heard footsteps approaching.
"…Master Vega?" A voice called out.
"Mm…Maryk((Mair-ick))?" Vega croaked, trying to push himself out of the mud, but face planting.
The man rushed over, kneeling beside the fallen lycan. Putting the back of his hand to Vega's forehead, he gasped in shock.
"What in Oblivion happened?" Maryk asked, rolling him over. "Who did this?"
"Food poisoning…" Vega replied, holding back the urge to vomit "And overall exhaustion…"
"Well let's get you to the house and get you fixed up."
With seemingly little effort, the smaller man lifted Vega off the ground and threw him over his shoulder, trotting off to the DeSade house deep in the swamp. Upon arrival, Maryk kicked open the door and ran to the master bedroom upstairs. Placing the ailing man on the bed, Maryk crashed down the stairs and into the kitchen, rooting through one of the cabinets.
"Missa…" He muttered, digging through the inventory. "If only you would label bottles with words and not cute little animal drawings…"
Finding a bottle of bright purple liquid, the man popped the cork and smelled the contents, hoping not to poison himself in the process. Not feeling any ill effects, Maryk dashed back up the stairs, forcing the brew down Vega's throat. A sputtering cough sat the man up, feeling as if he just drank fire.
"What did I just put inside of me?!" Vega gurgled, writhing in pain.
"Something to kill your illness!" Maryk replied.
"Or my insides!" Vega sputtered, coughing terribly.
As the curative worked through Vega's system, Maryk went to work scrounging up some food. Of the hideouts in Skyrim, the house in the swamps of Morthal was the least equipped, usually reserved as a last resort should something very wrong happen in the province. The swamp stronghold lacked the amenities of the other homes, the kitchen also functioned as the armory, with the fireplace flanked by two mannequins covered in ebony armor. The greenhouse doubled as a bedroom, and the derelict alchemy lab was also the equally desolate library.
For the time being, Maryk worked alone, his partner in stewardship, the Argonian Walks-In-The-Mists, had been kidnapped and probably killed, seeing as no ransom note was left. Or, he had just wandered off, not returning of his own volition.
The man cringed as he heard Vega's screams of anguish as the last of the maladies was purged from his system, leaving him exhausted in a puddle of his own sweat on the bed. Creeping back up the stairs, Maryk found Vega asleep, not seeming to be in any pain. A relieved sigh escaped the man's lips as he walked back downstairs, only to cringe once more to the terrible sound of the horse outside screaming its lungs out.
Dashing outside, the Imperial found two bandits trashing the grounds.
"Why are you doing this?!" Maryk shouted, adopting a fighting stance.
"Because we can!" The Orc bandits replied, laughing cruelly as they killed the horse.
Maryk narrowed his eyes, glancing over the two marauders as they continued to wreck the place. He muttered to himself as he clapped his hands together, placing an icy rune spell on the ground below his feet, protecting the house and the lycan within. Maryk paced four more around the front of the house as he stepped forward, clenching his hands into fists.
"You're going to have to kill me before you trash the rest of my house. It's only polite." The man said, his voice oddly calm.
"As you wish, human!" The female Orc replied, swinging her axe in circles.
"And to think my day couldn't get any worse, now I have to touch you…" Maryk hissed, sprinting into melee range.
Maryk's moves were sublime, fluidly dodging both the axe of the woman and the gigantic blade of the Orc male, angering both the intruders to no end. Their attacks were lowing in precision, giving the man more and more opportunities to retaliate. Summoning a crackling lightning spell to his hand, Maryk cracked the woman square between the breasts, delivering a full body shock, momentarily stunning the female. Her scream of pain only enraged her companion. In his fury, he brought his axe down with a horrible force, missing Maryk and taking off the female Orc's right arm.
"The least graceful of the Mer… Just as I've heard." Maryk chuckled, rolling out of the way of another swipe. "I suppose, having one eye doesn't help much."
The Orc's rage peaked, letting out a feral scream as he charged as Maryk, unaware of the trap he was running into. The Imperial sidestepped, kicking the Orc in the back of the knee, sending him into one of the frost runes. The icy explosion sent him into each of the other traps, encasing him in more and more ice as with each detonation. He fell to the ground with a clunk, being nothing more than a man shaped ice sculpture.
