The Party met at near dawn the next day, after their study and practice. Before they did, Jon gave a guard a missive with plenty of coin to pay for a delivery from a Concerned Citizen, and to compensate the guard for their trouble. The guard was eager to help the Dragonborn by making sure his parcel got to the bank for delivery. They would never read it, but it had leads on various artifacts Jon found of interest from his reading, and sent those leads to Farengar.
Lydia had her steel back on, for road travel, but still kept the offering from her Divine sword firmly around her head, and Adept hood over her eyes. He had also enchanted a ring with a small restoration enchantment in his practice, also in silver, her color and metal to his copper.
J'zargo took a few moments getting to know his new Colt, and Lydia and Jon prepared their steeds as well. Lydia's shield was hung on the side of her mount, and Jon transferred some of his loot to the sacks on his massive war beast. The cold assaulted his bald head, even under his hood, as he had to shave completely due to the effects of the fire scroll, which J'zargo assured he fixed. Jon believed him, and would find it useful when next faced with undead that he cant order to die. Vampires with their own undead conjures, perhaps. The absolute ridiculousness of these threat assessments, he though.
The Party took off to their destination, setting a steady, but maintainable pace. Jon was at the front, J'zargo the middle, and Lydia holding the rear. No orders needed to be given. Jon and Lydia knew each other well enough, and J'zargo had grown up on the road, and in a time where the roads weren't always the safest. They all kept their keen eyes and ears out for any dangers.
A few presented themselves. A few beasts, a group of bandits. For those threats they never even left their horses. Several casts from the Party and they were charred to a crisp. He understood the beasts acting on instinct, but how drugged out were the bandits that they walked up to a Party as heavily outfitted as they were, and think that was their score. The beast kills Jon made with his bow cast filled some of the gems he had with them. He could intend to take a soul or not, so at least it wasn't something that had to happen every time. The Party would stop every so often, to quickly process the kills for their meat and pelts. The items found their way into their enchanted Consortium pouches and saddlebags. J'zargo was already an expert in such things, so was Jon, and Lydia quickly learned even before she was made superior.
On they way past, in the valley the Imperial road starting to fall to disrepair, Jon was stunned by the statue on one of the peaks. It wasn't a clear day when he and Lydia passed though this road last, and he hadn't seen it with his eyes everywhere around him in the snow that reduced visibility. J'zargo told him of Azurah, a patron of Khajiit, and Jon decided to leave the Prince and her followers alone. She wasn't evil like others, but he did decide to visit it when he had the time. He might as well try to speak to every Prince at least once. Peace or war, their choice.
Their trip took the better part of four days at the pace they set. When they did set camp, they prepared a decent fire-salt stew in their fire to fortify against the cold Skyrim mountains, and spent the time it cooked practicing and drilling. Jon taught hand to hand, with plenty of pointers from J'zargo, though mostly centered around claw usage. Lydia would drill with sword, and all would take to ward and destruction practice, each cast becoming slightly better than the last. When it was time for rest, J'zargo would take the first watch, and then sleep the rest of the night while Jon and Lydia took their watches. He needed the rest more than they did.
They did stop in Windhelm for a night. The guards weren't happy a Khajiit was being let in, but they would not question the Party member of the Dragonborn that had slain not only the dragon that attacked Winterhold, but the Butcher in their city. Their usual inn in the Gray Quarter welcomed them with open arms. A night of passion made the journey more bearable for the Divines-blessed couple.
J'zargo payed a visit to the drug dealer, and assured Jon that caravan skooma is high quality, and a religious practice to Azurah, who gave them moon sugar. People could and did lose themselves to it, but only because they payed it and who gave it no respect. Jon just shrugged, wishing that hippy with the skunk was here. How did they make their rope, he wondered? He and Lydia shared some of the Daedric booze regardless. A couple drops in a few mugs of mead.
When they woke and prepared to leave, Jon got a personal missive from the pretender king, thanking him for slaying the Butcher, and offering him a reward of coin. A full ten measure. Jon told the courier to take his personal gratitude back to 'Ulfric' and to tell him that the coin will help him on his quest. Not even a technicality of the truth.
A dragon did present it self, on on the foothills of the Winterhold Mountain Range about a day away from their destination. It came steaming down from a peak towards a sawmill town about the size of Riverwood. He also saw a signal flare fly up far off in the distance. The Towers were manned again.
Jon contemptuously made his rely to the act of aggression, "FUS"
And the debate was opened to between the Dovah. The dragon shifted course to meet the challenge, turning away from the town to char the corpse of the Dovahkiin and his pitiful Party. Jon sat casually on his steed, Valkyrie. Colt was nervous, but found strength in the presence of his mare-friends. He cast his bow, not caring to muffle the sound, and waited. The dragon was some distance away just yet. He gave up his objective to meet the honor duel, and that suited Jon just fine. He could hear the town cheering that the Dragonborn had come for them. They also heard the order of the guard that they still needed to prepare.
Jon found his moment, instantly stringing his bow back, with every ounce of strength he could provide. The strength of ten men, it was. He had called the Dragons gait, and he found they always leveled out right when they were about to attack. The arrow loosed like a gunshot, breaking the sound barrier, and drove itself straight through the nostril of the dragon.
