Private The Last Dragonborn

[Humbungala]

Irelius nodded to Rogvar and began his demonstration. He rolled his wrists, conjuring a thin line of flame as he had previously in the cave. After the line connected his hands, he quickly changed to frost and created an ice spike over the fire. He shot the spike a few feet to his side, and again after the smash a small explosion of flame followed. He repeated the spell once more, before looking at his audience for approval. "I call it the frostfire spike. So what do you think?" An this is only my first attempt at a new spell. Irelius smiled, displaying his pride over his accomplishment and eagerly awaited feedback.

 

[heliumradio]

"Ahhh..." Anya watched fire and ice erupt from the mage's hand, nodding. "That was impressive. I doubt I have the power to match it, but if I did, I would request a lesson." She smiled. "You're quite talented to create a spell. I wasn't aware it was possible." She turned to Roggvar. "THAT is real magic, boy. The little I can do, it means almost nothing. Burn a few twigs, perhaps, but create a spell? Never." Perhaps it was the sunlight, or perhaps the comfortable tree, but she was in a good mood, and it showed. She fiddled with her dagger, lazily cutting lines in the grass and half-watching the sparring match in front of her. The day was good, at least for the moment.

 

[Snoball]

At first, Remy had lost sight of Virk in the dense dust. It wasn't until moments later he saw the man quickly escalating the tree the others had been sitting by. Despite clearly seeing him re-arm himself with branches, Remy couldn't climb a tree to save his life, and simply took his distance to prevent another surprise, athletic attack by his opponent. With no use left for the thinning dust Remy blew it away as Virk gracefully dismounted from the tree.

With both men beginning to get exhausted and overwhelmed, Remy knew both their resources were rapidly depleting. Remy still had his sword, but had used up energy swinging it around and going on the offense, a first for him. With a slight spin to it, Remy swung once more, but at a speed relatively slower to his previous attack. Before it landed, BETA had scanned another source by accident. It picked up readings from Irelius's spell being cast.

"Rogue element detected."

The momentary distraction caused him to swing too early, effectively missing Virk in the process.

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Virk was so amazed by Irelius' new spell he didn't notice Remy had just missed him in a spinning attack. His back was killing him as well as his thigh. The breton was turning out to be a formidable foe, disabling him to make any easy fight unlike the first time they sparred. Virk's energy was running out quickly after his acrobatics, his stunts, his climbing, all the skills he wished he had showed his father to make him proud. The thought motivated and angered him at the same time. Quickly grasping his sleeve for the green leaves he had collected earlier, he cast them at Remy in order to gain some time while confusing him. Surely it was no dust, but no one, not even if as smart as the man would predict such a thing. While sprinting away with all the energy he had left, Virk found an opportunity of stepping on the tree he had climbed before's log and tackling Remy, who would most surely have gotten closer to chase him. He jumped, as usual, and met a terrible flaw in his plan: Virk had no energy to rebounce from the tree. His spine snapped, his body slammed against the ground, and his wooden dagger landed lightly in front of his now full of dust face. "Sweet Beatrice! That hurts!" His trembling hand tried to reach the dagger as his foe appeared to get closer. What a humiliating positon, fallen in front of the rest of the group, disarmed, in the middle of the battle, in an attempt of making a finishing manoeuvre which would probably have secured Virk's victory. After a few seconds which looked and felt like hours to Virk, his fingers finally felt the touch of the improvised weapon. Closing his eyes in pain, Virk tried to pull the dagger closer to his own grasp.

 

[Snoball]

Remy initially saw Virk gather the leaves before, but hadn't predicted how he would have used them. Perhaps he over-thought it, not even assuming they would simply be used to momentarily confuse him. Brushing the leaves from his face, Remy gave chase to his opponent, who had taken the opportunity to make use of his environment once more. Remy was nowhere as fast as Virk, so he was beaten to the tree by a wide margin. The tide seemed to be in the Imperial's favor until he failed to properly rebound off the tree.

"Sweet Beatrice! That hurts!" Remy saw Virk writhing in pain on the ground. He continued to inch further toward his make-shift dagger, spending what little energy he had left. Remy had also been spent up by this point, and would have certainly been defeated had Virk connected with his maneuver. Remy ceased running and slowly walked to him. Both had given all they could, and further fighting wouldn't benefit anyone. Although Virk continued to pull the dagger further, Remy didn't wish to inflict more pain against his friend, and stuck his sword in the ground as well.

