Chapter8
Location:- Broken Tower Redoubt.
Date:- 2E 581 First
Seed Sundas 15th
Delte and the others
watched the ruined fort from behind the rocky outcrop on top of the
cliffs opposite of the main entrance to the old fort. The remains of
an old tower strewn about them, Volk had explained that it use to be
a bridge that span the gulley with battlements for archers to hide
behind in case of attack. It was one of the few roads between
Markarth and Whiterun at one point and this was considered a safe
point to cross, but sometime ago there was an earthquake that brought
the bridge down and so the fort was abandoned and left to ruin. The
ruins of the tower they now hid in is what is left of the stones that
the local residents had not yet stolen for their own homes.
On the battlements
opposite screams of pain issued forth from the survivors from the
attack on Rorikstead, those that had returned had been quickly
subdued and placed on racks out in the open. The cultist priests now
started to strip the flesh off the cultists that had been part of the
raiding party on the town of Rorikstead, the strips of which was
placed into an ornate wooden box inlaid with golden daedric runes.
The raiders were being kept alive through dark magic, as each one was
stripped of their flesh the skeletons were freed to join the rest of
the undead that guarded the fort. The sky above was shot through with
red clouds giving the whole scene a horrifying vista which could of
just been happening in Oblivion rather than Tamriel.
The cult priests wore long
loose white robes that had been splashed by blood and offal from
their victims. Their faces covered by bronze masks that represented
their master Molag Bal. The skeletal servants carried the wooden box
that held the stripped flesh were of various races. The newer undead
could easily be identified from the red stains on their bones and
where bits of flesh and sinew still clung on to the old frame of its
former host.
“Oh gods why are they
doing that to their own people?” Johan said in a hushed whisper the
sound of revulsion present in his tone.
“They are weak and
deserve to be punished.” Delte responded “Only the strong shall
serve the Lord of Domination.”
“Why keep the flesh
though?” Volk asked amazed by what he witnessed.
“Those runes keeps the
flesh alive inside the box.” Left-Paw-Alight answered as he watched
the whole scene trying to take in as much information as he could
“The flesh could be used to make a flesh atronach. We must stop
them before they manage to do this.”
“Four against all of
them?” Johan said looking at the others in shock.
“Yeah I don't like the
odds either.” Volk said as he stroked his black beard in thought “I
would of liked to have more of them, would be a fair fight then at
least.”
“What!” Johan replied
his head snapping back to look at Volk hoping to see a smile on his
face. Delte and Left-Paw-Alight just chuckled which didn't relieve
Johan from the thought of them going up against the fort filled with
cultists.
“We should go in from
the top.” Delte said as she pointed to one of the towers that had
its back against the cliff face “Climb down to the top of that
tower, then we take the upper battlements where the poor sods are
being tortured and then reinforce our position there, while I scout
the inside to see what we are really up against.”
“Agreed.” Volk and
Left-Paw-Alight said in unison.
“Lets move we need to
make our way to the other side and above the tower before night
fall.” Volk said as he crept backwards away from the boulder that
hid him from view of the old fort.
Location:- Shatter-Shield
Clan Hold North of Whiterun on the Boarder to Morthal.
Date:- 2E 581First
Seed Morndas 16th
The Shatter-Shield
clan hold sat a top a mountain plateau surrounded by a tall wooden
palisade. On either side of the main gate two large wooden towers
stood like silent sentinels. Guards patrolled along the wall and
watched the farmers that tended to their crops outside of the walled
area. At night the farmers would return to the walled area with their
flock to keep them safe from any night time predators whether it be
bandits or the local wildlife that roamed the wilderness at night.
Brom rode up the main
approach under the mid day sun, after riding all night he was
beginning to feel tired and in need of a rest. Where his arm that had
been broken and latter healed by the Breton woman Serena, a large
bruise had now started to come out. He reached round to his saddle
bag and pulled out a hollowed out horn from a horker and blew a two
tone note to signal the guards he was friendly. As he approached the
gate guards came to greet the young lord on his return home. Brom
dismounted his horse and let the stable hands take it away to be
tended to. He looked around at the guards looking for a familiar
face.
“Where is my father and
Kavak?” Brom asked as he brushed his armour down and arranged his
fur lined cloak.
“Your father is locked
in the long hall and not to be disturbed.” Kavak said as he walked
up to greet Brom “I heard your call as you arrived Brom, good
journey was it?”
