bookpower Chapter 425: Chapter XLV: The Battle Of Kragenmoor
Chapter 425: Chapter XLV: The Battle Of Kragenmoor
Chapter 425: Chapter XLV: The Battle Of Kragenmoor
(Reyvin's POV)
I could practically taste the big lizard's hateful glare as he understood I invalidated his initial plan without taking a single step. I would begrudgingly admit his reaction to it was much more reasonable than I expected.
The besieging army began shuffling about, their shock troops replacing their spearmen on the front as what remained of their rickety siege towers were pushed out before them, soon followed by numerous ladder teams.
At least the ladders looked well made, would have made me feel bad for them otherwise.
Within only a few minutes, the attackers were reorganized, and after one bellowing war cry they began marching, their large, better armored forms screaming pure aggression even as they stepped carefully forward.
A few of our magi, all of whom were stationed atop Kragenmoor's many tall towers, began launching bolts of lightning and fire to harass the enemy and start up their Magicka regeneration as I taught them, their attacks were met by the mages attached to the Argonian formations and mostly cancelled out with only one group of some one hundred attackers suffering heavy casualties as their mage fumbled his ward. At least so it went for the initial volley, attrition would inevitably favor us in this case.
The Argonian magi were far less useful once they entered missile range though.
Kragenmoor did not have many bowmen, a downright sad amount really, but it was equipped with a few hundred of automatons imported by the Redoran from your's truly, and those had already proven themselves by harassing the enemy into insanity mere days prior.
Small, precise, and heavily armored, the little buggers could deliver a veritable deluge of high draw weight crossbow bolts in a rate that could rival even my own whitecloaks. Needless to say, they would reap a massive number of casualties, even if the lizards' formation barely looked shaken by the dozens of death they suffered each second.
The small giant sized lizard leading their army proved himself not a complete idiot once more, as while the first wave of attackers, some five thousand strong, marched at us from the south, thousands more began marching to the west and east, their desire to slowly envelop us quite evident for all to see.
"A bit premature but I suppose I can deal with it" Is all I had to say to that as I sent Scorch to inform the relevant people of the shift in tactics.
(General POV)
At first, Yrel felt honored and a bit relieved that his unit had been assigned to the most central wall, as that was where Lord Dagoth had chosen to make his stand, but as the very earth and walls shook beneath his feet he felt his regret for his life choices growing by the moment.
Only the reassuring grip of Grey's hand atop his shoulder manage to stop him from shaking like a coward.
There were so bloody many of the lizards that he could not conceive the very idea of victory, much less imagine it as an actual outcome.
And yet, an elf decades younger than even himself stood in front him, staring down at the enemy not with defiance or hatred in his eyes but... boredom. Pure. Disdainful. Boredom.
The moment the enemy crossed some invisible threshold, the leader of the once accursed Sixth House rose his hand, a staff that was not there a moment ago now occupying the other, and brought it down with a deliberate slowness.
In an instant the very skies felt like they were set aflame, as massive storms of crackling crimson fire appeared to their flanks, devastating hundreds upon hundreds of the attacking army and herding the vast majority of them to the exact section of wall Yrel was standing on.
As Lord Dagoth confidently summoned a sword in his empty hand, his massive bodyguard yet unmoving, the young cobbler from Kragenmoor found that he most definitely regretted his life choices now.
-
Lord Dagoth's expected deluge of magic did not stop the enemy from moving to strike the rest of the fortified city, an expected outcome to one Almeril Faren.
The Redoran noble did not even look at the first Argonian that descended from the enemy siege tower as he beheaded him, his shield already slamming edge first into another lizard's neck.
His fellow house members, and even the Dres he admitted silently, followed through immediately, slicing into the enemy with both skill and discipline. Those lizardmen who did not get immediately cut down swiftly being brought down by bolts of fire and lightning from the nearby towers.
The slaughter was efficient indeed, nearly perfect in fact.
A quick count was called for and only one Redoran warrior lay dead by the end of the first clash.
As he stared at the ever numerous enemy, Almeril found the kill to death ratio to be insufficient.
-
Massanor of the Erabenimsun found that the more time he spent with these hous more he was forced to respect them. For all his century of youth he was taught that the Great Houses leading most of Resdayn were corrupt and conniving, and yet as they fell around him, fighting as brothers, all he could do was respect their spirit and sacrifice.
es, the
His shield protected as many as he could, his sword cutting down the n'wah invaders with each strike, and his heavy armor saved the priest's healing for all those who would truly need
it.
Massour stood above him as ever, his unreasonably tall brother crushing more than slicing the enemy apart with his glaive, giving more opportunity for the less experienced spearmen of Kragenmoor to cut down those less skilled and armored.