"I think it's about time we call it quits, friend." He knelt down to Virk, offering him his hand. "How is your back holding up? You took quite the tumble."

 

[IAmRoggvar98]

Roggvar looked on as the fight ended. "That was rather... impressive, don't you think?" Roggvar turned to Irelius, "And speaking of impressive, that spell was amazing. I assume its purpose is to let you hold the spell for longer, since frost is your area of expertise?"

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Virk sighed. If it wasn't the dropkick Remy forced him to perform thanks to his spider's quick scan, Virk's energy wouldn't snap conveniently at the middle of such an accrobatic move as that stunt. "Amazing... Wind spitter." Virk muttered on the ground, giving up on getting the dagger close to him, admitting how much the dwemer weapons could blow one's mind. His blood had dried now in his lips and the wound from the failed block had closed. It looked like the breton proved himself a fierce opponent after all that time training. "While fighting"_ He got up, taking Remy's hand to help him._ "...Virk made up his mind. If Remy won't mind, Virk wants the fire spitter in his right hand, instead of the finger on the right of his thumb." His tone was now a more serious one, once again. "But please, teach Virk how to work with such a masterpiece!" If a sword caused him so much trouble while sparring, not even a real fight, a flamethrower would definitely cost a lot more of time to master, and for someone who was clueless about dwarven mechanics, it would be even more amusingly challenging.

 

[Humbungala]

Irelius smiled, proud and happy that the others liked the spell he had created. "Frost is my area of expertise yes. I figured why not add a little more to my ice spikes, and since there wasn't much I could do with the ice spike itself, I practiced adding fire to the twist." Irelius casted the spell again, faster than he had before. "I have no idea the effect it will have on a living being, though. So far I've just smashing the spikes, I have yet to find out what happens when it pierces through something and remain unbroken." Irelius sat down where he stood and crossed his legs, playing with fire in his hands and losing himself to his thoughts. Never did I think I would become this strong of a mage. Who knows what more I'm capable of?


Irelius leaned back, extinguishing the fire and holding himself up with his hands. He remembered his life back in Cyrrodil, and the trials he faced to join the Arcane university. Many had told him that hand to hand combat and magic could never coincide. While many praised his unique talent of combining the two, many doubted him and bid him a fool. It was because of the controversy of him bringing physical combat into the University and him never getting the chance of becoming Arch-Mafe that he left to join the mages at Winterhold. Irelius smiled to himself and couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. If only they saw me now.

 

[Snoball]

"...Virk made up his mind. If Remy won't mind, Virk wants the fire spitter in his right hand, instead of the finger on the right of his thumb."

"I-is he s-sure about this?" Remy had momentarily forgotten about Virk's request. He figured Virk would simply forget about it as time passed, but seeing as he had made up his mind, Remy would have to make his as well. He had only performed an augmentation twice, and was relatively new to the concept. "But please, teach Virk how to work with such a masterpiece!"

Remy saw the eager look in the man's eyes and confirmed that he had his heart set on this. "It would be my pleasure, friend. If given a bit of time, I should have a proper design in mind." Remy walked over to a stump next to where the others were sitting, still addressing his soon to be patient. "And no givesies-backsies, Mr. Virk! Once that thing is on, it's there to stay." Remy jokingly laughed as he grabbed a piece of parchment from his pocket. He would try to design the template as the others trained.

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Virk sat under the tree with the rest of the group, possibly just by seeing the rest of them doing the same. He looked at his hand amazed by the thrill of the thought. A few days later, his forefinger's tip would be spitting fire as a mini-dragon. Amazing! "Is Roggvar to fight Anya now?" He leaned back on the tree before he spied a grasshoper nearby. Swiftly, he caught it in the middle of his two hands, to later put it inside his left one while he picked up some leaves for it to eat. That would make it realize that Virk was his friend. At least that would be what he thought. When he opened his hand, the insect just jumped and flew away. "Aww..." He looked sad at the ground, now paying attention to the incoming spar between his acquaintances.

 

[IAmRoggvar98]

Roggvar brandished his practice sword, balancing his stance with his bad hand. "Shall we?"

 

[The Phantom]

Malitiasicarius entered the dining hall undetected, hiding in the shadows. He eavesdropped on the two Blades until the conversation had played out, rather interested in their thoughts. Stepping out of the darkness, Malitiasicarius walked over to the duo as though he had just arrived in the room. However much his facial expression or voice may have hinted about his deceit, both were muffled by the mask.

