[center][h3][b]When the Sky Falls[/b][/h3][/center]

[I]26th Rain’s Hand, 4E208, early afternoon…[/I]

The three days had passed, lending a sense of relief for the party as the individuals finished their affairs in anticipation of the final supper and payout at Rhea’s mansion. For some, it had been a productive and enjoyable time off that allowed them a chance to to ease off of the events in the Jerall Mountains. The pain of loss still lingered, but no longer was it so acutely felt. The rumours had spread and news had reached Imperial City of the strange light to the North, as well as the destruction of an entire mountaintop, but nothing consistent had made the rounds. People spoke of anything from rogue mages experimenting to some devious Thalmor plot, but none seemed anywhere close to the mark. Even if anyone were to say what had actually transpired, it would probably have been met with a healthy dose of skepticism. Even Rhea had a hard time coming to terms with what had happened.

The mansion was strangely empty; Rhea had the run of the place to herself. Her two brothers and father had left on some business trip to Chorrol. She had the payment lined up in tidy coin purses along the dining hall’s long oaken table, trying to decide on what parting gifts she should add along with her commission. For Daro’Vasora, it was a set of new leather-bound journals and a inkpot and pen with a watertight bag. Latro would be receiving one of the copies of the tomes that she had procured from the Bard’s College with a selection of folk songs across Tamriel and the musical notation to go with it. Megana would receive a new quiver of Redguard make that was crafted for a horse archer. For Brynja, she had managed to find a golden amulet that had a magicka enchantment that would ideally help her maintain her healing. Gaius would receive a shield from the beginning of the 3rd Era, one of the old Imperial Guard shields with the steel framework and spike protruding from the center. 

It was the rest she was having an issue with; most of the gifts were things from her personal collection that she was parting with, partially out of personal guilt, but also that she wanted to keep the survivors well off and contented going forward when they parted ways. She drank from a wine goblet again, her third of the afternoon, knowing full well she was being irresponsible. Try as she might, she could not shake the sense of guilt and responsibility for the deaths of the camp. All of the deaths were on her; she had hired them to go up there for the expedition, and she made the call to activate the machine knowing full well that there was no knowing what it would do. She had simply wanted to save the lives of her companions, and in the end, she traded their lives for dozens more. It was simply disgusting arithmetic she could not abide by, and if she could trade her life for theirs, she’d do so in an instant.

The goblet was empty before she realized, and she stared at her dulled reflection in the pewter for a few lingering moments. She could not change the past, but she could do better in the future. “To the living.” she vowed, pouring her 4th glass and taking a bite out of an end slice of bread as an appeasement to her body. 

Heading into the hearth, she realized that she was lacking a few of the provisions she needed for supper that night for her guests, whom she genuinely hoped stayed for a while. [I]Well, a trip to the market, then. There’s still a few hours yet.[/I] she thought, making a executive decision to grab her coin purse and dagger and pay the vendors a quick visit. To mask her breath, she found a mint leaf from the spice cabinet, chewing it over like a grazing animal for several minutes before discarding of it in a waste receptacle, and moments later, she found herself in the entirely too bright afternoon light. 

The walk was a pleasant one, a warm spring breeze gave the impression of summer and the sky was barely without a cloud, and the streets seemed lively with people in finery and light, breezy clothing acting more alive than she’d seen in months. Considering the season, it was one of the few respites without rainfall. Even the guards seemed more relaxed, Rhea even caught sight of a couple with their helms tucked under their arms or shield resting on the ground, supported by a hand to keep it from toppling. It was easy to forget the unrest of the world, and for the first time in nearly two weeks, Rhea was beginning to feel free spirited.

Time seemed to settle as she strolled along the carts and stalls that somehow managed to clear up each night, and Rhea was inspecting a selection of herbs when a shadow crept across, darkening the market. Initially, she had mentally brushed it off as a cloud passing by. That feeling of mundane comfort passed quickly when a chorus of gasps and nervous murmouring broke out around her, and a Dunmeri-accented voice shouted, “What in Oblivion is [I]that?[I]”

The Imperial looked up towards the sky, following hundreds of other stares and found her mouth agape at what she beheld. Above, dozens of inexplicable shapes were bearing down towards the city, and Rhea’s eyes widened when she realized they were [I]ships[/I]. Her mind scrambled to make sense of it all until a nagging part of her memories recalled the designs of airships in literature and scrolls she had come across, but she’d never found anything to substantiate that from an artist’s flight of fantasy, until now.

“This is impossible.” she spoke aloud, full well aware of how many impossible things she’d seen in her travels. The airships approached swifter than her mind was capable of coming to terms with what was happening. Plenty of people in the market began to flee; she realized that they had the right idea. Nothing about this felt right, and given what she’d seen in the Jerall Mountains, Rhea was not fond of coincidences. She took flight, catching the stream of fleeing and screaming people. Soon, the entire market was in full panic; warning bells and horns sounded from the tops of the Imperial City walls and guards who had once looked complacent were now on full alert, some feebly trying to impose order against those who would have none of it. She wasn’t far from home; she just had to make it there.

Soon, the sound of propellers and steam contraptions were well audible and three of the airships descended below the city walls. Large doors on either side of the ship opened and suddenly massive hulking armour like the Centurions appeared, leaping down from the doors, several meters from the ground. Where the fall would kill or cripple most, the figures, standing over 2 meters tall in heavy Dwemer alloy smashed into the ground, pistons, springs, and gears working in perfectly calibrated concert as the armoured figures stood upright; blue energy surged through piping across the mechanized frame. In each hand was a variety of weapons. Oversized repeater crossbows, long tubes with loading assemblies, shields, arm-mounted spikes, axes, swords, and mounts for soul gems were observed, and behind caged and helm like faces leered the approximation of a mer-like face, much like had been found forged upon the Centurions and carved into walls. 

They groaned, power surging through the suits, and immediately began to move, bringing their weapons down on any that were unfortunate enough to be within range. The one with the large arm-mounted tubes were aimed and with a thunderous roar and a flash of light, a trio of citizens were cut down, their backs covered in numerous bloody holes by unseen projectiles. Legionnaires and guards beared down on the armoured figures, some being cleaved by massive blades or punctured by retractable spikes, another send flying through the air several meters before landing crumpled on the ground by a shield. The arm cannons fired again and burst through the armour like it was leather trying to stop a pike; the Empire’s finest were falling like children trying to stop a Dremora lord. 

The airships had all but touched down now, and out poured dozens more troops, more clad like one would expect from the Dwemer, although their armour seemed to be much more streamlined and well-crafted. Some carried swords, shields, and spears, others carried strange short staffs like crossbows. These ones took up kneeling positions around the perimeter and the staffs exploded much like the mechanized cannons, and more citizens yet fell in a volley of fire. Rhea was shocked, and she managed to get away from the scene intact, unable to comprehend what was happening.

She needed to get to her home and prepare.

All around the Imperial City, more of these airships landed, and from them came very similar compositions of forces, although some deposited the automata; the spheres and spiders took to the streets to flush out the darkest corners, and technical troopers began depositing stands with large soul  gems on top that lashed out with lightning if any came within range of it without the Dwemer alloys. The city was under siege, and it seemed the guard was powerless to stop it. The massive walls and water that surrounded the city were long the city’s best defense against the land, but nothing prepared anyone for what came above. There was a slaughter in the streets, and those who weren’t immediately cut down were rounded up by sentries.

While no one could have predicted or prepared for what was happening, one thing wasn’t in dispute; somehow, after thousands of years being vanquished from Nirn, the Dwemer had returned and all anyone could do was try and escape.