Sillyman59
Carantathraiel
AlteredTundra
ayzrules
Shu
Spoopy Scary
MacabreFox
Shin Ghost Note
Vesnic
CaliforniaState
Gray metal-ships of Kamalian design lingered like storm clouds over the horizon. Windhelm was anxious, and rightfully so. The invaders would be back. That was indeed the case when night falls; the Kamals have returned for round two, and they want blood.
Ten hours past mid noon, Windhelm bid its time under another scarlet sky. Masser and Secunda bled stronger than yesterday. Wolf howls broke out once the darkness fell, but for many, concealing under familiar roofs no longer render a sense safety. Warriors of the city stood their posts on the docks and the walls. Crimson starclouds reminded many of the bloodbath during daytime. If the Kamal ships were not unnerving enough, then the skies certainly would be.
A river away, the Kamals returned in force. Three of the six ships parked parallel to the farms hoisted their anchors, their internal furnaces blazed alive as smoke drove out of their chimneys. Three vessels from the blockade line downstream joined in, and together, six metal-ships made the second landfall. The sound of metal cutting through water drowned out the howls of wolves. Within minutes, familiar shapes of snow demons piled onto the ship decks. The gray armor menacing under the reddish moonlight, a row of shield-totting giants took point, and further rows stood behind them. But just like the initial invasion, the pioneers on the docks were atronachs. Piers seven and eight, defended by a combination of EEC security, the White River Braves, local volunteers, the Dawnguards and twenty-some hired swords led by a venerable Redguard, both witnessed one Kamal vessel approaching. On the main stone berth of pier seven, their first opponents were a pair of colossus frost atronachs.
Two daedric golems emerged as magic brightened the ship's bow and stern. Each of the atronachs were the height of a two-story building. They moved slow and deliberate, taking short steps and crushing as many traps as possible under their ice-made feet. Behind the berth were makeshift wooden barriers. The ranged fighters started slinging projectiles when the atronachs came in range. Arrows and occasionally, spells, pounded daedric ice with little effect. The few fire spells were the only effective options, these made large dents and holes, with some even staggered the atronachs, though nothing halted them for long.
Behind a barrier facing the pier, Ariane felt the amulet from the antique shop beginning to heat up. Strange thing was that she threw no offensive spells thus far. Being a mystic, her repertoire of combat magic was lacking. Both her attempts at draining magicka and banishing fell through. Though in the course of casting, she found her own magicka drain offset by something in the amulet. When she glanced down at object, it was glowing bright cyan under her shawl. The energy was powerful, it made her hair flutter in the currents. Instead of tired, Ariane felt more ebullient than ever.
Control, what if she could do that?
Controlling spawns of Oblivion require expensive magicka expenditure combined with great focus of the mind. But with the amulet feeding vigor into her veins, Ariane straightened herself so her hands came above the barrier and blinding arcane lights flew from her to one atronach. The sheer amount of energy made her eyes glow, her hair stood upright and her robes bellowed around her. Ariane closed her eyes and poured every specks of creatia into the spell, and sure enough, one atronach stopped moving. At that moment, its frosty limbs felt just as Ariane's own.
With a wave of her finger, the atronach swung its arm into the other. The golems grappled on the berth, chunks of ice taken off swing by swing. In the course of several minutes, both entities unraveled in sloughs of ice fragments. Ariane breathed a sigh of relief, her magicka spent and the amulet no longer glowed. Gone was the movement in her hair and clothing. Her own concentration also faded. She fell backwards, unconscious as she either hit the ground or a catching arm.
As most attention were on the atronachs, not a lot of the defenders noticed actual Kamal warriors touching down on the berth. Indeed, only had the snow demons became visible once their ice thralls came apart. The invaders marched in tight line formations. Three rows of troops pressed towards the docks in coordinated synergy. The first line were shield bearers, holding teardrop-shaped shields over two meters tall, each one of these Kamals wore armor more impeccable then their skirmisher comrades earlier. In fact, all of their equipment must weighed down on them so much that the first line could not run, but only briskly walk. A line of spearmen were found behind the shield wall, the sharp tips came out ahead of the shields were made from the same near-unassailable alloy. The third row of Kamals, unlike the first two wearing ponderous bulwarks, were freer moving mages. Clad in brigadine studded with metal and face covered with flat masks, certain Kamal mages held staffs while others kept magic in their palms.