Maryk chuckled quietly as the Orc slowly suffocated in his icy prison. Calmly walking to the female bleeding to death on the front lawn, he knelt beside her, careful to stay out of arm's reach.
"You picked a bad time to get lost…" He chuckled, pulling the axe from the disembodied arm. "But I suppose I do agree with Nero in some respects… The ugly are of no use."
Standing up, he glared down on the Orc woman, feeling a pull of pity as he brought the axe over his head.
Riften… The Ratway…
"Gross!" Aurora groaned, holding her nose."This place is disgusting!"
"What better way to hide a bunch of rats…" Gerda commented, pulling her scarf over her mouth and nose. "It smells like a few corpses down here."
"Probably." Fenrir and Faust chuckled, moving with ease through the gloom. "We're almost there, don't worry."
"I don't see why we had to come with on this little expedition…" Aurora muttered, narrowing her eyes in the low light. "You two are in the guild, what good are we going to be?"
"We just do as Brother asks of us." Faust replied, running a hand through his hair. "And any way we can help, we do."
"Seriously?" The white haired woman replied, scoffing. "Must be nice having lapdogs."
"Even though you are our cousin, I won't hesitate to smack some sense into you." Fenrir replied, flashing a fanged smile. "Once this drama is over, you can go back to your man in Whiterun."
Shaking her head, Aurora continued to follow the twins with Gerda in tow as the continued through the sewers, eventually coming to The Ragged Flagon. As the four walked around the edge of the cistern, a large man met them at the edge of the bar area. He looked down and scowled, allowing Faust and Fenrir to pass, but stopped the women from proceeding.
"They're with us." Faust said, pointing at the girls.
"Does it look like I care?" The man replied, standing firm. "I ain't never seen 'em before, so they can't go any further."
"Dirge…" Fenrir growled, pulling off his hood. "We both know I can beat your ass into next week. Let them through."
"No can do pup." Dirge spat, sneering at the teenager. "Mercer's orders. He pays me, you don't."
"And before we showed up, you weren't getting paid at all." Faust replied, rolling his eyes. "Go sit down before Fenrir makes you."
"Nope."
Without another word, Dirge swung at Fenrir, putting everyone on the offensive. The massive Nord's fist connected squarely with Fenrir's jaw, sending him spinning to the floor. Using the momentum, the young lycan dug his fingertips into the crumbling mortar between the bricks before launching himself back at Dirge, driving his shoulder into the human's midsection. The force took both of them over the railing and into the cesspit of the cistern.
"Go! Now!" Gerda commanded, ushering the others into the tavern.
Taking a seat at one of the tabled, the three felt a bevy of eyes fall upon them as Dirge and Fenrir thrashed about in the water nearby. Before they could get too comfortable, the three were approached by two people, clad in black leather armor. A few awkward moments of silence passed as everyone eyed up one another.
"Well Faust, who have you brought with you today?" The man of the pair asked, pulling back his hood.
"These are my associates, Gerda Gottlieb and Aurora Luune. We have some business to discuss." Faust replied, introducing the women.
"And what business would that be?" The man asked, crossing his arms.
"Well Brynjolf, have a seat and we'll talk." Faust grinned, narrowing his eyes at the woman next to him. "Still your cold self, Vex?"
"Hmph." The woman replied, looking away.
"Let's get some privacy…" Brynjolf chuckled, stroking his beard. "And maybe those two won't murder each other while we talk."
The three followed the senior members of the Thieves' Guild into the back, taking seats around a small table. The inner sanctum of the Ratway was lively with activity. The guild was doing slightly better since the twins had been drafted, more gold was flowing through the hands of the members, more members had joined, and a few of the amenities they previously enjoyed had returned.
"So, what's this business?" Brynjolf asked, leaning back in his chair. "With you two, I'm sure it'll be prosperous."
Without a word, Gerda produced a note and slid it across the table to Vex. The woman narrowed her eyes as she opened it. A few moments of silence passed as she read, the look on her face turning from one of disbelief to an odd smile as her eyes lit up with a strange excitement.