This halted any hope of an attack, obviously. The slight downward angle of his head meant the arrow was lodged sticking out from his neck scales at an extreme angle. The dragon roared and writhed in pain, but that only dug the arrow though more soft flesh, causing more pain. He lost altitude, on a direct course for the party, and Jon spurred Valkyrie forward. The other Party steeds leapt forward with her, without the input form their riders. An understandable breech in protocol.
They rode under the dropping beast, it crashing into the trees and forests behind them. Several trees were shattered, and snapped off from the weight and hardness of the heavy dragon passing into it.
The Party didn't hesitate. Spell and arrow fire poured into the roaring beast, the original arrow still digging with every move of its neck, and the damage caused by the crash preventing it from ever getting its bearings. It thrashed under a broken tree, trying to buck it off while the attacks kept pouting in, further creating and frustrating more injuries. It knew it was over as it drifted towards slumber. The Dovahkiin had won the debate with a single world, him not even speaking in reply. He had simply Approached His Doom, and crashed upon it like the Storm itself. There was even thunder, crack after crack, brought forth without even a whisper.
As Jon took the dragons soul, "J'zargo really is a dragon-slayer now. Excellent shot, Jon of the house of Noonien-Singh. Like it was nothing to you, hehe."
Jon smirked, "When I have a bow that can match my strength, ain't much to do but aim true."
Lydia said, "I've never seen arrows fly that fast, even from strongmen with sturdy bows. Even from you yet. It was like when you used Wuld, over and over. There's also kneeling guard behind us, just mentioning."
Jon said, "I know."
He turned his steed around to the panting kneeling guard who did not hesitate to charge the beast, offended at the deference he was being shown. He would not tell them that, however. He said, "Friends, you came here armed and armored to face this beast. You did not hesitate. Rise, you kneel to no one, especially me. They win though fear and disorientation, and you have replied with courage and good order. I am Thane Jon, this is Tolfdir's-Party, and we have slain this beast in the name of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, and Whiterun's War Against The Dragons."
The guards rose to their feet. The Dragonborn did not want to be kneeled to, and wanted others to have their glory. He barely even claimed the victory for himself. They had gotten word that the Dragonborn would move on after slaying a beast, and that's what they would tell others. He was not a god, simply a man Chosen to kill dragons, and that's what he just did, so no wonder.
Jon nodded, "Thank you, guardsmen. If you could, prepare this for transport. Take word to the Bank that a Concerned Citizen would like its bones taken to Jarl Bulgruuf. With a personal missive, Riders on the Storm. CC, I expect they will cover the cost for transport. They have every time before."
"Yes Thane!" Would they even name the Dragonborn when they tell word of this? Probably not, he wanted the bones shipped anonymously, after all. Maybe his Party, because he did make a point of that.
It took another days travel to get to the towers. They arrived about midday after the last, happy to find a passing small patrol along the way. That particular stretch of road had become a lot safer.
There were too guards at the head of the path that lead to the first tower. She said, "Hail, Thane! I'm the Guard-Sargent of this post. We saw that dragon drop pretty quickly. One even swears he saw your Thu'um, and well I guess he did."
Jon always like to see that Whiterun guard had a Sargent seemingly at the front of everywhere. Good, he thought. That's what NCO's are for. He had to promote one himself in Winterhold.
He said, "Hail, Guard-Sargent. I and Tolfdir's-Party slew the beast. I reckon the bones will pass though in not to long. How goes the War effort? How many dragons have been seen?"
She said, "A dozen sightings so far. You've personally killed three now. There have been five more attacks beside, and three sightings only, and last, of course, you and the Fists. Now that was the last word I got, and it was a couple days old already when I got it."
Jon nodded, "The attacks, what are the losses?"
She said, "Rorikstead is gone, the rest were either the towns you protected, or unnamed hamlets more isolated. There were some people seeking safety in the city from places like that, last I heard. I expect more will do so."
Jon said, "Not great, but not as bad as I feared. The one in Winterhold just charged at the front gate, any number of better approaches for one that flies."
The Guard-Sargent said, "We got word you took it out in only two shouts. The Silver-Bloods offered their fastest steeds to take word back to Whiterun wherever there is a dragon sighting."
Jon smirked, "I did. And I'm happy to hear that they are doing that. That people are taking this seriously. Chipping in. Well, Guard-Sargent, the Party is here to clear out Fellglow Keep. They have books that may have information pertaining to a powerful artifact, and they were stolen from the Librarian at the College."
She nodded, "An artifact to hurt the dragons?"
Jon shook his head, "I did send word to Farengar about some leads I found, but I have a feeling this is one we need to keep out of the wrong hands. Something that will do great damage before the dragons even have a chance. We just sort of stumbled upon it. I was there to learn magic, went on a side trip a couple hours walk away for a word wall and discovery, and now we have a dangerous mystery."
She nodded again, "Aye, there are many things like that. We were considering going to try and clear it ourselves. We know there are a pack of mages in there, did some scouting, but we don't have the numbers or equipment for that. We're just a watch into the Rift for dragons. With just enough muscle to keep bandits off the road and in their holes along this stretch."