This phalanx proved just as hard to crack as the ice atronachs. Standard steel arrows bounced off shields harmlessly, while the few that managed to find narrow slits were defeated by armor. Like wise, most mage spells were equally ineffective. The shields must have some form of enchantment reducing magical effects, and to add to Windhelm's woes, the mages sprung up blocks of ice to intercept anything the shields could not fend off. Intact caltrops snared some invaders, but it failed to disrupt their formations to significant degrees. When the traps became apparent to the snow demons, their mages started to pave the berth floor ice, allowing their soldiers to safely traverse and no doubt causing reckless Tamrielics to slip.
Situation was looking grim, until Dumhuvud tugged out a reluctant young woman from the warehouse.
Relymna Vibato hid safely during the first battle, and she planned just so for the second one. She was nowhere in sight when the company first arrived in Windhelm. Some saw her delving into the Gray Quarter and then, nothing. The next day, she showed up at the warehouse late in the morning, her clothing was a tattered mess and she smelled like wet dogs. From the scant chatters of the few mercenaries, she apparently decided to quit her contract. But fate was not so kind on the young Dunmer woman. Snow demons came and she ducked. When the battle winded down, Relmyna tried her best to catch Ashav and give him her resignation. To no avail, the commander was busy all throughout the day. Ashav finally had some free time at nightfall, by then, Relmyna was gone again.
Turns out, she curled up in fetal position behind some barrels, inside the warehouse. Had not been Dumhuvud making a run for backup weaponry, Relmyna probably could continue whimpering in her dusty corner. That was not the case though. The Cat-Kicker was his old raging self, he dragged Relmyna by her shirt collar as acidic insults flew with every bit of saliva. But the Dunmer woman heard none of it, she was twitching uncontrollably, ever the more so as she reached the door.
“Please, no, not there!” She begged, shaking with every ounce of strength in her petite body. It looked like she was about to explode.
“Look, you miserable wretch.” Dumhuvud gibed, throwing open the wooden doors and hurling Relmyna on the moonlight stones. “A battle and someone trying to desert.” He hunched down and roughly grabbed Relmyna left arm. “Pier seven, now! Are you listening?!”
“Oh, shit!” Relmyna shrieked. Her attention was not at the invaders, instead, she locked dead on the moons. Her red eyes grew wide, they were perfect miniature copies of Masser and Secunda. Moonlight seeped into her ashen skin. Her weeps were at first sharp and baby-like, but they quickly deepened and turned into savage yowls. “Aah!” She howled, it sounded just like a wolf. The Dunmer girl thrashed, strong enough to send the Cat-Kicker tumbling back. And then, she lost all control.
Relmyna changed, to a werewolf.
A lycan creature bore nearly no semblance to Relymna saved for ragged pieces of her clothing. Boney flesh replaced by rippling muscle, and the werewolf rushed forward faster than a pouncing sabre cat. It appeared to have small degrees of control, as it took care to knock over as few of the defenders as possible. Still, in the seconds it took from the warehouse to pier seven, werewolf Relymna barreled through both human and Kamals alike.
The line inched across the berth far to close for comfort. Kamal mages were now sending ice mixed lightning spells into the barricades. Pieces broke and Skitprat the Salty, one of Dumhuvud's goons, died with a piece of ice in his throat. Shields marched forward undeterred, they were almost upon the defenders when a werewolf crashed into their midst.