"This seems… Difficult." Vex said, handing the note to Brynjolf. "Not impossible, but needlessly difficult."
"The harder the fight, the greater the glory." Aurora interjected, leaning over the table.
"But what is the point of this whole battle?" Brynjolf asked, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "It really just looks like you're falling in line with the Stormcloaks."
"At first glance, yes." Faust replied, stretching his arms wide. "But Skyrim wouldn't be under one banner, as it were. The holds would govern themselves, without a puppet king in the pocket of the Empire and the Thalmor."
"But wouldn't that lead to an even bigger civil conflict?" Vex questioned, cocking an eyebrow. "And what is to stop the Stormcloaks from trying to take over after all is said and done?"
"The ultimatum calls for the disbanding of the Stormcloaks, and for the Empire to withdraw from Skyrim." Gerda commented, adjusting her clothing. "There will be other… Measures, as it were, in place to stop that sort of thing from happening."
"Very interesting…" Brynjolf chuckled. "And what of us? Thrown to the winds of chaos during the approaching hostilities?"
"This arrangement will actually work much better for you all." Faust said, locking eyes with the red-headed Nord. "We have people in place that would extend your… Influence."
"I think we have enough of those, Lad." Brynjolf replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"The four fences and one informant for the nine holds is not enough… Not like Winterhold has anything of value." Vex agreed, nodding her head.
Rocking in his chair, Brynjolf stroked his beard, thinking on the business at hand. The price was right, but it was the work that bothered him. The DeSade's proposal for the Guild would have every available member looting large amounts of armaments from both Imperial and Stormcloak strongholds, lessening their battle strength without any actual combat.
"We'll do it." Brynjolf said flatly, kicking his feet up on the table. "When do we start?"
"And what are we going to do with all those weapons and armor?" Vex asked, scratching her chin.
"Sell them to bandits, toss them in a lake, lose them, we don't really care." Faust answered with indifference. "Just as long as the main forces don't have them."
"Tomorrow night, you'll start thieving your way from Riften to Solitude." Aurora said, "Use any means to your disposal. For the amount Nero is paying you, we expect perfection."
"And if we muck it up?" Vex asked, cracking a sly grin.
"You better hope the Nocturnal that you do not." Faust replied, his tone changing the mood instantly.
"Rune!" Brynjolf called out, summoning an underling. "Show our guests out the back way please."
"Yes sir!" The man replied, "Please, follow me."
Returning to the surface, the group made their way back to Honeyside, finding Fenrir asleep at the kitchen table, reeking of the sewers below. The individuals settled in for the night as Gerda made a midnight meal for the motley crew. It was nearly dawn when Nero and Missa returned, slipping in unnoticed by the rest of the DeSade faction.
"Won't what we did just give the vampires the upper hand?" Missa asked, making herself some tea.
"We'll deal with them in the chaos to follow…" Nero trailed off, nodding off in his chair. "Speaking of chaos, I haven't seen Dane or Seth since we arrived."
"They're on an errand for me. If they didn't get killed, they should be back today." Missa replied, noticing that Nero was nearly asleep.
A smirk crossed the vampire's lips as she grabbed a blanket from the bed and draped it over the sleeping lycan. Much was happening around her, but she didn't much care to get involved anymore than she already was. She enjoyed keeping tabs on the elite of the border town, keeping herself busy with her nocturnal alchemy and her few other hobbies. All the talk of war and revolt didn't interest her, but she did what she must to assist Nero.
The moon hung eerily over the fog-choked swamps of Morthal, casting an ill light down upon Windstead Manor. Vega had slept off the remnants of his food poisoning and was stirring as Maryk made some food. The lycan walked heavily down the stairs, not fully conscious as he followed the smell of food.
"Oh good, you're awake." Maryk said, pulling some roasted meat from the fire. "Eat this, you won't feel so dead."
With a grumble, Vega snatched the food from the Imperial and tore off a chunk with his teeth, rolling his eyes as he chewed.