The Dragonborn had been planning the attack on Markarth for a month now, checking the plan constantly; he only let one other know of it, the man who he tasked of spreading it to Arngeir. Now he was about to bring his plan to fruition
"BLADES! You are to assemble in the training area, legion by legion! Now go, I have something spectacular planned." He turned to Destrik and Seryn "You two are to stand with me. I shall explain further during my speech.


The Blades had all assembled as instructed, legion by legion; in the courtyard. Malitiasicarius' army was truly both terrifying yet magnificent in a strange compilation of the two. Most would expect a crowd waiting for a speech to be murmuring. Not in the Blades. Discipline had been taught to them as their first rule.

Malitiasicarius stood by the doors in the courtyard, looming over his army. He began his speech "My Blades. Today shall be a glorious day both for you and me. Today I plan to take the Reach! Months of planning has gone into this attack and it shall not fail! I have spread rumours which found their way to Arngeir, who now plans to send his apprentices to intercept us. However they are under the impression it is just a small force to force money from the Forsworn. They will be unprepared for us. We shall be ready for them and we shall beat them. But listen! You must not kill them. Once the city is taken you are to bring them to me in the Keep." He paused to let it sink in and for dramatic effect before carrying on "Zeta Legion you are to stay behind and guard the Temple. The rest everyone to Markarth. Talk with the Commander for your specific orders. Me and Destrik shall be leading the army from the front! Go!"

Satisfied with his speech he turned to Seryn and told her that she is to cover him and Destrik as well as finish the ones they leave behind.


One hour later battle cries were heard around Markarth. The clashing if steel and the screams of the dead. The one overpowering noise was the Thu'um of the Dragonborn. The Battle for Markarth had begun!

(I'm sorry for the poor quality. I wrote it from my phone and rushed a lot. The fault is entirely mine.)

 

[Zander Feredon]

Markath streets were paved in blood, cries could be heard from every corner of the reach and the Dragonborn's forces overran everyone they encountered. Destrik smiled, he took pleasure in watching men and women alike fall at his feet. His only disappointment was that he was not doing much fighting himself. He spent most of his time at the wall in a tent, answering questions for the blade soldiers.

''Sir, the front gate is barred how are we supposed to get in?'' Asked a Blade soldier.

''Are you ignorant? take the ladders up to the battlements, have the archers rain down support as you climb onto and over the wall itself and unlock it from the inside.'' Roared Destrik.

Sometimes Destrik found himself questioning the intelligence of many of his underlings. by this point Destrik was itching to get into the fight, to kill the innocent. He held back his urges though, for he had a mission. Wait for the first of the resistance, Arngier's little pets, And cripple them for lord Malitiasicarius. Then he could kill all he wanted.

 

[IAmRoggvar98]

Arngeir suddenly came from inside the cave, a look of concern adding weary years to his kind face. "Come, everyone. The attack on Markarth has already begun!"

Roggvar dropped his practice weapon and ran to his bow, slinging it across his back. His quiver, sword, and dagger were soon to follow. He stopped for a moment to address Anya, "Perhaps we can spar another day, Anya." He gulped, suddenly realizing the lump in his throat growing was not only from the danger of the approaching situation, but also the fear of danger to Anya, or any of his friends in life. He embraced Anya briefly, pulling away before his face could show his thoughts. " 'Tis a good day to die, is it not?" Roggvar smirked childishly, but he felt spikes of uncertainty in his stomach. He clasped her shoulder, and then turned and sprinted to untie his horse.

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Out of nowhere Roggvar freaked out and moved to gods-knew-where. "Roggvar should..." Virk lost track of him. "wait..." Virk tried to desperately get up from the ground with his terrible condition in the spine and his pupils thinned themselves at such a painful feeling when his thorax once again stretched. Then Virk noticed Roggvar once again. "Oh, he was just untying his horse..." Well, the madman still had none. "Does anyone share Virk's fate of having to walk around?" Sometimes he hated not having anything worthy on his pockets. It could have given him a horse. Itching for battle, or just wanting to move, he began limbing his way to Markarth. But before any of the group could lose track of him, his biggest enemy appeared. Solitude. "Maybe one of those who cannot get a horse will give Virk the honor of going with him?" He hid his dislike at loneliness with a smile and awaited answer.

 

[heliumradio]

Roggvar's sudden embrace startled her, but rather than push him away, she returned the gesture. She heard fear in his voice, and she understood it. He ran to his horse, pulling at the tie.