The werewolf rampaged through the Kamal lines. Though it had considerable brawn over human, it was no heavyweight compared to Kamals. The advantage was its speed, its ferocity as Kamal line troops were taken by surprise. While the werewolf's claws were sharp and it could tear through leather, the alloys of the snow demons sheltered them well. However, the werewolf disoriented instead of killing the invaders. The shield and spear formation broke, a couple of Kamals were even tossed into the water. Not a lot of reacting attacks connected, even those that did bleed the lycan did nothing to stop its fury. Soon, the Kamals were in shambles. Kills were few but their ranks scattered.
Behind the three lines was one figure in medium skirmisher armor. This Kamal had a bronze disk strapped over its metal plates. The disk emitted blue light. The figure directed others, shouting unintelligible words before the lycan cleared a path and brought it down to the ground. The werewolf readied one set of claws, but an ice shard was driven through its thigh before the Kamal officer kicked it away. Some sort of metal-studded club appeared in the Kamal's hand. Two belligerents stood meters apart, the werewolf let a vicious growl before slamming into its opponent. The Kamal barely held balance, but with a surprising strike, hit the werewolf's head with club pommel. Quick bash followed across the werewolf's shoulder. The head was spared and the lycan, realizing it bit off more than it could chew, scurried away before an ice spell met its furs. It continued its berserk at pier eight.
Gradually, the defenders recovered from the shocking scene before them. The first to not-so-recover his bearings was Felix. He rose the earliest, and seeing individual snow demons disorganized across the pier, vaulted over the broken barricade. To quote a well-known bards' piece; Felix's palms are sweaty, knees weak and arms heavy. But as he tried his best to slap some sense in, or out of himself, he thought; now is not the time to vomit spaghetti.
“I'm going for the big one!” Felix unclasped his axe and charged towards the disk-wearing officer.
“Caileach! Stop!” Ashav warned as loud as his raspy voice could. He tried to hold Felix back but the Imperial bard slipped through his fingers. “Hold up! Stay together!” He barked, no help in turning Felix around.
By strokes of dumb luck, it seemed like Felix found perfect spaces between Kamal soldiers. He was going to catch the Kamal officer on its flank. More defenders now stood and cheered Felix on, with some even going over the barricades themselves. But then, the Imperial came to a complete stop; he was frozen in ice from head to toe in ice. The Kamal officer turned towards Felix, its disk lit up with blue light and its club raised high above its head. Soaring through the air, the club connected, and Felix became a jumble of red ice.
Ten hours past mid noon, Windhelm bid its time under another scarlet sky. Masser and Secunda bled stronger than yesterday. Wolf howls broke out once the darkness fell, but for many, concealing under familiar roofs no longer render a sense safety. Warriors of the city stood their posts on the docks and the walls. Crimson starclouds reminded many of the bloodbath during daytime. If the Kamal ships were not unnerving enough, then the skies certainly would be.
A river away, the Kamals returned in force. Three of the six ships parked parallel to the farms hoisted their anchors, their internal furnaces blazed alive as smoke drove out of their chimneys. Three vessels from the blockade line downstream joined in, and together, six metal-ships made the second landfall. The sound of metal cutting through water drowned out the howls of wolves. Within minutes, familiar shapes of snow demons piled onto the ship decks. The gray armor menacing under the reddish moonlight, a row of shield-totting giants took point, and further rows stood behind them. But just like the initial invasion, the pioneers on the docks were atronachs. Piers seven and eight, defended by a combination of EEC security, the White River Braves, local volunteers, the Dawnguards and twenty-some hired swords led by a venerable Redguard, both witnessed one Kamal vessel approaching. On the main stone berth of pier seven, their first opponents were a pair of colossus frost atronachs.
Two daedric golems emerged as magic brightened the ship's bow and stern. Each of the atronachs were the height of a two-story building. They moved slow and deliberate, taking short steps and crushing as many traps as possible under their ice-made feet. Behind the berth were makeshift wooden barriers. The ranged fighters started slinging projectiles when the atronachs came in range. Arrows and occasionally, spells, pounded daedric ice with little effect. The few fire spells were the only effective options, these made large dents and holes, with some even staggered the atronachs, though nothing halted them for long.
