Barbarians

Michael continues fending off the Forsworn, his job only being made harder by Dengeir's assistance to be on the front-line in obviously conspicuous armour all but shouting of his rank and authority.

His eyes dart to a Hag Raven which had conjured a blue spell in its palm and was thrusting it towards Dengeir. He steps in front of the man and activates "Counter Spell!", causing a blue shield to manifest around him.

A spear of ice hits it, but the shield ripples before sending it right back at its target. The Hag Raven had already set up a ward, which breaks as the spear shatters against it. But before he can retaliate, someone else had already taken action.

"Erase!" Tiffania exclaims as she thrusts her wand at the Hag Raven, its newly conjured Ward doing nothing to impede the Void spell as it connects. The monstrous lady's eyes go cloudy as its expression blanks. By all accounts, it was already dead, but an arrow from behind punches through the back of its head, finalizing the job.

"Hah! You're done now!" a familiar voice shouts from behind the Forsworn forces.

"Valdr? Stupid idiot, why announce your position you dumb cunt!" Michael exclaims as he spots multiple Briar-Hearts and Hag Raven's turn towards the small flanking group that'd attacked the back of the fort.

"Damn fool couldn't keep his mouth shut!" Dengeir growls before raising his warhammer, "FORWARD MEN! TEAR THESE SAVAGES APART! SHOW THEM HOW SKYRIM TREATS ITS ENEMIES! CHARGE!"

"Darth, make sure those idiots up back don't die." he says causing his shadow to ripple as it and Derflinger make their way over as ordered. With that done, he follows Dengeir, using a combination of various magic to prevent as many losses as possible. He wasn't omniscient however, so many of their forces died anyway... But his attention had certainly provided those careful and skilled enough with a buffer against the enemy.

*Slash!*

*Cut!*

*Stab!*

*Clash!*

The battle ensues and Michae looks up after dispatching yet another Briar-Heart, only to find a better-armoured Forsworn rapidly approaching Valdr's group. The man was wearing steel plate armour with many furs coating it, and an armoured deer's head as a helmet. He cuts through one of the men beside Valdr but has to back up as Darth shoots from the ground with Derflinger.

The Forsworn avoids the thrust and swipes at it with his sword, managing to cut through Darth's shadow-arm, causing Derflinger to clatter to the ground. Darth retrieves Derflinger as it does but the attacker was already moving towards Valdr who was quickly becoming surrounded.

"Damn it Valdr." Michael mutters to himself, scanning the area around Dengeir to check for danger before Blinking towards Valdr. Once there he tries to cast Serpent Wards... Tries. Rhasta's Serpents don't appear however, instead, Michael ends up summoning ten 10ft arms made of shadow that look suspiciously like Darth...

"Masster." they all intone simultaneously, knocking Michael from his thoughts. He shakes his head, "Kill the Forsworn!" he shouts and the hands nod, each sinking into the ground and appearing from the Forsworn shadows, grabbing them and beginning to throw them around like wet chew toys.

"M-Michael! Thank the gods! I thought I was done for!" Valdr exclaims but is ignored as Michael focuses on the armoured Forsworn that'd avoided one of Darth's arms long enough for a Briar-Heart to destroy it.

"You! Foreigner! I'll have your damned head!" the man shouts, as he deflects an arrow from Valdr.

Michael shrugs, pointing a finger at him and casting Laguna Blade. The sound of thunder rocks the area as the man had a head-sized hole punched into his sternum, his body lifelessly falling to the floor and beginning to seize up from the leftover electricity.

"N-Newmi's dead! Fuck! Run!" a Forsworn suddenly shouts, prompting many to disengage from battle and start fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. The only people who stay are the Hag Ravens and Briar-Hearts, who quickly get outnumbered and cut down now that the chaff had fled.

"The battle is won!" Dengeir loudly announces as the Stormcloak and Falreath forces cheer victoriously.

Michael gets pat on the back by a grateful-looking Valdr, "I owe you my life! Come, let's find the others hand drink! It's all on me!" he says, laughing despite the wetness in and around his eyes.

"Sure, and no problem." he offers, "Though, doesn't this make it the second time I've saved your ass?"

"W-hat? No, you must be mistaken."

Michael nods, "Alright, keep saying it and it might eventually become true." he shrugs.

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With the battle over the only things left to do now was to loot the place, recover the dead, and make sure any injured don't die before they can be treated. Michael wasn't involved with any of this however, instead, he, Valdr, Ari, Niels, Tiffania, and Megumin once she was able to move, moved to the Dead Man's Drink to celebrate...

Unfortunately, despite his attempts to not use anything too flashy, people had still noticed him during the battle. He was next to Dengeir for the majority of it, so he was bound to catch some eyes, but he hadn't counted on people being so attentive as to watch him teleport and one-shot the enemy general...

The only good thing about it was the fact that he and his friends didn't have to buy drinks the entire time as other people kept paying for them. Dengeir joined them afterwards as well, after he, Galmar, and the other heads had looked over reports, the dead, the injured, enemy survivors, etc.

Out of the two hundred and twenty soldiers, one hundred and sixty of which being Stormcloak, only around forty-six people had died. This was the best they could have hoped for, as the enemy had three-hundred and something Forsworn, around fifteen Briar-Hearts, and six Hag Ravens. By all accounts, it was a decisive victory, even with the losses they'd incurred.

Sadly, the joking atmosphere of the bar quieted significantly at the Jarl's next words. "So, Michael, how about it? Do you want to become a Thane of Falkreath?"

...