As a lull came to the fight, mere seconds separating them from the next wave of lizards clambering up the ladders, Massanor felt a bit of validation for his decision to come here.
At first he merely followed the priest and his brother, no Erabenimsun would truly ever be a believer in prophesy but when Azura herself appears to tell you the time is night you suck up your pride and follow through, that is just how it was done.
He doubted the near-child that was Lord Dagoth at first but with each moment the young one proved to be beyond most, and likely all elves Massanor had ever met. The disdainful ease with which he made things happen, and the sheer audacity to stand before an army over ten times the size of his own and preach victory was downright inspiring, even if the Ashlander would never admit it aloud.
Was this the reason the gods chose him? The arrogance to stand before the world and tell it to go ash itself?
Massanor supposed he would have to survive long enough to find the answer as the next wave came and his blade tasted blood once more.
-
The apprentice shamans of the An-Xileel felt their blood boil as they held back the mere aftershocks of the storm of fire that had consumed their comrades. Wards broke, amulets were drained, and the very Magicka within their bodies was repurposed to intensify the
slaughter.
As a champion warrior leaped from the siege tower, the sole remaining true shaman let out an internal cheer, hoping that the valiant egg brother could buy them a moment's distraction
and let them reorganize.
The enemy Great Shaman did not even bother looking at him as his guard slapped his head away, the firestorm growing ever more violent as if in retaliation.
It was not long before far more than merely their blood began to boil.
(Savos' POV)
"Kids these days are so damn demanding" I grumble cheerfully as the flanking force approaches "Oh gramps go and hold an entire army back by yourself, shouldn't be that difficult." I scoff before remembering I wasn't actually alone "Apologies."
The Imperial Legate just snorts and rolls his eyes.
The Argonians finally step through the small patch of forest that was supposed to hide their approach from our lookouts and I barely hold back an eyeroll of my own.
Whoever was leading them seems to notice that the walls facing them were mostly empty and soon I feel the air start shaking even harder as they begin a frenzied charge, no doubt hoping
to catch us by surprise.
It was just too bad for them that I had days to prepare for this very event. Runes laid out all across the field between the Argonians and the walls lit up, all of them flickering with power as a connection was established with Oblivion and the Good Daedra. Reyvin may disdain their use but as a conjurer I found that I could now make contracts far more easily by mere association, why some Mephalans were even willing to fight for free! That is to say, the field was suddenly covered by a good two thousand Dremora warriors, and even aided by prepared runes and enchanted artifacts gifted to me by my grandson I felt myself nearly fall unconscious then and there.
The Legate whistled appreciatively, and a moment later the silence caused by the surprise summoning was broken as both sides began screaming at each other.
The Dremora were not particularly creative with their taunts but a massive 'demon' as Reyvin called them screaming his lungs out at you while trying to brain you did not really need much
effort to be terrifying.
Evidently, the lizards agreed, as their formations began buckling a mere minute after the
clash began.
"Well gentlemen." I stretch a bit and pop my neck "And ladies" I quickly add to the amusement of the few female legionaries "I do believe it is time for us to join in on the fun."
The Legate salutes and begins barking orders, the light cavalry under his command moving out with practiced ease as they prepared a flanking attack.
'I on the other hand would be much more direct in my own attack' I thought as I downed a perfect potion of Magicka and summoned Brightburn at his full size, stepping atop him with
practiced ease.
We did not need to communicate verbally as he launched himself into the skies, an unstable mix of destructive Magicka already swirling within my hand as I began disintegrating Argonians left and right.
"At least the soil will be richer when we were done." Both my familiar and I thought at the
same time.
(General POV)
Great Warchief Valezar kept his expression perfectly blank as he observed the battlefield. He
knew the enemy was capable but the mounting casualties were going even beyond his most radical expectations.
Over seven thousand warriors across three different attack waves and dozens upon dozens of
shamans fell to the enemy.
And unluckily for the automaton, in a battle of attrition Valezar could outlast a dragon.
The Great Warchief roared in triumph as he rose his hammer and prepared to finish the thing
off, only for his hand to fly away and his arm disintegrate in an instant as he instinctively leaned back.
He felt a familiar magic tugging at his back and saw the ragged form of the shaman standing
behind him, his eyes snapping to the enemy leader but a moment later.
He saw as the automaton stood up and calmly retreated up the siege tower, moving just as
swiftly as he did during their battle, damage be damned.
"Greetings, little farm tool." The one he was told was named Dagoth spoke "How nice of you to finally show yourself after watering the ground with thousands of your own." He held back a snarl at the familiar slur "Why do you talk?" He asked in ill practiced Tamrielic.
