{ === + === }
With the wall visited and our next course of action decided, we…
…hold for like another month until the Reach stops being a snow and mud travel hazard.
During the month, our sale of the shop becomes public news and we spend just as much time planning as we do training the replacement crew for the Bell. It…it doesn't go very well, largely because the Bell's success was underpinned by three major points: my stupidly vast magic pool, Mell's talent in drinks, and the fact that literally all of Warwolf is literate.
That last point reared its ugly head real fast, since the highest literacy level of the replacement crew is 'functional'. To be fair, it's not as if they can't do the work, but certainly they're not nearly as good as adapting as we would be. Like, because we can read and write (and do so quickly) we can quickly draft up plans for things that happen outside the initial parameters of the inn and make sure everyone gets up to speed without needing to constantly get everyone together.
For example: the Rose Bell did not start taking and bartering dungeon loot and spare equipment, but as soon as we became able to, we had to make rules and guidelines for what to take, for how much, how to determine their worth, so on. We use the neighboring stores to sell refurbished equipment, and the Bell's prices are basically the market price for about five blocks of the neighborhood. All these rules had to be written down, refactored, streamlined…it's time consuming for people not used to it.
The Bell's current means of income (that the new folk need to be trained for): Food&Drinks, internal rooms, external rooms (the poor rent area), local shop relations, equipment offload, loot barter, local judiciary.
Our staffing started weird, but I think it's fair to say that we had six full-time positions that needed to be filled, and we rotate freely between them because we can all write and read notes as needed. The new Bell's crew is easily over twenty, with some of the jobs that the Bell used to do (like arbitration) stopped due to a lack of someone with the "gravitas and standing of a person of honor", in T'yanna's words.
Aka nobody can replace either Jake or ourselves by sheer track record.
From a physical standpoint, the water tank has also been redesigned to use a wheeled hand pump (where the up-down lever action is hooked onto a turnwheel) rather than just relying on my magical skills. The replacement crew has also been advised to boil water before using it, since it's not going to be nearly as clean as magic.
But overall, the training went well, and at the end of the month we can hand it off without worrying too much. Mell took her recipes with her and refused to train anyone else on them, so that…weirdly works. It basically cements that this new 'Bell' is, name aside, not the same as the old. Ultimately the shop sold for eighty thousand Septims. For reference I bought it for like six thousand, and it was considered cheap for the area. It was also a run-down hellhole at the time, so, eh.
Anyways, our plans.
The news around the street was that the Empire, come spring, will launch a major offensive. The news is less clear on where exactly the attacks will hit, but the biggest pointers are either Whiterun via Falkreath, Windhelm via Riften, or both via both. Thus, going by these rumors, we'll be heading to the Greybeards via Whiterun. The reasoning being that if we were to get caught in an ongoing battle, we would be able to separate and disengage a lot easier (militarily or otherwise) than if we were caught in Falkreath.
By 'caught' I mean being forced to participate in the conflict. If Falkreath is preparing (and we know it was from last year) then being caught there means having to wait around for the troops to be gathered, and if it's taken them this long to attack despite having men ready then I don't trust their timetables that much. We could also just refuse, but that could result in problematic outcomes, up to and including being blacklisted by the Empire, so…yeah, better options.
Our crew size is as thus:
The Core (Aria, Jake, Me), The Sisters (Alma, Atra), The T-Sisters (T'mare, T'ma, T'yanna, T'nerem), The Erik (Erik), The Girl Everyone Likes (Mell), The Why is He Still Here (Byrnjolf) And Friends (Sapphire, Rune), the Ex-Blades (Delphine, Esbern), The Richard's Lions (Richard the Imperial, Sheela the Altmer, Miiter the Argonian)…and The Cook Girls (Hila the Breton, Tor the Nord) and The Final Shots (Imperial Dudes Reese, Holly, and Stell).
Richard's group threw their hat in with Warwolf as a subsidiary shortly after they showed up at the Bell, and they've been on our payroll afterwards. Anything they found in the dungeon was therefore Warwolf property and the right of distribution went to me. It worked out for them, since I was more recognizable and thus could sell stuff for higher. The Final Shots were friends of Richard's, and worked as a ranged element for Richard's pretty melee-focused group, so we took them on board too. Profits-wise they were a money sink, but the occasional find evened things out, so it's all good.
Incidentally, Warwolf had to restructure after absorbing those two groups. We have, under the Warwolf banner, the Iron Raven (led by Jake), the Iron Claws (T'mare), Lionheart (Richard), and Final Shot (Uh…I forget). This is so that we have a clearer plan of distribution of loot, wages, benefits, etc. Which means that, from a non-bureaucratic standpoint, literally nothing changed. Good times.
Don't remember if I mentioned this but the Gro-Kalas left to do their own thing sometime while we were in Markarth. Warwolf wishes them well on their future endeavors.
The fact that we don't even remember when it happened speaks volumes to how often they mattered to us.
…
[To Whiterun]
…
We leave to a little bit of fanfare. Those who know us and like us gather to wish us well, and those who know us but hate our guts are happy we are gone. With three wagons and six(!) horses, we're a pretty big deal now.
Like our entrance, our departure is also shadowed by the local freedom fighters, which is still kinda worrying, but they're not going to attack so we're fine.
Per our plans, Aria and Jake will go on ahead and visit High Hrothgar, and then we'll all reconvene in Whiterun due to its geographic location. The purpose of picking Whiterun is also pretty blatant—it's close, well stocked with options (probably), and when things get going we can declare our nonpartisan goals by pointing to how we're basing in a Stormcloak-controlled city while also working with a mostly Empire-leaning force.
Reason why Jake's going and not me is that, though we're both one-man-armies by this point, I scale dramatically harder with multiple bodies between me and the enemy. Also I want them to get together kinda sorta, so I maybe pushing that. When we're done with this meeting I'm probably gonna have a talk with Jake and expire the bro-code on not getting together with Aria.
Anyways, in the event that the greybeards tell us nothing (or nothing useful), the next course of action would be to visit the College of Winterhold. While I do believe that I can make a set of anti-aircraft gun large enough to kill the son of a god, it still stands to reason that Alduin will have some kind of Fucking Bullshit™ that will require more research to fully understand.
…of course, this is ALL contingent on the solution being fully contained within Skyrim, which…y'know, may not be the case since there's no need to limit the world to what can be loaded by a computer in a reasonable amount of time. I…neither of us remember the finer details of the endgame missions, so all we know is that the Elder Scroll must be found before it can be used. Given that we already have a history where a quest-sensitive item was moved by someone else, it follows that, in the X amount of years since the Elder Scroll was stowed where it was, someone would have gotten their grubby little mitts on it.
I mean, even in Markarth somebody managed to get an extremely valuable item through incredible amounts of luck. I think they found him dead in a ditch somewhere with a crushed head. Guards called it suicide. Don't remember. Wasn't important.
Anyways.