Jon asked, happy with the initiative, "What did your scouts see? How many sentries?"
She said, "Four sentries. There's probably a couple dozen in the keep. Again, its a smaller post, meant for spying into the plains from this side of the hold. There cant be too many in there."
Jon nodded, "But they all have serious firepower on demand, and could double their forces at least. Our intel says summoners, specifically. You were wise to scout, but hold off any attack. You only have mail shirts, harnesses, and standard steel against them."
The Guard-Sargent smiled under her helmet, happy to be complimented by the Dragonborn. She said, "I can send a couple guards with you, to bolster your Party. We're willing to fight."
Jon nodded, "Of that I have no doubt. A couple will do, crack shots, they'll have to understand that they are there to hold the main door, and cut off any escape, while keeping open our retreat. Also take word in the event that we don't come out that whatever is in there needs an army to match, and that they should send it."
The Guard-Sargent laughed, "Ha! And the best part is, I know that's not boast! They'll have their orders, Thane, no merchant are you. You and your Party can take your fill of food before you depart. We have this new ration called Pemmican. You'll love it, Khajiit, I'm sure. Its great for breakfast and lunch fare. Quick and fast to eat, once its made. Still need a real stew or roast for dinner however."
"Ah, yes. J'zargo and the Party are already familiar. We do love it."
The Party left their steeds to frolic in the surrounding forest while they proceeded on foot to their objective. Inside the tower was more neat and orderly than last Jon saw it. Damage from dis and misuse had been repaired, items were in their place, it was clean. This was a post of the Whiterun guard, and they held firm. Jon was also happy to see a couple Mer in dull yellow, no doubt for their eyes. Good, he thought. Let them naturally realize that bigotry has no place in an effective fighting force, nor society. So far every guard he has seen were Nords alone, and he knew of their bias toward others from near personal experience. A common foe will unite a people, but will it hold when the foe is passed, he wondered.
The Party sat down and took their fill of the guard rations, preserving their own since it was offered. J'zargo had never eaten better in all his life since joining the Party. Food was weight to haul, and a clan on the move couldn't exactly clear a forest of game wherever they passed. Things were tighter on the road than for most.
The Pemmican was a hit all over, apparently. Anything new would be, Jon thought, especially something with as much functionality, for nearly anyone. He decided not to claim the food as some kind of Divine gift, like Azurah had; If they had hemp plants? He was just happy everyone liked it, and it was now everywhere to truly meet his and his shield-maiden's dietary requirements. Divines-blessed Augments needed a lot of food, and while he could carry a lot, the weight to calorie ratio was superior to carrying multiple entire carcasses on his person.
The Party got up from their table and made their way to the tower. Jon made sure to meet the eye of every guard that he could, with a nod and smile. While it wasn't an inspection, and they didn't seem to be treating it like one, every guard still stood at attention as they passed, or stood a little straighter if already such, at the presence of one of the two dragon-slaying Thanes of Whiterun.
The word had spread fully through the Whiterun guard, thankfully for Jon. The Fists had whispered, lest the wrong ears hear, then more whispered. It didn't matter if he was Dragonborn. He was not the second coming of Talos. He was Thane Jon, title earned by dragon-slaying. Those who stand tall next to him, for death or glory, need never kneel to him or anyone, and are assured their place in Sovngarde.
The bottom of the Second Tower was the beginning of the foot path up to the mage infested Fellglow keep. The Jarl needed that keep to spy into the plains from this side of the hold, and Jon would suffer their crimes against Skyrim and her people no more.
The two guards that would join the party snapped to attention, this time with salute. The one said, "Hail, Thane. We were told to join your Party. This is my younger brother, and we're both the best shots in this post. Just telling you, my brother's a little plain, but we joined the guard together and he does his duty. Just doesn't use as many words, is all."
The younger brother was nearly a foot taller, with a solid steel bow in his large hand, strung with quicksilver strand weave it looked like. The man also had several solid steel arrows poking out of his quiver along with his regular ones. It was obvious why he was here, and has already been serving for a time. Such a man in Jon's time and place might not get an opportunity like that.
The bother sagely nodded, "Love mum, hate dragons. Plain as."
The Party chuckled. Jon said, "You have your orders?"
The guard nodded, "Aye, Thane. Guard the main door, cut off escape, secure your line of retreat. You no doubt asked for archers to take shots from cover before they know what hit them. I'll say, there is no greater honor than to hold the Dragonborn's rear."
Everyone in earshot couldn't help their laugh. Jon needed a moment to collect himself. He said, "Okay, you both will do, and have a handle on my intentions. Good. Before we go, you should perhaps consider finding different posts after this trip. I know you're brothers, closer than most, but what would your mother say if a dragon attacked this post?"
The younger took a sharp breath, "Mum would cry if we both got did. Even if one did."
They looked to each other. The guard said, "You're right, brother. Would you be fine on your own?"
The younger nodded, "Think so, brother. Been a guard a while now, like you."
