Chapter 24: The Blizzard Part 2

Inside the abandoned home, Vilkas, Ria, Njada and Athis helped an unconscious Torvar to the floor. Vilkas anxiously looked out the windows, making sure they weren't followed. Ria knelt down to Torvar, who was as blue as ice and cold as snow. She panicked, "What do we do? Vilkas!"

Vilkas rummaged through cupboards and shelves. "Just wait!"

He continued searching, getting angrier as he did so— slamming cupboards and chests shut. Finally he celebrated, "Aha!"

He clutched a potion in his right hand. He stomped towards Torvar, shaking the frozen snow off his cloak and armour. His black hair dripping from ice. He lifted Torvar's head, which was so cold it was felt through the hide in his gauntlets. He poured the elixir into his mouth making Torvar sputter and cough on the substance. Ria and Njada pulled up Torvar. He woke up in stressed coughs.

Torvar awoke in pinker tones, his face slowly filling back with warm blood. He looked up in a frightened scowl. "Am I dead?"

Vilkas finally took a breath of relief. Not loud enough his whelps would hear it. He said dryly, "Not yet, there's still time."

Njada smacked Torvar's shoulder. "You scared the life out of us, you moron!"

"Barring any more explosions," said Vilkas, "We stick together. Skjor made you idiots my problem, and if it's my job to make sure you don't become a morsel, you stick with me, and do exactly as I say. Understood?"

Athis shot back, "What exactly is our plan here?"

"What do you mean 'plan'? The plan is killing as many vampires as possible before they take the city. Wasn't that obvious?"

"The city has already been taken! Wasn't that obvious?! The vampires are too great!"

Torvar slurred, "Wait… we're still in Windhelm?"

Vilkas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shor's bones…"

"Yes, Torvar," rattled Ria, "We're still in Windhelm! And the vampires are in, okay! They blew up the damn gate! You hear me?! Blew. It. Up! Now we are hiding in some abandoned house, waiting for the vampires to come and kill us!"

Torvar reanimated from the floor quickly after that. "What?!"

"Oh, for the love of…" Njada hissed, "Ria, shut up!"

"No, Njada! You shut up!" Ria shrilled like a raven, "You saw it yourself! The whole city is overrun by those… things! I… I've never seen… I've never seen so many dead people. There's a storm and we can't fight… we can't! They are going to find us…" Ria clasped onto Njada's arms (who angrily fought from it). "And they are going to kill us!"

"Enough!" Vilkas bellowed so loud it shook eardrums. Ria snapped from her hysteria. Njada and Torvar snapped to his attention.

Athis dourly hissed under his breath, "This is ridiculous…"

"Listen to yourselves!" Vilkas whipped his gauntlet in the air and berated, "You came to this city relieved to finally be hand picked for a task that wasn't slaying bears or wrestling cheapskates! You were honoured to be the Companions we trained you to be! You're Companions. Ysgramor's chosen! You are in his city. So for the love of Ysmir, act like it! Because if you don't, we will surely die. Now take a breath… calm down. Honour you are here to defend and protect. There ain't no one here who is going to save you. You need to save yourselves!"

Ria muttered through tears, "But… how do we… do that?"

"Trust. Trust in your brother's sword arm. Trust in me. You do that, you'll trust in your own. No more mewling."

Njada, Torvar, Athis and Ria stayed silent. Trying to muster the courage to follow through with Vilkas's intent. Despite the overwhelming urge to flee, the four stood their ground, instilled in his sureness.

Suddenly, the door thudded, making Ria shriek where the others drew their weapons. She shook behind her bow but pulled it in to the booming door ahead. The door crashed off the hinges and plummeted into the room. Vilkas raised his greatsword up, standing before his whelps and ready to kill whatever came through. The frozen air of the blizzard threw into the home, sending a bitter chill. Looming red eyes came after. The whelps shivered to their entrance, but Vilkas remained a pillar with his sword up.

The lead vampire curdled his voice into the stead, "You honestly thought you lot could hide from your own destruction? Do you have any idea how enthralling you all smell?" He walked in a few steps then grimaced, "Ugh! Everyone except you. By the blood… you smell like a pungent hound!"

"And you know why, don't you?" Vilkas dared, "… come in any closer and I'll prove it."