The trip out of the Reach took about ten days, what with spring in the Reach being rainy as all hell. Nobody bothered us, so that was good—we only had to be aware of the local Foresworn tracking our every move.
Leaving the Reach via the main road—the one to Solitude—we join up with a mishmash of troops and civilian convoys bound for Rorikstead. While in the convoy, we do a little trading, nothing major.
Jake and Aria, leaving alone, reach High Hrothgar in five days with no significant slowdown.
We reach Rorikstead with two days of travel and spend some time letting Erik catch up with his friends and father. I have to say, though—putting Erik in an environment where he's surrounded by actual civilians instead of adventuring folk…
Like, we all knew this, but Erik's a Big Fucking Deal right now.
On our first day in Rorikstead a few of his friends challenged him to a little tussle for shits and giggles. Erik knows how to use Mana Vision. It's not even close. Like…when one of them tries to full body tackle Eric from his back and he just shoulder throws them without even looking around.
So, yeah, Erik's badass and his world knows it. In less action terms but no less important, he gives over a portion of his earnings to his father.
To the tune of about 6000 Septims.
It's a lot of money at once, but this constitutes a portion of his wages from the time we got kicked out of Whiterun, which is…about half a year, give or take. From a sheer monetary standpoint, I think we're underpaying, if I'm doing my math right for someone of Erik's station.
The average wage for a worker is like 100 Septims a week…yeah, we're kinda underpaying him by half, since Erik does a lot of management work. That said, he doesn't have to pay for living expenses and new equipment and training, so I guess it evens out?
Average wage for someone of Erik's caliber at this point would come out to a little over ten thousand Septims per month. Not including living expenses.
Regardless, his dad's happy that he's doing well and not dead, and is hinting that maybe he should start looking for a wife. Notably, he makes absolutely no indication that the T-sisters are valid targets. I can guess why (cough racism cough) and for the moment it's not my problem. Also I had him talk with some of the girls of the town with his Bell Barman Charm and I'm pretty sure he could have gotten laid on three separate occasions. He's too much of a good boy to go through with it, though.
I need to make him a tux.
More to the point of our current goal, though…Rorikstead is so weird, from a higher-level strategic standpoint. Like…
Ok, backing up. Whiterun, like it or not, was going to have problems as soon as it threw its hat into the ring and stopped being neutral. When neutral, neither Stormcloaks or Imperials bothered to send proper armies into the territory, because it might piss off the other rulers in the 'why aren't they respecting established rules' kind of way.
Now, since Whiterun is under the control of the Stormcloaks, the necessary borders to guard are basically Rorikstead and Riverwood/Falkreath. The Riverwood entrance is basically a forest, which would make it easy to guard for a largely irregular army if not for the fact that Life Detection and Fireballs exist as options for an army. The Rorikstead front is basically just a big flat plain, and the area between the forest and the city is just a small flat plain. Thus, the Stormcloaks have gone all out with a cavalry-based raiding defense, because, again, Fireballs are still Fireballs when fired from horseback.
By contrast, the Imperials have their army at Falkreath, gathering for an attack, and…that's kind of it. No poking, no contesting for space, no trying to limit the Stormcloak's lines…It's worth noting because Rorikstead is very much so ambivalent to the Stormcloak's administration, and likewise the Stormcloaks seem to have made no effort to bring the town to heel…
…which is why it's weird that the Imperial army set their camp on the hills behind Rorikstead, putting the town between them and Whiterun, as opposed to, y'know, taking over the town and making full use of its infrastructure and ability to support the army in a meaningful way.
According to rumors it's because the Commander of the local army is a dumbass putz who's utterly terrible at his job. Considering that the loss of Whiterun would secure the Imperial front lines in a way that makes it near impossible for the Stormcloaks to make headway, it's not hard to guess who's responsible for putting him there.
…Well, what matters for us is that the travel to Whiterun is a little less politically dangerous than I expected. With the Imperials doing Literally Nothing, we attach ourselves to a caravan bound for Riverwood and detach some two days into the trip for the last leg into Whiterun. The fact that we saw literally no combat in the region makes me wonder how much the Stormcloaks care about controlling the local territory.
…
[3rd Person Camera]
…
In the interest of speed, and because having the entire caravan move to the foot of the Thousand Steps would be a time-consuming hassle, Jake and Aria were sent forward to meet the Greybeards early.
Currently, the two are traveling through the forested region between Whiterun's plains and the mountain ranges to its north. They're sharing a wolf to conserve mana.
"If it's gonna be like this, why did we even bother leaving Markarth?" Aria complains.
"Did you really want to stay there?" Jake asks.
"Not really. Too much soot for my liking." Aria shrugs. "I'd prefer somewhere like Falkreath, to be honest."
Jake nods. That was where they'd agreed to set up next if the situation allowed. "Alright, hold up a second, let me check our heading." They stop. Jake flies into the air, gauges where they're heading, and then comes back down.
"I literally had to learn the words of a dragon to do the same thing." Aria says, slightly indignant. "What in the hells is the deal with the two of you?"
"Oh if only we knew." Jake laughs. "We go that way." He points with his sword.
The two were keeping themselves on track by dropping magelights every thirty seconds, so that way they can tell if they've been keeping themselves straight in the otherwise roadless forest. Between this and the occasional checking via aerial recon, they skirt beyond Whiterun, fly over the river, and arrive at the Throat of the World's western foothills by dusk.
With a solid night's sleep, the two wake up the next morning, summon individual wolves, and begin climbing the rugged mountainside. Because the two are literally gods unto themselves, they arrive at the peak in twenty minutes.
"Fuck yeah I win!" Jake calls out as he goes over the edge first. "Hooly shit."
Aria follows a half foot behind, and both of them arrive at High Hrothgar to find it significantly more crumbled than it was before.
"Fuuuuck this ain't good." Jake mutters and heads towards the building. "Hello? Anyone home?"
High Hrothgar, being a somewhat larger version of its in-game self, has seen better days. The center of the main structure has collapsed inwards, as if something heavy landed upon it. Black, sooted ice suggests flames, and certain areas of rock are glass smooth. Jake in particular sees massive claw marks on the mountainsides overlooking the temple.
"I…guess this means Alduin got to this place first." Aria mutters. "But when?"
Jake, for his part, is having a slight panic attack. "Must've been pretty recent, otherwise it would be the talk of literally everyone." He runs to the path leading down the mountain. "…oh." The path leading up to High Hrothgar was snowed in and collapsed, likely as a result of an avalanche. "Well, that simplifies things." He vaguely remembers some talk of the winter being worse than usual while still in Markarth, but couldn't remember when he heard it.
"Hopefully it wasn't recent." Aria notes of the avalanche. "With how High Hrothgar is, that's probably not clearing for a while." She thinks a little. "We could probably clear it with fire, but…"
Jake shakes his head. "I'd rather not mess with that, considering everything that's around us." He turns to the path beyond High Hrothgar. "C'mon, let's go check that out." The gate that leads up to Parthurnax was visible from where they were.