The guard agreed, "Aye. Thank you for your wise counsel, Thane. We always served together in the city, and this was an adventure for us. We volunteered for it soon as we heard of it, his idea. But you're right, it's a little more than an adventure. We can't both be lost to the same attack."
Jon nodded and the Party proceed up the hill towards the Keep. It would be about a half days walk from the towers. Jon didn't let that deter him from maintaining tactical spacing along the side of the entire path, just inside the forest cover. The guards were probably the scouts they sent initially, and knew the surrounding woods. They were his outriders on the flank, while the Party took their usual marching order, Jon at the front. There was always at least ten or so meters between the Party members, and their heads were on a swivel. in case the mages were competent and had patrol out. Jon doubted it, but he didn't survive by throwing caution to the wind, like many others of his kind did with belief in their superiority.
Just as dusk was hitting, the Party came within sight of the keep though the forest. Jon gave a basic hand motion to find cover and observe. He trusted his Party to move tactically without his input, after the initial explanation, and the half day of practice they got. They could find their own cover, and know to take to the flanks as much as they could. The guard needed no such orders, and were already in place and observing. They were certainly the scouts sent previously.
Jon kneeled next to the big guard and observed a moment. The mages were somewhat competent, actually alert at their posts, and not talking as their patrol passed. The patrol was still easily clocked however, the one that was patrolling. There were two more stood at the main door to the keep, and one on a near ruined tower that still stood.
The big guard whispered, "Bout to change watch, I bet. Hmmhm. Bout this time last time."
Jon nodded, "We'll wait. They'll change guard, and suspect no folly when we storm though."
The guard nodded himself, "Think their watch is good. It ain't."
Jon said, "Alright, take to a bit of rations. When I fire, impale the fucker on the right to the wall. That will be your glory as a proud member of Tolfdir's-Party."
The big guard chucked quietly, "Heh heh, glory to Tolfdir's-Party, Thane."
Jon worked his way back a bit, before crossing the perpendicular sight line of the Keep. He did this a couple times, while shoving some rations into his mouth all the while, and told the Party what the plan was. He and the big guard would take the two out in front of the door, that they could only see thanks to the ruination of the wall, Lydia taking the watchtower, the guard taking the patrol. Jon would signal with his fire when he though the moment right. After a change of watch, and when the patrol was in an advantageous place.
Jon got into his own position, and saw the watch changing. Four mages walked out, and four more tired looking ones walked back in. There was little fan-fare to the ritual. Simply a trading of places. They might be armatures, but they are competent armatures, Jon though, with either good discipline, or good orders about how things should go. Lets see how they like losing the Big Three from the word go. He doubted they could compensate.
Jon found his moment, and gave the signal. His shot killed the Mage on the left, the big guard nailed the right to the wall, though their chest with a sold steel bolt. Lydia's arrow hit the watchtower mage, and the guard's shot landed square in the back of the patrol's head. Jon waited a few minutes to see if the alarm was raised, perhaps It wouldn't be bad if they all just streamed out into a no mans land, with cover that doesn't mean shit to the Party, and an attack dog waiting in the wings. They suspected no folly. He gave a quiet whistle for the Party to round up.
When the crept up to his position, he said, "Good work, people."
The guard cut it, "If I may Thane, we were given signal scrolls to use. Should we use them?"
Jon nodded, "No doubt to tell the tower mission is a go. You probably also got one for if shit goes south."
The guard said, "Aye. Green is your in, red is bad. A second green that you came out. They'll send a patrol when they get our signal that you're in. Its a walk, as you know."
Jon said, "Yeah, about six or seven hours, but they'll probably make better time when they know the path is clear, assuming we cleared it like professionals. Damn you guys are good."
The big guard nodded, "Heh, heh, Whiterun guard the best in Skyrim. We hold firm."
Jon didn't hesitate, "Damn right you do. Now I need to conjure the last party member. Bear with me here, he's a Dremora Lord that comes from a Daedric staff."
The guards snickered, "That's you're prerogative, Thane. If anything, I trust something like that your hands, over anyone else."
Jon smiled and lewdly pulled his staff out to more snickers from the party. He cast it and the Attendant was called forth. At this point, he knew his Thane didn't care about the groveling and promises of service. That wasn't what this particular relationship was about. It was new and exciting for the Attendant. Sam loved hearing of his boasts of the Party's exploits, and the Attendant loved the Pleasure made from it. It was a bit of Pain, to maintain a relationship like this, but Pain was really Pleasure, wasn't it? Not something most of his kind could realize.
With a still respectful nod and shark smile, he said, "Hail, friends of Tolfdir's-Party. I see we have two new members. And I smell the blood already split. That one nailed to the wall is artistic in its placement."
The big guard said, "Heh, heh, that's my glory right there."
The Attendant smiled wider at the man as tall as him, would this mortal give the Pleasure? The Party met the smile, ignoring the smell, happy to have their friend back in the field. Jon smiled and said, "Were kicking down the door down and storming these fucks. Not something I've really done here yet. Attendant, I assume you can put spell-fire down range with your free hand?"
