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Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

A bitter old man gets tossed into the world of Tamriel, as a descendant of a religious madman no less, watch as he delves into the secrets of magic and explores the wonders of this danger-filled world, and with luck and a lot of magic juice possibly even beyond. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic (or anything for that matter). English is not my native language but I think there shouldn't be too many mistakes. The story will focus on magic and exploration with most likely a bit of romance later on. The upload schedule won't be rigid, but expect five chapters a week. If you want to support me financially and get access to early chapters visit patreon.com/Rastislav156

Rastislav · Derivados de juegos
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Chapter X: Western Watchtower

As soon as the panicked guardsman finished speaking, Balgruuf started rapid firing one question after the other, getting as much information from the now sobbing lad as he could before standing up and issuing his orders "Irileth gather every blade willing, get the clans involved as well." He barks to his Housecarl and turns to his Steward "Avenicci announce a bounty of three hundred septims for every soul brave enough to face the beast and a thousand for any who do true damage, Farengar-"

"May I accompany you, my Jarl?" Farengar interrupts a bit too eagerly "I would very much like to see this dragon."

Balgruuf considers for a moment before sending a short look my way and shaking his head in annoyance "Very well, but this is not a game. Your first priority is helping us bring it down, not studying it."

Farengar offered him a deep bow "I will keep my curiosity in check, I swear it." And left for his chambers, no doubt to fetch whatever scrolls and potions he could.

Hrongar was already fully armed and armored, somehow managing to grab is gear in mere seconds. Balgruuf shared a pained look with his brother before solemnly nodding and accepting his own axe.

Someone tossed him an aketon and suit of chainmail followed by a breastplate, all of it he started putting on as he passed me by and said "Walk with me Reyvin."

Signaling for my own group to join Irileth I stepped in beside the worried Jarl, instead of berating me for being late or something equally wasteful he simply asked "What are we walking into?"

"Single dragon, should be one of the weaker ones." I answer simply "Still, expect losses."

"That much is a given." He admits coldly, a silent moment passes as we descend the stairs of Dragonsreach, the now fully armored Balgruuf seemingly deep in thought until he spoke quietly "I had hoped against hope that what you prophesized would not happen."

I let out a mirthless chuckle at that "Trust me, if I had the choice between looking like an idiot and facing the apocalypse I'd look the fool every time." Being on a timer and knowing it was never a pleasant thing.

"The world is rarely so charitable." He shakes his head with a wry smile "At least we had the chance to prepare beforehand or I dread to imagine the damage."

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." I quote lightly and clap him on the shoulder "But that is enough of that, we have a wyrm to slay!"

"Like the heroes of old." Balgruuf shakes his head, seemingly amused by the idea.

---

In less than twenty minutes a large force had already left the city, it was too little time to gather a true army but we still managed to scrounge up close to five hundred fighters, most of them from the garrison while the rest were made up from glory hungry clansmen, their Thanes, and simple citizens who could afford weapons and armor.

It went without saying that the Companions joined in their entirety, or at least those who were present within the city, up to and including Kodlak Whitemane himself. The old Nord practically radiated excitement as he led his Circle to the forefront of the formation, even as his aged body looked far worse for wear.

As for my old friend... well, only his respect for the elder warrior stopped Durrak from rushing ahead of everyone in hopes of finding the dragon as quick as possible so he can get to the stabbing.

It took us another half hour to reach the watchtower, the scene that awaited being just as bad as I've come to expect from the usual destructive potential of the Dov.

The Western Watchtower may have been called that but it was much more than a simple stone tower, the structure was surrounded by a well made palisade which surrounded a few other wooden structures that most likely served as the barracks for the local garrison.

Or at least it did before today.

The whole thing was either turned to ash or blasted into rubble, the main structure barely standing with multiple holes in its surface, its peak still burning as the flames consumed what I recognized was a large aerial scorpion.

There were even a couple of my own ballistae in the rubble, completely out of commission of course as they would not have stopped shooting unless they were wrecked.

A couple of disheveled men garbed in Whiterun guard armor ran out of the tower as we approached, both immediately saluting Balgruuf as the one who wasn't covered in burns spoke "My Jarl, you should not be here, the beast is still around!"