The two of them jump onto, then past, the ruins of High Hrothgar, and start making their way up the path. The fact that there was no brutal ice storm to stop them did Jake's nerves no favors.
As the two climb the path, they see more signs of battle: torn stones, carved out snow, random body parts. Aria picks up a dismembered, robed arm. "I'm going to assume this went poorly."
Jake's response is just a slow nod as his eyes dart every which way, more out of a frenzy than a need to absorb information.
Aria sees his concern and sighs. "I hope you're not thinking along the lines of being responsible for something like this." She sights another corpse. "Honestly, I'm just amazed it took Alduin this long to hit this place."
Jake nods again, then shakes his head to focus as the two arrive at the peak of High Hrothgar.
"This feels like a dragon's den for some reason." Aria mutters. "My nerves hurt." She looks around. She sees a wall of draconic language, the bones of a dead mammoth, and littered stone wall-like structures, but little else.
"If something was up here, it left." Jake observes. So, what, did Parthurnax leave? He looks around for signs of damage, and finds none. "The hell?"
Aria could read Jake's suddenly relaxed body language. "…Feel like clueing me in on something, Jake? Did you know that something was going to happen here?"
Jake shakes his head. "Fuck no. If I did we wouldn't have been chilling in Markarth." He catches Aria's glare. "What?"
"I know you and Ash tend to hide a few things." Aria says. "And the whole 'perk tree' thing, too. How much did you know about High Hrothgar? Was there a dragon here?"
Jake scowls, then sighs. "Honestly, we weren't sure. The assumption we were making was 'yes', on the basis that the Greybeards had to be learning their shouts from someone, but…" he looks around. "Whoever bombed the shit out of the temple, I would have at least expected some kind of action up here, too." He sighs again. "If it makes my case a little stronger, just know that we're less 'withholding information' and more 'avoiding bias'. Like, there's shit we have good guesses on and shit we know absolutely nothing about, and pretending like we can somehow use our guesses to make up for what we don't know is dumb."
Aria stares at him, more inquisitive than anything else. "So who was up here? If there wasn't an attack, I mean."
"A dragon called Parthurnax." Jake replies. "Not that it's around to confirm or deny anything right now."
"Right." Aria's never heard of the dragon before and thus has no additional comment. "So what do you think happened? I can tell that this was beyond your expectations."
Jake grumbles. "Fuck me running, I don't know." He kicks a clump of snow. "The plan was to make sure we could get a good idea as to what to do next."
"…So what do we do next?" Aria asks.
"Well…we look for the Elder Scroll." Jake says. "Now where the fuck it is…" He gestures to the area around him, to say 'that's what we came to find out.'
Aria nods. "Fuck."
…
[1st Person Camera]
…
Fuck.
Hoooo fuck.
Alright.
Recap.
We are currently in Rorikstead.
Jake and Aria were the advance party. They went out to High Hrothgar and came back looking like hell. Long story short, High Hrothgar is no more.
Currently, the rest of Warwolf is quartered on the outskirts of Whiterun because we can't get into the city. Something something The War something something.
More to the point.
High Hrothgar is fucked seven ways to Sunday. The two of them arrived to the temple completely destroyed. From what they could tell, a dragon did it. They couldn't dig too deep into the ruins because, uh, stone ruins in sub-zero environment, but it's fair to say that the Greybeards, what's left of them, what's left of any intact, would not be in any capability to actually help us in a meaningful way.
The dragon at the top, Parthurnax, was also not present, and there was no sign on the ground that a large-scale battle was present, which could mean that, at best, Parthy and Alduin had an aerial dogfight, or else Parthy ditched at the first possibility of trouble…but that would imply that Alduin looked at the Greybeards and the dragon literally capable of matching him, and then picked the weaker party to ambush and left the stronger to hit his rear.
Which is silly.
Because the path up to High Hrothgar is frozen over and there lacks any meaningful worry about the situation, it's reasonable to assume that the destruction of the temple will not cause some kind of meaningful response until at least late summer, unless someone speeds things up (and by all rights we should). Once that happens…well, hopefully there can be some kind of push towards focusing on the Dragons, but I somehow seriously doubt it…
…task at hand.
"We came here to find out about the Shout, and the one person that can possibly teach the Shout is gone." Esbern summarizes with a grim expression. "Should we consider the Shout lost?"
"I mean, the Elder Scroll might help." Jake mutters. "That aside." He looks at Aria. "Is there some other way you have to learn a Shout?"
Aria shrugs. "A wall of dragon language with that specific shout would help, but I would need to know where it is." She looks to Esbern and Byrnjolf. "Any ideas?"
"A mythical Shout from the times of yore with which mankind can shackle dragons?" Byrnjolf laughs. "Lass, I deal in coin. But if you're looking, then…"
Esbern taps his temple. "If that information is anywhere, it would be…"
Both of them go "…the College of Winterhold." At the same time. "But more likely the Arcane University." Esbern adds.
"The College has seen better days." Byrnjolf continues. "Last I heard, they were having issues with funding due to not having enough students."
…huh. "I heard rumors about the College being irresponsible with magic. How's that work?"
"Oh, that." Byrnjolf flashes a smile. "Nothing too serious, really. Nothing like a section of the city falling into the ocean or something like that."
…that sounded a wee bit too on the nose, don't you think…?
"If memory serves, one wing of the college slid into the ocean after some big experiment." Delphine says. "Since then, the College is very picky about who it accepts into its ranks and makes no exceptions on the removal of those who refuse to adhere to their policy."
Hm. Sounds like there's some major differences we'll need to worry about. "Alright then, that's something on our list."
"With all due respect." T'mare raises her hand. "We've been talking about the Dragons as an isolated issue, but…given that we're trying to save mankind" she makes a face "I think it might be useful to also have mankind be a part of that equation."
Erm. "Meaning?"
"Well, right now, how many dragon attacks have we heard about?" T'mare looks to T'nerem.
T'nerem flips through a rather thick looking notebook. "If we account for each rumor of Dragon attack as a legitimate, unique attack, then from the beginning of winter until now, there have been two hundred and sixty-six Dragon attacks in Skyrim." She shrugs. "If we pare out all the ones that sound unlikely or are repeats, then we're looking at twenty-eight, thereabouts." She flips a page. "If we count those that have tangible, lasting damage…three."
Yeah. The biggest issue with Dragon attacks in general at the present is that they literally never stay to fight. A vast majority of the attacks involve the Dragons being described as 'being chased off by the local guards', even when it involved minor villages where the guards are literally a dozen dudes with shoddy bows and way too much alcohol.
Hell, the worst that happened during the winter was a town south of Solitude. A dragon landed, burned down like five houses, then got into a tussle with the garrison and ate like a dude before retreating. This makes them, on a macro-political scale, less dangerous than bandits. What's making them so…non-aggressive? Initially we figured it was Alduuin changing their mission directive, but now…Parthurnax? Hm.
