Skingrad, 15th of Second Seed, 4E208The Rangers set out once more from Skingrad on the 11th of Second Seed, Kylian and other scouts had uncovered a Dwemer presence to the north-east. Brutus gave the order for the Rangers to prepare, and by early afternoon, they headed out, Daro’Vasora and Brynja amongst their ranks, along with other familiar faces. It would take them a day and a half to reach the edifice the scouts had described. What proved more disturbing was the fact that the scouts reported that the structure seemed to hold prisoners, and furthermore, they had witnessed prisoners being taken out of cages, where they were slaughtered without mercy by two Dwemer overseers. Whatever it was the Dwemer were doing, it seemed that they were harvesting the souls to fill soul gems. Though they couldn’t determine the reason why. The unsettling news prompted Brutus to lead a rescue mission, and here they were, trekking through the woods once more on a mission to liberate the prisoners. The feeling of triumph couldn’t last forever. The success against the Dwemer at Elenglynn proved fleeting. Brutus sketched out a plan, the Rangers would enter the camp at nightfall, and under the cover of darkness, free the trapped prisoners.
Nothing went according to plan.
Kylian and his scouts explored the surrounding area for any sign of Dwemer, yet they found nothing. When they returned to Brutus, he gave the signal to infiltrate the camp. A dozen or so Rangers crept into the campsite, the rest waiting hidden in the tree line, and the Rangers in the camp began breaking off the locks on the cages. They had freed eight prisoners when a blood-curdling cry came up from the rear of the group. Dwemer metal glinted off the sliver of moonlight breaking through the clouds.
Brynja didn’t remember much of what happened next. She remembered crouching next to Daro’Vasora when she heard lightning crackle behind her. A terrifying clamor rose from the Rangers, there were Dwemer behind them, slaughtering anyone that came across their path. Brynja turned to fight when another cry rose from the internment camp. Dwemer spilled out of the structure that must have acted as their command center, and made short work of the Rangers that had stole away into the camp. She couldn’t see how many Dwemer there were altogether, but there were too many to fight them off. Brutus knew this all too well, after suffering a loss at Elenglynn of over a dozen dead, they were in no position to fight off this many Dwemer on either fronts. He gave a loud bellow, sounding the call for retreat.
“
Run!!”
The Rangers scattered like the leaves in autumn on a gusty wind. They ran every which way trying to escape the onslaught from the Dwemer. And Brynja? She ran blind into the forest, the screams of those being slaughtered filling the night. She knew that if she could just make it back to Skingrad… she had a chance of surviving.
By the morning of the 14th, those that had survived had found each other on the retreat through the woods. They started the mission with over fifty Rangers, they had replenished their numbers with new volunteers, most feeling reassured at their success in Elenglynn, and now… there were few survivors, Brutus, Kylian, Pollux, Gregor, Raelynn, Jaraleet, Latro, Daro’Vasora, Solandil, and Brynja were all that remained. The return to Skingrad proved harrowing and pressed for time, fear filled their hearts as the Dwemer appearing behind them at any given moment lingered as a possibility. They continued without stopping, only to relieve themselves, not even for sleep nor to eat. They didn’t have the time. The only thing that kept them coming was getting back to Skingrad where safety was found in numbers.
They arrived hungry, and tired in the early evening on the 15th of Second Seed. The atmosphere surrounding Skingrad had changed considerably, though it was hard to pinpoint what exactly had happened until they arrived at the Rangers tent. They stopped to rest when Pollux swore under his breath.
“What in the Gods… the
Dominion is here?” His words caused their heads to turn. Sure enough, a group of five Dominion soldiers swept by, as if on patrol.
Brynja surveyed the scene, contemplating what had happened, she shook her head, “C’mon the lot of you, Rhea would know what’s happened. Plus there’s food, and water.” She shouldered her rucksack and set off for the campsite with the others in tow.
