Chapter XVII: Battle of Dawnstar, Prelude

(General POV, about a day earlier)

A group of some ten gaunt figures dressed in plain black robes covered in nondescript light armor stood around in a circle, the haunting growls of the Draugr walking all around them failing to disturb an of them.

"Are the preparations finished?" The eldest among them asked a pair of youths that just entered the chamber.

"They are, Jonas." The young man of the pair answered "After the final count we have some seven hundred or so Draugr, that is including the three hundred or so servant bodies."

Jonas scoffed "We will have to bait them then." He turned to one of the other magi present "What about the traps?"

A woman in her late twenties shrugged "Made as much as I could even with the supplies he gave us but they will slow them down at best."

"Which is the entire point, woman." The man scoffs "There is no way in hell we are stopping a whole army, we are here to buy time and die like the cannon fodder we are."

Callen, the young man of the young pair looked at him with a mix of fury and surprise "Shut your hole old man, we were given scrolls to make our retreat when this is over, if you want to die because you are paranoid then go ahead."

"Better to be paranoid than to trust that insane Mephalan fuck." Jonas grouses and a couple of the other necromancers nod their agreement.

Jenna, the young woman beside Cullen scoffs and grabs her partner's shoulder "Don't listen to them, we are getting out of here alive."

The young man nodded slowly, almost hesitantly "Aye, we've done enough by now, I think we've earned our lives at least."

They both hoped it wasn't a mere platitude.

(Elsewhere)

Galmar Stone-Fist marched before the vanguard of his King's army, his brow creased as he considered the thousands of men and women who had joined their force practically overnight.

He did not doubt the fact they needed more bodies to throw at the enemy but he was a Great War veteran and he knew deep down that conscripts made for very poor soldiers. At least he would be able to use them to buy the true warriors a chance for glory, he thought.

"Stone-Fist, we have company!" One of his men shouted, his hand pointing toward the entrance of an old Nordic tomb, a group of three dozen Draugr handling old bows had rushed out when he wasn't looking and were preparing to loose arrows at his men.

 It took him a mere split second to react and he was already charging at the ancient undead, his weapon swinging in a wide arc as he shattered the first embalmed creature to shreds, his men followed behind him and rushed to join the fight, but just as a couple more were cut down and they were about to engage them in truth, the Draugr retreated within the tomb.

"Damnation!" One of the housecarls cursed "They challenge us!"

Galmar did not see it that way but it was better his men thought that to be the case instead of the obvious bait being laid out for them. Still, if he simply let the undead do what they willed they would just keep attacking them at random and that was unacceptable, both for their numbers and their morale.

So, with a heavy heart, Stone-Fist grunted and signaled for a couple of his less valuable men to move in and scout.

The moment they stepped within the bounds of the tomb a rune below them lit up and burned them alive.

This was going to be a long day, wasn't it?

(On the necromancers' side)

The Stormcloaks wasted no time in assaulting their positions, and whoever was leading them knew what they were doing as multiple traps were avoided and many ambushes foiled, leading to three necromancer conscripts dying already.

"Damn it all." Jonas snarled and pointed at one of his fellows "You, go and collapse the passages!"

"Y-yes!" The skittish man nodded and rushed off.

That ought to slow them down at least.

And it did, the Stormcloaks were forced down a pre-prepared path with dozens and of them dying with each and every turn they made, and once their bodies fell they soon rose to strike at their former comrades, further adding to the slaughter.

Hours passed as more necromancers slowly fell to their assailants, and soon the main chamber was close to being breached, with only Jonas and the young pair still remained among the living and their undead were being depleted at a rapid pace.

Sighing in acceptance, Jonas turned to the duo "We've held for as long as we could, you two should get out of here now."

Callen blinked "B-but what about you?"

"What about me?" Jonas scoffed "I fully accept and understand why I am here, and I know I deserve it. Fucking Flame-Tongue was right in that, at the very least." He shakes his head "You two on the other hand are young and should look to live your lives a bit before throwing them away."

The duo shared a look before nodding resolutely and opening a pair of scrolls, soon disappearing with the sound of cracking glass.