"True. Due to the current behavior of the dragons, measures to upgrade and fortify the holds against their attacks have stalled out due to a lack of interest." Delphine says. "Unless you're looking to do everything by yourself." She shoots a look at me.
Fair point, really. "Yeah, we need a home base with good plausible deniability." I sigh. "Can't really deploy anything huge when we're in the middle of a city." And we…I…need the space to experiment on things. "Good point, thank you."
A sassy smirk plays on her face. "Damn straight. That said, how do we actually do that?"
…
Fuck me running.
"The war." Everybody says/sighs/somewhere in between in unison.
"Falkreath in particular has always had a shortage of landed nobles and entirely far too much unmanaged land." Byrnjolf notes. "One of the many reasons why the Whiterun recapture army is based there."
"So, in other words, retake Whiterun, make big name, become lord, have land." I sum up. "Yeah?"
"Pretty much." Byrnjolf grins. "And not die in the process, I reckon." He glances at Delphine and Esbern.
They both pick up on the look, and Esbern speaks up. "I'm sorry to say that we have little to offer but our own skills in the matter." He bows slightly. "Were it a different time, the situation might've been more advantageous." Which I take to be a fairly roundabout and polite way of saying 'fuck me, we're Blades and we're useless.'
"For sheer numbers, that shouldn't be a problem." Erik looks around at the camp we have. "If we only look at numbers, we're easily capable of being a fully-fledged combat unit. Of course, once skill gets involved there's no comparison." He nods at Jake.
Welp. So much for not getting involved in the war. It sucks how we don't have the convenience of being a protagonist where the plot only ever advances when we're around.
"Alright, then." I nod. "In that case, Aria, you're going to Winterhold." If we're gonna do this seriously, then let's do this seriously.
Aria nods. "Fine by me."
"How do you plan to get in?" Byrnjolf asks her. "Without strings attached, I mean."
….huh. Good point. The existence of a Dragonborn—a true one—is still a mystery, so at the moment there are a ton of 'Dragonborns' roaming around. Hell, there's a Dragonborn in Winterhold right now who has demonstrated the 'ability of Shout', so Aria can't even reveal herself without being doubted. People are clever assholes sometimes.
"What's necessary to get into the school? Money?" I ask. "You did say they're short on cash." I look to Byrnjolf.
"Yes, but it's not something they'd admit." Byrnjolf says. "They're more of the 'helpful donation' type. Entrance to the school is, in itself, not difficult—a simple practical showing fine control over two to four spells is enough." He raises a finger. "It depends on who's proctoring the test, and I should point out, mister Ash, that learning two spells to the point of being refined is the purview of only those with the means to hire a dedicated tutor." He nods slightly to Atra and Alma.
We're weird, yeah yeah. "If that's the bar then you shouldn't have a problem." I look at Aria, who gives a 'it's just two spells' shrug. "So…" I look to Byrnjolf again.
Byrnjolf chuckles, darkly. "In a word, Thalmor. The College of Winterhold is kept alive materially via Solitude, and much of that material come at a bargain from the Aldmeri Dominion…in exchange, of course, for the rights to have the campus be 'politically neutral'." He rubs his chin. "If the lass takes the exam, there could be technicalities and complications that come up due to being a part of the student body." He smiles apologetically. "If you want her to move without attracting undue suspicion, someone else will have to 'enter' the college."
In other words, someone applies to enter with Aria being a hanger-on? "And they let people in like that?"
Esbern's turn. "For the purposes of looking at the library, yes. The actions of a student's followers affect the status of the student themselves, so as to draw a fine middle line between the needs of the noble students and the needs of the college."
Makes sense. So who's going instead?
I can go, but if we're trying to get big political points then I'm a poor choice. Erik is…probably good enough to go, but he's kind of needed as a second-in-command, so he's surprisingly un-expendable. T'nerem, I guess?
"Um." Atra raises her hand. "With your permission, sir, I can go. We have that invitation from the Imperial Arcane University."
No.
Immediate reflexive thought.
"Which is not the same place." Byrnjolf points out. "But…yeah, that could work." He smiles slightly. "The letter would act as a guarantee of sorts and make it more…complex…for the Aldmeri to move, at least until we're well and far off campus and done with our task." He starts mulling it over.
My initial reaction has come and gone, but I'm not necessarily on board with this. "This would be dangerous." I note. "And this would be very directly harmful, if things start going wrong." I stare at her and my god she's cute. My daughters are amazing and I'd rather not let them go outside my healing range.
She hesitates, then nods. "I want to help." As if to make her point, she creates a small magelight within her palm. "I can help."
Well…
"I'm going too!" Alma jumps to her feet. "I'll keep my sister safe!" She puffs out her chest.
…Weirdly, if they're both going, I'm less worried. The two are very good at complementing each other in terms of healing, so it works out. I guess. I hope. Please.
"Boy, I got my work cut out for me." Aria laughs. "Don't worry, Ash, I'll defend them with my life if need be." She pats their head.
So the girls can't die or I'll go insane, and Aria can't die or the world will end. This is like a Fire Emblem campaign. Jesus. "I'd be more…reassured, if it wasn't just you three." I start looking around for volunteers. Most do…not.
A hand! "Eh, what the hell." T'nerem shrugs. "I'm in. I can keep the girls safe in a scrap so Aria can do her thing of brutally murdering the opposition." She grins. "It's a match made in heaven." She's also their favorite since they hang out so often.
Aria pouts. "I object to it being called murder."
We all wait for three seconds for a follow-up. There isn't one.
…But not the brutal part, apparently.
"Eh…" Byrnjolf looks around. "Sapphy." He calls out. Sapphire hears it and stands. "Escort mission with Aria here." He says with a tilt of his head to Aria. Sapphire nods in agreement. Lithe, scary looking Nord woman, not gonna lie. Also, pretty sure she's only going to help keep a line of communication between herself and Byrnjolf. I can work with that.
But, either way, the party of Aria, T'nerem, Atra, Alma, and Sapphire will head off to Winterhold to research on the possible locations of dragonshouts (and The Shout) in Skryim (good fucking luck), while the rest of us will change course and head to Falkreath and join up with the army.
We've avoided mentioning the name of the Shout in the event that searching for the Shout via name rather than effect causes false positives due to differences in naming between the game and real life.
…
Alright. Not happy about the very sudden turn of events, but, hey, play what we're dealt.
First order of business: I get Atra and Alma and refresh them on the Playfair method of encoding messages and make it very clear that they are not to reveal it to anyone who isn't Aria. I know the two have been practicing with it, so they're insanely good at encoding and decoding short messages. The keywords we're going to be using are 'Galm' and 'Garuda'. I wanted keywords that were easy enough to remember but also locally rare enough to avoid being randomly guessed. Galm is a little suspect though.