"So now, let's get to what you're doing so far out here." Maryk chuckled, sitting down at the table. "As I recall, you were in Solitude with Nero and the boys?"
"Correct." Vega replied, rolling his neck. "But the Thalmor are onto some of us, myself included."
"So you ran here?"
"I torched their hideout in Solitude, and my escape got… Messy. I ran half way to Whiterun before losing those damn Imperials in that cursed area of Labyrinthian."
"I see I see, that would explain the poisoning."
"No, me eating troll for three days explains the poisoning… Ugh."
The two chatted long into the night. Being isolated, Maryk had only a skeletal understanding of Nero's current schemes of glory. The Imperial was both shocked and impressed. Their conversation was shaken to a halt as one of Maryk's rune spells split the air with a terrible explosion. Vega sighed heavily as he and Maryk pushed themselves to their feet, carefully going to investigate.
Poking his head out the door, Vega spied three fearsome looking Orc warriors, apparently searching for something. The one that had set off the rune was blown into the murky waters nearby. Narrowing his eyes, he slipped out the door, rolling silently to the small horse barn. Crouching behind a hay bale, the lycan had to suppress a shout of surprise as he put a hand on the corpse of a very dead Orc.
Silently climbing into the rafters of the stable, Vega rolled up his sleeves as an unnatural light began to emanate from his hands. His eyes locked on the dead Orc as he sent a pitch black ball of energy into the dead flesh. A horrible groaning seeped from the zombie's lips as it sat up. With little instruction, the walking corpse attacked the living Orcs with horrifying ferocity. The inherent berserker strength coupled with even less fear of death made for a fierce opponent, undead or otherwise. As the clashing of weapons rung out through the swamp, Maryk readied the most powerful spell in his magickal vocabulary. A noticeable chill gripped the air as he stepped outside, his hands a glow with cryomantic energy. The coldest of winds erupted from the human's icy hands as he launched the spell forward, instantly freezing everything in its path solid. The hostile Orcs couldn't even scream before their lungs were encased in a terrible frost. Death came slowly to the frozen marauders as they were slowly suffocated by the ice.
Vega dropped from the rafters of the stable, surveying the now permafrosted surroundings. A sinister laugh crept from his throat as the last signs of life left the intruders. The ambient temperature returned to its gloomy medium as Maryk sighed heavily.
"Everything alright?" Vega asked, approaching the man.
"Yeah…" Maryk replied, breathing heavily. "Might have overdone it with that last one…"
"Impressive display…" The lycan trailed off, crossing his arms. "Very odd that Nero would have you way out here twiddling your thumbs, as it were."
"Nero knows nothing of my skills. He is under the assumption I'm nothing but a mediocre alchemist and excellent cook." Maryk smirked, shaking the ice from his hands. "But enough of that, how are you feeling after that?"
"None the worse for wear, apart from ravenously hungry." Vega replied, making for the house.
Six days remained until the Nero's plan was set in action. As ordered, the Thieves Guild was making preparations to rob both the Stormcloaks and the Empire blind, The Companions had decided to be conveniently absent from the coming hostilities, and the influential families had either been bought off, or dealt with, and the Dark Brotherhood was falling in line nicely for a bunch of cutthroats.
Nero and company had begun their trek to Windhelm on foot. Apparently the less than pleasant carriage driver who had brought them to Riften wasn't all talk. Being denied passage, the group had few other options than to walk. Due to Missa's vampirism, and her general distaste for mortals, the little vampire had decided to stay behind and work on her alchemic experiments.
The day was full of excitement, between fending off the run of the mill bandits, a rogue Khajiit thief, and a few wandering trolls, the band of lycans had the added joy of avoiding a full scale battle between the Stormcloaks and the Empire. Finally getting back on the road, the group continued north until just about dusk when they decided to set up camp for the night. Within minutes, the twins had the tents set up, Gerda had the fire going and food cooking while Nero and Aurora went over the plans for the remaining days.
The conversation was low key, until the collective concentration was broken by the sound of wooden wheels bouncing on the cobblestones. Nero narrowed his eyes as the jet black carriage stopped on the road before him. An awkward silence fell over the camp as the carriage door swung open, revealing nothing but an eerie blackness within.