"Wait." She looked at the group and took a deep breath. "This is not the way. If we all approach, we raise suspicion. We will die before we have a chance to do anything." She was fairly certain she had a better idea, but it would require considerable risk to her own life, likely as not. The idea did not please her. "It would be wiser for one of us to go in first and at least get a look, if only a brief one. If we attack head on, we risk instant death."

She sighed, already regretting these thoughts. "Remy, you are a Breton, so perhaps the Forsworn would let you pass, but the moment you speak, you will be discovered. I believe I am the only one who has faced them and survived, yes? And I suspect very few Blade are elves. I may be able to get close. I can hide from them, and if they discover me, I can probably outrun them." She glanced at Roggvar. "It would require allowing me to borrow your horse."

 

[Snoball]

Much like the others, Remy had been caught off guard by the sudden change in pace. With the attack having come along sooner than the group would have expected. Following the sudden embrace, Roggvar was quick to act, while Virk, still feeling the effects of the battle, wearily began moving forth by foot before asking if one wanted to alongside him. Before Remy could respond, Anya had proposed her spontaneous plan, much to Remy's discontent. He stood back up, still gripping his torso.

"I... I'm afraid I must protest, Miss Anya. The way the Forsworn position themselves near the mountains, they're sure to catch a good glimpse of you from their altitude. With the likelihood of the Imperials pouring into the Reach to help defend it, the Reachmen are bound to be immediately hostile to 'intruders'." Remy took a deep breath and looked down to his bruised chest. "Plus, you're at 100%. I'm not. Why risk a perfectly functioning part when you can wager a busted one in its place?"

Even through his protests, Remy couldn't help but take a mental note of her choice of words. "Get a look... faced them and survived... able to get close... discover me." Remy was unsure why these specific phrases stood out to him. Little did he know the Altmer had unintentionally aided him in coming up with an idea. One that could both help evade the Forsworn and in the fight against the Dragonborn. "Look, faced, survived, close, discover.... wait, that's too far is it not... no, unless of course... but it does lie in between... no way. That's..." The expression on Remy's face was one of intense joy. "That's utterly brilliant!"

 

[Humbungala]

A sudden chill ran down Irelius' spine when news of Markarth was raised to their attention. He had been preparing for battle, but now that it has finally come, he was nervous. No, I have no need to fear. We are strong, we will prevail. He shook his head to clear his thoughts of doubt, and prepared his things. The others spoke of plans while he stood and listened. He cared not what they did, as long as it was logical and the chances of success were high. He became powerful in his magic, and it will not fail him, nor the group.

"Hey Rogvar." Irelius put his hand on Rogvar's shoulder and turned him around, "Who said anything about dying?" Irelius gave him an assuring smile, and turned to the rest of the group. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to kick some ass."

 

[Writes-Many-Posts]

Everyone began talking about strategy. That usual feeling of being clueless about a subject came back to Virk, making him become useless to the chat and be forced to remain silent. Remy was arguing about infiltrating in a camp of forsworn, surely nobody would like to do anything like that, if their own sake was to matter. His answer had to be very abstract, if he wanted to look like he was an expert in the matter and he didn't say any rubbish in the strategic view. Filling his lungs with air, trying to class his voice up, he uttered calmly. "I..." Virk began scratching his chin in a clever mode, before finishing the sentence. "...agree." Precisely, what did he agree with? Not even Virk himself could tell, but the enigma could only make his mind even more mysterious and none could say he was mistaken. Genius! He had spoken about something he had no knowledge about and nobody around could correct any of his two well placed words. He folded his arms, feeling very proud of his achievement and mentally crossed his fingers, hoping nobody would ask such an awful question as: Please, justify?

 

[IAmRoggvar98]

Roggvar turned to Irelius, "Me too." Although he was high-strung with the sudden change of pace, he allowed himself to smirk genuinely.

"I agree with all of you that approaching headfirst is not a good idea, but we must formulate a strategy fast, as we have little time. What points should we focus pressure on, and how do we reach them? With the ultimate goal of finding and confronting the Dragonborn, I suspect that, due to both his pride and power, we will find our opponent already on the battlefield. He should be easy to find, but we will undoubtedly die if we face him head on, even all at once. We must find an advantage to use as leverage to damage him, or at least push his forces back. Perhaps allying ourselves with the Forsworn will allow us to focus solely on the Blades, although I know little of their ways. Is this possible, Anya?"