As they made their way through the refugee camp, it was evident to see there were a lack of Skingrad guards. The refugees themselves appeared… exhausted and tired, but quiet? They passed by the main gate where an assembly of Dominion soldiers stood guard around a wagon laden with supplies. A line of refugees formed in front of it, where the soldiers handed off rations, more generous than what the Count had given. Brynja’s head swiveled at a distinct conversation.
“Rumor has it that no one has seen the Count in four days. And look there, that’s Captain Petronius, he doesn’t look as stiff as before.” She turned to look at the commenter, a gruff older man with a dirtied tunic.
“I think it’s a bit odd, to be honest, Count Hassildor would have made an appearance… does he still hide behind his walls?” The speculative conversation was concerning at most. What exactly happened since the Rangers left? Rhea would know.
“If my mouth wasn’t so damned dry, I’d spit in the dirt.” Daro’Vasora remarked to Brynja as they passed the conversation, looking around with slitted eyes that conveyed contempt for the people milled around, gossiping like old hags. “Looks like the Count sold Skingrad out to the fucking people who cost my father his leg. Do you think they’re going to let anyone come and go as they please? This is an act of war.”
“We need to get to Rhea.” Brynja said her words strained.
They reached the campsite within minutes, and what an odd sight to behold. Those that had remained behind, were helping load a wagon with the supplies that they had gathered. There was Calen, in the bed of the wagon, helping to arrange what the supplies were left, Rhona and Megana passed off the items to him while Alim and Durantel handled the larger items. There was Rhea, grim-faced and notably irritated. On seeing her, the remaining Rangers gathered around her as Daro’Vasora and Brynja sought for answers.
“Rhea, what’s happened?” Brynja started, her brows furrowed, hand sweeping towards the scene behind them.
“I’ve hired Calen’s carriage service to get us the hell out of here.” She said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not safe for any of us here, there’s no reason to stay and starve.” Rhea shot back, the bags under her eyes telling a story of a hagrid woman who had not been looking after herself. Tears in her clothing and bandages told of hardship and struggle in the time the Rangers had been gone, and the glances she gave towards the Dominion troops brought a dark cloud to her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly through her nose and composing herself. “We’ve only a small window to get out before the area is locked down and fortified. Skingrad is now a vassal to the Aldmeri Dominion. The new Count saw to that in exchange for providing relief to the people of Skingrad and the refugees. I’ve been assured free passage if we leave immediately before nightfall.”
Daro’Vasora cut in, “New Count?” she demanded.
“We waited for you as long as we could. Now you’re here, we leave.” Rhea responded, walking back towards the wagon, leaving the Nord and Khajiit to share a look.
Brynja shifted uneasily, she didn’t know what to make of this, but she trusted Rhea, “I’m going with her, Vasora. I’m not going to stay here and get caught up in this mess. And yourself, will you come with us?”
“Staying here with the unwashed masses or managing to get somewhere where I can find my footing isn’t a choice at all.” The Khajiit replied, grinding her toe in the dirt. She was exhausted, the battle was all too fresh in her mind. “I don’t trust Rhea, I’m starting to think she’s incompetent. But I’ll follow this road until it’s over, then who knows? I’m still a bit battered and jumpy after, y’know. What happened. We got lucky the first time, and now we’ve escaped what should have been certain death twice because we thought we could win. I’m still, what’s the word? Processing?” she asked rhetorically, readjusting the pack on her back and looking to the wagon. “I just don’t know what’s the smart thing to do anymore. Death seems to be lingering around me like a miasma that everyone around me is breathing too deeply.”
“If there’s anything I learned from the war, Daro’Vasora, it’s if you stay too long in one place, death will find you. The key is to keep moving no matter what. Even if you are afraid. And trust me, I am very afraid.”
“So keep running until you’ve run out of places to run? That does not sound inviting.”
“It’s better than dying.” She pointed out.