The Attendant nodded with an evil smile, Jon continued, "Good. These are casters, intelligent enemies like the Party hasn't faced before, so its a firefight that looks and functions pretty similarly in form to the fights I'm used too. The thing that they don't know, is that I have about 500 years on them in terms of advanced war fighting doctrine. And no, I'm not from the future guardsmen, just another world, if that's any less absurd. Anyway, remember the Big Three, speed, surprise, violence of action. You lose one, you lose all three, you lose the firefight, you die. They're going to die, because we're going to kill those bastards in an exercise of all three of those tenets, Hail Tolfdir's-Party."
The Party responded, guards as well, but quietly, "Hail Tolfdir's-Party."
Jon said, "Attendant, you're first on the stack. Charge in with spell fire, and don't stop until your hitting them with that broadsword. You're our tank, we'll be right on your six, providing cover fire, killing targets you aren't. I'll recast if I have too once we clear a room. You do not, however, just charge into a room without checking corners, or without my order. Pie the room with your spell hand and sight line" and Jon took a moment to show the motion he wanted for all the party members. They also kept ignoring the smell of the Attendant at his Divine master proving his genius and battle acumen.
Jon finished, "J'zargo behind me, Lydia behind him. I recommend giving up the shield, my shield."
Lydia said, "I understand. I can always throw up a ward if I'm not firing. My shield wont handle that as it stands. I'm giving it to you two. I'm coming back for it."
J'zargo said, "J'zargo will do as you say, attack and never relent."
Jon smiled, "Good. We work as a team people, coordinated, precise. We're not storming the keep all at once. We move room by room, corridor by corridor. Call out when you clear a room, and then we stack for the next once the hostiles have been dealt with. Clear?"
"Yes Thane!" The all exclaimed as quietly as they could.
He finished his talk, "Unless you immediately identify hostiles, slow up as you clear a room. We're aren't on a timetable. This is live fire training for real hostiles. Don't be afraid to halt the Party, Attendant. You're my point man, not my servant right now. J'zargo, Lydia, Keep your fire covering him, I'm going to check all the places I know need checked from experience."
The Attendant gave a solemn nod. He was his Thane's servant, and would follow the Divine's orders. Heresy in every breath near him, the Pleasure of it! The rest of the Party nodded at their orders as well, somewhat nervous all. They had ever barged into a place with this much seriousness. This much thought behind it. Simply run in, and hack and spell your way to victory, use some cover when you have too. Both Lydia and J'zargo had cleared places out before, for duty for loot, but this was new. Lydia hopped the kind of war her Thane spoke of never came to Skyrim.
The Main keep door was locked, and Jon just couldn't seem to pick it. His pick would break as soon as he tried. He suspected it was an enchantment, tied to the actual key. The door down to the dungeon in what was left of the keep wall would have to do, and probably a better insertion point anyway. The Party stacked on it, instead, while casting various spells, and drinking potions for their boons.
Jon counted down from three, and heaved open the door for the Attendant to march though at a violent pace. Jon and the rest of the party marched in behind, clearing the room like Jon showed them how. It wasn't really a room, more a passageway.
"Clear." The Attendant whispered, not wanting to give up surprise to enemies further in by yelling.
"Clear."
"Clear."
"Clear."
"All clear. Good work. Lets continue our tempo. Ease up to rooms though the corridors, storm the rooms. Remember your corners, and use any cover you find. If they see you, storm, if they don't call out numbers before I give the order, Attendant." Jon said finally. The Attendant liked how Jon would spit his title, still playing the game of master to a Dremora servant, even if the Divine thought of him as much more than that.
The passageway continued partially flooded, and the party as near silent though the slowly moving water, despite their overall weight. They all knew muffle spells, but that couldn't discount your interaction with the world around you. If you bang your foot on a helmet, or tread though ankle deep water, you will still make some noise. The Attendant halted the party once, slowly stepping over a bear trap, then another further down, and trusting the Party to see and act accordingly. Jon was just as happy as surprised that his boots from Belethor survived the scroll, clearing up that small plot hole and making a call back as well. They kept his feet warm and dry though the cold water. Worth every Septim he ended up losing to the man.
The senses of beasts are often more attuned to their surroundings than their masters. Just as the hall was opening to a room, a couple dog sized Frostbite Spiders and several unfriendly Skeever charged around the corner to meet the intruders to their lair. The Attendant took to his Thanes orders, and stormed straight though the charging pack, crushing both spiders, and entering the room proper to meet the challengers, checking his corners as ordered, and trusting his Party to be right behind him, something else that was new.
Jon was right behind him, and splashing Flames over the Skeevers that made it under the Attendant's feet, and too his side in the wider hallway. Those he missed were picked up by J'zargo's Fireballs and expert aim. Lydia skewered the final one as she marched past as well.
The Attendant spied four challengers on the balcony to the dungeon proper. There were not other challengers in the pool at the base of it. They were the beasts and they had all charged at once. While the tenet of surprise was almost lost, it was not so yet. Two were just stirring on their cots in the damp room, and two more weren't properly in cover. They still had the superior position, but not for long.
He threw his first spells at the standing mages, and Jon threw his at the ones getting up. J'zargo and Lydia added their own fire as soon as they entered and checked their corners as well. The angle wasn't great, but the volume of firepower was suppressive. And its was coordinated.