The masked elf tilted his head "I suppose I am just curious, you remind me of a friend of mine... however vaguely" He tacked on with a fair bit of disgust "Only you seem to be far less wise than he."
Valezar scoffed "Whatever games you play do not interest me. When I am done killing you, your friend will soon follow."
"Is that so?" He could not see it but he could definitely feel the elf raise an eyebrow "I am
sure dear old Shalazar will be quite disappointed by that."
Hearing that name, Valezar's sight instantly went red, his regrown arm drawing a blade from
his belt in concert with his hammer, his form blurring as he struck at the elf with newfound
strength.
Only the elf did not feel like playing fair at all.
Each step Valezar took was followed by an explosion of a rune set below him, each swing was
returned with weapons enchanted to kill a god, and soon he felt himself weakening as even his regeneration reached its limits. The only thing that saved him from what he thought would be instant death was the interference of the Great Shaman, who threw all the power she could at his foe, and still left him to suffer grievously. And to make things even worse, the damnable elf had taken no damage whatsoever. "What use is having all that vitality" The elf spoke with utter disdain in his voice "If all you
are going to do with it is bleed all over me?" As if listening to him, all the blood covering his
robes flowed away, leaving even his robes pristine.
Valezar, for the first time in his life, felt utterly terrified by what he saw, which is why when
Xelnara grabbed him by the shoulder, and he felt himself being tugged back, he did not resist
at all.
(Reyvin's POV)
Who just charges at a literal archmage and expects to survive? "Fucking dumbass" I shake my
head. Even if he practically confirmed he had some kind of connection to Shalazar I was half
tempted to remove him so that the Great Lizard Wizard would not be forced to face the disappointment. The two of them fell back and I allowed it. I wasn't quite so retarded as to charge after them as even if I could theoretically win on my own, being surrounded left far too many variables for my paranoid ass. That and one did not grow nearly as much in political power by butchering
thousands as he did in leading others to do the same.
A big shame I did not have a force to strike back at them while they were demoralized too...
Feeling a light buzzing in my passive clairvoyance I looked to the east and felt a grin spreading on my face.
(General POV)
As horns began sounding out all across the battlefield, and the enemy began an ordered mass
retreat, wherever they could that is, Yrel felt his exhausted hands falling to his sides, and his
tired grip slackening.
He still held onto his spear though, Lord Faren taught them to never lose their weapon,
whether they had a sidearm or not.
Once Lord Dagoth decided he would face a portion of the enemy army alone, Yrel and his force
were redirected to the western flank where the rest of the militia were stationed, the fighting atop that particular wall was the bloodiest and only the flanking charge of Yrel's brothers in arms and the flames summoned forth by the Lady Karvanni allowed them to push the enemy
back long enough for the lines to stabilize. The Redoran needed no such help of course as they butchered anything and anyone appearing on the eastern flank with the skill of bloodied centuries. Their losses were reportedly low but Yrel was understandably not high up on the priority list when it came to sharing information. The young cobbler grunted as he felt his rear hit the dead body of an Argonian, his tired lungs breathing greedily of the filthy air around him. It took him a few moments to calm himself down and all around him those who yet held the energy cheered at their enemy's retreating
back.
He felt his eyes moisten as the realization that he would survive yet another day finally began setting in, and he turned to find Grey and share in his happiness... Only to see the old veteran
laying face down atop the wall, his saber buried deep in a massive Argonian's throat, neither
The nor the animal breathing any longer. The moisture around Yrel's eyes was no longer one caused by relief.
Valezar glared in every each direction as the Histspeaker dragged him back into camp, he still
had the presence of mind to give out the command for an ordered retreat back to camp but he
could not do much beyond that.
The elf's casual use of his distant ancestor's name was not something he could so easily settle
over.
"How many?" He found himself asking the Great Shaman, who had convened a meeting of the
Warchiefs in his stead.
She looked at him with both fury and disappointment "Over nineteen thousand."
He felt his heart stop due to sheer shock for a few second, his regeneration kicking in a
moment later "Oh."
He did not flinch as the clawed hand of the shaman struck his face, sending him sprawling
back with a surprising amount of force.
"We will be pulling back to Andrethis as soon a the wounded are ready to move." Xelnara told
him in no uncertain terms "There we will see about our next moves, and how to deal with the
enemy reinforcements." Valezar sat up immediately, his eyes narrowed "Reinforcements?" "Our western flanking force was pushed back." She informed him tersely "But not by any
force we were aware of, instead there was an entire army waiting for them. Only four hundred
returned from the five thousand you sent there."
A cynical part of Valezar was quite thankful at that moment, that his was only an
expeditionary force.
He was not terribly enthusiastic about convincing more of his people to join the fight now
though.
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