"Why do I feel this is going to be bad…" Faust whispered, idly placing a hand on his dagger.
"It would fit the theme of the last few days." Fenrir replied, putting himself on the defensive.
"Nero!" A light voice said, drifting from the shadows of the carriage. "I've been all over wasteland looking for you!"
"…Oh Gods…" Nero muttered, wincing as the voice hit his ears.
"Please don't tell me that is who I think it is…" Aurora sighed, sounding defeated.
A small man with flowing blond hair, dressed in extremely noble looking clothes stepped from the darkness of the carriage, his glacial blue eyes scanning the camp as a smirk crossed his lips. He walked with a lordly gait, striding up to Gerda.
"I arrived in Solitude, only to find you had already departed!" The blond said, crossing his arms in a huff. "And not so much as a note left for me with the help!"
"Sorry dear." Gerda chuckled. "Plans got accelerated."
"A note would have been nice!" The small man replied, swaying from side to side.
"And just who is this?" Faust asked, his confusion rising.
"Oh, right. I suppose introductions are in order." Gerda said, addressing the group. "This is Teiren Gottlieb, my husband."
"Well I'll be damned…" Fenrir replied. "Never would have guessed that one."
"You don't see me as the married type?" Gerda questioned.
"…Didn't figure you liked men…" Faust coughed, getting a laugh out of the group.
"Well, you wouldn't be incorrect in that assumption." Teiren interjected, chuckling slightly. "But enough about all of that, there are matters at hand that need to be addressed."
"Yeah, like who in Oblivion you are…" Fenrir muttered, cocking an eyebrow.
"I suppose some back story wouldn't hurt." Teiren said, sitting down on a rock. "I am usually addressed by my proper title, Arch Bishop of Leyawiin and Grand Master of the Mage's Guild, also of Leyawiin."
Teiren could see the confusion wash over the teenager's faces.
"So… How can you…" Fenrir trailed off, tilting his head.
"Be so far removed from my duties?" Teiren smirked, idly playing with his hair. "It all boils down to having the right people."
The group gathered around the fire for dinner while Teiren went on to explain himself further. His relations to the group were few, with his family being friends of the DeSade family for countless generations. And the Gottlieb line, similar to the DeSades, were in service to Hircine, the Daedric Prince of The Hunt. In the times of the Great War, Teiren and Nero's families fought side by side for the Empire against the Thalmor. Apart from childhood meetings in the capital city, the two didn't play well together. The two times they had met in their adult years, things did not go well.
The first chance meeting was to discuss matters of estate across Tamriel, which somehow lead to a full out brawl, almost destroying the Newlands Lodge with their odd collection of unrefined powers. The battle raged long into the night and by the end, both Nero and Teiren were beyond the point of exhaustion, and both were tossed in jail in their horribly wore down state. After many bribes and favors called in on both sides, the two twenty year olds returned to their respective corners of Tamriel.
Their next encounter was two years later at the funeral of Nero's father, in the mountains of Winterhold. After the proceedings had ended, the procession moved back to what was left of the far flung Nordic capital, but not without incident. Teiren had made an ill advised comment, which the grieving Nero did not take well. In his distress, he lost all control and shifted into his true and horrible form, slaughtering several of the Gottlieb's guards. He was only subdued by Tobias, Teiren's father, who had also gone lycanthropic.
The funeral fiasco caused Nero to withdraw from the world at large, wandering Highrock, Skyrim and Hammerfell, honing his skills and cultivating a strong dislike for the Empire. It wasn't until he returned to his homeland in the north that his disgust transformed into a terrible hate when he was apprehended at the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil in a horrible instance of wrong place wrong time. Nero was about to be executed for allegedly being a member of the Stormcloak Rebellion, on his 27th birthday of all days. The soul ripping horror that leveled Helgen granted Nero's escape, and more reason than ever to loathe the Empire. Upon recovering in his family's home in the forests of Falkreath, he set to work concocting a plot to rid his nation of all which he hated. The Empire would fall in Skyrim, and the Stormcloaks would sink into the shadows of history, being remembered as nothing more than a juvenile attempt at rebellion.
