The Risen Man
"Heart of thorn... bones of the wild... in life, Forsworn...
...rise from death, Blood of our Blood…
Return to us, Foalan… Walk again these valleys and hills…
Return to your people, Foalan… And set your people free!"
INITIALIZING
The black feathered hagraven stumbled back from the stone altar constructed in the depths of the Rebel's Cairn. The formerly desiccated corpse of Red Eagle, the High Lord of the Reach lay atop it, his flesh not only restored lovingly through sacrificial ritual and alchemy, but grown and empowered further beyond, his body perfected to the limits of the craft honed and bargained for at great personal cost by the twisted and transformed witch. She stumbled back from the altar due to the sudden and blinding red glow of the freshly prepared briarheart she placed under the spread ribs of the body.
The poison seed of the Briar Heart Tree - the heart of the ritual and the new heart of the man - transmogrified beyond the witch's intent into a blood red jewel blazing with crimson light. This new Amulet of Kings burned brightly until the rib bones snapped their bindings and the titanic slab of muscle closed shut over it, the pale flesh sealing shut under the spread of curly blonde hair.
Unseen drums beat and horns called as the man rose from the altar, his eyes blazing with that same divine power as the new heart in his chest. He observed the hag before him, his gaze making her feel more naked than the bare man before her dangling his masculinity unashamed. The phallic shaped sword in his hand blazed with new life, and reshaped itself. Gone was the blade risen in defense of his people, and in its place a razor sharp bearded axe head.
"A shaft, creature." the risen man spoke, his voice a low and rich rumble, "As strong as you can make it. So that I may mount my blade and cleave through all those who will stand in my way."
The hagraven bowed to the man who should have been her puppet, her raven clawed hands scraping the cairn flagstones as she backed away on her knees. The man sat upon the altar, and waited until she returned hours later with a branch of the same Briar Heart Tree that supplied his new heart.
She soaked the branch in what remained in the pit of potions she strengthened his body with. The pair waited for a day and night like that as she prepared the blood red leaves of the tree. When she withdrew the shaft, hissing her black magics and carving runes into the pale wood, she wrapped the leaves around it then bound them in sabrecat leather before waving a black soul gem over it all, the essence within transferring as the gem turned to ebon dust.
The risen man took the shaft and stuffed it into the eye of the axe before hammering two ring wedges made from the former sword into the flush wood before flipping the weapon around and peening the sword's pommel to its new home. He took the finished weapon in hand, and the axe head burst into magical flame. Walking over to the altar, he took the shaft in both of his hands and rose it up over his head. With all his newfound power, the man brought that weapon down, trailing fire and sparks in its wake. The axe struck the stone like thunder, cleaving the altar and bursting it apart in an explosion of mystic fire.
"This will do." the man declared and turned away from the destruction to walk out of his grave.
The man emerged to a new dawn and the awaiting followers of the Hagraven. Twenty fur clad savages of Breton stock, though more mingled with the other races of Tamriel than their High Rock cousins, possessing larger stockier bodies. Purposefully primitive and brutal, these are the masters of terrorism and asymmetrical warfare in this world.
"Go. Run to every redoubt and tell them to follow me." the risen man commanded, "Tell them to follow me to down to Markarth, to bear witness to the coming of the new age of freedom. Every son and daughter of the Reach shall stand tall and cast off the yokes of the Nords, the Empire, and the Thalmore. The once and future king is arisen, and on this day he raises up his kingdom anew, never again to suffer the tyranny and depredations of foreigners. A reign both eternal and pure. Go now, and tell them to follow me, follow me down to Markarth."
The risen man began his march as the followers of the Hagraven ran north, south, and west. They embarked on long treks to the Deepwood in the north, and the Lost Valley in the south. Much longer than the risen man's journey to the west. He began his march south, heading to the stone tower known as Bleakwind buff, and when he arrived the Forsworn there saw his godlike form and knew this man as the king in their hearts even before the Hagraven with him declared him Faolan returned.
They rose up from their campfires and joined him, driving away the miners at Soljund's Sinkhole before the lot of them arrived at the Karthspire with the sun setting over the mountains beyond. In a stunning show of force, the Forsworn built a town over the Karth River. Tents of stretched hide built atop wooden piers. It proved that yes, the Madmen of the Reach are capable of greater feats of engineering and carpentry, and even still they spit on such decadence. Hundreds of Forsworn emerged to see the risen man and all of his natural splendor, and throughout the night as the cooking fires blazed - risking the conflagration of the host - more and more joined this great gathering. They drank and feasted, as if daring the fires to mess around and find out.
To the risen man they brought their best mead and finest cuts of meat, and to his risen member their best females wrestled for the right to rut under the two moons in open and plain sight. His powerful and athletic couplings raised the morale of the savages to even greater heights. When the sun next peaked out over the horizon every man, woman, and child followed the risen man down to the stone bridge under the dragon burial mound atop the Karthspire Bluffs. A few men spotted them on the east road as they crossed, and those men ran back towards the Old Hroldan Inn.
Their numbers grew as they passed the bridge by the draugr infested Reachwater Rock, and again before they encountered a small Imperial military encampment. The men manning the station fled at the sight of thousands of Reachmen marching the road to Markarth, and warned the farmers and miners working the valley to flee to the city, and hope for safety behind the white stone walls and dwemer gates.
The risen man came to the winding path leading into the white and gold city, and found it contested by archers behind wooden barriers. These men wore the gold and green of the hold guards and the leather and chain of the Imperial Legion, brave to the last and ready to fight to the bitter end.
"FUS RO DAH!" the risen man shouted, and his Thu'um tore through the barricade and carried the men behind it into the air.
