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1 - The Begining2,998 words
2 - The Arrival4,948 words
3 - The Battle4,960 words
4 - The First Introductions4,172 words
5 - The Second Introductions6,547 words
6 - The Day Before4,346 words
One last word1 words

3 - The Battle

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Chapter Three

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What, you don’t believe khajiit? You wonder how this one knows what all those ponies in that village were doing? Fine, we learned all of that later, from questions and answers. Now shut up and let us continue.

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I awoke rather comfortably.

I still lay on the dirt where I had fallen, but my wounds no longer hurt or bled. My clothes, despite being rather torn apart, weren’t even covered in blood stains. This surprised me, but not quite as much when I learned what was sleeping next to me.

Turning to my right, I gazed upon the manticore, snoring loudly, half its left wing slung over me, as if to protect me. It carried a slight smile on its face, and seemed rather content to just lie there all day. I had other plans though, and I carefully began to weave my way out of its wing.

This of course, woke it.

Its response was different than what I was expecting. The creature was a manticore, a violent species, one that is known for its viscous nature. I expected it to try to finish me off, to try to make me its morning breakfast.

What it did was nuzzle up to me, grip me in both its huge paws, and lick my face repeatedly. Nothing could have confused me more, but try as I might, it had a strong grip, and I couldn’t get out of it. The manticore must have sensed my struggles, for it put me down soon after, and began to pat my head. Then it simply sat back down, and stared at me.

Now that it wasn’t trying to kill me, I had a good chance to get a look at it. For starters, it was far larger than me, my head ended at the top of its shoulders. It had a very, very large shaggy mane, and its face was unmistakably that of a lion. I bent over and gave its sniff, and sure enough, it carried a scent very similar to a lions as well.

After I had had my look over, it knelt forward, and lay down on the dirt next to me. It seemed content, and the way it watched the environment around us reminded me a mother wolf watching over its cubs. Not wanting to seem weak, I leaned over and whispered in its ear, “This one is not your newborn you know?”

To my surprise, it responded. Not with words, but it shook its head in an agreement before leaning close and licking my face once more. I pushed it off me before it could get in another one however.

I let myself sit next to it long enough to catch my bearings, as well as my belongings. Because it was cooler today, I decided to wear my armor, although the fur lining did become uncomfortable, it wasn’t unbearable. Then I threw my swords onto my back, as well as my pack, pulled on Krosis, and began to walk away into the woods.

Then the manticore jumped on me.

At first I thought it had regained its rage, but after several moments, it licked my face again, grabbed me in it huge left paw, threw me on its back, and flew off into the sky.

I have to admit, it was rather amusing. Because of my dragon soul, I have always held an affinity to the sky, and no matter how much thought I put into it, I could never shake the everlasting need to fly. Odd, considering most khajiit and cats hate high places. I guess it’s just a trait dragons have, one that was given to me as well, but know I could finally, for the first time since I rode Odahving, lose the ground beneath my feet and join the clouds.

It was exhilarating.

I found myself smiling, wide. Below my legs, the manticore glided with utmost grace. Its course was obvious; it flew towards the forest edge, to the nearby town. I could see it in the distance, albeit less detailed due to the morning fog. That reminded me, I had no idea what time it was. I checked it, using the sky as a clock. It was just barely over the horizon, so sometime around five or six, give or take an hour or two. I leaned backwards and stared upwards at the sky, knowing that I would not have a chance to be this close to it again for many a year, if ever.

Below me the manticore gave a roar that shook the earth as he crossed the border of the forest. I sat upright and scratched behind its ear, much to its enjoyment. Then I opened my sack, and began to rifle through my few belongings. I didn’t have much, a few scrolls to summon undead, a whetstone for my swords, several potions of assorted colors that I would have to organise later, and a few books, mostly novels. It was a bad collection of items, but I preferred to travel light, not heavily, and for that, it worked. I closed the sack and tossed it over on my back. The manticore was beginning to near the town, another minute at most and we’d be there.

I cracked my neck as I attempted to predict what I would find. Maybe I would find I was in some far off land, or some backwater country. Perhaps I was in a realm of Oblivion, being toyed with by some cruel deadra. Perhaps this was someplace else entirely. Nonetheless, I relaxed a little, knowing that with all that I had experienced, nothing down there would surprise me.

