A/N: I know, I know, I'm a horrible person for mixing the two, but I just couldn't help myself, I had to! Anyway, this is chapter one and - like the prologue is basically a novelisation of the cinematic trailer. There are some bits missing from this, just to make sure that the characters follow my plan correctly, can't have them knowing things they're not supposed to know. Also, for the purposes of chronological viability, I have left out the end scene of the cinematic. I will include it later, but not now.
Right now, I have a story to get going. Fun fact: It took me nearly 700 words to describe 53 seconds of the cinematic. That is how action packed the darn thing was... Fun Fact 2: I have been at this for hours now...
Ok, on with the show; Please enjoy!
Chapter 1.
The Nord started it, bringing his hand-axes around in an arc over his head and swinging them mere inches from the imperial's face as he ducked out of the way. As soon as his leader made a move, the mage did too, firing a fire spell at the imperial's lackeys as they arrived on the scene. The majority of them managed to leap out of the way, but the ground around them exploded into flames. The high-elf watched with a critical eye as the two men fought, the Nord missing with his weapons, but the elbow the imperial stuck in his foe's back glanced off, doing nothing to the plate and chains of his armour. In fact, the reverberation of his blow pushed the imperial to the floor and – seeing her chance – she struck, firing a bolt of lightning at the downed man.
He was too quick though and rolled to a shield that had slipped from the fingers of one of the imperials she had killed in a previous attack. He ducked behind it and the spell glanced off as he ran to another location. Distracted, she didn't notice the Nord's attack until he nearly got her, missing only by virtue of her intent upon following her original prey. The axe swing would have cleft her head from her shoulders had she stood still, but as it was, it only moved her hair.
Galvanised suddenly into moving her feet, she leapt out of the way of the next swing and ducked under the next, but the one following that was unavoidable. She had no choice but to catch the weapon he raised above his head and brought crashing down upon her. His strength however, was more than a match for her and although she caught the handle off the axe in both hands, his weight still pushed her down as he brought his knee up. Had she been a normal woman the force of his kick would have snapped her neck. But even now, she was lucky he only split her lip.
She had been knocked back some meters away from him, and straightened up now that the first moments of battle were apparently finished. It was enough for them to test each other out and it was enough to tell her that she couldn't underestimate either of these men. She wiped her hand gingerly under her nose and glanced down at the blood that now smeared the back of her knuckles. Looking up at the Nord she was almost semi-surprised to see no resentment in his eyes, and even a calm expression on his face. As if he was waiting for her to react and attack him. He was a far cry from the other man in their battle-ground.
They all exchanged glances and then the circling began again. This time when they started, it was unlikely that they would pause for rest.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but growing quickly more and more noticeable, the sounds of their minions battling around them were drowned out by the sound of the rocks jumping about at their feet. She frowned, looking down. The ground was shaking and now she could hear the sounds of chains being added to the mix. The wind began to pick up and what had started as a cloudy morning was fast becoming a thunder storm. Lightning flashed in the sky, outlining a huge circular thing in the sky. The battling minions were starting to take notice and all eyes turned heavenwards as a gigantic ring made itself apparent from the clouds it spun in.
Unless she was very much mistaken, that was a-
A monolithic metal chain burst forth from the ring, swinging haphazardly in the air for a few moments before it plunged itself into the courtyard floor, scattering minions left, right and centre as it threw them aside with its force, bouncing them from the very earth itself. The ring in the sky spun only a half circle more before the chair pulled taught and it was forced to a stop, anchored there. As soon as its motion ceased, more chains erupted from it and fell to the ground, stamping into the mountainside, carving a rift through the giant stone beam above their heads and smashing great holes into the Highbridge itself. They held the spinning ring still, even though it struggled still to move.
Every soul who stood to bear witness to the event gazed in awe and mild terror at the chains and the ring, wondering what next should appear through it. It was obvious that this was a portal. But to where? The elf had a few guesses; she just hoped for all their sakes that she was wrong.