Balgruuf regarded the man for a moment before tilting his head slightly "Has your fear eroded whatever respect you had for me Bromar, that you would suggest I not rush to the defense of my people?"

The man cringed as if slapped but stood firm "We did not even see it coming! One moment we were having a game of horseshoes and the next half the tower was aflame!" His shoulders slump "Hroki did not even get to aim the weapon before he was burned to ash."

The Jarl's gaze softened at seeing one of his men so defeated but before he could speak again a distant roar drew everyone's attention.

"Gods save us." Bromar muttered in pure terror "He comes again!"

And there in the distance we could see him, a gray splotch marring the beautiful skies of Skyrim, rapidly becoming larger as it descended toward us with what I sensed was pure malice.

"Spread out and aim for the weak spots!" Balgruuf bellowed, awakening the stunned crowd "Aim for its wings and bring it down so that it may taste our blades! SOVENGARDE AWAITS!"

A thunderous roar echoed his battle cry, and battle was joined.

The dragon swooped in without preamble, immediately attempting to bathe a large swathe of our formation in his fire breath as dozens of arrows pinged off his scales ineffectually.

His speed was immense, not anything on Alduin's level but the weakest among the glory seekers could barely even perceive him as he clawed them to pieces with every opportunity.

A thunderous boom stopped him from slaughtering a group of stunned Nords who were just realizing what exactly they signed up for, Magnus' staff glowing with power in my hand as I started ripping wounds into his wings with blasts of disintegrating lightning.

It took only a couple to make him pay attention to me, but he soon grew wise to the threat I represented and responded with a shout of "SPAAN DEIN FIIK!" which seemed to weaken my spells and outright block out most the rest of them, allowing him to dodge out of the of my bombardment.

Still, my presence forbade him from going wild as he willed so instead of continuing a war of attrition he would lose, he switched tactics. The words of whirlwind sprint resounded across the battlefield as began manoeuvering with even greater speed, grabbing those unfortunate enough to catch his eye and launching them into the air, or at their comrades.

Those he did not manage to grab he simply blasted apart with unrelenting force, not even deigning to pay attention to them as they and the ground below them were turned to chunks.

Anyone not immediately killed by such tactics was saved by either Farengar or myself as we levitated them into relative safety, trading immediate death for only getting their bones crushed with the inertia.

Not even Aela hitting him in the mouth as he went to shout her apart seemed to dissuade him from facing a small army, in fact he seemed to be enjoying the fight as he proclaimed "I HAD FORGOTTEN WHAT FINE SPORT YOU MORTALS PROVIDE!"

This seemed to galvanize the Nords as they started loosing arrows and bolts at far greater speeds, to discouragingly little effect as the blood hungry beast seemed to dodge each and every shot that may have been deadly.

As Mirmulnir went in for another strafe, he failed to notice a blur of green as Durrak jumped out from behind a crumbled building and threw his spear with all of his monstrous strength, nailing him straight in the joint that connected his right wing with the rest of his body, turning each flap into agony and lowering his maneuverability greatly.

I could have probably ended the battle then and there, all I had to do was teleport above his flailing ass and turn his back into mush with my sword... but this was not my show, not today anyway. Support of both folk and nobles had to be earned, and I was more than willing to sacrifice a couple of suicidal fools if it meant progressing my overall plans.

Incredibly callous of me, I know. But needs must and all that.

Still, I wasn't about to just let people die otherwise if I could help it. So after blasting the spear still lodged in the fuckers wing with lightning and making him flail into the ground beside the tower I teleported to the nearest dying man and got to healing.

(General POV)

Even as her fellow Nords died around her, Minthara still couldn't help but feel a hint of disappointment. The dragon they were facing now was nowhere near as terrifying as the beast that leveled Helgen, its movements were sloppier and its voice a pathetic imitation.

Still, she would not relax just because things were easier than facing a literal god.

As Mirmulnir rounded to the side, avoiding another bolt of lightning from Irileth and clawing a Circle Companion to pieces, his eyes met hers and seemed to almost glow in recognition, a gleeful grin spreading on his face as he breathed in "FUS RO DAH!

Guided by her instincts, she responded immediately with her own blast of unrelenting force, the two waves of power meeting just below the tower itself and clashing in a cacophonous crack that sent the entire structure flying westwards, spraying the whole field with stone bricks and killing dozens of men and women before they even realized what was going on.

