Elsewhere, Krev the Skinner, leader of the Silver Hand walks out of the Thalmor Embassy with a scowl on his face. "How dare they order me about like some lockjaw Milk-Drinker!" he glances to his men who were stationed nearby the horses, "You lot, get the horses ready, we're moving for Gallows Rock!"
"Sir, what did they want?" Locke, his lieutenant in all but name asks, noticing his aggregation.
Krev spits on the ground, "The question is, what don't they want! Feckin' knife-ears want me to play along like some sort of stage performer for fuck sake!"
"Will it stop our goal?..."
"No, not even if they flayed me alive and burned me! Not even the entire elf-army could stop us from purging the Companions of the filth that's taken hold of it. we'll bring the Companions to their senses after we've shown them the skins of their 'So-Called-Leaders'."
"What's the plan then? Are we even going to follow it?"
Krev gives a reluctant nod, "Cowards they might be, but they're smart. We'll listen to them for now and rid ourselves of them when the time comes."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's been two weeks and Michael had been keeping himself busy... Every other night he'd covertly leave the Spire and go looking for his quarries. The list of corrupt nobles had been burning a hole in his pocket, so dealing with them was his primary fixation.
His current body count included a few merchants that'd come from Elsweyr and Cyrodil, a couple Thanes from Solitude and some new ones in Falkreath. Lastly, he'd killed around three Thalmor spies that'd been magically enslaved, working as ordinary people while occasionally sending letters to the Thalmor. Michael didn't really have a way to free them, nor could he be bothered to really try so, to the grave they go...
Other than that, he'd received a reply from Jarl Elisif... One that basically told him that he was a traitor, deserved death, would pay for betraying Skyrim, deserved death... Oh, and that she would be sending an invasion force to Winterhold... She didn't seem to be lying either with how many troops were massing in Dawnstar.
He'd spoken with Korir, Savos, Enurra, and Irarus about it, and so they'd begun to create and or alter the anti-dragon measures so that they could be used against the Imperial forces should they actually attack.
Ulfric had actually somehow gotten word of this too and had sent a letter offering aid. He was rejected however, as the Eredar, Arch-Mage, and himself didn't want to join either side of the Civil War, even if they were attacked. To be honest, this was just an excuse to claim the moral high ground, once they were attacked they could call themselves the victims and come out with a better reputation than other groups.
Regardless, he had something else to focus on now... During his time 'cleaning up' some folk on his list, he found some information regarding one of Clavicus Vile's artifacts...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Deal's Den was the name of the establishment, and while it was located in Cyrodil, it wasn't all that far away from where he'd appeared after escaping Merunes Dagon's realm.
The place was a large, three-story building with marble walls and wide-open rooms and gardens. It was located just outside of the Capital city, and had a bustling business to go along with it.
The place was pretty heavily guarded, but from the glazed look in some of the guard's eyes, they weren't all here willingly.
Slipping inside after applying all the stealth spells and going invisible, he was greeted by a large conspicuous statue of Clavicus Vile that sat directly in the center of the game room... To most who had no magical or mental resistances, it'd just look like a regular statue, but to Michael the thing shimmered and glowed... He could feel it pricking at his skin in a weak attempt to gain access to his mind...
"Save your trouble Clavicus, if you can hear me... You should have hid your toy somewhere else." Michael states as he approaches it. Only for a number of guards to step forwards from the sides of the room, each reaching for their weapon as they look towards him.
...
Michael doesn't do or say anything, simply waiting for them to do something first, which they do, ignoring the patrons as they draw their weapons and slowly begin walking towards him.
The patrons don't even notice anything, affected by the Golden Statue which blinds them towards the dangerous right in their midst.
They attack, and die... Michael easily killing the brainwashed guards without even using a single ability. They were as strong as untrained, if unfeeling peasants, making it incredibly easy to deal with them.
After the first group of attackers was dealt with, Michael stepped forward and began preparations for Dimension Gate, which would transport the Golden Statue back to the Eye of the World... It was far too big to be transported via his inventory, so this was the only real option... Unless he wanted to have it carted to Skyrim for a couple months.
As soon as the artifact disappears through the gate, the patrons of the gambling house immediately notice the blood and corpses strewn around. This, obviously, caused a mass exodus, with everyone grabbing their shit and fleeing.
Michael doesn't immediately leave though, the owner of the gambling house was still around.
Heading up the stairs and walking past the fleeing gamblers, he soon finds a big office at the very top of the property, the door of which he destroys with a firm kick that completely shatters it.
"HIIIiiii!!!!" A fat man inside utters, horrified at the intrusion... The shrapnel from the destroyed door had knocked him backwards off of his chair, leaving him in a fetal position on the ground.
"Hello Keo Umpiel! I'm sure you're very excited to greet me, so I'll just take your snivelling and crying as that." Michael exclaims as he walks inside, throwing the large desk aside to reveal his target.
"W-Who are you!?"
"Oh right... You wouldn't know me..." he shakes his head, "Whatever, you're my second prisoner now, try not to annoy me and I swear you will be freed." 'from this mortal coil' he mentally adds as he grabs the man and returns home... Not before looting the gambling house clean and burning it to the ground first however.
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*Awwoooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!*
...
A Silver Hand recruit shifts uncomfortably at the howl and glances at his partner that was helping him guard the wall of the reclaimed fortress. "Y-you think we should worry about that?"
...