The stirring mages immediately got on the ground for cover with fire flying over their heads. The standing ones though up wards, but one was too late, and was hit by one of the Party's Fireballs. The second one got his ward up in time, but was quickly vexed by the Dremora Lord charging up the stairs at a violent pace, and cleaving him down the middle. The stirring mages tried to fire back, but only one spell hit the Attendant, and it did little damage to even his plate, let alone him. They both were killed in an overwhelming volley of spell-fire.
"Clear."
"Clear."
"Clear."
"Clear."
"All clear, Stack stack stack, next corridor, wait on my mark." Jon hushed out.
There was shelving in the way from taking the wall itself, but the party lined up ready to move in front of them. The Attendant began taking peaks while he waited for his Thane's orders. Jon waited a few moments. They suspected no folly, yet.
He whispered, "Excellent work people. That was how it's done, and good job Attendant. I saw you pie that room. I'll assume my Party behind me did as well. I didn't see because we were too busy killing those bastards, Hail Tolfdir's-Party."
"Hail, Tolfdir's-Party." They all called back. Pain! The Attendant thought, the Pleasure of it! Its almost like Making it with the Blood!
He said, "There's a pressure plate at the bottom of the stairs, and it looks like junction. I'll be able to feel the air currents to know which way to go when we get closer, Thane."
The Party recast their support spells and J'zargo drank another potion. Jon said, "Good. Same deal, creep, then storm, if we can stack before storming, do so. Mark."
The Attendant began down the steps at a slower pace until he got to the pressure plate. He peaked around the corner before stepping around it, and saw the hall lead into some cells at the very end of it. The way to go was obvious. He cast a Detect-Life spell, followed by a Detect-Undead given the smell, and reported its results to his Thane.
He said, "I spy four lives by spell, Thane, and another three undead. Vampires I suspect, by smell. The cage at the end of the hall is empty, so I cannot confirm. There is also a Rune at the end of the hall. Dispelling it will require noise. The hall leads into a room. This is our stack."
Jon said, "How do you dispel, just blow it up?"
The Attendant nodded. Jon said, "Do you know the kill radius?"
Kill radius!? What a term! He said, "It looks like a standard rune spell that anyone can learn, nothing powerful crafted by a master mage or god. I can be reasonably certain."
Jon said, "Then creep until you don't. Watch the plate, people. Mark."
The Party moved around the corner, and when the Attendant got to the edge of the kill radius of the spell, he fired his spell, and picked up his pace. The tension of every step, he thought, so much different than any battle he's fought before. This must have been what it was like for the mortals to storm Oblivion, the brave bastards that did. He took part once or twice, but it was nothing new to him. Sam handed out his staff to a couple that needed it here and there during the Crisis, saving a couple small towns so a small party could take place there in trying times for all.
The Rune exploded, and the alarm in the room was raised. It didn't matter when the Storm came though. All four mages were dead from spell fire before they had a chance to ward themselves. One particularly fast on the draw conjurer did get a summon off, but was killed before the Atronach could fully take form. The three vampires in the cages were no threat.
"Clear"
"Clear"
"Clear."
"Clear."
"Room clear. Good work people."
"These are definitely vampires. Should J'zargo set them on fire?"
The Attendant said, "The two are Mist Walkers. Older, more powerful. The one is a Fledgling in every sense of the word."
The teenage Vampire in the cage said, "Please. I was kidnapped, a couple weeks ago from the road and brought here by the mages. I didn't want this. It was for their experiments."
The one Mist Walker hissed, "Shes lyi-"
"J'zargo, Lydia, shut them both up."
Their fireballs flew into the cages, killing the vampires before they could scream. Jon kneeled in front of the Vampire girl's cage and said, "Does anyone know of a cure for Vampirism?"
Lydia said, "Rumor is there's someone in Morthal who could do it, but that's on the other side of Skyrim."
J'zargo said, "She will never get there in her state. Near stage four, probably starved intentionally to see what would happen to a new turn that was never fed. Road kidnappings are a real threat, especially from vampire clans. Khajiit are well versed in vampire knowledge. Lydia is correct in her rumors."
the Attendant said, "I concur with J'zargo's assessment, though I am not the fastest on rumor of cures. I do know there is always some ritual or another, but only ever preformed by lone people, and always lost for a time until someone figures out another ritual."
Jon nodded. He said, "I've only really got one option here. You're starved, and I have Divines-blessed blood in me. So, you're going to bite my wrist, and it will either cure you, or kill you. I'm not really sure. Perhaps, it will just feed you and let you get to Morthal. The Whiterun guard will help you if I tell them too, no matter what you are."
She didn't hesitate, both from hunger and bravery. She said, "If I'm not like this anymore, I don't care if it kills me."
She bit down, and took a measure of blood for the first time as a Vampire. The Divine power worked itself around her, much like Jon saw potions do when people drink them. Instead of simply reverting back to stage one, she took her first real breath in weeks, one deeper than passive reflex and ingrained habit. Color returned to her pale face, and her eye lost their evil glow as her heart began to pump. She began crying as Jon contemptuously broke the cage door off.
