A year and several months ago, during one of her lunch dates with her father, Cura opened her heart to him. "Of course I love Skyrim, father. Why wouldn't I? I've poured my blood, sweat and tears thus far. I've been fighting every threat that's presented itself before me. And there... seem to be many. And I will have to contend with a great horror to save this land, sooner or later." Soon, she would depart for Winterhold to join the College. She was certain that it wasn't going to be easy, but when was life ever easy?
Ulfric was pleased to hear it. However, there were some things he found odd about her interactions with other groups. "For one who holds the land in much esteem, you seem to take no issue with foreigners."
"Well, that's not entirely true." Cura began to explain as she enjoyed a grilled leek. "I think we should be kind to newcomers if they have good intentions regarding our land. Surely not every Imperial who lives within these walls works against you. I've seen Viola Giordano enter the Temple of Talos. Maybe some Imperials want to live here because it's the last safe haven for Talos-worshippers?"
Ulfric took a sip of mead. "To tell you the truth, I do not hate the Imperials. Not the people themselves, anyway. Any Imperial who would want the free worship of Talos is more than welcome to join our ranks. Same goes for anyone else, be they a Breton, a Redguard, or even an Elf. If they want to help us gain our independence, they're all right in my book."
Cura believed him. After all, she existed. Neither man, nor mer. But both simultaneously.
"But if they stand against us, they will meet the blade of my axe." Ulfric stated plainly, motioning towards the weapon bound to his waist on a leather strap.
This was where Cura disagreed with him. "If Skyrim separates from the Empire, it will stand alone in the event of an Aldmeri invasion, and without the Imperial market, economic times would become very harsh."
"I have plans for that, but I will not discuss them with you." Ulfric assured her. She had to accept it; after all, at the end of the day this was private information between himself and his generals.
"That's fair." Cura accepted the fact and took a bite of cheese.
"I am curious about one other thing: the Khajiit." Ulfric took a bite of goat leg and gave the fork a light twirl. "Ordinarily I wouldn't allow their kind within our walls. Like the Argonians."
"Why not?" Cura asked.
"Because Elves are one thing. Those beastfolk, however... they're too different for my liking. It's like looking at a bipedal Saber Cat." Ulfric grunted. "And they have a reputation of being thieves and swindlers."
"Inigo is not like that!" Cura protested in her friend's defense immediately. He did intend to join the Thieves Guild, though, so it was a little hard to defend. Though, since Inigo has been on her team he's been a model citizen.
Ulfric nodded. "An exception to the rule. Or perhaps an exception that proves the rule."
"Maybe the Khajiit resort to theft because of the fact people don't give them a chance?" Cura proposed. After all, it has been her belief, stemming from the Faith of Stendarr, that nobody is born inherently evil: many times people become wicked due to circumstance, or perhaps poor upbringing, or terrible role models. Everybody deserves a second chance, if they want it.
After all, Inigo was raised by a pair of assassins, so naturally one would think him murderous and irredeemable, though nothing could be further from the truth. He may have had a dark past, but she could see his earnest desire for repentance.
She was raised by Priests who preached of mercy and justice, essentially, and she still slaughtered many in Markarth when she fell from grace for a time. That was due to her own carelessness and desire for vengeance - not justice. Would she do it again?
She wanted to say 'no', but she knew the threat she gave Isran was true. If he'd harmed Carcette or Serana she would have torn the Fort to the ground. She could feel the anger welling up again now, simply thinking about it.
"Perhaps." Ulfric's agreement surprised her.
"I wouldn't be friends with a thief." Cura stated.
A few minutes of silent eating followed before the Jarl spoke up once more. "I'm proud of you, Cura. Just want you to know that. You have the heart of a true Nord. As Jarl, I've grown accustomed to people agreeing with me, without question. You don't seem to have that fear."
It was true: while she sat in his presence, Cura felt oddly at ease. Admittedly, she did not know her father very well, but she could still feel a sort of attachment to him. It was a difficult feeling to articulate, but it was certainly there. She smiled. "I admire you very much. I feel like I can have discussions with you, even though I don't know you very well."
"Don't get used to it." Ulfric soured the mood. "Remember that for the time being we have to keep our connections a secret."
Cura nodded. "Of course. This is just a Thane having lunch in her Jarl's court." She stood up from her seat, now finished her meal. Her father joined her, and stood firmly.
"So you're going to study in Winterhold. Don't say that on the streets too much. It's not well-liked these days." Ulfric reminded her as they walked down the stone hallways from his private dining chamber.