The vampire stopped at this, even his red eyes seemed to die of light. "No, it can't be. You wouldn't dare expose yourself."

"I'll take that wager." Vilkas said , leaving his whelps confused.

Abruptly, a figure appeared behind the vampires and roared. Their blade swiped left and right through unsuspecting bloodsuckers. Before they could muster a retaliation it was too late. The man ripped through their stomachs and slashed off their hands, giving no time to channel a spell. The leader of their brood backed into the home, and Vilkas ran up behind and pierced his sword through his back. As the body fell, the figure revealed as Ralof, painted in blood.

Vilkas sheathed his weapon. "Opportune timing. Those were my kills."

"You lost your share to monologuing, kinsman. Still plenty to be had. We need you all, now! The vampires found their way to the Dark Elves. Brunwulf and the soldiers are holding them off, but… their numbers…"

Vilkas snarled, "Damn it!" He pushed through Ralof and barked to his whelps, "All of you, come on!"

They followed their master at arms, dreading to step back into the discord of battle again. The blizzard had calmed and winds settled, but the air was still frigid cold. The low visibility had improved dramatically since they were last in the streets. Only specks of snow and the light drift off the high slopes. A calm that didn't grant much consoling, as the knee high snow was a battle in itself to trudge through. Vampires still prowled the streets. Dawnguard and Stormcloak forces unrelenting to their mace. Frostbite spiders cluttered to the front of the path before the Grey Quarter. As Vilkas drew his sword, his shield-siblings drew their own. Ralof slashed his sword up, cutting through a frostbite spiders head. Vilkas went to thrust his blade at another, till it spat acid from its maw— burning into Vilkas's armour. It stung at first, then matching the burn of a cow brand. He cried out in pain and stumbled off his feet. The spider crept to Vilkas until Torvar dived and slashed into the spider shell.

Ralof called, "You alright, kinsman?!"

The right corner of his chest plate was nearly burned through, binding metal and flesh. He gripped the injury and gritted his teeth, "I'm alive… so I can still fight."

They pursued down a flight of steps where screams grew louder. The sound of the chaos hastened their footsteps. Around the corner was a beaten and bruised Brunwulf Free-Winter, fighting off the bloodthirsty as they dragged a Dunmer woman from Sadri's Used Wares. The woman wailed as she tried to hold onto the grasp of Revyn and Malthyr. Vilkas and Ralof charged in first, catching the unsuspecting vampires by surprise. Brunwulf bellowed, "What took you so long?!"

The vampire that clutched the Dunmer woman shrieked as Athis's blade pierced into its ear. She ran back into the shop with Revyn and Malthyr pulling to the upper level. Ambarys screamed as he was helplessly dragged away by a death hound. Vilkas shot an arrow into the beasts' head. The death hound fell as Ambarys kicked his feet away, stumbling back upright. The puncture in his ankle left a limp. Vilkas assisted him back to Revyn's shop.

Three more vampires terrorized the others trapped inside the cellar, with Belyn fending them off with a woodcutting axe.

"Stay back! I've cut through skeevers more menacing than you! Stay back!"

His fellow Dunmer coward behind him, helpless in the corner. The vampire snatched the helm of the axe and ripped it from Belyn's hand— chucking it to the other side of the cellar. Belyn quaked and gasped a breath of despair. The vampires chuckled and continued to encroach. Confident enough to take their time and pick of the litter. Athis and Njada leapt through the opening of the cellar then. Njada roared, "You want a meal?! I've got one for you, bastards!"

She bashed her shield against a vampire's skull, then ripped her Skyforge steel into its gullet. Athis sparred against an armed vampire, who could not keep up to his agility in one-handed combat. Thanks to his repetitive sparring with Njada. Athis deflected their sword and lunged forward, piercing his sword into their chest. The Dark Elves watched on, escaping screams at the bloody carnage. Only able to pray to their gods their heroes would make short work of them. The longer they spectated, the more this proved to be true. Njada and Athis were a decimating team. Spells flexed off her steel shield and Athis' wards.