As though to answer that great question preying on everyone's minds, something else emerged. Three more chains fell through the ring, like dead weights to the ground, each chain bearing with it a long Claw, red and black. The first chains were clearly anchors, but these were different. Very different. She for one was not eager to find out what it was, or what it did. There was no wait, however, to avail her because in the dust thrown up by their descent, screams could now be heard. The minions were being slaughtered by shadows, great big black silhouettes in the cloud. It looked now as though some of those guesses of hers were correct after all.
The chains had fallen directly in front of the strange trio and they turned to face it, one by one, the Nord shifting his axe onto his shoulder, the imperial turning his sword handle in his grip. One of them was nervous and she knew which one she thought it might be.
In the gloom at the centre of the Claws, a towering, hulking figure moved and the most horrific stench greeted them. The smell of rancid blubber made to sweat. Beside her, the Nord snorted in disgust. The figure who approached them, however, looked almost normal, 5ft 11inches maybe, lightly armoured and wielding a staff. But he wasn't normal. The tattoos on his face belied his origins and the evil, beady little blue irises that stared out at them from blackened, bloodshot eyes cast a shiver down her spin. Dremora.
Almost lazily, the Dremora raised his staff and stood the butt of it upon the ground. The crackle of power was palpable in the air before it even touched the ground, but the moment contact was made, a strong wind blew from it, whipping her hair around her face and clearing the clouds away to reveal the most terrifying spectacle.
The last of their companions were being slaughtered around them. Seifer looked over at where he knew his mage had been, only to find him being stamped off the end of a Deidric sword. In the background, one of the high-elf's companion's throats was cut and the body tossed back to the floor. Heavily armoured Dremora Lords now stood in the places of his friends and behind them, the most inviting looking piece of meat he'd ever clapped eyes on. As a monster hunter, this seemed to be his lucky break.
The towering giant seemed to be mainly made out of fat, with short, flabby little stubs for feet and a great, wobbling body balanced atop them. Its arms were a horrifying concoction of meat and metal, gigantic, evil-looking rivets affixing the great metal barrel ends to its flesh. It's hands were really no more than metal ends resembling the bottom of a metal tankard or barrel, the right 'hand' being covered in spiked and humps, the left sporting three metal 'fingers' arranged at one third intervals around it.
The head of the beat was the most awful thing about it by far. Three lower mandibles, two hanging loosely and the upper-most looking peeled and raw. There was no chin, just a sagging neck, and from between each row of teeth oosed a black sludge. Two eyes, black, glistening and lidless stared out at them.
He shared a look with the high-elf and she agreed with his idea. The giant was his. The look he gave Leonhart stated that their personal battle was far from over, but that this came first. He agreed as well and gave his sword a circular swing, rearranging it in his grip.
As three, they began a slow advance on the Dremora, who met them step for step. But for the giant, this was too slow and he propelled them all forward with an ear-splitting roar.
This was the real battle.
Leonhart took off running, one hand around his sword hilt, the other gripping tight to his throwing knife. Like the slippery bastard he was, he ducked beneath the sword swing of one Dremora, slashing at their midriff as he passed and slid on one knee around another, skidding across the dust before standing again to dive into their midst.
The high-elf also made it away quicker than Seifer and began her own battle, crashing through the ranks of Dremora, allowing their blows to slide smoothly off her armour as Seifer made for the lumbering giant with a battle roar of his own. The adrenalin was still coursing through them all, thankfully, and they were almost an equal match for the daemons they now faced.
Charging full tilt now, Seifer bore one Lord away with his shoulder, tossing it up into the air and out of the way as a second came to assail him. This he sped past with barely a flick of his axe and seconds later it was pummelled into cinders by the giant's fist. Seifer felt the air whistle past him as the fist sailed on by and he dashed between the giant's legs, drawing his axe back before slamming it into the flabby ankle. Howling in pain, the giant stomped, stepping back and throwing a punch at Seifer with the forked 'hand'. The three barbs thudded into the ground around him, missing him by a hair's breadth, and in two swings, two of them had been separated by his axe.