The battlefield turned deathly silent as the two regarded each other.

The dragon was the first to speak, an inborn arrogance lacing his voice "Finally a creature worthy of my teeth." He grinned "You face Mirmulnir! Rejoice Dovahkiin for my lord shall feast on your soul in Sovengarde!"

Minthara stared at the arrogant butcher in front of her and found that she felt unimpressed, she spat on the ground and readied her hammer, the enchantments carved into the metal brimming in anticipation of smashing her foe "Your master is going to die a miserable death for all the suffering he has caused. But you will suffice for now."

Before the dragon could respond Minthara shouted "JOOR!" followed by a "TIID KLO UL!"

To the outside world, it seemed almost as if she turned into a blinking column of afterimages as she practically appeared in front of the dragon. Only one person managed to even see her swing her hammer a full ten times in less than a second before the effects of her shout ended and the laws of the world reasserted themselves.

Mirmulnir's head snapped to the side, a good half of his jaw turning to paste as the rest of his teeth were dislodged by the sudden impact and force, the hammer guilty of the deed actually exploding from the rebound as the enchantment overloaded due to the sudden strain, sending her sprawling back.

The wounded beast growled and howled with fury, foregoing any further taunts or shouts and bounding toward her intending to stop her from ever getting up and repeating her earlier humiliation.

But in his rage, the dragon had seemingly forgotten that he was still, in fact, standing on a battlefield.

The imposing form of Kodlak Whitemane, joined by the twins Farkas and Vilkas rushed him from the side, hacking into his unguarded underbelly with their all of their supernatural Daedric strength.

He did not even manage to look at them before the rushing form of Balgruuf slammed his wounded face with his shield, Hrongar already moving in with an overhead slash as Mirmulnir tried to crush the brave Jarl in his mouth.

But unfortunately for the Nords, the dragon remained stunned for only a brief moment before his wits returned to him.

His tail flashed out, forcing the Companions back but to the casual observer miraculously not turning them to paste. His front claws swung for the heads of the noble brothers, shattering Balgruuf's shield and sending him reeling back, while his other claw rent the mid-swing arm off the shoulder of the Jarl's brother.

Everyone watching thought the man was already dead, but to their sheer dumbfounded astonishment, Hrongar did not even grunt in pain and instead proceeded to headbutt the dragon who was at the time trying to devour his brother, not quite making him flinch but at least stopping his movement and knocking himself out in the process.

The time they bought was more than enough as Minthara charged back into the fray once again, her sword aglow in her hands as golden specters seemed to overlap with her swing, severing the claws that attempted to cleave her in two.

The dragon recoiled in pain, fire already forming in his mouth as he was forced to use magic to summon it instead of the voice with his skill so lacking and his tongue mangled so thoroughly. 

But magical flames, especially those cast by someone unused to doing so, were easily thwarted. Minthara did not even look up as a sturdy ward surrounded her, the fires passing around her without doing any harm and placing her in perfect position for the killing blow.

Once more, the spirits of the Blades overlapped with her own movements as she swung her sword upwards in a wide arc, feeling almost no resistance as her sword decapitated the dragon in one swift movement.

Her heart was beating faster than she ever remembered it doing, the sheer elation of defeating a dragon in both voice and might turning her blood to fire... And then the headless stump decided now was the perfect moment to cover her in blood and viscera.

Even as she felt herself consuming the dragon's soul she could not force her eyes to stop twitching nor free her face from its deadpan expression.

Such was her frustration with the world that she managed to remain standing this time, unconsciously raising her blade as her mind seemed to catch up to the fact.

A silence descended upon what was once the Western Watchtower's grounds, before everyone, Nord or not, broke out into a massive cheer, the fact of what they considered to be their deed slowly settling in their minds.

The bards really were going to go wild with this one.

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SPAAN DEIN FIIK = Shield Defend Reflect

TIID KLO UL = Time Sand Eternity

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There have been rumors of a certain group of stone smugglers going around and avoiding the good lord's taxes. We assure you that these miscreants shall be brought to justice with immense promptness and prejudice and advise those not yet caught up in their criminal ways to keep your distance lest you be caught in the crossfire.

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