A voice thundered across the camp, turning, the two Aldmeri Dominion ambassadors she had spotted their first day in Skingrad now stood on a makeshift podium, triumphantly looking across the sea of people. Standing with them was a familiar Dark Elf to Alim and Rhea; Severus.
“Good people of Cyrodiil, we come to your aid not as conquerors, but as liberators! Where was the Empire when you fled your homes from the onslaught of the invaders? Where was the Empire when you turned to your neighbours and direly required aid? You came to this city, to Skingrad, and Count Hassildor turned his back to the people of Cyrodiil who called to him your most desperate hour, and so that creature of darkness who has ruled for centuries has been disposed of in favour of a Mer who has suffered in quiet indignity for decades, someone who understands that his fellow citizens in Skingrad would prosper as a member of the Aldmeri Dominion, bridging the divide between the worlds of Men and Mer that led to the catastrophe of the Great War. And so, it brings me great pleasure to introduce the fine people of Skingrad and the citizens of Cyrodiil to Count Severus Favani, the new ruler of Skingrad and an emissary between our people and yours.” Runil announced, the male Altmer immaculate in Summerset finery and a glass sword upon his hip, stepped aside to allow Severus to take center stage, his posture erect, his hands behind his back in military fashion.
“I look upon you and see a mixture of emotions; confusion, hurt, loathing, hope… all of you are entitled to the injustices you have suffered and many of you are loyal to the Empire that has let you languish in suffering outside of Skingrad’s walls. It was an injustice that I could no longer tolerate, and Count Hassildor neglected to assist a single one of you because of a pitiful devotion to the Empire.” the Dunmer let this linger for several moments, letting his eyes scan the crowd around him. “Let me ask you this, my friends and compatriots; what on Nirn has the Empire done for any of us? We swear devotion to an Empire that was founded from the bones of the Septims, who in turn conquered all of Tamriel, our ancestors, with a weapon of damning power; the Numidium. It was a weapon of Dwemer construction powered by blasphemy of the greatest order. None could stand against it, and soon all of our ancestors bent the knee to Tiber Septim, who looked upon all of our people as fruits for the harvest.
“That is what the Empire is, a malignant tumour that could only tolerate peace so long as it subjugated each and every one of us. Now the Dwemer are back; how long do you think it will be before they unleash a new Numidium upon us all, and will Emperor Felix Mede decide to use this new weapon upon Tamriel once more to cement his own legacy in hopes of becoming a new Talos? I do not know about you, but I prefer to stand on the right side of history. The Dominion will ensure our safety and not capitulate to the whims of the Deep Elves. Each of you now stand with the charity of Summerset, the Valenwood, and the Khajiiti Kingdoms in your stomachs, your veins, your hearts; they have provided the food and medicine each of you desperately needed. Before that, I orchestrated supplies to be snuck out of Hassildor’s clutches to help the most needy. You are safe because I wished it so, because I wasn’t afraid to break with tradition because the people matter to me more than an allegiance forced by a tyrant centuries ago.
“I understand that many of you have reservations about this new order, and for many, the wounds of the Great War may never heal, which is why those of you wishing to return to the Empire will be permitted to leave until sunrise tomorrow, where the Dominion will be forced to entrench to protect the populace against aggression. Supplies will be offered freely, and we encourage you to make use of them. For those who wish to remain, we will ensure that you are all adequately fed, sheltered, and protected, and together we will ensure a bright future for us all. Thank you.” with that, he stepped away from the stage, and it was difficult to gauge the overall reaction from the crowd, past perhaps disbelief or confusion.
Rhea scowled, holding her arms tightly around herself, “That’s why we need to go. Understand?” she said. And so her group along with the surviving Rangers began to break up camp, preparing for departure from an ever tightening noose. It would seem that another front for the war was soon to be on the horizon, only no one believed the Empire had enough in it to withstand both.
