NABC Chapter 359: Chapter LXXXII: Warding Winterhold
Chapter 359: Chapter LXXXII: Warding Winterhold
Chapter 359: Chapter LXXXII: Warding Winterhold
The house offers its deepest gratitude to one Lord Belly. They have earned their way out of the mineshafts... will you?
(General POV)
The guardsmen of Winterhold began scrambling the moment they heard the distant roars, those still stuck in the nearby tavern shoving their tables away without a care and even jumping over the big fireplace in the center as they hastily fastened their helmets.
"Move it, move it, move it!" The harsh voice of Garm barked, his hand lashed out and grabbed a man fiddling with his shield by the neck "Fregi, stop being an incompetent little shit and march! They will hit us in less than a minute!"
"A-aye sir" The man stammers and begins running towards the gate while muttering prayers in a panic.
"Children, I work with children." Garm grumbles and begins jogging after him, the axe the idiot left behind held within his hands.
His little group of five quickly grew as more and more guards joined the rush from the different sections of the city, the Captain alongside the Jarl's own retinue waiting for them near the gates alongside the mage Thane and the housecarls he managed to recruit after the battle of Windhelm.Nôv(el)B\\jnn
Garm slammed the axe into the idiot recruit's grip with a frustrated grunt and looked to his Captain "Got any bright idea where we don't die Hjol?"
The Captain of the guard scoffs "Afraid to meet your ancestors, Garm?"
"Banter later, plan now." Thane Thorfinn snaps at them.
The roars come closer.
Jarl Assur's hand twitches in the beginnings of a shiver but he controls himself and speaks "It is far too late for complex plans. Spread out and follow me, today we die as heroes!" He does not wait for a response and marches out of the city, determined to at least distract the beasts and stop them from finishing what the seas could not.
"Well lads, you heard the Jarl!" Hjolmir grins despite the situation "Onwards to death and glory!"
And as if a flood gate had opened, the guards, soldiers, and adventurers begin flowing outside the city, a large number of the weapon bearing residents following after them mere moments later.
The Jarl felt like he was forgetting something but the moment had already taken hold of him so he shook his head and focused on the upcoming fight.
The admittedly suicidal men and women charging at the flying dragons did listen to their Jarl and spread out, some of them eagerly loosing arrows at the distant targets and doing expectedly little damage with their bows, the sheer power of the dragons' movements easily flicking any lucky shot away without the dragon even bothering to swerve away.
The closer the dragons came, the more their aura of terror spread, draining the spirits of the less experienced warriors and slowing their charge as their steps became heavier and their breathing labored.
The dragons looked upon their enemy with hunger in their eyes and disdained the use of their voice for the visceral pleasure of tearing their targets apart.
But, just as the two sides were about to meet, something in the air shifted.
"SOVENGAAA-aarde..." Hjolmir Ebon-Frost suddenly trails off as he sees a massive chain made of seemingly molten metal burst from the ground and almost grab onto all three of the dragons, two of them managed to veer out of the way but the central one was too surprised to react and was suddenly pulled downwards, the lone figure of a large man in his prime waiting for his fall and poised to strike with their bare hands.
Hjolmir's eyes widened further as the figure suddenly grew to the size of a massive troll, the spell too recognizable for him not to immediately guess what was going on as he muttered "Grandfather?"
His question would remain unheard as the flailing Dovah was met with an uppercut so powerful the sound of the cracking bone was more akin to that of thunder, almost deafening to hear.
The Nords hesitated only briefly, gaping at the scene before the Jarl himself broke out of his daze, hefted his greatsword, and once more began running at their target, the fatalistic expression he carried earlier replaced with eagerness to spill the blood of the beast who would butcher his people.
The other dragons fared just as well as their comrade as two other figures who shared in their disdain for the ground emerged from the nearby air, seemingly from nowhere, and descended upon their targets with almost gleeful efficiency.
The figure of the official Archmage of the College of Winterhold blurred through the skies atop a flaming mount, his rapid movements allowing him to run circles around the bewildered beast who could only breathe fire in all direction in an attempt to catch the annoying fly that had managed to penetrate its scales with a spell of purple light.
It was swiftly disabused of the notion as the "fly" slowly began dealing actual damage to it, resisting any attempts to shout it apart by teleporting and casting even more spells through its mount's mouth as if the bird itself was a conduit of his magic.
Still, as strong as Savos' spells were, they were insufficient in power to cut down a dragon in any reasonable timeframe so he kept at it, turning what would be a battle to the death of hundreds into a game of cat and mouse, never letting the dragon's eyes veer from his figure as he seared it alive, one bolt of magic at a time.
The final dragon, feeling the distress of his kin, immediately turned cautious and slowed his descent, his mind racing through the words of power he knew so that he may bring down any ambusher who would strike at him.
The men and women around them had no such concerns though, as they all burst into a round
of cheering and loud praise to the gods and the ancestors, those unlucky few to be heavily injured receiving immediate care as the beginnings of a celebratory feast began forming long before the first defender stepped into the city, a massive celebration soon dominating the minds of almost everyone who participated.
Almost as if they weren't all just about to die in an inferno a literal five minutes ago.
"Hold on a second." Savos mutters with a smirk, looking at his colleagues. "Yeeees?" Shalazar's eye bulges upwards "Fearful of financing our delicate palettes,
colleague mine?"
The smirk widens "The bet was that the last one to kill a dragon would pay the drinks, yes?"
Tolfdir palms his face.
"Would that not mean Tolfdir is the one who lost?" The Dunmer Archmage claps his hands.
Shalazar stares at him for a long moment, gives Tolfdir an appraising look, and then grins "I
find your logic impeccable!"
The Nord just shakes his head, a slight smile on his face.
"Watch where you step." Rikke commanded calmly as she led a group of longbow armed
rangers and legionaries hefting heavy crossbows and javelins up a forested hillside "The dragon can't be far now."
They were following the distant roars for well over an hour now, a resident of Dragon's Bridge begging for their help as they were marching through the town on a regular patrol, and another telling them of odd roars atop a hill to the west.
A loud gurgling noise made them all miss a step, only their experience stopping them from
stumbling into each other like green recruits. They steeled themselves and stepped into a
clearing made from crushed and toppled trees, immediately coming upon a scene straight out of a nightmare.
A large blood red dragon was sprawled out on the ground, its chest slashed open and its heart
missing from the large hole its departure left. A lone figure stood before the dragon's corpse, covered head to toe in blood and licking her lips.
Rikke felt a massive headache appear as she realized just who it was. "Apologies, had I known I would have guests I would have left some for you." The woman
turned to greet them with a serene expression, her lips slowly stretching into a grin and
revealing a pair of vampiric fangs.
Your food is bland
your water tastes of sand
just give me your stones and the curse will end!
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