Brom turned and faced
Kavak who was Ulfbert's second. He had also been Volk and Brom's old
teacher in the art of combat and strategy. Although going grey and
age etched on his rugged features the man still made an imposing
sight. Kavak had a shaved head that showed a mottled black and grey
pattern in the stubble. His long braided beard still mostly jet black
covered his chin and mouth, from under two bushy eyebrows two green
eyes shone. Broad shoulders and thick muscled arms belied the power
this old warrior could summon in battle when wielding his large two
handed sword that was slung across his back. Kavak's sword was unique
in that its handle was twice as long as the usual nordic design, the
handle had no cross guard to it. On the end of the pommel was a
carved metal wolfs head. With the handle being longer than it should
be this made the blade about half the length of a normal two handed
sword. When used in battle by Kavak he swung it like one would swing
a staff but with the weight of the blade and with his strength behind
this unique weapon it made a deadly combination. Kavak wore a set of
furs that protected him from the cold and underneath a suit of
chainmail armour with a chest plate and shoulder plates to help
deflect attacks in battle.
“Rorikstead was attacked
by daedra cultists Kavak.” Brom said as he greeted the older man
“Volk has asked for you and the oathsworn to ride out and reinforce
the town. I must also speak to the Old Bear, we know where the vipers
have their nest. Volk and Paws are there now waiting for me to return
with help.”
“The Old Bear has given
orders not to be disturbed till tomorrow morning.” Kavak said as he
shook Broms hand in the warrior's greeting “He even told all of us
to leave the hall, servants and guards all.”
Brom snorted and started
to walk through the settlement towards the large longhall that sat
atop the hill in the centre dominating the skyline. The longhall was
built out of the large pine trees that grew in abundance in Skyrim.
The pillars that held up the entrance way and most of the structure
was carved with nord runes and pictograms that depicted the
Shatter-Shield clan history and saga of ages past that the clan's
skalds used to entertain people and teach the younger generation of
their heritage.
Kavak walked by Brom's
side “Brom I am worried” he confessed to him “Shortly before
your father ordered everyone to leave the longhall a group of black
robed priests came to visit him.”
“Who are they?” Brom
asked as he quickened his pace “What god do they follow?”
“I don't know.” Kavak
said in reply trying to keep up with the younger man. “I wasn't
present at the time, my men told me when I got back from patrol.”
“Who sent you on patrol
Kavak?” Brom said looking at the older warrior.
“Your father Brom. He
told me to take half of the men out to scout the northern boarders.”
Kavak replied with guilt in his voice.
Brom came to a
sudden stop twenty paces from the main doors to the longhall. Instead
of being greeted by the sight of two oathsworn he saw two seven foot
tall black armoured warriors sporting large spiked maces that stood
as tall as Brom and Kavak. The black armour had energy glowing an
angry red that seemed to curl into daedric runes. The full face helms
had two glowing eyes staring out at the two men.
“Gather the oathsworn.”
Brom said to Kavak “We have daedra to kill and my father to save.”
Men and women assembled
behind Brom as he continued to watch the two guards at the doors to
the longhall. The daedra stood motionless like a pair of black
statues, the only thing that belied the fact they was alive was the
sight of their breath on the cold air and the glowing red eyes deep
in the helmets. Kavak appeared by Brom's side and he handed him a
shield, as Brom put the shield on his left arm Kavak placed a helmet
over his head and strapped it in place.
“Ready?” Kavak said to
Brom.
“Lets do this,” Brom
replied with a nod and drew his own sword “all with me.” He
raised his sword and started to jog towards the two daedra. The jog
turned into a running charge, ten yards from the doors Brom gave a
mighty nord battle cry the power in his voice reverberated around the
settlement. The sound of his battle charge bolstered the oathsworn
and as one they answered back with their own call. The battle cry
seemed to galvanise the two daedra into action as they took up their
large two handed maces and entered a guard position, they started to
move forwards to meet the nord charge head on. The two forces met in
a mighty clash of arms. The large maces of the daedra crushed two of
the oathsworn, Brom and Kavak ran past them both and turned to cut
them down from behind before they could raise the maces to strike a
second time. Brom tried the two large oak doors to the longhall and
found them locked in place from the inside.
“Axes.” Kavak shouted
“Get me in there.” he pointed to the doors.
Three nords ran up to the
doors each wielding large two handed axes and began to chop their way
through the oak. A rhythm was soon established and within moments the
doors hung in tatters with the locking bar broken in two. Brom and
Kavak kicked the doors open and ran into the main hall followed by
the rest of the oathsworn. The band came to a sudden stop due to the
sight that lay before them.