He said, "Do not even think about blessing me for this. I do not need that on me right now. I'm the Divines-blessed Dragonborn, my words are honeyed enough."
She chucked though her tears and said, "I believe it. Thank you, thank you. You said the guard would help me? They killed my family in the attack. I don't have anywhere."
Jon put a hand on her shoulder and said, "My condolences. You've been though a lot, but you've also literally just picked yourself up. Now you're going to keep moving. Go back the way we came. Take a right, watch for the traps, and make your way out of the dungeon. Listen to me carefully now, there are hardened guard out there, with orders to kill any who try to escape. Come out of the door, very slowly, with both hands up. They'll see you, and assume I sent you. You're obviously haggard. You're going to confirm that. Tell them Thane Jon said Hail Tolfdir's-Party. You got that?"
She nodded, the tears stopping, "Take a right, watch for traps, exit slowly, Hail Tolfdir's-Party."
She smiled when the Party responded, "Hail Tolfdir's-Party"
Jon nodded, "Okay, get moving. And if you have to say anything at all, just say the Dragonborn cured you, nothing specific. I'd prefer if you just said you were a slave I rescued, which is technicality true. I don't need or want people worshiping me."
She nodded and took off down the hall towards the back exit. J'zargo handed him a potion and said, "Here, cure disease potion, just in case. You know, they say powerful divine blessings can cure Vampirism. Shrines can cure its precursor, but not what you just did. I guess its more proof, my Divine friend."
The Attendant laughed once again, "The room stinks of Divine influence once again, Thane. J'zargo, your genius is also obvious."
Jon and Lydia smiled at each other. She knew first. He said, "Alright, stack, and throw up some Detect spells. Inch the door and peak in."
J'zargo said, "Can J'zargo get the Vampire Dust first? It is good for alchemy."
Jon said, "We'll be staying the night after we clear this place."
J'zargo nodded in understanding, the loot can be gathered later. The party stacked, and the Attendant did his work. He said, "There is a small hall to a lager room. I detect five more life signs. One undead, probably another experiment."
"Mark."
Room by room, hall by hall, the Party cleared the mage infested keep. They soon came upon Orthorn and he was let out with the same explanation as the former Vampire, but with the promise that Urag would kill him if he ever made his way to the College again. He nodded, agreed that he would, and swore to never step foot near Winterhold again.
Eventually the alarm was raised raised as they began to the upper levels of the keep, as too much noise was made, but at that point the mage numbers had thinned. Jon smelled the fear on a few of the last, them realizing that if their foe was this far, hope was lost. They died to the onslaught of the Party. The tactical movements, the use of cover, the expert aim. They lost surprise eventually, but they still won the last firefights.
Lydia could only move in awe of the type of battle she was waging. It was a level above what the pitiful mages were doing. By the end of the keep, few of Jon's words were needed to instruct the Party on his battle-order. The mages were doing nothing like they were doing, for sure. Most didn't even try to find cover, simply trusting the strength of their ward. They always snapped quickly to often times coordinated fire.
They were too stupid to live, Lydia though, as Jon would say. Fuck em, as he would also say. The kind of wars that would dictate this kind of careful thought of every breath and action to survive, let alone win, Lydia didn't want to imagine. Ancient power in the hands of every warrior, she thought. It was only just barely within her comprehension. Her sword had remained only blooded by a Skeever, but her spell-fire claimed many though her internal ruminations on the topic.
Eventually, the tiring party reached the top of the stairs to the final room of the keep. It was where the leader no doubt was, and preformed her rituals. The Caller, Orthorn called her.
The Attendant cast his spell and said, "One Life-sign, as you call it. Right in front of the door too."
Jon simply cast his bow spell, and gave the Party behind him a motion to stay in the stack. With the voice of a nonchalant god he said, "Attendant. Open that door. I wish to practice my Archery."
His eye when wide for a second, and with an evil smile he cast open the door. Jon already had his bow strung back, with the strength of ten men, and it only took a slight adjustment to mark his target. She had a smug look on her, like a Altmer about to battle you in wits, before killing you for even trying. She didn't get a word in. Jon's ethereal arrow cracked from his bow, and it burrowed though her head, and into the door behind behind. Fellglow keep was clear.
Jon turned to his Party and said, "Damn fine work people. No pep talk, just my compliments and gratitude that you're all on my side. Hail Tolfdir's-Party!"
"Hail Tolfdir's-Party!"
Lydia smiled and kissed her Divine sword, to the cajoling of the Attendant and J'zargo. You always got the warrior princess after clearing a keep, right?
J'zargo offered his thoughts on the now most immediate concern, "J'zargo will begin gathering the loot. Perhaps organize it by the front door?"
The Attendant said, "Thane, if you recast me, I will certainly help in that endeavor. I am running close to my time."
Jon recast the Attendant, much to the Dremora's Pleasure, and he and J'zargo took off to gather the haul of loot that would come from this place. They were well stocked, and well dug in. The guard would have lost and equal, if not double amount to clear them out. They would, they held firm, but the Party had the right tools, and experience.
