Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 417: Chapter XXXVII: Relieving Kragenmoor



(General POV)

Vayrin of Great House Indoril, Priest of Azura, and rising star within his household, found himself rather confused as he marched faster than he ever thought reasonable, his small group trailing behind the trotting horses of the legion cohort with only two pack guars between them.

On the one hand his quest in seeking the messenger of the gods was going quite well as he managed to ingratiate himself sufficiently to follow along as Boethiah's work was to be done.

On the other hand...

"So she made a whole ass dramatic reveal and everything?" Said messenger of the gods was currently laughing his ass off as Vayrin told him of the prophesy of Ald' Ruhn and the words of Azura "Good thing I noped straight out of that!"

A beat of silence passes.

"You..." Vayrin's brain stopped for a moment "You 'noped' out of it?"

"Oh yeah" Lord Dagoth chuckles as his two companions follow wordlessly "Dealing with prophesies is a chore so I just told her I would do my own thing."

Vayrin shared what he thought was a subtle look with the two Ashlanders but neither Massour nor Massanor felt like butting into the straight up smite worthy blasphemy going on right

now.

By all the Good Daedra, Vayrin could even feel his patron's consternation!

Or at least a tiny part of him registered it as such.

(Reyvin's POV)

Damn, trolling the starry eyed little shit is too funny.

Best give him some time to recover though, wouldn't want to break him too quickly, that just wouldn't be sporting of me "So anyway, what can you tell me about the state of Kragenmoor?" I pause "You do know something about our destination, right?"

It takes him a moment to gather himself but he accepts the proposed shift of topic with almost manic eagerness "I know a bit about it I suppose." He says somewhat apologetically "It used to be one of the greatest cities in Morrowind, the center of agricultural trade at that and rather famous for its plays as well."

Idly, I channeled a bit of Magicka, righting a horse that was just about to stumble due to the shitty state of the road, the rattled legionary giving me quick thanks and now looking far, far more cautious about where he directed his mount.

"The Argonian uprising and subsequent invasion put a thorough stop to that however." The priest went on "It is a shadow of what it once was, the constant change of hands did not help either."

"Ah" I perk up a bit "I did hear about this one. Started as a Dres domain, turned to Hlaalu and is now under Redoran?"

"Indeed." Vayrin nods "Though the Dres held it for the greatest length of time."

"Ashin' house politics." The shorter Ashlander, Massanor spat out "Too much time spent one upping each other and too little actually doing things."

"I'd agree with you if what I guess is your actual point was not even dumber." I scoff, earning an immediate glare from him "The houses existing isn't a bad thing, downright meritocratic by Tamrielic standards actually, they just need a bit of guidance."

"Bah." He scoffs back "Of course a house elf would say that."

For some reason the terminology he used really made me want to wring his neck.

The third tagalong finally rejoined our conversation "My little brother's seething aside." That earns the big Ashlander an immediate flipped bird "You'd be right if not for every single house leader thinking themselves the right ones to offer this guidance you speak of."

"Point." I nod, surprising all of them "But it is still better than the utter decentralization of your tribes, you reach a certain population level and retaining a simple system just isn't feasible anymore."

Before our talks could continue any we crested a hill and a vast plain greeted our eyes, or more accurately, the city dominating it.

Large walls, numerous towers, and tall buildings, it was smaller than human cities, by a massive margin at that, but quite large by elven standards.

And its smoking ruins (in progress) were currently completely surrounded by a bunch of tree humping Argonian little shits whose hatred and desire to butcher everyone inside I could practically taste from all the way up here.

One rapid scrying revealed Vayrin's information to be quite incorrect, as I counted only just under two thousand lizards, not that it mattered since the garrison had taken quite a bit of attrition and even with the Redoran reinforcements it stood at eight hundred warriors tops joined by about a dozen magi of around high adept and low expert levels.

In short, they would get slaughtered in mere hours.

And I just couldn't be having that right now "Legate." I called, my serious tone cutting through the air.

"Sir!" The horseman saluted.

"Prisoners are permitted." I told him as Magicka began to bubble beneath my skin in vast rampaging torrents "But let none escape."

And in a blast of magic and thu'um I was gone.

(General POV, earlier)

Almeril Faren, errant dragonslayer, and recently promoted House Father of Great House Redoran was genuinely wondering if the gods had it out for him.

It all started when he returned triumphantly from the Battle of Skuldafn, he and his men garbed and armed in gifts of House Dagoth and towing carts of automatons behind them as they did. The Archmaster welcomed him with stoic approval and congratulated him on his dutiful choice to fight the apocalypse, his fellow Councilmen unanimously voting for his promotion within mere days.

He thought he would finally find some peace now that the most recent crisis was resolved.

He should have known better.

His 'connection' to House Dagoth became known, and when it came time for the Redoran to receive the Lord Godslayer, guess who they sent to escort him? That is right, good old Almeril, who had just gotten his wife to forgive him for his 'dumbass s'wit decision to go attacking monsters like some foolish youth' back when he was in Skyrim.

He could still feel the furious slap he got for even thinking of accepting an entire month after

the fact.

But ever dutiful, and only somewhat encouraged by his promotion, Almeril accepted his task non the less and marched with his newly enlarged retinue, the admiring looks of his new subordinates driving him mad with each day that passed.