"A shame. Magic has many wonderful uses! There are some times where brute strength just won't cut it." Cura scratched her right temple.
"Your instructor was a Breton, if I recall correctly?" Ulfric asked.
"Keeper Carcette. She taught me everything I know about Restoration." Cura confirmed. "The Nords could really benefit from learning it, you know. Restoration is a very important school of magic."
The Jarl shrugged his shoulders. "A Healing Potion fares just as well."
"A Healing Potion can't slay the Undead." Cura opened the door at the bottom and they passed through together. Now that they were in the main hall, Ulfric bid her a courteous farewell.
"Be well, Cura. May Talos guide your steps." Ulfric blessed her as they parted ways. As he walked past the tables, he faintly heard her say, "And Stendarr be with you, Jarl Ulfric." before she exited the double doors.
A small smile hid itself underneath his beard as he assumed his place on the throne.
Cura.
What a girl. She really was a unique one. He'd never met someone so idealistic before, save for himself. Perhaps there was something to be said about predisposition. She had the makings of a leader. He could see that.
As a father, he was proud of the fact.
A cold whirlwind wrapped the surrounding area, snow and sleet blown up and around in unfurling rage as Dagon stormed the field in pursuit of Cosnach. The mortal had the audacity to mock the wrathful prince, and was soon to pay the price for his conceit.
"Son of a bitch! I can't keep him off of me!"
The drunken Reachman slapped the reins of his horse as he pulled a sharp turn around a jutting crag. The gargantuan Daedra kicked and overturned the shale, causing it to flip in the air and bounce off the cliff wall near Cosnach. In turn it caused many rock splinters to rain down upon him and a chipped boulder fell upon his horse.
With inebriated fervour, he yanked the horse to the side, causing the stallion to tip over, and him to fall off of it.
The horse landed right on his leg, causing him to wail in sudden agony as his kneecaps snapped under the sudden, powerful slam. The equine fell unconscious, and now the Breton was trapped underneath it.
Dagon was closing in on him, axes raised.
Man, I should've stayed wit' Lisbet and Imedhnain. This is the end of the road. I'm sorry, Inigo... Delphine... all you bozos. He closed his eyes tightly as the anticipation of death overshadowed him.
A loud slamming noise resonated throughout the mountains, frightening the flocks of birds in the forests of the Rift and causing them to scatter.
Delphine paused in that moment as the vibrations shook the very earth, and she knew then and there what transpired. She closed her eyes for a moment as the implications sunk in. She then called out to her men across the field. "WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME! WE HAVE TO BLOCK THEM NOW!"
Her voice was a foreboding warning for all to hear. Esbern heeded the call, glaring past the sea of enemies before him, flooding in from the horizon. "Stormcloaks, Blades! Clear the way!" The old man gripped tightly the blade of his spare katana, which had belonged to Darkeethus; it was foreign to the old man, but a veritable substitute for his broken one.
Marcurio controlled the crowd in the east, directing the Daedra into a group and dividing them from their wounded. Stormcloaks ran to the west under the cover of Erik, Stenvar and Serana.
"This is an ancient Akaviri Sword technique: The Dance of the Dragon!" Esbern declared with prestigious pride as the blade snaked out of its sheath. He waved it once in an arc of wind and snow and assumed a samurai sword stance.
Inigo and Mjoll looked on with anticipation, recognizing this move.
"I saw him do this once, before. In the Ratway." Mjoll struck down a Dremora and took a few steps back, wiping the sweat and blood off her forehead. Her berserker rage had run out and she was beginning to feel fatigued. Thankfully, the crowd was redirected to give her a moment of repose.
Esbern's blade began to alight in blue flames, and a sparkle gleamed in his senior's eye. With a roar he dashed forward, and became a storm in mortal flesh. His blade thrashed upwards, diagonally, horizontally, and circularly as he seemingly blinked in and out of existence, as far as the routed Daedra could tell. Body parts and blood flew in the air in a wide straight line as the old Blade lived up to his title, cleaving a gorey path through the center of the main horde.
Delphine took her cue. "It's time I showed you bastards why I'm the acting Grandmaster." She drew her second katana and crossed the two together. She cast a Frost Cloak around herself and scathed forward, becoming a double-edged frost ball on the battlefield. Without hesitation, Delphine danced high and low, separating heads from shoulders, torsos from legs, arms from bodies, and dismembering horses as she formed an arc. She leapt high and ducked low, finding an easier pattern to follow now that Esbern divided the army. At the end of her macabre dance, Delphine released the Frost energy in several directions by catching it with her blades and thrusting them sideways. The ice caught a couple of the Spider Daedra, freezing parts of their bodies.