I was wrong.

As the manticore drew close, I spotted three things that through me off guard.

One, the people of the town was not like any I had ever seen. They appeared to be equine, with bright colored hides. Several of them had wings or horns, making them unicorns and pegasi respectively. They walked around doing the same day to day activities as a normal person might do, hinting at intelligence. From where I was, they appeared slightly shorter than me, maybe up to the top of my ribs or chest, but no farther.

Second, I noticed a huge flaming gate in the center of the town, near a house built into a tree and a lavender unicorn. It occurred to me that none of the horses were looking at me instead fixing their attention on the gate.

Third, I saw a dremora walk out of it. This would have surprised me regardless of where I was, but the details on that certain dremora nearly drew me into a panic. He wore fine armor, I could tell from where I was that it was real deadric, not the cheaper and more common form that lesser dremora wear. It was also far larger than any dremora I had ever seen, towering over me, which only served as a testament to how much taller it was than the surrounding horses. There was no doubt about it; this dremora was a Valkynaz, one of the lesser princes of Mehrunes Dagon, a member of the deadra prince’s council and honor guard. One of the most powerful entities to exist, and here it was, in a town populated by colorful horses, something that defied all the laws of Oblivion.

Below me the manticore stopped in place, hovering above the ground. Together, we both watched the dremora lord.

It seemed pleased with itself, it laughed out loud and looked around the town for several moments. Then it did the very thing I hoped it wouldn’t. It unsheathed its sword, a giant claymore the make of which I had only seen in Vvardenfel, and then it motioned at the lavender horse near the tree house, and ran at her.

Then, the flaming gate widened, and dozens more dremora and deadra poured out.

The manticore wasted no time in dashing forward towards the town, seemingly forgetting about me, much to my dismay. The speed at which it moved forward made it near impossible to hold on, and by the time it reached the outer area of the town, I could hold on no longer. My grasp weakened, and I fell from its back, all the way to the ground, two hundred meters below.

To call the fall painful would have been a lie. It wasn’t painful, it was unbearable. I landed on my back and let out scream in agony as I heard a snap. Everything in my body went numb from the back down. At first panic set in before I remembered the potions in my sack. I prayed to the divines as I opened the sack top, hoping they hadn’t cracked or shattered. To my luck, none of them had, and soon I picked out a large red one, topped with a wine cork. I wasted no time in downing in, and soon after feeling returned to my body, and all the aches and bruises I had vanished. I stretched my legs out, testing their mobility before standing up.

The deadra hoard had worked quickly. Already they were near my position, although I doubted the horses had given them much resistance. I sighed as I unsheathed both my swords. When I looked upon this town from the forest I expected a warm welcome, a guide on where I was and instructions on how to get home. Nothing that was happening was something I expected, or wanted. The deadra saw to ruin that, and now, I was going to make them pay. I ran forward, swinging both my swords, towards the town.

The first wave I reached was made primarily of low ranking dremora shock troopers, churls. They barely put up any resistance. I jumped between two of them, swinging my blades as I sliced through the right one’s armor. The left one turned around soon after, but only met a blade to the throat. Then the last of them, a kynreeve and two more churls ran toward me. The kynreeve was strong, stronger than me, and it took all of my skill not to let his blows through, but the churls were weak and undisciplined. I killed the first with a stab through the abdomen and the second with a counter attack to the chest. The kynreeve laughed as they fell, screaming about how weak they were. He boasted a shield and long sword, and the pose he took showed me of his skill.

He made the first move, nearly taking my head off with an overhand swing, but I dodged it and sliced to its side, to which it blocked with its shield. Before I could pull away, it bashed me in the face with the shield, knocking me off balance and allowing it to swing at my unguarded chest. My armor stopped it, but I made note to chastise myself for letting such a blow in.

The dremora obviously didn’t expect his sword to stop at my chest, and his surprise allowed me the moment to get in one good swing, which opened his armor up from gut to neck. It fell down to its knees soon after, and stared straight ahead at me. Before I took its life with one final swing, it had the time to say “Well fought.”