Howling in anger this time, the monster tried to tread on him again, stamping its foot down on the ground beside him. Once again it narrowly missed and Seifer took this opportunity to hack once more at its ankle. It was a mistake and it cost him. He didn't see the fist coming, didn't even see it when it slammed into him; it was moving too fast. But it knocked him off his feet and sent him flying some 50 meters away, onto his back.
Propping himself up, he shook his head to clear it from the clang that had reverberated around the inside of his helmet and looked up. Upon the creature's back sat yet another problem. Lots of little monsters, like some strange cross between a falmer and a skeever, they had furry, rat-like bodies and a squashed, rectangular bald heads with long pointed ears that stuck out horizontally on either side of beady black eyes. Seemingly as one, they turned to look at him, their mouths opening around pointed, rodent-like teeth to scream at him. Picking himself up, he noticed they had chains around their necks. That was lucky; he made it a principle of his to never let a monster escape him.
Across the courtyard, Squall was having a deal of trouble of his own with his foes. He was hitting them, striking them with all his might, in the neck, across the chest, but the towering Dremora Lords hardly seemed to feel his blows; even when he plunged his sword into one's chest, the glowing blue eyes never blinked in the darkness of their helm. In fact, their owner struck him in the chest, back-handed him with such force that he flew across the courtyard, tearing his sword from the Dremora's chest in the process. He landed on his feet, but it was hardly an encouraging sign.
Furiously, Seifer tore the things from his back, spinning this way and that as he tried to get a hold on them. Their tiny claws were like needles and dug into his plate-mail, refusing to let go. All the while the giant stomped around them, fists and feet steamrollering past, knocking the rat-creatures hither and thither, making them jump in the air in fright when a foot or a fist landed too close.
He tore the last from his back and stamped it into the ground, swinging his axe out and knocking another out of the air as he did so. He jumped back, out of the way of the giant's foot as it made another attempt to tread on him. He was beginning to tire of these things now. He caught one as it leapt for him, his hand closing around the furry and oddly slimy throat before tossing it too to the ground and stomping on it in disgust.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the high-elf take a gauntlet to the face, knocking her back a full 10 paces before the righted herself and drew her hand once more across her already swollen lip.
Dremora Lords. Of course the portal opened into Oblivion. There was nowhere else that something like that could exist. An Elder Scroll perhaps, but there were very few around who could read them and those who could were hundreds of miles away, in the Imperial Citadel. The high-elf glowered around her at the Dremora who circled, like vultures, ready to take her down and slaughter her like an animal. Or maybe they would torture her, she didn't know, she had never been to Oblivion and didn't know of anyone who had. Who knew what they did to their prisoners. She hoped for her own sake that they didn't take prisoners.
Mustering her magic, she blasted the one in front of her. Not lightening this time, just force. He flew backwards and exploded into ash on the rocks behind him. She crushed another into the ground and sent another spinning into a rocky plinth which had been levered up from the ground by the first anchor.
As she paused to catch her breath, the Dremora around her seemed to double in number. The swordsmen she had been fighting were now joined by archers. It would be too much to ask of her to avoid archers as well as swordsmen. They fitted shafts to their bows and drew them taught.
On an unspoken command, they attacked. She took out the first two Dremora with more force magic, exploding them with the raw power she coursed through them, and the third got a shaft of lightning to the chest. Arrows were skidding across the floor at her feet, barely missing her as she spun in her attacks, but they wouldn't keep missing for long. Dremora were a very good shot, even good enough to hit an elf. Knowing this, she thrust her hand palm up towards the sky, begging the Gods to lend her their power and protect her. They did. She plunged the spell they granted her into the ground and a green bubble burst forth, encapsulating her and successfully deflecting any arrows. But it would only last so long.
A new group of Dremora swordsmen attacked her, pushing through the protective barrier. She deflected the blow of the first man and blasted him to ash. The second was destroyed in a heartbeat as well, almost simultaneous with the deflection of the third Dremora's sword swing, before he too was blasted into nothingness. The fourth Dremora was lifted clear off his feet, before being slammed mercilessly into the deck and the fifth found himself struggling to free himself from an electric green whip. To no avail, he was sent soaring through the air to join his comrades in ashes. The last Dremora, one who had been roundly beaten, but who had miraculously survived his ordeal was put to rest with a dagger in his back.