Second, I take the rest of the night to make everyone on the away team silver trinkets, each one imbued with the wish that the wearer will not die. Rather understandably, the ones Sapphire will be using will be of a significantly lower quality. Nothing against her, I just know nothing about her.
Third, once we finish our preparations and break camp and separate into the two groups, I detach from the To-Falkreath group to head over to High Hrothgar. I want to take a closer look.
Unlike how Jake and Aria traveled via Wolf, we create a Skin/Ward mix in front of us to block air effects, so we go significantly faster.
RUNNING IN THE NINETIES! PRETTY SURE I'M FASTER THAN THE NINETIES! OH MY GOD I CAN'T TURN OR DRIFT THIS IS A STUPID IDEA
The wolf's maneuverability is sorely lacking, but we hit the base of the Throat of the World about an hour after leaving the camp at Rorikstead.
JUMP! I REGRET EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS
The wolf, with a series of mighty leaps, jumps up and arrives at High Hrothgar with no issue.
Oh god my head. The altitude change is not good for my brain. Give me a second.
…
Ok.
Alright.
…what the fuck.
High Hrothgar is…yeah, it's busted. Hrm.
We head to the temple and, putting a hand on the temple door, turn a section of it into dust so we can enter.
Whooo…it cold in here. No fires, no lights, no nothing. Magelights.
…the place is trashed, but only in the sense that the external damage it suffered carried to the internals. No signs of the place getting ransacked in any way. Also no bodies, as far as I can see. There's a lot of dead angles due to the damage…
…but, yeah, no bodies.
We do a more comprehensive search over the next thirty minutes.
It's so cold. Fuck.
Anyway.
After turning the place upside down and repairing some damage to get into the other sections, including a basement with frankly a lot of food—don't know what that Klimmek guy's worried about—I can safely say that…
…whatever the attack was, it most likely happened after a different event. As in, something caused the Greybeards to leave and fight(?), and then some time later the temple collapsed. Hmm.
We take another thirty minutes to check the outside.
I regret my decisions with a vengeance and a hatred. But anyways…
Of the body parts that are left, the breaks seem to be…crush-based? The snow and ice make things hard to tell and the ones that I thawed out with a campfire definitely show breaks and crushes. All likelihood points to Dragon. The biggest question mark is that…I don't know how many Greybeards are in the temple to begin with, so I have no idea how much damage was actually done.
Finally, Parthurnax's lair.
Another ten minutes.
…Nothing going on here. There's a lot of ambient magic, but I can't source it. Between this and how long the body parts have been frozen, I guess they've been dead for a while…the best I can say for this situation is that, at the very fucking least, if Parthurnax went down he didn't go down here.
…so why did he leave? What caused him to leave? I'm pretty sure that, whatever happened, the chain of events is like this: something attacks High Hrothgar, and it draws away the Greybeards and Parthurnax. Sometime later (seconds?) the temple structure is hit by the attacker, which is most likely a dragon.
…or maybe Parthy, or Alduin, or Unnamed Random Dragon gets thrown into the temple. Way too many factors, way too few data. Point of note: there's so much mana swirling around the air up here, and it blinds the mana vision. I don't know what that means.
But, either way, we've investigated this place and have learned to our satisfaction that the arguably easiest path to solving this Alduin problem has been cut off. Unless Parthy shows himself somewhere else, and the odds of that is fuck-all, we're on our own.
…I know I talked shit about being able to build Bofors and take down Alduin with Superior American Firepower, but I didn't think that would wind up being our only plan. Now I'm worried.
Aren't Bofors British?
And Oerlikons are Swedish, but it didn't stop the Enterprise from wanting like a hundred of them.
…
With our investigation done, we head back down the mountain, slower, and rendezvous with the main force.
I'd like my ears to be unbleeding, thank you. Also, it's less 'meeting up' and more 'find on the road.' I share my findings with Jake and we agree that Shit's Fucked™. Knowing that, we head on the more southern roads towards Falkreath.
It takes us about three hours of travel before we come across an Imperial Column marching towards Whiterun. Well, this is awkward. I wanted to hit them at camp so our intentions would be more straightforward.
"Hello there!" Jake calls out as soon as it's clear the Imperials have noticed us. "Looks like you boys are heading out for a scrap!"
"That we are, lad, that we are." One Imperial replies, probably a captain or something. "We're not averse to having more swords." He says, reading us right. "Are you mercenaries?"
"Aye." Jake grins. "Warwolf, at your service." The name causes a bit of a stir. "We're looking for some action and coin to go with it."
The Imperial laughs. "Coin you'll find plenty, action, I don't quite know." His body language suggests that he's a little…desperate. Actually, looking at the quality of his troops, I think it's rather, uh…rather sensible that he'd be desperate. Are these militia?
Anyway, we get the ok to join the convoy, so we join the convoy. Looking closer, yeah, it looks like this group is levy. About…one, one fifty? One hundred and fifty people not counting us.
"Where are you guys from?" Jake asks the captain.
"We hail from Solitude." The captain points…to his command staff of about eight lieutenants. "We're meant as reinforcements for General Orson's army." I swear to god if a dude named Orson betrays us…
…also, "you seem rather…underwhelming for reinforcements from the capital of Skyrim." I say. The Lieutenants have standard issue Imperial Armor (studded), and some of the soldiers have leather and imperial armor mixes, buuut…the rest of the soldiers just have spears and shields and, like, two layers of tunics.
"Ah, well…" The captain glances at his men. "…suffice to say, we are 'favored' by the Thalmor." His tone is poisonous. "Your reputation precedes you, Warwolf, so I will be frank." He sighs. "Funding for the Skyrim Imperial forces are scant, and we lack the pull to get any more than the bare necessities for the force."
…and the fact that the Imperial government as a whole really can't seem to do anything about this is telling. "What kind of General is this Orson?"
The Captain laughs bitterly. "Tight with his purse strings and tighter with his whores." He spits. "The man is a disdain upon the Imperial military's name."
I should note that we're within the full hearing range of his entire company right now and I can't imagine this being healthy for morale.
"And yet you're going to be under his command." Mell notes with a frown.
" 'Command' is generous." The Captain laughs. "I do not believe Orson will be on the front lines in any meaningful way." He winks. "It's unlikely that Whiterun will fall without any significant investment." He lowers his voice. "Orson cares too much about what he can earn by being home in the Imperial Capital, after all."
Or, to put it in another way, we can get a lot of attention by capping Whiterun with Orson out of the picture. Attention of both the good and bad variety, but considering the circumstances the risk will just have to be accepted. Bleh.
…
Orson's camp is to the Southwest of Whiterun, far enough to be safe but also close enough to be visibly a threat, if only due to its size. I'm sure the watches posted on the edges of the camp have tabs on intercepting Stormcloak movements just in case.
Incidentally, they came straight from Falkreath to this position, skirting around the west side of the river (Riverwood on its east). With the addition of our forces, Orson's army is now at about a thousand people.