One vampire lunged over Njada, throwing the both of them into crates of bottles, crashing glass and wood. Njada plowed onto her back with the vampire atop her, desperately trying to bite her neck. She pushed against it, but the vampires clasp held strong. She made a visceral roar, her face flushed in blood. She punched the monster in the head repeatedly, every strike fuelling the next. She jammed her fingers into the vampire's eye, ripping the eyeball from the socket. The vampire shrilled and fell to her side, where she straddled it and slit their throat. The last vampire grabbed for Belyn again, and Athis fought him off, kicking him into a wall.

"Filthy N'wah!" Athis dug his sword into the belly of the vampire. It slowly slid down the cobblestone wall, escaping one last ragged breath.

Vilkas ran inside the shop as his fellow comrades fought outside. He stomped halfway down the ladder to see the vampires lay dead with his whelps, Njada and Athis, seething heavily before their fallen opponents.

Vilkas made a relieved grin, "Damn good work, you two!"

The Dark Elves were herded back to the cellar by Brunwulf. Njada and Athis retreated to their master again. Brunwulf called back to Vilkas, "Lock us back up!"

"Aye!" Vilkas said. He turned to his Companions, "There's more outside. Get your asses out there! Now!"

"Yes, sir!" Athis and Njada trudged back up the ladder steps.

Ambarys called to Vilkas, "Thank you, sera!"

Vilkas looked down to Ambarys. A swift nod returned before shutting them back into the cellar. He moved a cabinet over the hatch and ran back out to the streets with Athis and Njada in tow.

Ria, Torvar and Ralof defended the entrance of Sadri's Used Wares. Vilkas and the others desperately tried to find a way to barricade the doors now that it had been ripped from the hinges. A vampire jumped over Vilkas's back, where he elbowed it off and dug his blade down over their head. He was then struck in the shoulder by an ice spike. The throttle of pain nearly drove him to his knees. He blocked another ice spike with a ward spell. Ria shot the vampire down with an arrow. He used the blood from his shoulder over the door, greatly confusing Athis and Njada who witnessed it. Their attention was stolen to more intruding vampire menace. He painted the rims of the door frame in his blood, hopefully deterring the vampire's scent of Dunmer down in the cellar. Werewolf blood was obviously detested in vampires, he hoped it would stray the scent of mortal. Ralof fought back-to-back with Vilkas, slashing heavy weaponry that swiftly decimated the vampire force down in the slum.

"Are you keeping count, kinsman?" Ralof boasted, I've been! I'm beating you by a landslide!"

"This isn't a competition, you oaf!"

"Ha!" Ralof guffawed as he dug his blade into flesh, "That's what losers say!"

Two more vampires pressed onto Ralof, where Vilkas quickly slashed through both with one swipe of his large greatsword. Ralof startled at this, "Trying to catch up, are we? You're still three behind!"

"Two!" Vilkas said, "Another point for saving your arse!"

Ralof bellowed a laugh, deflecting an attack from a vampire. Torvar assisted and slit their throat with a swipe of his blade. More vampires came into the Grey Quarter in a wave of ten, where the six prepared themselves for another onslaught of battle, diligently protecting the Dark Elves inside.

To the Palace of Kings, Ulfric, Galmar and Skjor heatedly defended the entrances. Murders of vampires threatened the security, trying with every fibre of their being to get passed the barricade and into the palace.

"FUS… RO… DAH!"

Ulfric's Shouts were an asset against such numbers. Giving them the high ground to shoot the onslaught with poison-tipped arrows while downed. One bloodstalker came from the mayhem, sauntering tall and proud through the mists of snow. His red eyes a brighter scarlet. He revealed as Dark Elf. His robes a craftsmanship the others hadn't. He stepped haughtily to them and announced.

"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. A man trailed of controversy. Killing you will certainly reign my name for centuries, wouldn't it? I've lived for millennia without a famous title. I'm sure 'Feran Sadri, the vampire who killed Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak' would be suiting. Has a ring to it."

"And killing you would bring Skyrim one step closer to safety. I don't need a title for encouragement, either. Not one as burdening to the tongue as that!"