Inigo charged an Exploding Bolt of Flame and cracked the Spider Daedra with it.
Lyranth looked back at the daring Khajiit as she continued to uphold her barrier. "I am impressed, little mortal. You have a very keen eye." He had hit his target from several yards away.
Ulfric Stormcloak pressed his shield into the ground and pulled himself upright. "Yes. I can see why my daughter held you in such high esteem."
Inigo felt a great deal of pride and validation upon hearing this from the Jarl of Windhelm. Suddenly, he felt quite justified. He nodded to him. "I never let her down until that one terrible day..." Inigo recounted with regret.
Large, stamping footsteps shook the landscape as Mehrunes Dagon returned to witness half of his invading army slaughtered by these resilient Nords.
Ulfric understood what he meant. "Don't blame yourself. Nobody could have seen it coming." He popped his right shoulder back into place and gave his waraxe a light twirl. Ready to return to the fray, the Bear of Eastmarch ran out of the barrier.
Author's Note: for this, listen to "God of War Ragnarok OST: The Hammer of Thor" on the side ;) thanks for reading!
Ulfric cut a clear path ahead, dashing past Rynkyus, who was keeping a few Daedroths at bay, partnered with Drozu. Never before did Ulfric see himself teaming with Daedra, but at this point he couldn't pick his allies.
Mehrunes Dagon stampeded back into the fray and with one vicious toss of his axe, destroyed the Windhelm stables and killed seventeen soldiers, tearing their bodies asunder, as well as some of his own Daedroths who engaged them. With a flick of his wrist the battleaxe came hurdling back to his hand. The Daedric Prince grinned with great malice as he stomped down on several Stormcloak soldiers, humbling the rowdy mortals.
"TALOS! YSMIR, GREAT AND MIGHTY DRAGON OF THE NORTH! I CALL UPON YOU IN THIS, OUR HOUR OF NEED! GRANT US VICTORY!" Ulfric shouted upwards to the heavens, throwing up his arms in prayer.
Nobody could have expected it, but a sudden movement of the clouds above began to manifest as a great storm brewed in the skies above. A face began to take shape in the whirling clouds: a man's face, bearded and mighty, with eyes glowing purple with the plasmic energy of lightning. From his mouth, a powerful, resonating masculine voice filled the air above, both amazing and horrifying all who were present. "QO AL FROD!"
The world around them shook as the sound trailed from one end of the continent to another.
"T-Talos! That's Talos!" Lucien cried out from his viewpoint on the city walls.
Arngeir sat in meditation outside in the courtyard of High Hrothgar, and his tranquility was disturbed. The elder's eyes snapped open and he looked to the skies, hearing the mighty resonance of the Voice. A voice unheard in millennia.
"Tiber Septim."
The elder had an uncanny sort of recollection; memories that were not his own, but of his predecessors from centuries ago.
"Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok."
Arngeir wasted no time and hurried to the peak of the mountain to see just what was unleashed on the world below. Dark clouds gathered in that very spot where the sky was tainted in blood, and a storm began to rage.
Something had fundamentally changed in their world - there were more forces at play than the Greybeards had realized. Feeling Kynareth's presence stronger was one thing, but this was another matter entirely.
Below, Mehrunes Dagon was bombarded with great bolts of lightning; one and another and several more, driving the Daedra down to his knees. His army were blasted by stray bolts and began to scurry about to avoid contact.
"No... I will not have this! I will not be humiliated by the Aedra again!" Mehrunes Dagon held his ground and began to struggle back against the onslaught wreaked upon him by the ancestor of the dynasty he'd ended. "DO YOU HEAR ME? NEVER AGAIN!" He hurled his battleaxe into the face in the clouds, landing a direct hit and causing the storm to dissipate. However, the Daedric Prince was dizzy from the repeated attack.
"Now! Hit the bastard with all you have!" Delphine ordered.
Inigo loaded an Exploding Bolt of Frost and shot Mehrunes in the knee. Esbern, Delphine, Mjoll, Stenvar, Erik, Rynkyus, Ralof, Drozu, Gykkah, Galmar, and the Stormcloak Soldiers began to fiercely strike the fiend in his moment of haze.
Lucien, Serana, Lyranth and Marcurio bombarded him with several Elemental attacks. Marcurio had lain a Frost Rune on the ground and directed the others to drive Dagon backwards into it.