Orson is…given how the camp is run, I assume he either has a very competent camp staff, or is very competent himself. We catch no sight of him even after we formally set up and get integrated (ish) into the army's command structure. We're auxiliaries, along with the formal reinforcements that, y'know, really should have a higher status.
"Heeey, Orson's army has fucking castes." The Captain said under his breath after all the administrative action is done. "Who could have fucking guessed." I think there might be bad blood between the two.
"You don't like him much, do you?" Jake asks with a laugh. "Like, shit, man."
"I make the point to vicariously hate any and all Imperial wastes of time." The Captain sneers. "So you tell me."
To be fair to the Captain: the levy troops are obviously of the 'ignored' category and it shows. The camp's 1000 soldiers are divided as thus: 50 cavalry, 200 legionaries, and the rest are levy. The cavalry are splendidly armed and armored and have the wealthier part of the camp to themselves (more on that in a bit), the legionaries look more or less like they do in game, using mostly the studded/chained leather armor and sword shield combos. Plus spear.
The levies…the best of them have parts of leather armor. All of them have spears, some have swords, and the spears look like they were made while on the march. There are spare weapons in the camp, but solely for the legionaries and above. I'd question why the Imperial army seems so hell-bent on losing this siege, but I get the feeling I know the answer.
Incidentally.
If looking at the camp from above, it'd look vaguely like a blobby peanut shell. There's a wooden palisade around the entire camp, ringed with two sets of towers. The camp is more or less on the edges of a cliff/hill combination, with the cliff to the southwest. The towers are at the front and the cliffsides of the camp, allowing us a good sense of vision in Stormcloak activity…though it seems like half of them are unmanned.
The left side of the camp is a farming complex (as in: house, barn, storage), and it is the quarters for the horsemen and the leadership. The right side, out in the open and very precariously guarded, is the levy quarters.
Notably, I think I see some Thalmor mages in the leadership quarters. Hmm.
Well, now that we're here. Orson's Getting His Shit Together™ so we're going to lay siege tomorrow. I won't pretend to understand why he's doing it this way, because I really don't think there's a reason behind it.
Like, an army of a thousand isn't enough to actually pull off a siege, especially since the Stormcloak cav is already well on the field and in large numbers. Like we're just gonna get rolled over and die as soon as we leave camp.
Anyhoo. We attract a significant amount of stares because of the ladies in our group, but…weirdly (or not so weirdly) the other groups have women who are of the same 'modded' quality. More apparent with the cav.
We ask around.
Oh.
Some of the levy are slave troops.
Got It. Got it got it got it…Long story short, they're in the bad with the law, too much for them to pay off but too little to be worth selling to slavers. In other words, they could have been sent to the mines, but got the choice to be drafted instead. I guess they did tax evasion or something, I dunno.
Women of the 'modded' quality (of reasonably high social status) are usually slaves due to some interhouse political shenanigans.
And just because it's on my mind: the camp does have Professional Sexual Service Providers, and there is a level of…if not necessarily respect for the mix gender army, then at least a sense of 'this isn't the place to fuck around'. Long story short: yes stares, no dares.
So, for the last part of the day, I occupy myself with reforging the crappy levy spears into things that are more uniform and remade the speartips so they weren't made of shoddy second hand iron anymore. I'm one of the…eight? Blacksmiths in camp, but my forge is kickass and is lightweight so I'm better.
Careful with the ego.
Since we're preparing for battle, me and Jake go over our levels.
I got a grand total of 847 levels in Markarth, between running the Bell and dungeon diving. Jake got 823 points. Weirdly enough, that puts us both on the same level, at 2270. Which is simultaneously amazing and sad, because Aria can still wipe the floor with both of us.
Like shit we can gang up and ambush and everything and we'd still lose. It's not fair. Ahem.
I finish off Refining Mastery, Swordcraft Mastery, Steelworking…basically my bread-and-butter skills. At this point, the only skills I have that aren't at 100 at this point are my ice and fire masteries and the scrollmaking skills. Likewise, I take 100 in spearmaking because it's relevant, and then spend the rest on Missile awareness because HOOOOO BOY I'm gonna need it.
I also take Great/er/est ranks of Thunder master, Fire master, and Ice master, because I can. I also take 20 ranks of Expert Coin Duplicator, because I have no shame and I can imagine a future in which I shall need to have even less shame.
After this point, it seemed like something had triggered, and I (me and Jake) gained the 'Limit Breaker' perk, which opens up even more options that opened up in this giant MESS of a perk chart. Fortunately we can also search for traits based on a very excellent search option. Don't remember if it was there before but thank you god.
But, either way, now that we've gained the ability to cheese the fuck out of reality even harder…
I take Great/er/est ranks of Magic Dampening, which 'reduces the magic damage taken', to help me not instantly shrivel to a fireball. Great/er/est Magic Absorption, so the damage I do take can turn into more mana. Great/er/est Impact Dampening, which reduces physical damage taken, and two levels of Magic overcast and mana canister each, because I need a win button…that I never press.
And as for my finishing effects…oh. Well, shit.
Limit Breaker removed all of our preexisting finishing effects. Fuck™.
Instead, now we get to 'assign' Perks of both normal and greater varieties to get finishing effects. Each perk can't be used more than once. Fuck™ x2. At least the level checkpoints (500, 1000, 1500, 2000) that gives an extra point of luck are still there.
Ugh…well, we'll experiment with this, since it seems to be pretty fluid of a system.
Jake's perks. He maxes out Poison resistance, nutritious cooking, Battle Offense/Cadence/Rhythm/Defense, so basically all the ones that he didn't have at 100 yet. Otherwise, he takes 100 points of: Oversized Weapons Mastery (better at using things like trees for weapons), Heavy Armor Mastery (heavier armor is better), Critical Eye (better crits), Close Quarters Fighting (better melee damage), and 70 points of Evasive Instinct (better dodges against unseen attacks).
As for his Greaters, he puts more points into melee and range foresight (dodging), Ten ranks of 'Action Momentum', which "Adds a portion of the current strike's damage to the next strike", which sounds so deliciously broken. Great/er/est Warrior's Reach, slightly boosting his melee range (however that works), Great/er/est Critical Mass and Critical Edge, which increases critical hit rate and damage based on each other (one adds to damage from rate, the other rate from damage, no they don't cycle).
Like usual, the fact that we have to constantly keep our perks 'active' is the biggest bottleneck in terms of usage. Still, Jake now has plenty of offense and defense options and can swap out tactics as needed, between flying around, throwing trees, misting people with super powered crits…he's very balanced with regards to the 'unstoppable force' role.
I don't change much: stay in the back, toss big spells, be wizard.
And then he blows the rest of his greater points on 14 levels of Charm master (makes Charm more effective). Which is definitely a bit of an overkill considering how he's pretty good at being charming already. After he got those perks he winked at Mell for an experiment and I'm pretty sure she wanted to have his babies. He regrets his life decisions.