The night had fully arrived, and all but Nero were impressed with Teiren's countless stories of adventure. The twins were enthralled by the tales of secrecy and intrigue within the capital and Teiren's city of Leyawiin.
"And those are all the tales I have to tell this evening!" Teiren said, finishing off his wine. "I'm sure Nero has some interesting stories from his time wandering the lands?"
"None I want to remember currently…" Nero grumbled, narrowing his eyes in the darkness.
"That's a shame!" Teiren replied, reaching for another bottle.
"Don't get too comfortable here in Skyrim…" Nero said, almost growling. "When all is said and done I want your skinny ass back on its way to Leyawiin."
"I don't like it much here anyways. Too damn cold." The blond replied, popping the cork off his wine bottle. "You can keep your ice-blasted hellscape and its trolls and dragons and Azura know what else."
"It'd much nicer without you in it, you imp!" Nero spat.
"Boys!" Aurora interjected, dragging her nails on a rock, stopping both of them with a blood freezing screech. "Teiren, go back in your carriage."
"But!"
"GO. NOW." Aurora ordered, casting a horrible glare.
Putting his hands up in surrender, Teiren staggered his way back to his elaborate carriage and tumbled in, slamming the door behind him. The camp was silent as Nero marinated in his repulsion, but there was little he could do. Gottlieb's particular talents were needed, because Vega by himself could not do it alone.
"Better yet?" Aurora asked cautiously.
"I'll be better when his name is struck from my memory for the rest of my unnaturally long life." Nero growled, slamming the rest of his mead. "Damn diplomats."
"Well until things are cleared up, he has to stay."Aurora said firmly. "You remember what happened last time you tried to resurrect something…"
"Oh it only killed your butler." Nero scoffed, reaching for another mead bottle. "How was I supposed to know the dead cook was also a part time pyromancer?"
"Because I told you before you did it! It took three months to scrape the burn marks out of the main hall! And my mother was less than pleased!" Aurora shot back, grabbing her own source of booze.
"That woman is never pleased." Nero sneered.
"Especially after your last visit!"
The night went on with little incident, apart from the occasional drunk outbursts of Nero and Aurora. The group retired to their tents for a few hours of sleep as the moons above cast the land in eerie light.
The following morning found the group on their way to Windhelm, taking their time through the sulfur pits of Eastmarch. Nero's boiling hatred of Teiren had him riding on top of the covered carriage while the others continued their conversations and drinking from the night before. The time alone gave Nero time to reflect, taking the hard lessons of his past and putting those things learned to use. His years of wandering Tamriel had given him a wide range of skills, but no mastery over one particular set. His only true proficiency lie in his odd weapon based fighting style. Nero's augmented strength from his lycanthropy granted him to use most heavy weapons one handed, which by itself was enough to scare off any would be opponents.
The carriage rumbled to a halt around midday to break for lunch. With the group getting out to stretch their legs, Nero remained on the roof, keeping watch on the misty surroundings. He had received many reports since the horror of Helgen that bandit activity was at an all time high, with hardly any traders making their way through the steaming moors of Eastmarch.
"Is it really wise to just stop out in the open like this?" Nero muttered, looking down on the party from atop the carriage.
"Oh calm down." Teiren replied as he lit the fire. "It's not like anyone is after you."
"I'm not concerned with the human pursuers!" Nero growled, turning an eye skyward. "I'm mostly concerned with that!"
With no warning, a dragon fell from the sky, screaming terribly as it was pelted with large fireballs. Everyone froze as the beast of legend slashed down in a sulfur pit, raining down scorching hot spring water on the surroundings. As it thrashed around, a thunderous voice cracked the misty sky, sending a chill down everyone's spines. The words that shook the air were almost alien to all the ears they fell upon, adding an air of confusion to the newly arrived panic. Cutting through the clouds, another, more fearsome looking creature approached, jagged jaws cloaked in a terrible fire.