The more they hacked his legs, Dagon moved back to avoid them, and they managed to get him to step backwards into it. The trap set, freezing his foot in place.
Ulfric took the opportunity to set himself up between them. From what he could see, Dagon's back was now to the great bridge. The rebel leader had an idea. He turned to look at Inigo, and the Khajiit saw a familiar glint in his eye. One he'd recognized all too well from travelling with Cura for a long time.
"No! Do not do something crazy!" Inigo shouted with dread.
Ulfric turned back to the raging red giant. "You will not threaten us again." He stomped a foot into the ground to hold himself firmly in place and focused all of his being into one last Shout:
"FUS RO DAH!"
With the mighty push of his wind vortex, Mehrunes Dagon was knocked off-kilter, and the Jarl of Windhelm leapt on top of him. He drove a dagger into him to hook onto his flesh and began to dig his waraxe in, creating lacerations as he climbed the Daedric Prince's stomach upwards.
"Do you think I will be so easily felled by your weak human magicks when a God could not strike me down?" the weary Daedra growled under his breath as he pulled himself back up. Ulfric dug the dagger into his flesh and used it and his hand to try and climb the Daedra while being throttled by the sudden shift in movement, spurred onwards by the cheering of his men. "I AM MEHRUNES DAGON!" The four-armed beast grabbed hold of him with his lower right arm.
"I know who you are - and I know your type, all too well." Ulfric grunted as the fist began to close tightly around him. The pressure caused his voice to break and grow hoarse.
What Mehrunes Dagon did not realize was that Ulfric had noticed something in the sky approaching quickly: eight Dragons, led by Paarthurnax were closing in from the skies above.
Delphine gasped at the sight as a Dremora impaled her through the left thigh when her back was turned. Inigo was quick to the draw and plugged an arrow into his forehead before she could even hit the ground.
Mehrunes snapped one of his fingers and laughed with sheer arrogance as the ash piles slowly began to reconstruct themselves into the Dremora they'd just slain.
"What?!" Erik cried out in horror.
"He is a Daedric Prince, mortal!" Lyranth explained. "He can resurrect Daedra on a whim."
Esbern looked at Delphine, who was holding her bleeding thigh in the snow, attempting to cast a Healing spell, but the action around was distracting her. "Hrg... I wish that... that Carcette woman were here right now... hng." She'd used all of her Healing Potions during the skirmish.
Inigo stood before her and began to try and fight off the resurrected enemies. He was a valiant sight to behold, though he was quickly becoming horribly overwhelmed. The foes brought him to his knees and began to stab him. Delphine threw herself on top of Cura's friend and began to get impaled in his stead.
Inigo gasped as Delphine took each spike for him. "What are you doing?! Delphine!"
She grit her teeth as the pain wracked her body with each sharp thrust into her back. Her armour took most of the blades, but some managed to pierce the thick plated metal. She winced and gasped, but refused to move. "I...I've lived... a long life. You're young... full of promise. Hng!"
Delphine was consumed with guilt over the Skyguard's failure to protect the Dragonborn. She knew, however, that what they'd said much earlier on was true; Inigo was Cura's closest living friend. To allow him to be killed next would be a greater disgrace. Honour demanded she guard him. Cura would have wanted it this way.
The large Dremora who loomed over them clenched his teeth angrily and readied one long, violent thrust to spear them both.
Paarthurnax's roar sounded overhead, causing them to pause as the dragon dropped down, right there before the group of them. With one blow, he torched the lot of them into nothing. "YOL TOOR SHUL!"
Gykkah was caught in the flames, as the Dragon did not distinguish the Bladebearers from the other Daedra on the field.
Ralof tried to guard Rynkyus from the Dragonfire, but the Dremora was impaled through the back by a long pike, which tore through his heart. With a pained gasp he turned around to see a Dremora Kynreeve grinning with malice. "I have you now, traitor." The beast shoved one last time and his dark blood sprayed onto the horrified Ralof.
"No!"
Rynkyus dropped his sword and disappeared in a black smoke, returned to the Deadlands.
"You damned coward!" Ralof spat at the sneak-attacker with sword gripped tightly in both hands. He deflected another spike and slid his sword forward in an upwards arc. He danced around another jab and leapt upward, cleaving off the head of the Kynreeve.
From Inigo's viewpoint, all he could see beyond Delphine was the end of Paarthurnax's tail, waving in the air. The Dragon briefly turned around to look at the two of them.