Her shield still stood, but it was fast about to change. Dremora Mages were now beginning to appear on the scene and they pitted their magic against her shield. Blue fire erupted from their palms and burst upon her green bubble. They couldn't get through, but it was only a matter of time. She had to get serious.
Her whip shot out and lifted a Dremora Archer off his feet, holding him suspended in the air for a moment, before she lashed out with him, using him like a club and swiping him along his comrades, knocking them all off their feet. A lone swordsman charged at her, but before he could make it through her bubble, she pulled hard on her whip and smashed both the Dremora it held, and the approaching swordsman, against her shield.
Another Dremora was seized, the high-elf's magic tearing a burning swath through the broken courtyard floor and throwing the Dremora high into the air, before it curled around him and slammed him into a Dremora Mage. More were beginning to arrive and put their magic to hers and, as she raised her hand to do away with another archer, she was stabbed from behind by one of the very shafts she was working so hard to protect herself from. There was a hole in her shield.
She cast about wildly for it and was horrified to find it was quite big. And growing. The Mages were finally wearing her down and her magic was suffering. She tore the arrow from her back and cast a worried look to the Nord, only to see him knocked off his feet by the giant and sent clattering into a fallen piece of the mountain. Looking up hazily, he caught her eye and gave her a small shake of his head. He couldn't help her. He had bigger problems of his own.
She looked to the imperial, only to find him on his knees before the first mage they'd encountered. He wasn't moving and the mage was casting some awful spell on him. He couldn't help her either. The situation was growing more harrowing by the second. They needed to put a stop to this soon or they would all be bested.
The anchor holding the ring still in the sky caught her attention. It would certainly cause a bit of damage, she reasoned; perhaps even knock a few of these blasted mages out of her way. With little time to lose, she launched her whip at the thing and, once she'd caught a hold, took her magic in both hands. The thick metal chain began to boil and burn, the green lightning stripping away the outer layer in seconds. Everything was happening in seconds. The whole fight seemed to have lasted less than five minutes, and with any luck it would be over in a few seconds too. For her at least.
Groaning with the effort, she pulled as hard as she could on the whip, channelling as much of her power as she could into the chain, redoubling her efforts as the mages redoubled theirs. Crying out with the burning pain of her magic tearing open her wrists, she felt something in the chain go. It was one more tug away from snapping in half. She pulled with all her might.
The newly severed chain flailed wildly, the end catching another of the anchors and setting it loose from the mountain side, before whipping around again and scraping along the floor, clearing Dremora and mountain from its path in one fell swoop. The Nord was on his back again and was just about to suffer a crushing blow from the giant monster, when the anchor prised loose by the first chain's flailing, caught him full in the face, sweeping him away through the air before slamming him into the mountainside with such force that the resulting rush of displaced air, knocked everything around it flat to the floor.
In the sky, the ring was beginning to turn again, the first two anchors now useless, the others weren't enough to hold it and it ripped them from their places, sending them too careening around Highbridge, completely out of control.
Hardly able to believe his eyes while seeing his impending doom disappear right before them – the movement was so quick he wasn't even sure he'd seen it – Seifer struggled to his feet and stared in awe at the scene unfolding before him. The monolithic anchors tore themselves from their places, tearing chunks from the mountainside with them, levelling the buildings they'd burst through on their way down and whirling around like a storm. The Dremora also watched on as their portal began to fall apart and close, each one raising their weapon in front of their face in a sign of oath and waiting for Oblivion to claim them.
Some of the chains were snapped off by the spinning of the ring and they fell back to the ground, but the last chain, in coming unstuck, had wrapped itself around the stone beam that sat heavy above their heads. Around and around it wrapped, until the spinning of the ring caught up to it and began to reel it back in. Huge chunks of rock began to rain down on the courtyard at the chain sawed the stone in twain. The effigy of the Imperial shattered and that too began to fall, narrowly missing the horses who had at last escaped from their stables and now ran terrified for their lives. All the while the Dremora stood patiently waiting.