After allowing the deadra to fall, I moved onwards. The main hoard that pressed through the gate ended up numbering at around seventy. In that, I had to engage and fight around thirty. The closest I got to losing a fight was when I had three catiffs fighting me at the same time. One of them, the largest, carried a warhammer, and with it, it knocked Dragonbane out of my hand. I had to use Oathblade instead, this time taking on a more defensive stance. In the end I used the dremora’s hammer against it, dodging its swing, making it over shoot and hit instead its ally, caving in its breastplate. In its rage it swung wildly at me, which I once again dodged, letting it swing over shoot again and smack into the face of the other catiff, shattering its skull. This time it was too tired to pull another swing at me, and I easily slid past its defenses, killing it with a thrust straight through the heart.

Afterwards the rest of the battle was easy sailing. I saved several of the horse-people (Really? Horse-people?) as I made my way through the town, all of whom looked at me strangely, but never saying a word to me as they fled for safety. I didn’t mind their looks; beneath Krosis mine was the same. I pushed all questions to the back of my head. I would have my answers, later, when the battle was over. Looking up at the sky, which by then was red, I wondered if the horses had any sort of ruler or government, and if they would send help. I couldn’t hold back the entire army of Oblivion, not forever, and if I didn’t get help soon then the dremora would overwhelm the town. They would chase down the ones who were fleeing, kill the ones who begged for their lives, and put the town and all in it to the torch.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Ahead of me, in the town center, the Valkynaz I saw enter the gate still stood, cutting down the few ponies who dared to oppose him.

There weren’t many, certainly not as many as the dremora, but several a large and brave ponies had been able to make a sort of makeshift militia, ten or so ponies, fighting with whatever they could find. Pitchforks, shovels, their own hoofs, I even saw a rainbow haired one slam into a churl so fast it generated a rainbow behind it. There was another pink one that shot a kynval in the face with a cannon of some sort. The blast threw it across the town in a comical fashion. I would have been amused if it weren’t for the circumstances.

They seemed to be led by the lavender unicorn, perhaps the smallest of all of them, as she barked orders and loosed spells at the nearby hoard. They were makeshift spells, fireballs, heat rays, and frostshards, nothing especially powerful. I began to wonder just how they hadn’t been cut down yet, until I saw her let loose a golden glow at an injured horse, instantly healing him of his injuries, to which he dived right back into the fray. Whenever a horse got injured, she would heal them, and they would get back to the fighting. It was an efficient method of repelling the attackers.

But sadly not enough.

All around her there were horses she hadn’t been able to save in time, and several of them had run off in fear, only to be killed before they could get ten meters. It was a hopeless endeavor.

Fortunately, the cavalry soon arrived, in the form of dozens of chariots pulled by armored pegasi, in which sat unicorns, also armored. Each one was throwing spells down upon the dremora hoard, but one in particular was having more luck, her spells more powerful and accurate. I glanced around until I saw her, to which my jaw dropped.

She was tall, just under my height, and she wore a sort of golden battle armor, more decorative than anything. Her mane was strange, and seemed to be made out of waves of colors flowing in the pattern of a rainbow, and she boasted not just a horn or wings, but both. Everything about her screamed royalty, that much was certain as the look on her brow as she searched the battlefield, tossing spells down by the dozens, until she saw her target.

“The general,” I said to no one in particular, “She’s trying to kill the general.”

And she was. When she spotted him taking on four horses at once, and winning, she jumped off her carriage spreading wide a pair of wings, and landed ten meters from him. He seemed amused he pulled back his head in laughter as she said “Why are you hurting my little ponies, what do you want from us? Answer!”

That seemed to amuse him more. He yelled something at his army I didn’t hear, earning laughter from the invading dremora, as he leveled his sword with her chest and began to approach her. That was about when I noticed the crowd that had gathered around her. Many of the horses, and many of the dremora, even me, had stopped the fighting, momentarily, to watch the fight that was about to commence. The fight that would decide the fate of the town.

Sadly however, it was over before it began.

The royal horse started by throwing a fireball at the dremora, which he deflected with his sword. Before she could make another one, he lunged at her, holding his sword with both hands in an over hand swing. She summoned a mystical sword from thin air, and blocked the blow at the last second, but she seemed to flinch at the force. She continued to block the dremora’s swings, but she soon grew tired. Her levitating sword began to slow, and after a particularly strong swing, she ended up in a lock with the general.