The centre of the hall was
dominated by a black stone altar set on a dais that had no seam and
looked as if it had been grown from the very rock that the longhall
was built upon. A statue behind the altar showed the stony visage of
Molag Bal in all his gruesome glory, a human skull grasped firmly in
his taloned hand. Black robed priests surrounded the altar with their
heads bowed and chanting, on the dais stood a man dressed in a cloak
of freshly skinned human skin arms raised in supplication to the
statue. In his hands he held a wicked carved dagger that sported evil
daedra runes that pulsed with energy. Hanging from the rafters of the
hall were some of the servants stripped of their flesh and pools of
blood gathering underneath each one. A babies cry was heard coming
from the altar, as Brom worked his way round the back of the room he
saw a small boy tied to the altar. He recognised the child as that of
his nephew and son of Volk and Gresla his wife.
“Kill them all.” Brom
shouted and charged at the closest priest cutting him down and
interrupting the ritual.
With the death of the
priest the rest of the cultists drew various weapons and entered into
a melee with the oathsworn, as they did clouds of purple smoke
erupted around the hall and their daedra servants tore through the
veil that separated Oblivion from Nirn to help in the fray.
“Kill the priests and
break the link of their servants.” Kavak shouted the order above
the din of battle as he cut down two cultists with his sword.
The priest wearing the
human skin cloak turned around and faced Brom. He stopped in his
tracks as he looked upon his fathers face.
“Brom my son stand by me
in my moment of ascension.” Ulfbert said with his face covered in
the blood of his house servants.
Brom's stomach churned his
body started to shake with the now conflicting emotions that were
running through his mind.
“What is this madness
father?” Brom managed through his shock and revulsion “Are you
under a spell or being forced to do this?”
“I am in full control.”
Ulfbert said spreading his arm wide “My grandson's blood sacrifice
will ensure my own immortality in service to the new one god of this
world Molag Bal.”
“You raided Volk's farm
and killed his eldest, what happened to Gresla?” Realisation struck
Brom as to why Volk's home was raided. He looked around for his elder
brother and said “Where is Kym my older brother? He would not be
part of this I know it.”
Ulfbert shook his head and
said “I told him of what we could achieve but he rebelled against
me.” an almost sadness in his voice as he slowly pointed to the
human skull griped by the statue “So I gave him a place of honour
to watch my moment of glory.”
Brom pointed his sword at
Ulfbert his heart pounding with rage and spoke in a loud and clear
voice above the din of battle that ragged about them. “I challenge
you for the right to rule in single combat.”
“Then come at me Boy.”
Ulfbert replied with a grin “When you die Volk will be given the
chance to join me.”
Around Brom and Ulfbert
the battle between the oathsworn and the daedra raged as the priests
were killed their daedra servants vanished in puffs of acrid smoke
and a scream of frustration. Slowly the cultists were wining due to
the weight of numbers against the elite soldiers of the
Shatter-Shield clan. Brom gave a battle cry the sound coming from his
very soul tainted with his pain and anguish at the revelations of his
fathers betrayal of everything he held sacred.
“Reka inn landi.” Brom
shouted in his native nord tongue.
A visual wave of energy
swept over the oathsworn which seemed to bolster their resolve as
Brom charged at his father. Ulfbert ran to meet the charge, a large
two handed daedric axe appeared in his hands as he did so.
Brom gained the upper hand
and pressed the attack quickly against Ulfbert, the older man stepped
back parrying and dodging the assault. He checked one of Broms blows
as the back of his right foot hit the wall. Their weapons locked as
the fight now became a test of strength. Brom felt his knees going as
his father bore down with all his weight and strength onto Brom. Just
as he thought his legs were about to give he heard Left-Paw-Alight
speak to him from a long ago memory after witnessing the devastation
of am hurricane that had swept through the lands when he was younger.
“In a hurricane it is better to be a reed than a strong oak.”
Brom dropped onto his
right knee and twisted at the hip, Ulfbert surprised at the sudden
void of resistance stumbled past trying to stay on his feet. Brom
turned quickly back on his feet and pressed the advantage. Ulfbert's
long years and expertise in combat allowed him to defend himself even
though he was unbalanced, this gave him time to gain his footing once
more.
Ulfbert kicked Brom back
and followed the move with a running jump bringing his two handed axe
down onto the shield Brom held up to protect himself as he struggled
to get up off the floor. His shield shattered in two from the blow as
the axe struck home, he kicked at Ulfbert's knee which gave way
sending his father to the floor with a grunt.