"Mayhaps... 'Dem two-legged dogs'll be lookin' for where we stashed the shards. Keep ya' eyes peeled..."
"Could just be a regular wolf though, right?... Or the wind?" the recruit continues, drawing a sigh from his partner.
"Boyo, why did you join up? Ya' so scared of a mutt tearin' ya apart ya're makin' me feel nervous..."
"I joined to fight Werewolves but... I didn't think I'd just be handed a spear and some amour and sent to patrol. Aren't we supposed to receive training or something!?"
The older man snickers at the boy's dismay, "You've had it easy so far, haven' you boy? We ain't no heroes, 'am just here for the gold myself..."
"But-" the recruit starts but pauses when the duo hear something move through the thick underbrush not far from the wall. Both their heads shoot in their direction, ears twitching as they stare intently into the dark forest.
"J-just an animal, right?"
...
"Likely... Ay! You over there! Yeah! You! Come out, we've spotted ya' already!" the older man shouts into the darkness, he hadn't seen anyone but this might scare off anyone who was there.
Surprisingly, a woman steps out from the treeline wearing strange-looking loose grey robes with a sheathed curved sword on her hip.
"Ay, boy. Look's like you'll get to grow up tonight..." the older man chuckles, licking his lips as he looks the purple-haired woman up and down, his eyes lingering at certain places.
"W-what?... Y-you're nothing thinking of touching her, are you!? We're supposed to be protecting the honour of our ancestry! Not, this!" the boy gesticulates erratically, horrified that his partner would even consider something like this. Both seemingly forgetting the peculiarity of an armed woman turning up here in the first place.
The older man growls, grabbing the boy's shirt with a scowl, "Boy, stop being naive or shut ya're mouth. 'Dat lass there is the first woman A've seen in weeks, first one that looks like 'dat in my whole life..." he lets go and is about to make his way out of the fort and towards the girl, only for bells to start ringing out, indicating that an attack was occurring.
*RING!RING!RING!RING!*
They both turn towards it, then back at the girl as the sound of movement draws their attention. Both are shocked to see the woman running towards the wall at ridiculous speeds, hand on the handle of her sheathed blade as she rushes forward.
Just as the woman looks to be slamming face-first into the wall, she shifts her feet and shoots upwards, running vertically along the wall with a fierce look in her eyes.
"S-SHIT! FUCK YA' OBLIVION-SPAWN!" the older man roars as he thrusts his spear down at the woman, his eyes widen as she slashes her blade and cuts his weapon into many pieces.
"BOY! DO YA'RE JO-"
*SLASH!*
The man's words are cut off as his head flies off of his neck and from the wall, his partner pisses his draws and falls backwards in fear, pushing himself backwards as he sends a glance at where the other patrons should've been... Only to realise just how fucked he was.
He and his partner had seemingly got off lucky compared to the others, Oblivion-damned Werewolves were scaling the walls and tearing the Silver Hand members to pieces. Ripping arms off, goring them with their claws, crushing their heads with their grip strength alone... It was a complete massacre.
"What should I do with you then, 'boy'?" the woman asks as she flicks the blood from her blade.
"S-Spare me, milady!... P-Please! This is my first day here, I-... I realise my wrongdoings!"
...
She sniffs humorously, "If you were any older I'd have dealt with you like your friend... Go, run, and never speak of this again."
The boy nods erratically, throwing his weapons away and quickly fleeing the fort...
Saeko watches him go, unsure if she sparing him was the right decision, but sticking with it regardless... Perhaps Tiffania had spread her softness to her? Probably not. Even for her own sensibilities, killing a young teenager of around fourteen was a bit too much. Especially one so naive and clueless.
A Werewolf stomps over to her, resting its freakishly large claws on the battlement of the wall, "Silver Hand has been eradicated, no signs of the shards."
"Did you find anything at all useful? I'd personally rather not waste too much time with this." Saeko replies, thinking of the dinner plans she'd made and missed with Tiffania and a few of the Eredar the elf-girl had befriended.
"We did find the leader of this place..." the Werewolf says with a fanged grin.
"Let's see if they can howl with the best of them then, Aela."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"So," Michael starts, crossing his legs as he sits across from Korir, Savos, and Irarus, "That crazy bitch has decided to do it then..."
"Aye, Imperials march here from Dawnstar as we speak." Korir confirms with a grim face. "I called you all here to confirm that we are working together on this. Winterhold may have more guards than before, but it isn't nearly enough to be called a 'fighting force'."
Irarus smiles down at them all from his larger-than-average chair, "We Eredar will defend our new home. The odds are not so against us this time."
Michael chuckles at that, the only way the odds would be that bad again is if all the Daedric Princes banded together and invaded Winterhold simultaneously... "Just remember that you're all the last of your people Irarus, losing a single person would be a huge blow to your long-term survival."
Irarus nods, "We know, but from what we have observed, the average strength of people in this realm is far lesser than the foes we previously faced. It would be an overestimation to expect one death among us."
"You're very confident..." Korir drawls before looking to the Arch-Mage. "What of you? Will you honour the agreement we made?"
Savos nods, "We will to the letter. I've even been training some eager Apprentices in the arts of magical warfare. I believe they'll be a fine addition to Winterhold's forces.
Hope you bois liked the chap, if I missed anything please let me know. Thanks!
Also, thanks to my patrons for their support :
ShinAmazake
Kingsprovince
Faruk Ereng
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