Before the break of dawn, Rhea roused the group from their sleep as the grey light of morning crept across the land. Like a curtain being swept back from a window, the rising sun brightened the eastern horizon, chasing away the heavy blanket of night. Unbeknownst to Rhona, Cezare had found her on the morning the caravan set out. He couldn’t believe his eyes, there she stood, smiling and chatting away with Calen, of all people. The blood boiling in his veins at the blatant betrayal, he set out to gather some friends that would aid him in his
conquest of regaining his estranged wife. He decided to play it safe, with such a large group and well armored, he would need to catch her when she was alone. It didn’t help that a particular Altmer hovered nearby when she wasn’t close to Calen. That rat bastard. Cezare would make certain he would pay as well. Rhea had slept little that night, her mind heavy with the consequences of her choices. Part of her wondered if Alim struggled in a similar fashion. Nevertheless, as the morning sun ascended, the caravan headed westward. Many in the group had to walk as the carriage held most of their supplies, leaving Calen to drive Danish along the western road. For once, the weather yielded plentiful sunshine and warm breezes fragranced with the smell of sweet meadow grasses, and blossoming flowers. With such amicable weather, it felt like a lie to Brynja, with everything that had happened, did they even deserve pleasant days like this? So many had died and continued to suffer, yet here they were, making their way across Cyrodiil towards Anvil. The end of the first day on the road was spent in remote silence, no one having the stomach to say much, but by the afternoon of the second day the caravan’s spirits had lifted.
The remainder of the journey proved uneventful, no bandits, no wild animals, nor foul weather. It felt almost
too easy. Rhea had kept quiet for the majority of the journey, only speaking when needed. The thoughts swirling around her mind were dark and troubled, she struggled to rationalize and reason with herself over the choices she had made. Hadn’t she done what any sensible leader would have done? She had done what was necessary to ensure the livelihood of those under her care, but was it the right thing?
Brynja spent her time keeping to herself, even though she helped act as a guard for the wagon by taking to the front of the group. She noticed Daro’Vasora spent more time around Latro, and that didn’t surprise her in the least. She had noticed the two of them drifting closer together, and to be quite frank, it didn’t bother her in the least. She felt… happy, that Daro’Vasora had someone to turn to. Though, the more she thought about the two of them together, the more it crushed her spirit. Brynja tried not to engage in her own self-pity, while the small amount of alcohol did little to soothe her fraggled mind. One night, Brynja had found sleep particularly hard to come by, and as she left her tent, she caught sight of Rhona leaving her own tent. Their eyes met, and Rhona smiled.
“Can’t sleep?” She asked softly so as not to wake anyone. Brynja shook her head.
“Come walk with me.” She offered, waving her hand. Together the two set off into darkness. They hadn’t wandered far before Rhona took a seat amongst the meadowgrasses, patting a spot next to her. For hours on end, the two of them shared Rhona’s pipe until Brynja had become too drowsy to stand, and so they returned to camp, where Rhona bid her a farewell, and slipped into her tent. Rhona had warned Brynja of the effects of smoking mugwort, and for once, she had the deepest of sleeps with the most vivid dreams, something that revolved around her mind like a water wheel.
Anvil, 21st Second Seed, 4E208…The crown jewel of the Gold Coast loomed ahead like a shining beacon in the late afternoon sun as the caravan approached, they were exhausted and footsore after a weary five and a half day march and camping expedition. The climate held a warm, almost subtropical atmosphere, largely in part to the same currents that made Hammerfell a hot arid climate, and even allowed Summerset to enjoy the same lush climate that was said to always be warm and inviting. For those in the caravan, Anvil was safety, and arguably the most beautiful thing they’d seen in a long time. While Anvil received a number of people who had fled the Imperial City, along with the subsequent influx of those coming from Skingrad to escape Dominion influence, the city held a peaceful and relaxing aura, nothing appeared out of place or amiss, save for an increased Legion presence. The Legion ranked up their establishment of wartime defences, and a number of Imperial warships acted like guardians in the harbour.