I should also take that Perk later for its ability to let me avoid getting shanked for, y'know, high crimes and misdemeanors.
…and because I would also like to wink at people and make them want to have my babies.
…what? I can dream.
…
[Next Day]
…
We're woken up by the sounds of a drum being beaten with tremendous gusto and somebody yelling "attack! Attack!" Which I take to mean that we're under attack.
Oh wait shit we're under attack
We crawl out of our tent.
The Warwolf tent complex is very sturdy despite its appearances, as exemplified by the three arrows sticking into the walls. Barriers go up, and let's observe.
…Ok, the Stormcloaks have a contingent, maybe…a hundred or so? Two hundred? Half archers, half cavalry. The archers are shooting arrows into the camp and it's hideously obvious that the watch slacked on their job.
Hm. Oh wow, good shot.
One flame arrow hits the command tent and it catches almost immediately.
Nobody's in that tent, but that's still not good for morale…yeah…ok, what the hell is going on here? Like, the levy troops are here and are panicking their asses off—the few captains around can't really keep command and any time one of them tries to take command the archers focus him down.
Glad I didn't try to command by reflex.
The Legionaries have retreated to the back of the camp and are organizing into a striking force, but they're slowed by the levy's complete lack of coordination. The command units and cavalry are nowhere to be seen.
Warwolf, I should note, have woken up and, as of this moment, ready to deploy.
An arrow flies our way and is ignored. It uselessly plinks off of our barriers.
I suppose this is a probing attack, so playing any cards now would be foolish. "Shields up and keep out of sight." I order, and we basically keep to the shadows. The Stormcloak archers let loose a few more volleys, then mount up and retreat. The camp's confusion drops slowly on account of the panic being transmissive, and it takes a good hour before order is restored.
"So, where's high command?" I ask nobody in particular as we watch the camp get cleaned up. "Seems weird that the biggest target isn't here."
"Damned if I knew." One sentry says through her gritted teeth. "We were told that there was no need for an early morning watch." She's dutifully ashamed despite not being responsible. "What is this bullshit."
Without a general in charge, we technically can't move out either. Hrm. Problems™.
Alright, let's take a moment and think this over. Right now, the head of the army and his entire command staff, plus his cavalry, are gone from the camp and nobody knows why…or, at least, they're not telling. The highest-ranking officers right now are…all the captains who lead the Legionaries, and they're of equal rank to each other. Predictably, because the legion is a standard force of the era and command is very much so top-down, they start to…have been…arguing about who's in overall command.
Fuck me. Jeez…
The Stormcloaks just hit and found us to be in complete and utter disarray. If I were the Stormcloaks, with multiple, high quality cavalry units in the field, what would I do to capitalize on this situation?
…Well, obviously: mass everything and hit the camp while it's still in shambles. If the leadership came back during the massing process, it would still be too badly caught on the back foot to handle a cavalry strike effectively…
…Christ, Orson, you fucked up.
"Alright, Ash, what are we doing?" Jake says, a little too loud for conversation so as to grab the attention of the confused and scared levies around us.
"Reorganize and prep for a cavalry attack." I reply, also a little loud. "No way the Stormcloaks are going to let this chance slip." I look around. "T'yanna, go up on a perch and take a lookout." I nod to the nearest tower. "Everybody else, ready spears and move everything broken up against the wall." There is a lot of broken wood and a few carts in bad states. "Let's not get run over by horses, yeah?"
"Yes sir." Erik and the rest of the Warwolf mercs reply in unison (again, for morale purposes) and we get to work. The nearby levy sees what we're doing and copies our actions, and soon our side of the camp has all of its nonessential material up against the wall. For safe measure, I make some long-ass spears—twenty feet, easy—and get Jake to bury them behind the debris.
The process takes us a good twenty minutes, and when done, we start talking with the two levy Captains who have command near where we're posted. It…yeah. I don't know if it's a matter of these levies specifically, or if it's standard for Imperial army levies, but these guys have received no unit-level training beyond 'pointy end forward'.
Our (me and Jake's) response is a dejected "fuuuuuuck" and we start looking around for shields. In the next forty minutes, we get the two levy groups to learn to shieldwall, get low, and brace. Our explanation is that 'you don't need to win against cavalry, just have to avoid dying.'
"Sovngarde awaits those who die a warrior's death." One young dude points out.
"If you get your head caved in by a horse, I'm pretty sure Sovngarde will welcome that horse with open arms." I say because boy. "Dying in battle is not, by itself, an act of valor." Also I'm pretty sure the dude's an Imperial so Sovngarde is probably not accepting him.
Either way, he grumbles some more but agrees that getting horsed in the head would suck and learns to shieldwall.
"Incoming." T'yanna calls out from her watchtower after about an hour. "A lot of horses." She looks down at us. "What now?" She's not the only sentry, mind, she's just our sentry. Also, it took the Stormcloaks three hours to get ready for a major hit?
Welp, no gift horse mouth looking. "Archers! Get up the cliff and take sniping positions. Reese! Sniping positions!"
"Aye, boss." The Imperial Archer grins. "Aiight, Final Shots on me! Anybody who's good with a bow! Up on the cliff!" He takes himself, his two buddies, and about twenties levies up the cliff. More archers do follow, but some are kept attached to their units since, again, no central chain of command.
True to Yan's ears, the Stormcloaks come in with their cavalry at speed. The rumbling is scary, not gonna lie: our vision of the incoming field is shrunk somewhat due to the position of the camp, so with the field of vision that we have, it looks as if there is nothing but cavalry everywhere we see.
Welp. "Steady!"
…
[3rd Person Camera]
…
The Stormcloak cavalry charge comprises most of the cavalry operation in this region, numbering about three hundred. Their standing orders were to disrupt and harass the Imperial armies as they approached the city as needed. Due to the lucky windfall of the closest army's head of command not being present, they now had a chance of straight up wiping an army off the map.
As such, the six captains grouped as one and rode for the camp as hard as they could.
"Stick to the plan!" The ad-hoc leader ('The Commander') calls out. "Let victory guide you!" They pick up speed and ready javelins. As they approach the camp, the Commander notes the suddenly reinforced wall. As expected of the Imperial legion. He notes wryly. "Pack!"
The cavalry split into two groups, with the faster group going into a full gallop and tightening towards the left side of the camp's walls. As they get even closer, the Commander shouts "Turn!" And pulls on his reins. His horse, along with the others in the lead group, make a turn to run parallel to the wall and ready their javelins. "LOOSE!"
His lead group throw their javelins, still in a full gallop, and break off from the camp, his unit following suit behind him. The second group, arrayed against the camp's walls, start their charge with javelins and spears. The walls of the camp were never a sturdy structure to begin with, and the prior raid certainly did it no favors.