Without any instruction, everyone piled back into the carriage, Teiren cursing at the driver to get them out of the area. Nero knelt on the roof, keeping his eyes locked on the two dragons about to do battle. The unknown language once again slashed through the air, invoking a primal fear in everything that heard it. An odd calm fell over the area as the sky clouded over at an alarming rate, bringing with it the sound of thunder rolling in the distance. Before anyone could react, the sky tore open, letting loose a torrential downpour. The mere sound of the rain hitting the soil was deafening, not to mention the sounds of draconian battle in the distance keeping everyone's ears thoroughly bombarded.
The two horses pulling the carriage galloped on as best they could carrying an extra five bodies behind them, taking no heed to the potholes as heaves in the road. The terrible storm of nature and dragon breath raged behind them, the likes of which most of the group had a hard time comprehending.
"What the fuck is going on?!" Teiren shrieked, clutching his blond hair in his hands.
"You didn't believe me!" Nero laughed, hanging over the side of the carriage. "I told you there were horrible flying death lizards and you called me insane in your letter!"
"Because those damn things aren't supposed to exist!" Teiren yelled, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Well they do! Ready yourselves if one or both of those things decide to come after us." Nero sneered, casting a glare across his company. "Our true power comes from working together, just like my ideal for Skyrim. Now look alive!"
The eight hooves pounded a vicious groove on their escape to the north, the scaled horrors now taking to the sky and continuing their battle in the direction the group of lycans were travelling. Nero crossed his arms over his chest, drumming his fingers on his left upper arm as a scowl crept to his lips as the dragons continued their destructive aerial duel, sending bolts and balls of all elements in all directions. Nero grew anxious, tapping his foot on the roof of the carriage as they grew closer to Windhelm. The situation was odd: If they brought the dragons to Windhelm, the guards and assorted sell-swords could take care of the problem, but not without collateral damage, but if they dealt with it before reaching the city, no needless deaths would be suffered.
"Brother." Faust and Fenrir said, climbing to the roof. "How do we proceed?"
"It would be so much easier if Rurik and Maksim were here… But we'll have to do." Nero replied, rolling his neck. "Have Gerda bring me the Black Case…"
"Are you sure?" Faust replied, cringing at the mention of the object.
"I didn't spend all those years learning the ins and outs of enchanting not to use that in our time of need."
"But…" Fenrir trailed off, turning his eyes to the dragons approaching. "Won't it weaken you?"
"It only eats the souls of those not worthy… Let's hope I am." Nero said, flashing a fanged grin at his brothers.
Fenrir slipped back into the carriage as Faust stood by his older sibling, watching the epic duel between two beasts of legend. The two were silent as the dragons grew closer and closer with their rage, laying waste to everything in their path. There was still much to learn with the return of the dragons, and Nero was determined to find out what it was and stop it, all for the sake of his homeland. Throughout his journeys, no place felt as comfortable as Skyrim to him.
"Get everyone out here." Nero said, cracking his knuckles. "I can't have Windhelm destroyed."
With a chuckle, Faust stomped on the roof of the carriage three times, sighing heavily as the doors on both sides flew open. He called to the poor human driver, telling him that they'd catch up later. He also shouted to Gerda to get the item Nero had requested before leaping off the moving carriage, kicking up a cloud of dust as he and Nero slid to a stop on the ground. The other followed suit, ready to fight the ancient enemies.
"What's the plan?" Aurora asked, spinning her scythe between her hands.
"The darker one seems to use fire… You, Gerda and Teiren go after that one." Nero said, taking the Black Case from Gerda. "Us three will take out the green one."
"Understood." Aurora replied, smirking as the air took on an unnatural chill.
Dropping the box on the ground, Nero narrowed his eyes as the case popped open, revealing the old horror inside. The onyx box held an old and terrible weapon forged by Nephren DeSade: Ylem[[eye-lem]]. The legends in the family state that the blade was used in the liberation of the DeSade line from the vile slavers in the east, ripping the bodies and souls of their enemies asunder, sentencing them to more terrifying fates in the bowels of Oblivion. The blade itself would trap the soul of those it killed, while punishing the one brandishing the blade if the bearer was not of "worthy" blood.