He struck his blade to Feran Sadri, who drew his own short-sword and deflected the attack. Feran had a taunting chortle fencing with Ulfric, both adept in melee combat, but neither falling any damage. Feran summoned a spell to his palm, Ulfric punched it away. He lunged his blade towards Feran, but the vampire easily dodged and timed a lightning strike, sending him into the snow. The shock stunned his nerves, making his joints spastic. Feran guffawed and walked over Ulfric. Galmar had just finished bludgeoning a group of vampires when he noticed Ulfric grounded and Feran soon to impale his sword.

"Ulfric!" Galmar cried.

Out of the whooshing snow charged Skjor. He dived his sword to Feran, who promptly deflected it— sending Skjor stumbling back. Feran winced, "By the blood, you smell disgusting, don't you? Last time I smelt that was when we had your boy chained up in our dungeon. How is Vilkas? Is he being a good dog, Skjor? What about your bitch? We have unfinished business with those mutts!"

Skjor clenched his teeth, "You demented cretin!"

He swiped his sword at Feran again. The counter blocked then struck a lightning spell at Skjor, sending him into the wall hard. The numbness bound him to the ground. Feran curdled a laugh, "You want to know the sounds he made when we tortured him? You want to know the sounds she made? How much blood we made her spill? Where were you during all of this? Do you even know? Of course not. You were the Companion that cowered in your putrid hall as your friends suffered without you. Don't fret, you'll come to understand the wails and suffering they endured under our power. Very soon."

Galmar charged to Feran with his warhammer overhead, making a bloodthirsty Nordic roar. A loud and obvious greeting for the elder vampire. Only taking a swift flick of an ice spell to strike the brute Nord down. It speared into his belly.

Feran ordered to his gathering subordinates, "Get the palace doors open. Feed on and kill anyone inside."

Ulfric tried to grab for his sword but his body was stiff as wood. As the vampires walked up to the palace doors, a body lurked behind Feran, catching his attention for just a moment before they punctured their sword into his back. So nimble it barely happened. The figure pushed Feran down to the snowy floor, where two more bodies came running out from the snow piles and destroyed the vampires at the palace gates. The abrupt slaying of Feran Sadri and his subordinates caught the men by astonished surprise. Far more surprising to reveal they were Argonians. Scouts-Many-Marshes doffed his hood, and the other Argonians revealed as two males and one female.

Ulfric stayed his aghast glare at Scouts who hastily helped the Jarl to his feet. "Are you alright, Jarl Ulfric?" He ordered to his egg-siblings, "Shavhee! Neetrenaza! Protect the gates! Shallows, heal the Nord lords!"

A ragged Argonian to Scouts' side went to Galmar, laying a healing incantation to his wound. Scouts continued to help up Ulfric, who gruffly ached— still recovering from the effects. He muttered to Scouts, "You were…"

"Hiding in the snow piles." Scouts interjected, "Yes… this one knew you'd need the element of surprise when it counted. We all stick together in times like this."

Ulfric looked back to Galmar who shuffled back to his feet as Shallows went to Skjor's aid next. "I don't know what… I don't know how to…"

"You don't need to thank me, Jarl Ulfric." Scouts said kindly, "Just maybe let us beyond the city walls in the future. That will be enough."

Ulfric grabbed for his sword in the snow. "If I knew you had the strategy for battle, I would have let you into the city a long time ago."

"Hmm…" Scouts observed, "That may not be true. No Nord likes an Argonian who knows how to fight."

Ulfric smirked wearily and nodded, "You've got a point. But I owe you an ode of thanks. Perhaps letting your kind into the city for a while may suffice."

Scouts curved a smile as he looked back to Shallows, who stood up from Skjor's healing. Skjor fumbled back onto his boots and cautiously looked along his surroundings. More vampires came sprawling up to the Palace of Kings, where Ulfric, Galmar, Skjor and the Argonian dockworkers all equipped their weapons and clashed their steel against vampire metal.

The front gates of Windhelm were an array of vampires against Stormcloak soldiers. The Dawnguard diligently aided the Stormcloak soldiers, but even given their presence, the vampire numbers surpassed their own. The skies had cleared to a star filled sky, and the air still cold but visible. Isran commanded to his comrades, "Get to higher ground!"