The risen man's languid pace ended and he sprinted into the gap, fast as a sabrecat. Behind him came the Briarhearts, those who traded their humanity for power - the military leaders of the Forsworn camps and redoubts - and behind them the horde thousands strong, screaming bloody murder as they wrought bloody murder, their seemingly crude and simple weapons striking a hefty toll on the flesh of all they landed upon.
Chain burst, leather and cloth parted, and crimson life essence leaked out as the Forsworn slaughtered the advanced guard under the walls of Markarth, and everytime the Nords sought to rain down upon them with arrows the risen man shouted again, clearing the defenders from the ramparts the same way Ulfric Stormcloak shouted the Forsworn from those very walls years ago. The warriors stood no chance before the risen man, his blazing axe cleaving them in twain with each spark heralded swing, and they stood no chance against the Briarheart warriors behind him, the best of which known to be two and half times stronger than a powerful unaltered warrior. Even the rank and file of the Forsworn posed a lethal threat, let alone their unholy vanguard.
When the reaper's work ended, the risen man stood before the dwemer metal gates of the city and he shouted again. The Thu'um hit the gate harder than a battering ram, though the gate held. Each time he regained his vigor, he shouted again, the horde cheating with each strike. After five such strikes the gates gave and the horde let loose the battle cries once more as they poured into the city. This was not like the mostly peaceful revolution of 4E 174, where only the cruelest of Nord landowners paid in blood for their crimes. The Forsworn could not forget the cruelty of the Markarth incident, and would not forgive. The slaughter and torture must be repaid in kind, and thus the Reachmen spared no one they got their hands on. Those who hid in their stone homes behind dwemer doors only delayed the inevitable.
The risen man ignored the wonton bloodshed and any arrows sticking out of his flesh, and led the charge to the Understone Keep, his fiery axe rending any who sought to halt him. A golden glow settled over the man's pale skin originating from his hand as the arrows pushed themselves out of him and the wounds closed. Fully recovered he readied his Thu'um once more and the doors to the keep received the same treatment as the great city gate, and the risen man once again led the charge.
The cavernous keep contained a second gate between the Forsworn and the Mournful Throne, and every notable in the city pressed against it to keep them out. His throat already horse from shouting so much that day, the risen man allowed his followers to handle this one. The Briarhearts worked together blasting the Dwemer metal doors with fireballs until at last the doors broke free of their hinges, hot metal coming down.
A slew of ice storms cooled them off enough for the horde to advance deeper within. Here the hated Silverbloods made their final stand with Jarl Ingmund, their political differences forgotten in the face of Forsworn uprising. The Jarl donned a suit of fitted plate armor made from the same sturdy Dwemer metal as his home, his helmet a kingly thing harkening back to Akulakhan and the Numidium.
The battle for Markarth reached its climax in that great hall, as the automatons sprang to do battle alongside the Nords, and the Thalmor joined too. Everyone brought their full might to stop the Forsworn, and the risen man flung himself naked into the fray, unafraid. His blazing axe trailed sparks and blood and oil as he slaughtered all who came before him. Like his feat of old, a thousand could have stood against him that day, and a thousand would lay broken before him. The risen Red Eagle could not be denied, and the super human strength of the Briarhearts won out.
The Nord and their allies fought desperately and died miserably. It was a day of wailing and the gnashing of teeth. The Forsworn showed them as much mercy as Ulfric and his militia showed them: none. The Briarhearts hacked the city elite to pieces under the crystal lights, shattered automatons, and showed the Thalmor agents exactly how welcome they will be in this new Reach.
Healing himself once more, the risen man took the final set of stairs to the Mournful Throne, once again living up to its name. Blood soaked and filthy, the risen man sank his powerful ass cheeks and rested his hefty hairy balls upon the highest seat in the hold, paying witness to the final throes of battle below.
He looked out over his new kingdom, and wondered if it would be good.
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Turns out the Bell Bearing Hunter in Skyrim was a pumpfake. I simply could not make the interactions worthwhile, and the jokes weren't worth all the effort. So I present the Briarheart King in its place. Its a similar premise, but I took all the Waifu Catalog choices and showed them occure in setting rather than hand wave it. Below you will find the build.
Starting World: The Elder Scrolls [Events of Skyrim]
Starting budget 210
Starting World: The Elder Scrolls [Events of Skyrim]
Starting budget 210
Patron
The Devil free [210]
Intensity [10]
Me and My Girlfriend(s) (PvE) 0
100%/0% -5
Heritages Banned 1
Potential Connection 0
Lawless 2
Limited 1
Disabled 3
Standard 0
Intact Weaknesses 1
Defense Rebates Disabled 1
Power Swap Banned 1
None 2
Standard 0
None 2
Orbs
White Eye Orb free [210]
Red Eye Orb free [210]
You as Red Eagle (Substitute) of T5 -20 [190]
Bindings
Tantric Arts -15 [175]
Art of Transformation -15 [160]
Art of Warding -15 [145]
Talents
Body Tune-Up -5 [140]
Athletic -5 [135]
Martial -10 [125]
Wild -5 [120]
Communication -10 [110]
Soul -10 [100]
Blessed -30 [70]
Land -30 [40]
Added Potential x2 [You as Red Eagle has Skyrim Leveling, Dragonborn] -10 [30]
Covert -10 [20]
Misc Perks
Mapper -10 [10]
Generic Waifu Perks
HUDᵈˡᶜ[You as Red Eagle] -10 [0]
If you want a visual feel for the concept check out this YouTube Video.
PELINAL (ANIMATED OPERA)
Once again a huge thanks to Wstiglet for his support and patience while I tried figuring out the most interesting premise for this story. You too can support me and my family at
ko-fi.com/jmanm