Behind a barrier facing the pier, Ariane felt the amulet from the antique shop beginning to heat up. Strange thing was that she threw no offensive spells thus far. Being a mystic, her repertoire of combat magic was lacking. Both her attempts at draining magicka and banishing fell through. Though in the course of casting, she found her own magicka drain offset by something in the amulet. When she glanced down at object, it was glowing bright cyan under her shawl. The energy was powerful, it made her hair flutter in the currents. Instead of tired, Ariane felt more ebullient than ever.
Control, what if she could do that?
Controlling spawns of Oblivion require expensive magicka expenditure combined with great focus of the mind. But with the amulet feeding vigor into her veins, Ariane straightened herself so her hands came above the barrier and blinding arcane lights flew from her to one atronach. The sheer amount of energy made her eyes glow, her hair stood upright and her robes bellowed around her. Ariane closed her eyes and poured every specks of creatia into the spell, and sure enough, one atronach stopped moving. At that moment, its frosty limbs felt just as Ariane's own.
With a wave of her finger, the atronach swung its arm into the other. The golems grappled on the berth, chunks of ice taken off swing by swing. In the course of several minutes, both entities unraveled in sloughs of ice fragments. Ariane breathed a sigh of relief, her magicka spent and the amulet no longer glowed. Gone was the movement in her hair and clothing. Her own concentration also faded. She fell backwards, unconscious as she either hit the ground or a catching arm.
As most attention were on the atronachs, not a lot of the defenders noticed actual Kamal warriors touching down on the berth. Indeed, only had the snow demons became visible once their ice thralls came apart. The invaders marched in tight line formations. Three rows of troops pressed towards the docks in coordinated synergy. The first line were shield bearers, holding teardrop-shaped shields over two meters tall, each one of these Kamals wore armor more impeccable then their skirmisher comrades earlier. In fact, all of their equipment must weighed down on them so much that the first line could not run, but only briskly walk. A line of spearmen were found behind the shield wall, the sharp tips came out ahead of the shields were made from the same near-unassailable alloy. The third row of Kamals, unlike the first two wearing ponderous bulwarks, were freer moving mages. Clad in brigadine studded with metal and face covered with flat masks, certain Kamal mages held staffs while others kept magic in their palms.
This phalanx proved just as hard to crack as the ice atronachs. Standard steel arrows bounced off shields harmlessly, while the few that managed to find narrow slits were defeated by armor. Like wise, most mage spells were equally ineffective. The shields must have some form of enchantment reducing magical effects, and to add to Windhelm's woes, the mages sprung up blocks of ice to intercept anything the shields could not fend off. Intact caltrops snared some invaders, but it failed to disrupt their formations to significant degrees. When the traps became apparent to the snow demons, their mages started to pave the berth floor ice, allowing their soldiers to safely traverse and no doubt causing reckless Tamrielics to slip.
Situation was looking grim, until Dumhuvud tugged out a reluctant young woman from the warehouse.
Relymna Vibato hid safely during the first battle, and she planned just so for the second one. She was nowhere in sight when the company first arrived in Windhelm. Some saw her delving into the Gray Quarter and then, nothing. The next day, she showed up at the warehouse late in the morning, her clothing was a tattered mess and she smelled like wet dogs. From the scant chatters of the few mercenaries, she apparently decided to quit her contract. But fate was not so kind on the young Dunmer woman. Snow demons came and she ducked. When the battle winded down, Relmyna tried her best to catch Ashav and give him her resignation. To no avail, the commander was busy all throughout the day. Ashav finally had some free time at nightfall, by then, Relmyna was gone again.
Turns out, she curled up in fetal position behind some barrels, inside the warehouse. Had not been Dumhuvud making a run for backup weaponry, Relmyna probably could continue whimpering in her dusty corner. That was not the case though. The Cat-Kicker was his old raging self, he dragged Relmyna by her shirt collar as acidic insults flew with every bit of saliva. But the Dunmer woman heard none of it, she was twitching uncontrollably, ever the more so as she reached the door.
“Please, no, not there!” She begged, shaking with every ounce of strength in her petite body. It looked like she was about to explode.