Agmaer kept shooting at vampires from the destroyed gates. Ice spikes came hurdling towards the young Dawnguard, but he held up his ward spell— blocking the attacks. A master vampire walked up to him undauntedly, their eyes burning red among white. It held a purple incantation in their hand, and summoned the dead bodies of Stormcloaks to rise. The risen zombies of Stormcloak men and women started to battle their own, with those still alive disturbed to fight their own zombified brethren. Agmaer was surrounded by zombies. His armour and legs grabbed and pulled to the ground. He screamed fits as risen Stormcloaks pulled up their swords towards his chest.

Durak was an element of terror. "AGMAER!" He plowed his hammer through Stormcloak zombies with a berserk only an Orc could unleash. The young warrior crept from the snowy ground in shock, his eyes wide and shoulders shivering. Durak held his hand out to Agmaer. "You stay with me, pup, you understand?"

"Yes…" Agmaer shook as he stood, "… sir."

Farkas and Aela came running into the Stone Quarter only to dread risen Stormcloak soldiers fighting their own. They joined the fight earnestly, Aela shooting down opponents in split second intervals, where Farkas ran through the knee-high snow with ease incapacitating foes. A sickly reminder with every zombie they slew. An indignity to their bodies. Adding an arrow or cut to their fallen an anger that kept feeding.

Isran's rage was always famished, his Stendarr's Aura glowed brighter. Isran released a furious roar that burned his aura like that of the sun, turning the master vampire and the nearby creatures into dust. His aura fleeted and spent. Leaving him in contentment of his power— inwardly thanking Stendarr.

Down into the Gray Quarter, throes of magic came hurdling down the steps from the Stone Quarter. The caster was Wuunferth the Unliving, who turned the mutt vampires to dust and blood with one weave of his hand. He walked down the steps slowly, startling the presence of Vilkas and his whelps, with Ralof beaming a relieved grin. All six of the warriors were beaten and bloodied, but Wuunferth was kept and unharmed. He used his magic to totally ripple the vampire's efforts. Using their own tricks against them tenfold. As they lay in ash, Wuunferth declared to the warriors, "Good, now you lot can stop skulking down in the Gray Quarter and make yourselves useful by the gates!"

Vilkas managed to say out of breath, "Who are you?"

"The court wizard!" Ralof praised, "Grew droll of your tomes then, Wuunferth?"

"Shut it, Ralof," grumbled Wuunferth, "All of you git! Quickly now!"

The skies began to dim blue, a call for the vampires to scatter. They fled through damaged gates and out of Windhelm. The sun a confirmation of their success.

Stormcloaks rose victoriously as the vampires fled, with frostbite spiders and death hounds chasing after their cowering masters. Those who still remained were quickly slain by mortal numbers. The sun rose over Windhelm, as their celebration and vengeful killing of the remaining monsters ensued. Vampires tried to flee as their skin was burned by sunlight, concluding in a quick death by arrow or steel bolts. Ulfric, Galmar and Skjor ran down into the Stone Quarter, with the Argonians quickly behind. They elated to see their victory of the sun gleaming snow-covered streets.

Isran raised his hammer, "SAVED BY THE DAWN! HUZZAH!"

His fellow Dawnguard raised their weapons in turn, "HUZZAH!"

The Stormcloaks raised their weapons as well, "HAIL! Death to the vampires! HAIL!"

Scouts looked to his egg-siblings and smiled, "Look at that… we all stick together… we can do the impossible."

The Companions raised their weapons in cheers with the Dawnguard and Stormcloaks. Ralof wrapped his arm around Vilkas aggressively, "We did it, kinsman!"

Vilkas couldn't help but beam a large grin, ignoring his wounds at Ralof's pressure, "Damn right, we did… kinsman!"

He looked to his exhausted but gratified whelps, "You four… I think it's safe to say I underestimated you all. All of us together, we are a damn near unstoppable force. We've trained you well."

They accepted his praise in silence, trying to appeal to his earnest nature as much as they could. However, Ria broke out in gleeful tears. She had no qualms in stepping to Vilkas with a hug, "Thank you, master! Thank you!"

Vilkas callously pushed her away, "That wasn't an invite to touch me."

Unfortunately for him, it was. All the whelps cheered and huddled around Vilkas, ensuing a group hug against the uncomfortable Nord. Vilkas went stiff and hummed a growl as Torvar cheered, "We couldn't have done it without you, Vilkas!"