Word had reached Anvil about the fall of Imperial City along with Skingrad’s capitulation to the Dominion, rattling those loyal to the Empire; the Legions were still stalwart defenders of the Empire, its crack soldiers and daring officers were second to none, but only a fool would fail to see that they’d suffered heavy blows that severely limited their options; they couldn’t move on Skingrad without risking leaving Anvil and Kvatch exposed to a Dominion encirclement. They couldn’t move on the Imperial City without risking everything due to the unknown danger the Dwemer posed; all they knew was that they were incredibly advanced with technology and made such short work of the Imperial City’s defenders that many believed them invincible. Morale, needless to say, was very low across the board.
And so, the Legionnaires of Anvil implored any new arrivals to share what intelligence they could about the happenings to the East, and the Dwemer.
Daro’Vasora knew that this was the end of the road for the band of companions she’d been a part of for entirely too long for her liking. They were safe, or as safe as that word could possibly mean in this climate. Seeing this as an opportunity to break free of Rhea’s meddlesome grasp once and for all, she turned to the Imperial woman. “All of this is your fault, you know. Nothing you’ve done the past few weeks has been anything except a vanity project of yours to glue the shattered vase back together, only you’re missing most of the pieces because they’re no longer alive. You meddled in things you never understood, you clung to each of us like a mother hen who was possessive to the point of suffocation, and I don’t know what in Oblivion you did in Skingrad, but I saw the way you looked at that Dunmer and the Dominion troops. You had your hand in that, didn’t you?” she stepped away with a dismissive push towards Rhea. “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t pay any of us, and we all made it just fine without you lording over us. Good riddance, and go fuck yourself. I’m done.” she stepped away, beginning the walk towards the Legionnaire captain who was called for information.
Rhea didn’t say anything in response, a darkness had crept over her features. Instead, she resumed walking towards the gates of the city, as if daring anyone else to pick sides or to abandon her like the insolent Khajiit. “I did what I had to.” She said to no one in particular. “At least you’re all safe.”
The group made it through the gates of the the city, the white walls and red tiled roofed buildings were a distinctive mark to the city, while oil lamp posts gave the coastal port a somewhat vacation destination vibe. The populace appeared relaxed, and everyone continued their daily routines; merchants hawked wares in the streets, the smell of roasting fish came from restaurants, and entertainers performed on the cobblestone pathways for coin. Considering the desolation and soul-crushing despondency they’d come from, it was a bit of a shock, like all of the horrors that had seemed to follow them didn’t exist here, like a nightmare that had been so hard to wake up from.
“Well, port towns like this are a good place to look for young and eager fighters. I’m going to see about gathering some recruits.” Brutus mentioned, the remainder of the Rangers still standing by his side.
“You’re going back?” Rhea asked, incredulously.
The balding Imperial nodded. “Fight isn’t over yet. Just because the calm exists here doesn’t mean it will remain that way. I’m an old soldier; peace has to be earned and maintained by fighting for it. The Rangers aren’t in any condition to fight right now, but the war isn’t going anywhere. It’s waiting for us. It’s been an honour.” he saluted the group, and the Rangers departed into the streets, likely to find a tavern to pay tribute to their fallen comrades.
“I could use a drink right about now.” Brynja said, part of her wondered if she could get away with another drinking contest like she had back in the Imperial City. She turned to Rhea, speaking softly, “You did what you had to do. And you brought us here despite all of the travesties we’ve endured. If you ever need a blade, check any tavern, and you’re bound to find me.” Brynja bowed at the waist, and when she rose up, she looked Rhea square in the eye. She grunted with a nod, and left.
Rhona on the other hand, was incredibly familiar with Anvil, as she had just come from there not even four weeks ago. She turned to face Mortalmo, her words soft spoken, “I need to raise some coin, I’ll be off enchanting items in the street if you need me before the day is over.” By then those remaining had begun to fizzle out, they said their goodbyes and drifted off into the sea of people.
Auz
Spoopy Scary
Baklava
Silverwind Blade