They stared at each other for several moments, before the dremora pressed all his force down on her bound sword. In a flash of light, it vanished, accompanied with the crack of shattering glass, and the royal horse fell to her knees. When she tried to rise, he butt her just under her horn with his pommel, and she fell to the ground. She repeated this twice more, and by then, she was barely conscious.

It was clear to the crowd, to the shock of the horses, she had lost. In front of her the dremora raised his sword, a wide smile on his face as he swung downwards with all his might at her head.

Instead his sword found Dragonbane’s edge.

His shoulders shook from recoil as pulled away from me, snorting in disgust at my defense of the royal horse. I heard her sigh from behind me, half in joy and half in fatigue. Around me the deadra and the horses stared, especially the horses. I had a sneaking suspicion that they had never seen a khajiit before, but I neglected to say anything to them, although my tail shook nervously. Instead I spoke to the dremora general, using first person instead of my preferred third to get my point across.

“If you want to fight anyone today, then make it me. I cannot let the weak be abused, and I will not let your deeds go unpunished. So raise your sword, this goes to the death curr.” My threat was accompanied by a feline growl.

Behind me I heard the royal horse stand up and make her way back to the crowd. She seemed confused, something I expected. When she was back in the crowd, next to the lavender pony from earlier, she looked at me and nodded. I nodded in response as well, and cracked my neck. In front of me the dremora prepared himself, taking up a fighting position.

I let him have the first move. It came into reality as a side swing with both hands, which I barely blocked with both my swords. Next he threw an overhand attack, which I sidestepped. Before he could get another attack in, I stepped close and slid Oathblade against the back of his knee, cutting through a small layer of chain mail and giving him a very small but deep cut.

If he felt the slice, he didn’t show it. He elbowed me in the face, hitting Krosis instead, but the force was enough to push me backwards several meters. Then he was on me again, this time putting an extra bit of power in his wings, now that he knew I was a legitimate threat. The horses around me winced with every blow, but the dremora cheered their leader onwards, which he responded to by adding even more power to his swings. I found myself struggling to keep up with his movements, and finding very few opportunities to get a blow in, and those that I did hardly scratched his armor.

Eventually, I failed to block one of his attacks, and it struck me on the shin, cutting straight through my dragonscale, and soaking the fur underlining with my blood. I let out a growl in pain, much to the amusement of the dremora, and the horror of the horses, but to me, the wound only succeeded in putting me into blood frenzy. The world glazed over as I began seeing everything as red, everything, except the general.

Then I reversed the table. I put myself on the attack, swinging my two swords in different motions, catching him off guard and getting numerous, albeit minor hits in. They hardly made any marks on his breastplate, but one hit his thigh, and when I pulled back my blade, there was a small smear of blood on it.

The dremora reacted exactly as I expected him to, pulling his sword around and pressing the attack. This time however, he was almost without grace, pulling his energy from rage. That made every swing the more powerful, but also made him clumsy. He missed several swings, and I found it easier to dodge them than before. I eventually missed a dodge, having to resort to my swords to stop the blow, a diagonal chop, which ended hitting the back of my left shoulder, forcing me to drop Oathblade. The horses gave a wail of despair; all expect the royal one and the lavender unicorn. They instead seemed more focused than ever before.

Not bothering to react from the wound, I pushed the general’s sword off me, and took up Dragonbane alone, this time holding it with both hands. I ended up blocking more attacks than I could before, but the general didn’t seem to tire. He seemed more dedicated than before, and every blow shook my foundations. Once again, I found myself tiring before his onslaught, until I was practically on my knees, clutching my sword with one hand, completely out of breath. The general stepped in front of me and took up the same stance as when he had attempted to finish the royal horse. He had a wide smile on his face, something that just looked wrong on a dremora, and I could tell he was about to enjoy what he was about to do.

I knew I wouldn’t, so I called upon my last inner strength as I stood up and yelled right into his face “Fus Ro!”

A sudden burst of air hit him, completely throwing him off balance, his swing missing me by meters. I lunged at him catching him unaware and slicing open his leg from his thigh to his ankle. He let out a grunt of pain, and stuttered a set to the left. This allowed me to get a single swing in.

That turned out to be a terrible decision.