Even Njada praised, "I take back everything I said! Even that you were a miserable bastard! You are, but you're a valiant miserable bastard!"

Ralof fell into laughter at this spectacle. Vilkas tried to grump through their tightly woven arms, "Great… now get off me, idiots!"

Despite this, the whelps held on, even Athis patted Vilkas over the shoulder and joined the huddle. Vilkas relented to their embrace begrudgingly- sullenly sighing in annoyance.

Farkas came running through the sun rays by Candlehearth Hall, "Vilkas!"

At hearing this, Vilkas tore himself from his whelps and beamed a relieved grin to his brother. Vilkas ran to his brother and they thudded into a tight hug, holding each other in solace, burying into the other's shoulder in thankful relief. Farkas muttered through his shoulder, "I didn't lose you this time…"

"Not ever again, brother," Vilkas replied, his voice shaking. Aela walked over to them with one of the warmer smiles she could make on her steely face.

"Basket-Head and Ice-Brain together again… Don't start crying, you two."

Vilkas tore himself from Farkas and quickly hugged Aela, who startled at the embrace. "Whoa! Is it just me, or did you hit your head?"

"It's good to see you, sister…" Vilkas said. She smiled warmly at this, not allowing her stubborn tears to breach.

"You too, Vilkas."

"Aela!"

A voice yelled from up the steps. Aela immediately left the company of the twins and battled tears once more to Skjor. He smiled down to his love with tears of his own. They both ran to each other, not allowing the snow to slow them before finally embracing in Windhelm's heights of celebration. Aela warmed into Skjor's shoulder as he swept her off her feet and twirled her in the air.

Vilkas and Farkas raised a brow at this reunion. Farkas asked, "Why doesn't he hug us like that?"

"Really, Farkas." Vilkas moaned.

The two ceased at the twins gawking. Skjor stated to her loudly and stoic, "Good work, Aela, you… you fought exactly as I knew you would."

"Thank you… Harbinger."

The Circle reunited again, with Skjor enveloping both the twins into a belly laughing hug. He looked down at Vilkas and winced, "What's with you and being covered in bumps and bruises every time I see you after battle?"

Aela divulged, "At least he's here…"

Farkas couldn't help but happily agree as he wrapped his arm around Vilkas, "… Damn right." He stole his attention to the whelps who nervously approached their trainers, "I can't… I can't tell you all how thankful I am. You kept my brother alive. I owe all of you, greatly."

Athis, Njada, Torvar, and Ria didn't reply, but said enough in their proud glances to each other.

Vilkas then called out to Ralof, "Oi! Kinsman!"

Ralof tore himself from the company of his fellow Stormcloaks and gladly came to the company of Vilkas and the Companions. "And… I wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for this chirpy little bastard. He stuck to my side even when I didn't want him to. Maybe we can convince him to leave this frozen wasteland and come move to Jorrvaskr, eh?"

The Companions chortled as Ralof raised a smile, "Thank you, Vilkas, but… my blade stays in Windhelm for now. However, getting an invite to join the Companions is pretty flattering."

"Thank you, soldier," Skjor amended, "I'll be sure to let Jarl Ulfric know of your courage and prowess. You're a friend to the Companions, now."

Then Farkas stretched out his arms, "Come 'ere!" He swooped up a hacking Ralof with a tight hug, shaking him around like a plaything.

"Okay, Farkas," Vilkas jested, "Be gentle with your toys, now."

"Put the man down before you kill him, Farkas," Skjor demanded, still holding a smile. Farkas set the hacking Stormcloak down who held at his ribs and coughed for air.

Aela asked, "So… what happens now?"

"Listen up!"

The boisterous voice of Ulfric called out to the numbers of Stormcloaks, Companions and Dawnguard, a prideful smile upon his face. Galmar stood to his right, with Wuunferth at his left.