Delphine was laying on top of Inigo, slipping in and out of consciousness. Her armour was broken into and leaking blood, and her helmet was knocked off and her ponytail undone. Cuts and bruises covered her face. Inigo was not in the best of shape, either; his fur was soaked with sweat and blood, and his armour was effectively torn to shreds, leaving his furry chest exposed and gashed, and his arm was cut deeply.
"Paarthurnax... you're back! Thank you so much..." Inigo squeezed out of his dry throat.
The old Dragon gave him a nod. "Hmmm. Thu'um, hon ko lok. I found daar staad - your location - when the Shout from the skies sounded. Krosis. I unfortunately was not fast enough. I have gathered onikiv dovah - Dragons who are enlightened. We have come to hiif joor krif deyra. We will fight the Daedra by your side. Keizaal is our home, as well."
Inigo shook Delphine. "Look, Delphine! Paarthurnax has come to save us again! Look!"
The Breton slowly lifted her face to see the Dragon. When her eyes met his, she could see, in that brief instant, what Cura was talking about. There was no malice; there was ferocity. Power. Wisdom. But no malicious intent in the old Dragon's eyes. He then returned to the Daedra and began to torch the lot of them.
The Blade was pleasantly surprised by his show of allegiance against the Daedra. Perhaps she'd misjudged Paarthurnax after all. Maybe it wasn't justice she was looking for, but petty, obtuse vengeance. She felt a sensation of peace as she closed her eyes to rest.
Inigo saw this. "Oh, crap. Nononono!" He began to shake her. "Stay with me, Delphine! You are a bitch! A bitch does not die on top of a cat!"
"The sons of Akatosh. Come to get in my way?" Mehrunes Dagon growled angrily as he held Ulfric up in the air and threw him a great distance. The Jarl spun and flipped through the air and then landed right into the White River near the docks.
The Stormcloaks cried out in horror seeing their leader tossed to the side like that, though their time was cut short, as they had to return their attention to the Daedra who'd come back to life.
Mehrunes Dagon began to attempt to attack the Dragons that were circling around him now, breathing fire on him and attacking his army from above.
Galmar thrust his hand in the air. "EVERYONE WHO CAN MOVE, TO THE CITY! QUICKLY!" With his gesture, his men ran through the scattering Dragonfire and hail of enemy arrows as they followed Galmar onto the great bridge.
Inigo quickly stood up and threw Delphine onto his back. He was assisted by Serana, who created a ward to guard against the Firebolts being hurled their way. Fortunately, the Dragons managed to redirect the attention of Dagon and most of his army.
Mjoll, Stenvar, Erik, Esbern, and Marcurio joined with Ralof to create a steel wall behind the retreat to keep the Daedra back until they reached the city door.
Galmar shouted aloud: "NOW!"
Lucien understood what he meant and looked at the explosives connected by oiled ropes on the sides of the great bridge. "I feel like I'm destroying a piece of history..." the Imperial whined sadly as he charged a couple of Fireballs. Their allies closed the massive doors behind them, and the only ones left were those out in the field, who would have to fend for themselves now.
Spider Daedra, Daedroths and Dremora were flooding onto the bridge while Mehrunes was being piled upon by nine Dragons from the air. He swung violently in all directions, and managed to take down two of them.
Lucien marked his aim and launched the fireballs onto the charges lain on the bridge. Immediately, he was blown backwards off the wall by the sheer force of the blast. All of the Daedra who had been banging on the city door were decimated and the bridge collapsed beneath their feet.
Realizing what calamity they'd gotten themselves into, the other Daedra turned to flee as the bridge continued to be blown by the travelling fire, tearing the infrastructure down segment by segment, casting them all into flames and frozen water below.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Each charge released massive bursts, and stones blasted in all directions. Smoke rose to the heavens as the island of the City now stood isolated.
Marcurio cast a Drop Zone to where Lucien would land, and he hit the ground without force. "Nice shot, Lucien! Didn't think you had it in ya!"
Lucien rubbed the back of his sore neck. Even if there was no impact, his landing was awkward. "I didn't think I had it in me, either. But... wow. That bridge... it's been there since the days of Ysgramor. I feel terrible about it!"
Erik sheathed his sword and wiped the blood off his forehead. "Who cares about the bridge? We lost so many people out there... Cosnach, the Gray-Mane brothers... the Bladebearers, Ulfric!"
"We do not know that!" Inigo protested. "He is a strong man, and Cura's father. There is no way a dip in the river could kill him!"
Mjoll collapsed to her knees, and held onto her battleaxe for support. Blood drew along the side of her face and she gasped for air. "Damn it... I cannot go on..."