Like something from a horror story told around the campfire, the base of the peak on which the stone soldier stood began to crumble. The soldier began to topple, twisting; dropping bigger chunks of stone onto the heads of the Dremora and Seifer decided it was best time to move. But where could he go? He could not escape between the feet of the soldier because that rode was now officially closed and to run away was to run into the lea of the mountain and the path of the rocks which fell there. His only option was to find refuge among the bigger rocks already lying on the courtyard floor.
Standing, Seifer began to run, back towards the tall tower, casting about hurriedly for an appropriate hiding place. Just as he spied one, he was nearly bowled over by Leonhart riding a horse the other way. He was apparently going to try and make it between the feet. Seifer didn't want to watch, but as he skidding on his side to his hiding place, he didn't have to. A huge chunk of the stone beam fell before him and cut Leonhart from his sight.
The sky was suddenly blocked out by an explosion of dust that showered over him and he buried his face in his arms, trying to protect his eyes. When he could feel no more falling on his shoulders he peered out. The carnage still raged on around him, the noise deafening, his nose filled with powder so his sense of smell rendered inert and he couldn't see much of anything either. Certainly the high-elf was nowhere to be seen. He looked around for her as best as he could and thought he saw a flash of her hair – bright fiery red – before his vision was cut off again as his hiding place was smothered by the mountain.
Some hours later, he blinked into wakefulness. Immediately aware of a crushing weight on his legs, he groaned and shifted his weight. His shoulders and head he found to be quite free, a slab of rock having protected him from the worst of the rubble. He tried to pull more of his body into the space and felt an overwhelming sense of relief when his legs complied. Encouraged, he put his shoulder to the slab and felt it shift. This was good. This was very very good. He tried again, pushing harder, keeping pushing until sunlight poured in on him and fresh air assailed his nostrils. He was already at the surface.
Pulling himself doggedly from the hole, he breathed a sigh of relief, but staggered horribly when he made to stand, ending up on one knee with both hands on the floor. Trying to take things seriously again, he made another, more tentative attempt at standing.
Once successfully on his feet, he glanced around at the scene of destruction around him. Highbridge was unrecognisable. It was flattened, completely levelled. No giant stone statue, no giant stone beam, no tall tower, hardly even any mountain peak left. This, save a tiny tooth protruding from the spot where the mountain's peak used to be, was the top.
Nothing moved, but a flutter of fabric a few paces in front of him alerted him to the crumpled figure of the high-elf. Limp, unmoving. Picking up his battle-axe and retrieving the fallen elf's sword, he took weary steps towards her, treading gingerly over the rubble, being careful not to disturb it too much lest it had yet to settle.
Arriving at her side, he stabbed her sword into the ground and set about freeing her from the stones which lay upon her body. He shifted two big slabs of rock before he sunk to his knees at her side. Though weary, he still had his morals. And his morals told him he couldn't very well leave a woman who had saved his life; high-elf or no high-elf. He picked her up and settled her over his shoulder before struggling to his feet once more, hefting his battle-axe in his right hand and steadying her over his shoulder with his left.
When the battle had begun it had been the morning, just creeping into the afternoon by the time they were done. Now however, it was evening and the sun would soon be setting. He walked towards the edge of Highbridge, where the two stone feet used to be and where now only one remained. Cyrodil was laid out at his feet, the lakes and little rivers glistening in the evening light, the clouds above the shadowed land painted pink. A brisk air whipped around the mountain's new top and with it came the scent of death.
Clearly they weren't done yet, but he would have to get the pair of them down the mountain safely for starters.
A/N: Phew, glad that's over, now I can get my own creative juices flowing rather that filching off Bethesta Softworks haha
Next chapter might be up later tonight (or maybe I should say this morning) but if I fall asleep, you can't really blame me :)
I'll try to keep the chapters under 5,000, but who knows? I have been known to hit 16,000 before without even noticing it... I'll try to keep it down, but no promises ;)
Ok, leave a review, tell me how I'm doing, hope you guys enjoyed it, I'll see you in the next chapter :D (Where the final fantasy will (I promise) over-take the elder scrolls... Maybe).
-Lapin