He was almost thankful when they received news of the Argonian raid, at least he could now vent his frustrations on a more than acceptable target!

That was a few days ago, when his men were still fresh and the garrison wasn't running on fumes and they were not surrounded with enough Argonians to drown them in their own

blood.

One thing one should understand about facing an army of Argonians is that they are infuriatingly difficult to put down. A human may bleed out if you manage to lacerate their throat and an elf even faster than that.

An Argonian though?

Stab them through the neck and they still have good odds at surviving if they get the most basic of treatments within a full bloody hour. Their equipment may be terrible, consisting of mostly leather and bone for the armor and bone, obsidian, and only sometimes actual metal for the weapons, but they more than made up for it with their natural toughness and sheer

numbers.

Much like the group currently attempting to gut him come to think of it.

Blinking his tiredness away, Almeril jerked back as his honed reflexes screamed at him, narrowly evading the wild swing of a massive lizardman, and immediately retaliating with a precise stab through the Argonian's eye, killing him instantly.

He did not fall back however, and instead pressed forward, cutting off the arm of another lizard currently attempting to disembowel one of his younger subordinates, said elf gathering enough courage to thrust forward with his glaive and guided by more luck than skill, strike the Argonian in the throat.

A spindly Dunmer behind his line scoffed irritably as flames gathered in his hand "Bloody fucking n'wahs!" He screeched, throwing the fireball straight into the group of Argonians and burning many of them alive in mere seconds.

Not one to miss such an obvious opportunity, Almeril called out "Forward! Finish them off!" His fellows wasting only a few staggered seconds to follow after him as they began butchering the disoriented lizards.

This went on for hours and hours, skilled elves barely holding off the much more physically capable lizardmen, pushing through their lines even as they pillaged the city with reckless

abandon.

Almeril was quite glad he directed the civilians into a cluster of fortified towers that somewhat resembled a keep earlier that day, them and all the supplies they could carry.

"Well at least they may survive long enough for help to come." He found himself muttering "You got another fireball in you, Sadras?"

The spindly elf coughed before forcing a Magicka potion down his own throat "Approaching my blood limit here, Redoran."

Almeril couldn't help but chuckle at the scratchy voice of the mage.

Another group of Argonians rounded at their section of the walls, he made certain that they

had to pass him to get to the civilians, and he tensed for another fight only for another mage bearing his house's colors to join them, followed by a dozen automatons mounted with

repeating crossbows.

The whole rank of lizardmen fell in seconds.

"Dreloth." Almeril sucked in a frustrated breath "I ordered you to conserve the munitions for

protecting the civilians."

"And I will accept any punishment later." The young mage breathed heavily "But the civilians will be much better served if you survive as long as possible."

"Tsk." The Redoran veteran couldn't really retort as the nearby Sadras mage began to laugh at

him, the mirth soon turning into another round of coughs as he barely held the swill of magic

potions down.

His unit, some fifty or so elves serving as the frontline, managed to rest up for three entire minutes before they heard marching from both their front and their left, soon joined by their

right.

Almeril, almost as panicked as his followers, quickly looked to the stairwells he ordered destroyed only to find them just as he wanted them 'So why are they coming even now...'

He got his answer swiftly enough as he saw throngs of lizardmen coming from both sides of

the walls, a massive specimen sauntering atop it just outside of his force's range and glaring

at him.

The obvious An-Xileel member grinned with far too sharp teeth as he beheld the exhausted force of the slavers "Greetings elf." He hissed, his massive hands gripping at his warhammer

"How does it feel to be on the hopeless side?"

Almeril held back a quip of his own and merely straightened his back, his followers doing much the same as they began forming up for battle.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

But the Argonian's grin just widened in response as metal hooks with ropes attached to them

rose from both sides of the wall, those lizards below the wall already beginning to scale them.

And much to the Redoran's dismay, they did not bother limiting their new assault on just his

area.

The whole length of the wall surrounding the civilian towers had been surrounded, the automaton munitions and that of his few archers disappearing within minutes as hundreds of lizards fell, only for more than half of them to be dragged away for healing.

"Yesss." The An-Xileel agent hissed, his forked tongue slithering across his lipless mouth "Now there is a look I can appreciate."

Almeril made a prayer to Boethiah, feeling a surge of certainty within himself, and readied his

blade.

Only for the entire battlefield to go utterly quiet all of a sudden as a wave of what the crass would describe as pants shitting terror covered the whole city of Kragenmoor.

The Argonian's eyes dilated, his limbs and those of his followers behind him shaking uncontrollably as some deep seeded instinct within the Argonians screamed at them to flee

and not look back.

Almeril's arms were shaking as well, thought not from terror. In fact all of him was shaking as

he finally failed to contain his laughter as he realized he could recognize the imposed feeling

of fear.

The An-Xileel lizard only had a moment to narrow his eyes in confusion before a streak of

black fell from the skies and passed straight through the hundred or so Argonians in front of the Redoran contingent.

Leaving naught but red mist behind

And revealing an armored and robed elf holding the massive lizardman in one hand as he

squeezed the life out of the suddenly skinless creature.

Almeril's shoulders sagged in relief, he had managed to hold out.

In the words of the greatest advisor to ever live:

Stone needed

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