Jonas chuckled "Would you look at that, the fucker wasn't lying." He looked back to the doorway as it was slowly torn apart and with an air of resignation started chugging potion after potion, once more courtesy of their 'employer'

Power like he had not felt in his life flowed in his veins even as he poisoned himself to a slow death and he started cackling like a complete madman, corpses which were previously in too poor a shape to be risen slowly stood up and the entire tomb came to life as howls of undead rage were met with the hatred filled battle cries of the Stormcloaks.

By the time his sanctum was breached, Jonas was not coherent enough to notice the axe sailing for his head, nor the snarling bear-hooded man that swung it.

(Galmar's POV)

I spit on the insane fuck that had just cost me hundreds of my men, my troops slowly flowing in behind me as they made sure the undead could not rise again.

I was just about to relax when a messenger boy rushed inside and called out "Lord Galmar, terrible news!"

"What is it whelp?" I rounded on him.

"Our supply train was just ambushed, undead they say, and lots of them!" The boy answered quickly "They managed to slay them but the battle caused a small avalanche and blocked off the rest of our troops."

I closed my eyes, contemplated the fact that a bunch of rogue necromancers just cost us days of time, and finally swore "FUCK!"

(Remaining necromancers' POV)

Callen and Jenna appeared within the imperial encampment in a flash of color, both of them too worn out to even care about the vertigo caused by such a sudden shift. In fact, they would have probably let themselves sleep then and there had it not been for the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Both of them immediately turned rigid as they stood up and saluted the elf that waited for them.

They dared not speak and were thankfully spared of any further awkwardness as Reyvin Flame-Tongue spoke first "Are you all that is left?" He asked, almost uninterested.

"Yes." Callen nodded "Y-yes sir!" He quickly added.

The elf shook his head "Pity, I had expected more of you to have instincts of self preservation." He waves his hand and two folded scrolls appear within his grip "No matter, take these and present them at the College of Winterhold, your conscription is over and by the authority the High King vested in me you are hereby pardoned for your crimes."

Both of them stared at the elf, their mouths agape. They would have probably remained staring for a great while longer but the repeated waving of the Court Mage's hand quickly told them of his annoyance as they grabbed the scrolls and bowed to show their gratitude.

By the time they rose their heads they realized they were completely alone in the tent.

(Back to the present, Reyvin's POV)

I pondered the reports coming in, before swiftly getting bored and speaking up "Why don't we go and see what the rebels want? They seem to be quite eager to talk."

As soon as the words leave my mouth Tullius promptly tries to ruin my fun "Why would we waste time speaking to the rebels? I'd say that their intentions are clear as day even from here." 

"General, General." I look down at him chidingly "You can't forgo the time honored tradition of pre battle shit talking, that is just not done."

The fact that some of his Nordic officers nod along with my words as if they were gospel of the divine itself does not go over the old General's head as he glares at us, equally at first but soon focusing fully on his own men as at least that had some minor effect.

"Look" I point to the other end of the field excitedly "It seems even the rebels agree!"

Tullius slowly palms his face and sighs "Fine."

"Yus!" I clutch my fist triumphantly.

---

It did not take long before messages were exchanged between both sides and a short parley was agreed upon. We all knew nothing would come of it but there was always a chance of gaining some information through these 'pre battle meetups' so we still packed up and met Ulfric and his group atop a very small hill exactly between our forces.

Both parties brought ten guards with them and were made up of three leaders.

Tullius, Rikke and myself representing the Empire 'Oi!' And our opponents were represented by Ulfric himself, Galmar Stone-Fist and a rather crispy looking Grimnir Shatter-Shield.

'Well done indeed.'

"What is this Shatter-Shield?" I ask before anyone has the time to speak "Have you no healers over in Windhelm?"

The burned man glares at me with such hatred I would think he was trying to share his affliction but Ulfric stops him before he can offer a retort "Don't let him provoke you." I hear him mutter "You said you were ready."

The old man seems to war with himself briefly but deflates after a while "Very well."

Scorch whistles 'Damn, even his voice sounds crispy!'

Tullius observed the little exchange with a glint in his eyes that was not there before and just as I finished goading our enemies it seemed as if he made some kind of decision, his back straightening and even while he was shorter than the man he seemed to look down on the rebel leader, his tone sounding dismissive as he spoke "Why have you requested to talk, Ulfric?"