The dragons approached, finding Nero and his band a source of energy to continue their fight. The beasts dive-bombed the group, scattering the lycans in all directions. Nero grabbed the vile blade as the nearly black dragon flew over him, a growl escaping his throat as he threw off his cloak, revealing the artifact of Boethia: The Ebony Mail. Spinning the ancient blade in his hand, he fell into a defensive stance, locking his eyes on the gray dragon as it circled overhead.
"You know…" Fenrir started, summoning a spectral battle axe from the plains of Oblivion. "I thought you were drinking too much when you were screaming about dragons after you almost got executed…"
"Well now you see that I'm not a horrible drunkard…" Nero chuckled, dropping YLEM over his shoulder.
As Faust approached, the gray dragon slammed into the ground, almost instantly expelling a massive ball of lightening from its gnarled maw at Nero and his brothers. Shaking his head, the lycan slashed the sword in front of him, splitting the projectile in half. Muttering a curse, Nero didn't flinch as the two balls of lightening exploded behind him. The trio of brother wasted no time as the dragon landed, rushing in to deliver an assault of blows with armored fists and weapons to the creature's face as Aurora and the others did the same. With a few solid blows delivered, both of the monstrosities took to the air once again, leaving the Earthbound fighters without options.
"Teiren!" Nero shouted, pointing his awful blade at the blond. "Bring them down!"
"…Only because my father approves of you…" The smaller man hissed, clapping his hands together.
The hair on everyone's necks stood on end as Teiren weaved a spell in his hands, summoning a vulgar power from the depths of his bloodline. The air was hot with electricity as Teiren whipped his hands to his sides, sending two massive lightning bolts at the airborne monstrosities. A smirk crossed the lycan's lips as the bolts struck the dragons, shorting them out and bringing them to the ground with a satisfying crash.
"Can we really do this?" Fenrir asked, getting within striking distance of the beasts.
"As long as we know we can, we'll be fine." Nero replied, vaulting off a fallen tree into the air.
A sickening noise split the air as Nero came down with full force upon the Frost dragon, the sound of cracking bones permeating the air as the cursed blade connected with the dragon's skull. The monster let out an unknown phrase, spewing a wall of frost as it spoke."
"It speaks ice?!" Faust coughed, feeling the icy wind biting at his lungs.
"It is of no consequence!" Nero roared, leaping into the air once more.
The two squads continued their assault with a flurry of steel and magick, the sounds of battle screaming through the putrid mists of sulfurous Eastmarch. The battle raged for hours as the lycans hacked away at the dragons, their terrible screams echoing for miles through the fog.
In sync, the scaled demons fell to their last breaths, vomiting terrible magicks as their life forces escaped their bodies. The bile that spewed from their mouths melted the ground and cast a foul stench into the air as their last breaths crawled out.
"By the Nine…" Faust gasped, sitting down on the arid soil. "I didn't think we'd make it through that one…"
"It was all because we worked together…" Nero grinned, shooting a glance at Teiren. "Something some people don't quite understand."
"You shut up over there." Teiren huffed, trying to catch his breath. "We aren't all as skilled with a blade as some people."
"Sounds like a personal problem." Nero grinned, stabbing YLEM into the ground. "No time to rest, I have a meeting with the Jarl."
Composing themselves, the group shook off the jitters of the battle, readying themselves for the journey ahead. Next stop: Windhelm. To persuade Ulfric to lay down his arms in the name of peace.
END: Dusk Walker
Next Chapter: Midnight Council
[A/N] For those of you wondering, I role play in Elder Scrolls to a vulgar degree. No fast travel, no reloading if I mess up, and death is permanent. I am proud to say the character of Nero DeSade is going to be 4 years old this year on PS3. 100 Smithing, two-handed,one-handed, enchanting, sneak, and heavy armor. About 500 hours on him alone.
Also, the other characters, Aurora, Gerda, Teiren, Rurik and Maksim, Faust and Fenrir, and Vega, are all characters from a different fiction that has yet to be published, which were all taken from various MMOs /RP sims in Second Life I used to populate.
If you have any questions/comments, feel free to message me here on the site!
"Ugly and clumsy? Pity." Nero- RECLAIM