"You don't have to. They can't reach us, now." Galmar informed her as he leaned against the steps leading up to the Candlehearth Hall. His back was pressed against the platform between them. He struggled to keep himself standing after the grievous arrow wounds he'd received.
Inigo laid Delphine against the wall and tapped her cheeks. "Come on, Delphine! Wake up!" He had been tending her manageable wounds, tearing off the remainder of his tunic and tying it around the gashes on her left arm to halt the bleeding.
Esbern joined him quickly and examined the Grandmaster. "What happened?"
"She... she tried to save my life!" Inigo announced the absurdity of it. He stood back to let Esbern tend to her injuries with Healing Spells. Inigo was confused as to why Delphine would do such a thing; as far as he'd known through the years, she hated him. Delphine was never nice to him, Lucien, or any of Cura's allies, really. It was a surprising turn of events.
Then he wondered: maybe he'd perceived her incorrectly. Maybe she didn't actually hate him at all - maybe she just wanted to keep everybody in a specific direction. After all, you don't take stab wounds for someone you hate.
"Can... can you help her?" Inigo expressed his worry.
"We need to get the injured down into the shelter." Esbern informed him. "From there I can try and... and... ooh." he winced with the sharp pains of his own injuries.
"I understand." Inigo helped Esbern up and lifted Delphine onto his back. "Let us get down there, quickly." His knees wobbled under the strain of his own injuries, but Serana came to his aid, casting a Healing Spell on him.
"Don't worry, kitty cat. I've got you." the vampiress reassured him.
"Thanks, Serana." the blue Khajiit expressed as she took hold of him and helped them relocate.
Galmar opened the city doors a crack to see what was happening outside them. Mehrunes Dagon had killed three of the Dragons, though the sons of Akatosh continued to rip and tear and Shout at the Prince.
Paarthurnax hovered above and showered the fiend with a mighty stream of ice.
To the Nord, this was all the work of Talos. He held a fist to his chest and looked up to the skies, which had lost their red hue. Natural gray skies returned to the land.
He looked below into the water for a sign of Ulfric, but all he saw were the ashes of slain Daedra. He resolved that since the Divine answered him, Talos had plans for Ulfric. Until the Jarl returns, Galmar would hold his position. He hurriedly closed the doors and reconvened with the other soldiers. "Windhelm is safe, for now - but with great losses. Our brothers and sisters are in Sovngarde now - but we have to build back stronger to honour their memory. First things first, though - rest. Lick your wounds. But we must stay on guard."
A red portal opened up, to their surprise, and Lyranth stepped through it with a couple of other Stormcloaks in tow. "The battle was fierce, and my group split apart. Mehrunes Dagon is ever the fierce foe."
Galmar stared at the female Dremora silently. "And what of Ulfric? Did you see him in the river? What of Commander Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced?"
"I did not check." Lyranth admitted. "I gathered who I could and I brought them here." Admittedly, the only one of the named she knew was Ulfric, as he was most relevant.
The Dragons were unrelenting, and eventually drove Mehrunes Dagon outwards into the mountains in their pursuit.
After many hours had passed, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak slowly opened his eyes on the riverbank in the wilderness. He was caught between two jutting rocks, miraculously held above the water. His vision was blurred, but to his left he saw the colourful gold autumn trees of the Rift, and to his right he saw snowberry bushes overgrown onto the river.
The heavy rainfall drenched the surrounding area; Kyne was shedding tears for their land.
He was still wounded and bleeding, his armour dented and running red down his torso. He lumbered out of the stream, using the stones to pull himself forward with what remained of his strength. His legs trembled and he fell forward to his knees.
No! Not like this... he sharply disciplined himself back to his feet and stumbled forward into a tree. He grabbed branches and leaned on trees as he tredged onwards.
He saw people some distance away; they looked like mages, with their pine green robes and beige hoods. Then, he noticed the maces on their hips and the Amulets of Stendarr they bore. He reached a hand out to them. "H-help..." His legs gave out again and he collapsed in the grass.
The Vigilants saw this and hurried to him. It took them some time to realize who he was through the storm. When they reached him they quickly began to cast Healing Spells to stop the bleeding, as it was pooling onto the wet grass.
Cura's voice rung through his mind as he witnessed the actions of the Vigilants.
"And Stendarr be with you, Jarl Ulfric."
He didn't know what came over him, exactly, but a deep sob came up from his throat. There, in front of these strangers, the gravity of his loss overcame him, and the Jarl's pain was multiplied sevenfold.