Brom stood up and sliced
the leather straps that now held the ruined shield to his arm and
drew his dagger. He changed tact in his strategy by reversing his
grip on the sword, a move he had seen Delte do in Rorikstead. Ulfbert
stood up and gave a frown at the change of fighting style that he now
adopted, this turned into a smile and he beckoned his son to attack
him.
“Come on Boy, you want
to have leadership of the clan. Come and take it.” Ulfbert said in
a mocking tone.
Brom started to weave his
sword through the air and ran at his father, the speed of the sword
pressed the old warrior back into a defensive posture as he parried
each pass of the fast moving sword. Shock spread across his face as
Brom's dagger pierced his chainmail and entered his left lung, he
dropped his daedric axe which vanished back to Oblivion before it hit
the floor. Brom's sword sliced across Ulfbert's throat and in one
swift movement Brom changed his grip once more on his sword and
rammed it through his fathers heart and out through the back. His
father was dead before his head hit the stone floor, Brom looked
around the hall at the oathsworn that still lived. They had defeated
the cultists before the end of Brom's fight with his father and stood
to watch an old tradition carried on, Kavak stood and smiled with a
nod to Brom happy to see the old traditions to be fulfilled. He then
went down on one knee along with the rest of the oathsworn.
“We swear to up hold the
laws of the clan and serve the Shattered-Shield as Shor is our
witness.” Kavak along with the rest of the oathsworn said which
reaffirmed their oaths to Brom and his family.
Brom stood in shock at the
scene he had killed his own father for being in league with the very
people who he had pretended to be hunting down. The man who had
raided his brothers farm and killed his eldest nephew in cold blood.
A cry from the altar brought him out of his shock, he turned his head
and looked at the baby boy laying tied to the dread altar. Slowly he
cut the bonds and gently picked up the infant, as he rocked gently to
try and calm the child he turned to Kavak and said. “He won't stop
crying, I don't think he is hurt.”
“I think he needs his
mother Brom.” Kavak replied with a grin “You don't have what it
takes for what ails him. Itard go and find my nephew's wife the poor
bairn needs a wet nurse.”
“Clean up this mess and
cut those poor sods down.” Brom ordered the oathsworn as he pointed
up at the dead servants “I want our dead to be honoured.”
“And your father?”
Kavak inquired.
“Burn him with the other
cultists.” Came the reply from Brom without emotion “That man
wasn't my father.”
The comment hurt Kavak due
to the long years of friendship he had with Ulfbert, but could
understand Brom's wishes and so with a silent nod he left Brom and
began to help in the clean up of the longhall.
Brom sat in his fathers
chair with his nephew still clutched to him crying for his mother
naked as the day he was born. A few minutes passed and a young woman
was escorted into the hall and up to where Brom sat with the baby.
She was dressed in a simple blue cotton dress, her long golden hair
hung loose over her shoulders. Brom looked at her approaching and she
smiled at him, her large brown eyes trying not to look at the carnage
that laid around them.
“This is Joldi my
nephew's wife.” Kavak introduced her to Brom “She gave birth to a
baby girl two weeks ago my lord.”
“What is her name?”
Brom asked Joldi.
“Her name is
Hreira my lord.” she said with a slight curtsey “I have
enough milk to look after your nephew.” she added with a smile.
Brom stood up and offered Joldi the
chair he was sat in and gently handed over his nephew to the young
mother. She took him and barred her swollen breast and offered it to
the child which latched on easily and started to suck.
“Something wrong my lord?” Joldi
asked as she noticed Brom watching her.
“No I was just thinking what a
beautiful sight. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Brom replied going red with embarrassment. He looked around the hall
and added “Joldi when you have fed Fraki could you take him to some
place that has a nicer surround? This place is not fit for a baby at
the moment.”
Joldi nodded and rocked gently back and
forth to comfort Fraki as he drank his fill.
“My lord what are your orders for the
oathsworn?” Kavak addressed Brom as he left the hall.
“Take them to Rorikstead leave half
of them there to help rebuild and defend the town.” Brom said still
not use to the new title that he had been given “Then you take the
rest onto the ruined fort of Broken Tower Redoubt to look for Volk,
kill any cultists you find.”
“Who will guard the hall?” Kavak
inquired as he walked with Brom to the main doors.
“I will call up the militia it is
time they worked off the winter fat.” came the reply from Brom.
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