Lydia said, "Jon."
She saw his 1000 yard Augment stare. He said, "Yeah. That's how we fought. Same form, different tools."
She nodded, with a reassuring hand on him, "Machine guns. Tanks. Planes that rain unanswered death. Metal ships that conquer oceans. Nuclear weapons."
Jon closed his eyes. And Augments memory was perfect, and the explosions and gunfire would never be forgotten. He said, "Yeah. Those mages were up shits creek without a paddle. That's everyone in my wars. Boom and you're dead, across entire continents and oceans. No honor, no glory. You fight not even to win, but to survive."
She hugged him, and he replied, "You survived. We'll survive. You aren't alone here."
"I Love you, Lydia."
"I Love you too, Jon."
They pulled away from each other. Lydia went to scout the Caller's personal quarters for a night, and Jon took the ladder from the ritual chamber treasure room, to the room with the main door. It was behind a barred door on that level, and he exited the main keep door with the confirmed to be enchanted key. When he did, a green flare went up. He just heard the cheering at the tower, down at the base of the hill, and of the guard still marching up.
The brothers ran up from their cover, and the guard said, "Hail, Thane. Those two you sent got away okay. We did almost shoot the wizard though. He didn't have his hands up, and was sneaking around like he was escaping. Put one beside his head, figuring he might not be one of the mages with his different robes, and he near cried that you let him out."
The big guard said, "Heh, heh. Little girl had more stone then him."
Jon smiled, "He deserved a good scare. Only reason I didn't kill him is because stealing some books isn't worth a death sentence. I know one at least that will if he ever saw him."
The guard said, "No doubt the one he stole the books from. And it would be his right. Do you need any help inside?"
Jon nodded, "Yeah, I think we're clear. No other hole to hide in around, and we have reinforcement on the way. Lot of bodies need moved, and we're gathering all the loot near the front door for collection and inventory. I doubt we'll take everything, but we will be taking what we want. Here's two measure each, and some gems, for your trouble, by the way. You earned it."
The men gave thankful nods, happy to have their purses stuffed by the Dragonborn, a man with coin and gems, for a job well done. The big guard said, "Your right Thane. Conquest, that be. We'll help you. This post will be manned again, maybe one of us can man it, brother."
The guard said, "Aye, brother. Not that far away, but far enough a Dragon can't attack both of us at once. We're right behind you Thane, this really has been an adventure. Hail Tolfdir's-Party."
"Hail Tolfdir's-Party."
The effort to sustain his pace was eating at his very bones. His eyes were still near mad, even after a couple days of rest for the small host of Shor's Cave. They didn't have any food or mead, but they didn't seem to actually need it either. They simply kept existing, though the instinctual need to eat remained.
There was plenty of game in the forests of Sovngarde, though they were also having a hard go of it. Thankfully for them, flora was plentiful to eat, within any sight line, and they had no concept of the madness that ate at the men of the group. They had no weapons to hunt with. Even if they would get close enough, the game would run away at a faster pace then they could sustain, even if it eventually tired them out. They didn't want to give further chase, because that would lead them away from the cave, and they they would have to lug the corpse back though the mist to process and eat, again hard without tools or implements.
The group lead by the High-King Torygg Near-Mad were near running. They didn't want to break out into a full sprint, lest noise give away their position under the tree canopy of the forests at the base of Shor's Mountain. Alduin was near. Not that near, but near enough that it spooked original three, and four more they found, made their way back to the Cave at best possible speed.
It was only thanks to the strength of those around him that he kept going, Divines bless that Whiterun guard that held firm. He never wanted to enter this mist again, now that there was cover from it, but he had too. He was High-King of that damp cave, and he would be Divines-dammed if he asked men and women to patrol this mist, and not be willing to do it himself.
For fair Elisif, he thought. The only thought that kept him from being the Mad High-King, and not the Near-Mad. When she came here, this place would be clear of it's corruption, and of the infestation. She would be welcomed as the Queen of his realm, as she always should have been. He hopped she moved on, though. Their love was eternal, but his only regret was leaving her to morn for the rest of her life, like he knew she would.
They just happen to cross another lost soul, a villager arrived from a dragon attack, and quickly rushed him into their party charging towards the cave, and away from the roars. They were thankfully getting quieter as they ran for what seemed like hours, never stopping, adrenaline still working in their new forms.
The cave was in sight, and they dropped all pretenses into a dead sprint. The Divines sent relief washed over those both experienced and inexperienced in the trials of the mist. It took a moment to collect themselves and see what was in front of them. They finally did, and their jaws dropped.
The High-King said, "None of this was here before."
There were a few bench tables. A couple crates of food, on top of them bow and arrow. A few barrels of mead, even some unlit torches and braziers to drive out the damp. Almost no one in the cave could believe it.
One did. An ancient Nord, in plate to match. He was caught in the open when the mist rolled in, losing his hunting weapon in the process, taken by the false god with a disarming shout. He walked up to his new High-King, patting his shoulder, and said, "A boon from Shor, my King! He stands with us!"
"Shor, Shor, Shor, Shor, Shor," the group would chant while they drank and ate their fill for the first time in a while.