As soon as the first group cleared the way, the second group charges through the half-burnt wall and the ramshackle barricade behind it. The captain in charge had a split second to decide where to direct the force of his charge. In that second, he had to pick the enemies on his left, who had maintained formation, versus the enemies on his right, who had not. He went right.
The Imperial army's levy wasn't organized in time, and the Stormcloak cavalry rode into them with vicious efficiency. The Imperial Legionaries were more organized but were under equipped for fighting cavalry, so the horses rode through them too. The Stormcloaks ran through the flimsy lines and came out on the other side of the camp and the relatively wide and open spaces meant to house the Imperial army's cavalry. There, they wheeled and reformed ranks to charge again.
At the same time, the first group reorganized outside the camp and readied their charge against the scattered Imperials, laser-focused as they were against the second group that just hit them. The group begins to gallop, and the captain sees, with satisfaction, utter chaos in the Imperial line as they struggle to decide on who to defend against.
His vision was then rudely obscured by a cloud of the remnants of the wall they were about to charge through. Pieces of wood, bags, metal, and varied combinations of the three suddenly flew into the air and his horse balked at running through the sudden obstacle. The confusion among his riders was significant enough to disrupt the weight of the charge, and the break allowed the Imperial left flank to slam into his riders and cut into them with surprising efficiency.
"Stay together! Keep to your lines!" The Captain hears and turns his head towards the voice. A Mercenary Captain, standing on top of an overturned cart, was bellowing out orders towards a combination of his men and the Imperial Levies. The Captain takes the moment to note all those within the levy ranks who were significantly better armed and armored, and, upon seeing that the second group was about to engage the broken side of the Imperials, rallied his men for pullback.
As the straggling portion of his troop dismounts to form a defensive line against the Imperials, he takes out a javelin and, sighting the range, hurls it towards the mercenary captain. He spared just enough time to see the captain parry the javelin with a swing of his sword and grimaces, but he rallies what's left of his still mounted horsemen and cuts into the non-organized levy and draws their attention.
Using this opportunity, the second group charges into the heavily confused Imperial forces and rolls right through. However, seeing that the opportunity for heavy damage was lost, the Commander signals a retreat. The first group's dismounted riders get picked up by the second group, and the lieutenants of the army blanket all the horses in Charm spells so as to not lose any. With that, they turn and disengage, leaving behind them a camp and army torn completely to the ground.
…
[1st Person Camera]
…
Fuck™.
Were those Stormcloaks elites? They sure as hell fought like elites. Or maybe we were just awful.
Anyways, I'd say that, at this point, about half of the camp is dead, and the other half are casualties in some way.
"Like a goddamn whirlwind." Jake spat. As amazing as he is, the fact that he needs to be aware of what he's doing to use his perks meant that he couldn't just jump into the ranks and kick ass, 'cuz he'd die, so we were all underwhelming.
"Such is the price of being underprepared." I sigh. "Is there no leadership left?"
"Seems not. What's the call, boss?" The Captain from earlier says with fake lightness.
"Get the wounded and seriously wounded up there." I call out, pointing to the top of the cliff. "Archers, take watch positions, Reese, organize a picket defense." Reese replies affirmative.
"Who died and made you king?" Some Imperial Legionnaire grumbles as the rest of the levies start, more or less, to do as I ordered. Shortly afterwards, the rest of the soldiers also follow suit. Did the Stormcloaks kill all the officers here, too, or is everyone just too shell shocked to talk?
Given that they were in the middle of getting the shit murdered out of them, I somehow don't blame them.
…
It takes us an hour to put the camp back into some semblance of a working state. During that time, we tallied that, yes, out of all of the officers in the legionnaire group and the levy group that got hit, only five officer-grade soldiers survived, and they were all lieutenants rather than full captains. My group is fine, more or less—we lost an officer and a lieutenant.
Overall losses came to about thirty percent of the soldiers and forty percent of the levy, not counting those that said "fuck this I'm out" after the fight and deserted. An additional…forty? Percent of the soldiers are casualties, along with thirty percent of the levy. Hey they match.
But yeah, we're down to a third of the legionnaires being capable and a third of the levies, and all the levies are ours…
Also, Orson came back with his cav, along with a second group. This is the first time I've seen Orson, actually: dude is very handsome, probably pushing the edge on the 20 to 35 age group. Imperial, obviously takes care of his appearance, and has an air of knowing what he's doing. The second group's leader is older, easily hitting 60, also well-groomed and has very well decorated armor. Both are surrounded by a heavy cavalry bodyguard.
As soon as the second leader saw the state of the camp, he scowled. The two groups, along with their cavalry, make their way to the somewhat destroyed cavalry barracks and, a short while later, a group summon is given to everyone with command abilities. So we assemble, and…yeah, it ain't pretty.
The Second leader's brows furrow further as he sees the…four captains and eight lieutenants, not counting us mercenary leaders, of which there were several. As he sees this, he sighs deeply, and gets Orson to go front and center.
…
…
Yeeep, Orson fucked up.
Long and short of it: this is the dude's first campaign where he is the commanding officer. Usually, he's subordinate to somebody else. The dude that dressed him down is his uncle, by the way. So, basically, Orson is the type of person who's very good at what he does, but very rarely strays outside the boundaries of what he's supposed to do.
Aka, model middle management material.
Since he's usually not the tippy top of command, he therefore did what he had always done when needing to communicate in person with other members in the field: take all of his staff with him. He didn't even bother delegating an adjutant to help run things, he just took everybody with him under the assumption that somebody else would have already handled those things.
Yeah…no.
Now, granted, it would have worked had the Stormcloaks not shown amazing initiative, but I feel like that's to be expected given their mobility and our complete lack of it.
Now, credit where it's due: Orson did send scouts to begin with, but they kept on getting intercepted and taken down due to the Stormcloak's superior horsemanship, so he picked a site that would be a bitch to attack with cavalry, and it would have worked, had he given any kind of standing order or leadership. As it is, the army's basically dead in the water. But we have to do our job anyway.
Also, and, thankfully: Orson's army is one of three, of about similar size. He leads the smallest, his Uncle leads the largest, and another person leads the third. All three are stationed around Whiterun to make supply issues more manageable, but uh…yeah, then this happened, so we're effectively at two point one armies right now.
Anyhoo, the mission is as thus: because of the tenuous political climate within Whiterun, the bulk of the Stormcloak army is actually quartered at a fortress a short distance northeast of the city. To that end, now that things have gotten switched around because one army is effectively dead…the First Army, lead by Orson's Uncle, will be sieging the city. The Second and Third will be sieging the fortress.
It's flipped around from the initial plan, mind: the smaller army composition goes after the fortress. The plan is so that when either one of the two targets gets taken down, the other would be pressured to surrender, or at least lose their will to fight.
So now that we're the smaller one…
I wish I went to Winterhold right about now.
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{ === + === }
Author Notes:
Which is more likely to be believable, a lord with a history of insanity who makes it his mission to kill dragons, or a random dude in the mountains who makes it his mission to kill dragons?