The 'Rightful High King' as he liked to be called was unmoved by the lack of title but this was not shared with his subordinates as Galmar almost growled in response to the Imperial's choice of words "If you must continue to dispute Lord Ulfric's kingship then you will refer to him by his title as Jarl."

The air seems to shift around him as The General chuckles at the response, a grin of such self satisfaction soon spreading on his face that I thought the man possessed for a brief moment "Funny you should mention that." He muses and proffers his hand to his second in command "Rikke."

She nods and quickly pulls out a folded scroll with Emperor Titus' own seal upon it.

The General unrolls it and clears his throat "As of the twentieth of first seed, in the two hundredth year of the fourth era, due to their unlawful and violent attempt to attain a higher position of power and their inability to control their forces and the suffering caused by such a lack of ability, the Stormcloak clan is hereby stripped of all noble rights and privileges, the city of Windhelm included within those same rights.

Signed: Emperor Titus Mede II of Tamriel and High King Torygg of Skyrim."

The entire hill turns completely silent... Well, silent save for my quiet childish giggling 'To think Titus managed to do this without me knowing!' Rarely did I find myself genuinely impressed by someone and this was one of those times.

While both of his aides were close to frothing at the mouth Ulfric remained outwardly composed and coldly retorted "The decisions of a fallen Empire and a false High King are not something that either my people or I recognize."

Oh he may have looked composed but the burning fury I could feel coming from within the depths of his soul far outstripped that of Shatter-Shield's anger at the damage I inflicted upon his crusty ass.

"Your willful stubbornness surprises no one." The General practically ignores him "Now, Ulfric." He repeats, pointedly glaring at the once veteran legionary that was Galmar "Why have you called for this parley?"

The false king's eyes fall upon the distant field briefly before he speaks "I have come to tell you to leave. We both have the dragons to contend with now and getting your men killed here will leave the other holds open to attack." His back straightened "So I say go, leave us to protect our kin against this new threat."

An obvious attempt to buy time to recover his forces and fortify but I would have none of that "Pathetic." I spit out with more vitriol than I thought myself feeling "To think that you, the man who inadvertently caused their presence in the first place would try and use the dragons for your own ends." I spit on the ground between our two groups "For all your bravado and false confidence you have come here to see your men dead and this little revolt finally over, so shut up and wait for death like the good little Thalmor puppet you are."

I do not wait for their response as I turn to leave, pointedly dragging the Legion officers with me and not letting them look back as we were swiftly surrounded by our guards and descended the hill.

The Stormcloaks glared at our backs the entire time as we descended and for a giddy moment I almost hoped Ulfric would try and use the thu'um in some petty attempt at revenge but his window of opportunity soon passed and they too were forced to return to their army.

The little fact that his officers were questioning him on the exact meaning of my words as they did so was just a nice little bonus.

"I have to say that went far better than I expected." Tullius hums in satisfaction.

Rikke gives him a dumbfounded look "All we did was go up there and throw insults at them without even letting them talk!"

"Exactly!" I nod happily.

"That was the entire point Legate." Tullius smiles "We agitated the enemy leadership without suffering no such fate ourselves."

"So much for shit talk being a waste of time." I huff.

The General gives me a sour look "Just let me have this."

--------

A mere hour passed before the Stormcloaks started sending out their vanguard skirmishers from their own fortified campsite positioned snugly at the exit of the pass they used to get here. Their walls were not as uniform and well made as the Imperials but they still managed to create an imposing defensive position with a combination of grit, stubbornness and lots of pounded dirt.

This also made our own artillery mostly ineffectual as even with Cyrodiilic expertise the target was just too far to do reliable damage and the munitions too expensive for us to waste willy nilly.

Much like ourselves they too did not forego the advantage that artillery would bring and so they sent a good number of their men to a nearby patch of forest so they could construct it in camp. From what I could gleam they only brought the munitions and metal bits as trudging through mountain passes with heavy artillery was at best a death sentence only for the artillery and a good chunk of the army itself at worst.

Sadly, it would seem that whatever magi they brought beside the ole' Shatter-Shield were paying attention because Scorch failed to commit his usual war crimes even once.

Back to the enemy vanguard, they did not descend upon us in their full number, not even close. Groups of around a hundred and twenty men begun their attacks at our forward position, exchanging thrown weapons and even engaging in a brief melee before retreating back to their camp, no doubt to share information with their leaders.