"In the face of Skyrim's darkest hour, we prevailed. We spat in the eye of abhorrent evil, took back our city, and avenged our people, even as the storm would make us their plaything! We are a city moulded in ancient and echoing victory. This battle will go down as one of many victories our forebears have fought for us to stand here today! As the Empire quivers in fear from these beasts, we stood undaunted! We sliced through their magic, their foul necromancy, their evil! We glare down the witches and take their power for ourselves— with just our steel! I look at all of you now, with tears of pride for what you've done today. I look at our fallen comrades and don't dare to mourn, because I know in my heart their souls are feasting and revelling in Shor's Hall now, looking down at our victory in pride, knowing they did their mission! They saved Windhelm! We all did! We brought light to a stained part of Skyrim, where soon our blades will shine a light on all of Skyrim, and the Stormcloaks cause will be made clear. Come vampire or Imperial, we will rise! We will remain as Skyrim's staunch liberators forever! Hail all of you! As your Jarl, I thank you! All of you!"

The Stormcloaks chanted the name, "Hail, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak! Hail!"

"The Stormcloaks had a victory today…" Isran explained as he stepped to the Companion's breath, "But our fight is far from over. You all know that."

"Our?" Vilkas snapped, "You know better than anyone there is no 'our' between us, paladin."

Isran chortled as Durak and Agmaer came to his sides, "I think my fear got the better of my judgement. I can see now you may be able to control your 'anger' better than I thought," he spoke obliquely to not alarm the whelps or his Dawnguard, "… despite what power you all hold, you're all a far better asset in our numbers than not. We all want to stop these fiends, that's priority number one. So… I'm inviting you all to rejoin the Dawnguard and fight for Skyrim. Mimzi's fight is only a fraction of what needs to be done, but these cities will need us. Windhelm and Whiterun are only the first."

Aela hotly interrupted, "You can't be serious…"

"I'm deadly serious," Isran growled, "You're some of the best fighters I've seen, and together, despite our differences, we may stand a chance in ending this menace once and for all. Windhelm will have surely fallen if not for you. And Whiterun. So, I'm seeing the advantage to having you all in our ranks. After the menace is dealt with, we can go back to ruefully hating each other as the natural order preserves."

Skjor contemplated the offer, feeling his ode to his Circle would be to decline, but the advantage of having the Dawnguard at their backs, he obliged, "Very well…"

Aela, Farkas and Vilkas shook, "What?!"

Skjor asked to Isran, "What's our next move?"

"Riften…" Isran stated, "It's only a matter of time before the vampires infringe on that city, if that pattern persists. We help the Stormcloaks put Windhelm back to working order, then retreat to Riften in preparation for the attack."

"Fine," Skjor stated, "But if we join sides with you again, you don't call the shots. You and I work together, and if I disagree with you, we compromise and vice-versa. You aren't our leader, you understand?"

"Perfectly," Isran concluded, "That's what I was preparing for."

Skjor kept a hateful scowl to Isran, who looked to the scornful scowls of the Circle before departing, "I'll go see where the Jarl needs us before we leave… I suggest you all do the same."

They watched the Dawnguard leave as Torvar disturbingly inquired out after some time, "Wait… we're joining the Dawnguard now!?"

Skjor asked to his Circle, "I know it's not particularly favourable, but we need as much of a chance in fighting these pests as we can. He was right about Whiterun, so if Riften needs us, we will answer."

Farkas grumbled, "I don't trust that jackass."

"Hear, hear," Vilkas muttered under his breath.

"I can handle him. If he tries anything, I'll deal with it, but this chaos needs to end. We can't leave the people of Skyrim to their fate, with only the Dawnguard as their protectors."

Skjor left his Companions to ponder the new hurdle before them as he went on towards Jarl Ulfric and Galmar, who celebrated and revelled with their men. Ulfric took notice of Skjor fondly, "I feel the compensation is only a portion of the gratitude our city owes you and your band. Thank you, Skjor. You and your men made it possible to make it through the night."

"I'm glad I could help. We are willing to stay to help in the recovery of the city if need be."

Galmar beamed a grin, "Very good, now I don't have to ask. If you could get some of your shield-brothers to help in cleaning up the remains it would be a troll off my back."

"Of course," Skjor bowed, "I'll see to it immediately."

High noon rose over Windhelm, and the cleaning of the war ensued. Despite the victory, a looming misery began to take hold as the death toll became apparent. Over a hundred Stormcloak dead, no villagers or refugees, but the loss was just as glaring. It was a small victory, and the Companions wouldn't dare indulge relief, knowing the toll of the next senseless bloodletting was just around the bend.