With unsung precision, he lifted his sword, knocked mine off course to the right, performed a spin and struck me straight in my side, punching through my armor. The horses in the crowd winced all at once, none of them wanting to imagine how much the strike hurt. I couldn’t help but scream out in pain as his sword made its way through my armor, embedding itself just under my ribs, around an inch into my flesh. He pulled it out and stepped towards me. I didn’t let myself fall to my knees, if I did that this time then I was dead, there was no doubt about that. So I forced myself to stand through the pain, leveling my sword at his chest.

The Valkynaz attacked faster than he ever did before. He threw an underhand slash at me, which I parried, and then a side swing. When I tried to dodge it, he hit me in the shoulder, taking a chunk of my dragonscale armor off and cutting down to bone. Before I could retaliate he leaped forward and thrust his blade straight through my abdomen. The pain was unbearable, I yelled as my mouth filled with blood. I spit it out right before falling to my knees in front of him as he pulled his sword out of me with a sick “shlick!”

The general once again took up his overhand chop stance, and I knew it was over. I couldn’t hope to block or dodge that attack. I had tried my hardest, but I couldn’t defeat him. There were worse ways to go I supposed, I went trying to save a village from doom, and I could live, or in this case, die happily in the knowledge of that. I gave up; I just sat on my knees and awaited the blow that would end it all.

Then I caught a glance at the lavender horse’s eyes, her strangely human eyes. She seemed sad, worried. She knew that with my death also died the hope of her town, her friends. A single tear appeared in her right eye before she blinked it away, and then looked away from me.

I couldn’t let her stay like that. The wounds I had suffered were fatal, that much was certain, I was bleeding too much to deny it, but I could at least die after saving this town. That much I knew.

The dremora general began his downward swing at the same time I jumped forward, towards him, holding my blade behind my head horizontally. When the deadric sword swung over me, it caught Dragonbane, and with a single twist, I had it locked in position.

And with it, the general’s life.

I had locked him in what a friend of mine called the death grapple. The attacker’s sword would be held behind my head, but prevented from hitting me by my own sword. Once that happened, there was no going back, if the attacker tried to pull his blade out, he would leave his head completely exposed and defenseless. Nothing could counter the death grapple save from outside interference.

And that was what had happened to the general. He didn’t realize it at first; he just stared at Krosis, but mere inches from his own face. Then I watched as he discovered what I had done and realization crept up on his face. Then he sighed, growled and mouthed something in a language I didn’t know to me. All around me dremora and horses held their breath’s in anticipation.

After several moments the dremora closed his eyes, opened them, looked straight into mine, through Krosis, and nodded.

Then we pulled out of the grapple.

As he did so, I swung my sword around my head, picking up momentum as Dragonbane’s edge approached his neck, bit by bit.

And then it passed right through him.

I stepped away as he dropped his sword and fell to his knees, his mouth open and his eyes closed. Straight ahead of him the royal horse stared at him. She continued this until he fell to the ground, and his head rolled off his shoulders, silently making its way across the floor until it rested just in front of her.

Everything in the area was silent as I stepped back into the center of the circle, sheathed my swords, and looked straight at the lavender unicorn.

She wasn’t crying. She was smiling. It was something I could live with. I tore off my mask and looked at her for a second, looking at her without the mask slits, with my own eyes. I was at peace. I was content. I was mortally wounded. I was falling. the world was spinning, its colors were red.

I fell to the ground in a pool of my own blood. Around me, horses approached to get a glance at me. The lavender unicorn was shouting something, and I could see the dremora running away towards their gate. The royal horse walked up to me, parting way through the crowd until she was at my side. A gurgle and a mouthful of blood came out of my mouth when I tried to say something. She held her hoof to my mouth and told me to be silent, to be still. She turned her head and shouted for someone, but I didn’t hear the name. Everything was going dark, and I found it difficult to focus on anything. Then the lavender unicorn was at my side. She knelt down next to me and whispered something, something I wasn’t expecting.

“Thank you.”

I stopped holding on. I was too hurt. Ahead of me, a white light was forming. I focused on it, and it grew lighter. It called for me, told me to stop trying.

So I did, and died.

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Game Over

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(Note: The story is not over. I left this reminder out originally because I thought most people would see the incomplete tag and make the connection. One person apparently didn't, so I have decided to post this. There is more to come, so don't ditch this. As before, please like or dislike, and feel free to leave a comment.)

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