Not all of us were blessed with bullshit magic eyes after all.

The newfound back and forth continued for the entire day with no great amount of territory changing hands, even as hundreds died on both sides by the end of it.

I will give the Stormcloaks this, fuckers were relentless. How they managed to get even casualties with our forward positions while having worse equipment and being on the attack I honestly did not want to know but they sure as shit did.

Their engineers must have been working fast because as soon as the mists dispersed the next day our forward camps, the minor fortified positions connected by a simple stake palisade, saw themselves showered in pots of explosive oil.

It did not do much damage as I personally blew any truly dangerous shells out of the air but the constant bombardment did a number on the legionaries' morale and the follow-up attacks started stacking up kills for the Stormcloak side.

I was just about to ascend into the skies and show them just what I thought about them daring to use strategy against us but Tullius proposed that that was exactly what they wanted, a likely attempt of trapping or distracting me, and I was forced to remain grounded as I agreed with his assessment.

And so the preamble went on for two more whole days.

Accompanied with more forgotten dreams, much to my irritation.

On the dawn of the fifth day of the siege, the Stormcloak camp seemed to surge almost as if it were a nest of ants. It did not take much for me to put two and two together and realize their reinforcements were finally set up enough for the army to act in cohesion and it was time for them to attack us in truth.

Thousands of men and women in lighter armor marched into the forests to the east while a veritable army of well over fifteen thousand started slowly approaching the frontline, the constant explosions caused by the artillery of both sides being the only thing breaking the ground-shaking noise of their steps.

More worrying was the fact that the enemy center was made up almost entirely of heavily armored housecarls, all of them surrounding Ulfric and Grimnir, and what I vaguely recognized as men wearing the same uniform as those beginner tongues I decimated near Helgen.

Almost leisurely, I got up and stretched, Oren's eyes immediately snapping to me as I did so. I pat the man lazily on his pauldron "No need to follow me this time, just do as much damage as you can and keep the casualties to a minimum."

The Captain of my forces salutes but hesitates "What... what if the Imperials question our reluctance to fight?"

I roll my eyes "Then they will have to find someone else to heal their ungrateful asses after the fighting is done."

He takes no further prompting and accepts his orders.

I spent a while longer looking over the approaching army, four forward camps having already been given the order to retreat after they did sufficient damage to the enemy, and just as I was about to go and find him it would seem that Tullius decided to do present himself instead.

"That is at least five thousand more than expected, not counting the potentially equal number still in camp." I tell him without turning around.

"Yes." The General grinds out "I had hoped that your mysterious informant was incompetent but I've learned not to rely on such hopes as of recently. To think Ulfric would be willing to go so far just to win this one battle..."

And should he win it truly would only be this one battle. Forcing so many to fight may seem simple on paper but Ulfric had just created the next generation of Skyrim's banditry with this one retarded move.

"Did you need something, General?" I ask, my eyes still focused on the enemy.

He pauses briefly "I suspect Ulfric may attempt to abuse the voice to punch through our lines."

"And you want me to counter him?" I ask and he tenses up "I already planned on doing so."

That seems to relax the General greatly "Good, I will ensure you do not find yourself without a way to retreat should their numbers overpower you, however briefly."

"Now you are talking my language" I grin and finally turn to the man "Good luck General."

"And you, Court Mage." He offers his hand and we share a warrior's handshake.

An instant passes and I am already flying up into the air, Scorch's wings blazing brightly and drawing thousands of eyes upwards.

(General POV)

Ulfric Stormcloak stepped in front of his sworn companions, his heart alight with righteous fury as he glared at the wooden fort blocking his way to his people in Dawnstar. Without any hesitation or care for the lives within he breathed deeply of Kyne's breath "FUUUUS RO DAH!"

The mighty call of unrelenting force surged toward the pitiful gates... only to suddenly disperse as the very earth rose in such massive volume as to dispel the shout fully.

The risen earth was then split aside, leaving the sight of a singular figure clad in black in purple standing before his entire army.

"Tell the others to commence the attack." Ulfric commanded one of his aides "We will deal with the elf." His men did as commanded and he centered himself, ready to face the true monster of the enemy.

Even as he prepared to charge his hated foe, Ulfric could not help but suppress a tiny little shudder.

Why exactly was the damned creature looking at him with such hunger?!

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