“Look, you miserable wretch.” Dumhuvud gibed, throwing open the wooden doors and hurling Relmyna on the moonlight stones. “A battle and someone trying to desert.” He hunched down and roughly grabbed Relmyna left arm. “Pier seven, now! Are you listening?!”
“Oh, shit!” Relmyna shrieked. Her attention was not at the invaders, instead, she locked dead on the moons. Her red eyes grew wide, they were perfect miniature copies of Masser and Secunda. Moonlight seeped into her ashen skin. Her weeps were at first sharp and baby-like, but they quickly deepened and turned into savage yowls. “Aah!” She howled, it sounded just like a wolf. The Dunmer girl thrashed, strong enough to send the Cat-Kicker tumbling back. And then, she lost all control.
Relmyna changed, to a werewolf.
A lycan creature bore nearly no semblance to Relymna saved for ragged pieces of her clothing. Boney flesh replaced by rippling muscle, and the werewolf rushed forward faster than a pouncing sabre cat. It appeared to have small degrees of control, as it took care to knock over as few of the defenders as possible. Still, in the seconds it took from the warehouse to pier seven, werewolf Relymna barreled through both human and Kamals alike.
The line inched across the berth far to close for comfort. Kamal mages were now sending ice mixed lightning spells into the barricades. Pieces broke and Skitprat the Salty, one of Dumhuvud's goons, died with a piece of ice in his throat. Shields marched forward undeterred, they were almost upon the defenders when a werewolf crashed into their midst.
The werewolf rampaged through the Kamal lines. Though it had considerable brawn over human, it was no heavyweight compared to Kamals. The advantage was its speed, its ferocity as Kamal line troops were taken by surprise. While the werewolf's claws were sharp and it could tear through leather, the alloys of the snow demons sheltered them well. However, the werewolf disoriented instead of killing the invaders. The shield and spear formation broke, a couple of Kamals were even tossed into the water. Not a lot of reacting attacks connected, even those that did bleed the lycan did nothing to stop its fury. Soon, the Kamals were in shambles. Kills were few but their ranks scattered.
Behind the three lines was one figure in medium skirmisher armor. This Kamal had a bronze disk strapped over its metal plates. The disk emitted blue light. The figure directed others, shouting unintelligible words before the lycan cleared a path and brought it down to the ground. The werewolf readied one set of claws, but an ice shard was driven through its thigh before the Kamal officer kicked it away. Some sort of metal-studded club appeared in the Kamal's hand. Two belligerents stood meters apart, the werewolf let a vicious growl before slamming into its opponent. The Kamal barely held balance, but with a surprising strike, hit the werewolf's head with club pommel. Quick bash followed across the werewolf's shoulder. The head was spared and the lycan, realizing it bit off more than it could chew, scurried away before an ice spell met its furs. It continued its berserk at pier eight.
Gradually, the defenders recovered from the shocking scene before them. The first to not-so-recover his bearings was Felix. He rose the earliest, and seeing individual snow demons disorganized across the pier, vaulted over the broken barricade. To quote a well-known bards' piece; Felix's palms are sweaty, knees weak and arms heavy. But as he tried his best to slap some sense in, or out of himself, he thought; now is not the time to vomit spaghetti.
“I'm going for the big one!” Felix unclasped his axe and charged towards the disk-wearing officer.
“Caileach! Stop!” Ashav warned as loud as his raspy voice could. He tried to hold Felix back but the Imperial bard slipped through his fingers. “Hold up! Stay together!” He barked, no help in turning Felix around.
By strokes of dumb luck, it seemed like Felix found perfect spaces between Kamal soldiers. He was going to catch the Kamal officer on its flank. More defenders now stood and cheered Felix on, with some even going over the barricades themselves. But then, the Imperial came to a complete stop; he was frozen in ice from head to toe in ice. The Kamal officer turned towards Felix, its disk lit up with blue light and its club raised high above its head. Soaring through the air, the club connected, and Felix became a jumble of red ice.
