Tall Imposter

Michael sidesteps the hammer-like hand of the Centurion as it crashes into the ground beside him, forcing him to Blink backwards as it follows up with a heavy stomp. He might be strong, but he wasn't strong enough to lift a multi-ton angry robot yet.

Seeing him not die like it'd like, the Centurion sweeps its claw-like arm at him, which Michael blocks with Derflinger, much to the sentient sword's dismay... He slides backwards as he struggles to hold the weapon off and buy time for Tiffania to cast her spell, his eyes widening slightly as wisps of stream dribble from the thing's metal face.

"Cold Embrace!" he casts, freezing him solid in a block of ice just in time to avoid a grizzly burning death.

*BANG!*

It attempts to crush him with its hammer hand after seeing the ice block come out unscathed, only for the limb to bounce off of the ice as if it were an impenetrable block of diamond.

*Crack!*

The ice shatters as the spell fades, allowing Michael to Blink away to avoid being stomped on again.

"Michael! Now!" Tiffania shouts, having just finished the rather long chant required for the spell.

He nods, casting Light Strike Array before Blinking away. While the laser that falls from the sky does little to harm it, it forces it to slow down enough for Tiffania's spell to take effect. "Explosion!" she shouts as she jabs her wand at it.

*BOOOM!*

White light bathes the area, causing every to close their eyes and look away to try and avoid going blind. And once it clears, nothing of the Centurion but its half-shattered metal face remains.

...

"Hahahaha! I'm so proud of you! My Master of Explosions!" Megumin's voice cuts through the tense silence like a knife through butter, allowing the surviving guards to cheer at the threat mostly being eliminated.

"Still alright to continue?" Michael asks as he notes the slight look of fatigue on Tiffania's face.

She nods, "That spell is hard to keep contained." she remarks, surprising Michael as a memory hits him... Was that the same spell Louise used to destroy the Albion fleet in the Anime?... Something capable of blowing this entire city away?

...

His eye twitches slightly as he coughs into his fist, "I think you can Megumin should hang out less..." he shakes his head and tuns towards the group of fighters, ignoring Tiffania's slightly look of confusion, "We're going inside the Keep now! Anyone can join us! But your life is in your own hands!"

With that, Michael's group walks up the stairs with Vilkas and Shakeesh following them, a larger group of guards nervously trailing behind. Most of the guards were already exhausted, but those remaining were the ones whole-heartedly loyal to Markarth and willing to give their lives for it.

"You are all as impressive as the rumours suggest." Shakeesh mutters as he glances at the place the Centurion was previously standing. "I now see why the Harbinger holds you all in such high regard."

Michael shrugs, "No, that's probably just because of the enchanted weapons I helped deliver."

Vilkas laughs, "That too, that too my friend... Wait, we've got company." he says after stopping and subtly sniffing the air.

The group had just entered Undestone Keep and stepped into a large, empty chamber... Everyone was tense since they could hear the faint sound of battle up ahead, the sound of explosions, grinding of metal, and flesh parting. "Come! We must make it before the Jarl is slain!" Vilkas shouts as he begins running ahead.

Michael and the other follow, eventually finding a large group of Dwemer Automatons grouped around the door leading to the Throne room. That, plus the hand made of shadow pulling the legs off of the Dwemer Spiders as it struggles to assist the Markarth guards holding the enemy off at the door.

"Back fiends! I'll take you apart and put you back together again for my research!" a mage behind the guards shouts as he unleashes a variety of spells at the Automatons, his Frost Thrall currently brawling it out with four Dwemer Spheres and appeared to be on the losing end of it.

"Go! TO SOVNGARDE!" Vilkas roars as he charges forward, Shakeesh following closely behind in order to protect his Shield-Brother.

Everyone jumps into action, all but Michael who was focussing on something else entirely... Hiding in the darkness far from the door stood a man wearing full Dwemer armour, wielding a Dwemer sword, and holding a strange-looking staff that, again, looked of Dwemer make.

"Go, save the Jarl." he says to his group before Blinking towards the man and sending a hard kick at his helmeted face.

*Clang!*

The man falls over backwards and gives a shrill screech of shock as the staff is thrown from his grip, he tries to get up but Michael places a foot on his chest, stopping him from moving since his armour was already incredibly heavy.

"So, that staff of yours the thing controlling the Dwemer?" Michael asks, glaring down at the man.

"N-no! Not at all! It's just... A family heirloom that-eh... Creates funny sounds...?" the man says questioningly as if probing to see if Michael would believe thE shit he was peddling.

Michael slowly nods, "I'll just take that as a yes then. Thanks by the way, that'll really come in handy." he says before stomping down on the man's knees, crippling them as they bend inwards. After that, he makes his way over to the staff and picks it up, finding it quite unique to the other staffs he'd seen before.

It was entirely gold, or whatever the Dwemer metal was made out of, and was topped with a bright blue gem that glowed in an obviously magical fashion. It had a few buttons lining its base and a grill that looked suspiciously like an old audio receiver you'd find on Earth...

He presses a button and quirks a brow as all the nearby Dwemer freeze in place, confusing the defenders due to their opponent's weird actions.

He'd about to press another but is surprised as something attempts to wrench the thing out of his grasp... Looking over, he spots the guy in Dwemer armour holding his hand out, as if he were Thor trying to call out to Mjolnir. "Looks like you aren't worthy." Michael laughs at his own joke, not letting the staff move an inch.