Capítulo 368: Tall Imposter
Michael sidesteps the hammer-like hand of the Centurion as it crashes into the ground beside him, forcing him to Blink backwards as it follows up with a heavy stomp. He might be strong, but he wasn't strong enough to lift a multi-ton angry robot yet.
Seeing him not die like it'd like, the Centurion sweeps its claw-like arm at him, which Michael blocks with Derflinger, much to the sentient sword's dismay... He slides backwards as he struggles to hold the weapon off and buy time for Tiffania to cast her spell, his eyes widening slightly as wisps of stream dribble from the thing's metal face.
"Cold Embrace!" he casts, freezing him solid in a block of ice just in time to avoid a grizzly burning death.
*BANG!*
It attempts to crush him with its hammer hand after seeing the ice block come out unscathed, only for the limb to bounce off of the ice as if it were an impenetrable block of diamond.
*Crack!*
The ice shatters as the spell fades, allowing Michael to Blink away to avoid being stomped on again.
"Michael! Now!" Tiffania shouts, having just finished the rather long chant required for the spell.
He nods, casting Light Strike Array before Blinking away. While the laser that falls from the sky does little to harm it, it forces it to slow down enough for Tiffania's spell to take effect. "Explosion!" she shouts as she jabs her wand at it.
*BOOOM!*
White light bathes the area, causing every to close their eyes and look away to try and avoid going blind. And once it clears, nothing of the Centurion but its half-shattered metal face remains.
...
"Hahahaha! I'm so proud of you! My Master of Explosions!" Megumin's voice cuts through the tense silence like a knife through butter, allowing the surviving guards to cheer at the threat mostly being eliminated.
"Still alright to continue?" Michael asks as he notes the slight look of fatigue on Tiffania's face.
She nods, "That spell is hard to keep contained." she remarks, surprising Michael as a memory hits him... Was that the same spell Louise used to destroy the Albion fleet in the Anime?... Something capable of blowing this entire city away?
...
His eye twitches slightly as he coughs into his fist, "I think you can Megumin should hang out less..." he shakes his head and tuns towards the group of fighters, ignoring Tiffania's slightly look of confusion, "We're going inside the Keep now! Anyone can join us! But your life is in your own hands!"
With that, Michael's group walks up the stairs with Vilkas and Shakeesh following them, a larger group of guards nervously trailing behind. Most of the guards were already exhausted, but those remaining were the ones whole-heartedly loyal to Markarth and willing to give their lives for it.
"You are all as impressive as the rumours suggest." Shakeesh mutters as he glances at the place the Centurion was previously standing. "I now see why the Harbinger holds you all in such high regard."
Michael shrugs, "No, that's probably just because of the enchanted weapons I helped deliver."
Vilkas laughs, "That too, that too my friend... Wait, we've got company." he says after stopping and subtly sniffing the air.
The group had just entered Undestone Keep and stepped into a large, empty chamber... Everyone was tense since they could hear the faint sound of battle up ahead, the sound of explosions, grinding of metal, and flesh parting. "Come! We must make it before the Jarl is slain!" Vilkas shouts as he begins running ahead.
Michael and the other follow, eventually finding a large group of Dwemer Automatons grouped around the door leading to the Throne room. That, plus the hand made of shadow pulling the legs off of the Dwemer Spiders as it struggles to assist the Markarth guards holding the enemy off at the door.
"Back fiends! I'll take you apart and put you back together again for my research!" a mage behind the guards shouts as he unleashes a variety of spells at the Automatons, his Frost Thrall currently brawling it out with four Dwemer Spheres and appeared to be on the losing end of it.
"Go! TO SOVNGARDE!" Vilkas roars as he charges forward, Shakeesh following closely behind in order to protect his Shield-Brother.
Everyone jumps into action, all but Michael who was focussing on something else entirely... Hiding in the darkness far from the door stood a man wearing full Dwemer armour, wielding a Dwemer sword, and holding a strange-looking staff that, again, looked of Dwemer make.
"Go, save the Jarl." he says to his group before Blinking towards the man and sending a hard kick at his helmeted face.
*Clang!*
The man falls over backwards and gives a shrill screech of shock as the staff is thrown from his grip, he tries to get up but Michael places a foot on his chest, stopping him from moving since his armour was already incredibly heavy.
"So, that staff of yours the thing controlling the Dwemer?" Michael asks, glaring down at the man.
"N-no! Not at all! It's just... A family heirloom that-eh... Creates funny sounds...?" the man says questioningly as if probing to see if Michael would believe thE shit he was peddling.
Michael slowly nods, "I'll just take that as a yes then. Thanks by the way, that'll really come in handy." he says before stomping down on the man's knees, crippling them as they bend inwards. After that, he makes his way over to the staff and picks it up, finding it quite unique to the other staffs he'd seen before.
It was entirely gold, or whatever the Dwemer metal was made out of, and was topped with a bright blue gem that glowed in an obviously magical fashion. It had a few buttons lining its base and a grill that looked suspiciously like an old audio receiver you'd find on Earth...
He presses a button and quirks a brow as all the nearby Dwemer freeze in place, confusing the defenders due to their opponent's weird actions.
He'd about to press another but is surprised as something attempts to wrench the thing out of his grasp... Looking over, he spots the guy in Dwemer armour holding his hand out, as if he were Thor trying to call out to Mjolnir. "Looks like you aren't worthy." Michael laughs at his own joke, not letting the staff move an inch.
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Capítulo 369: Forswear!
The man wearing Dwemer armour scowls under his helmet, struggling to resist screaming out in agony at his shattered knees. "THE REACH BELONGS TO THE TRUE SONS OF SKYRIM!" he shouts as he presses a red button on some sort of Dwemer wristband.
Michael crooks a brow at this, only then realising that the Dwemer staff in his hand was rapidly heating up, the blue crystal topping beginning to spark and crackle with electricity. A similar phenomenon was occurring in the Dwemer Automatons nearby too. "THEY'RE GONNA BLOW! GET BACK!" he exclaims before letting go of the staff, allowing the magnetic force to pull it towards the surprised crippled man.
"W-What-!?" he manages to get out as the staff slams into his wristband.
*BAAANG!*
All at once, the staff, wristband, and nearby automatons explode, enveloping everything near them with a wave of lightning.
"AAARGH!" the crippled man screams as his right arm is disintegrated up to his elbow, along with numerous burns and lacerations covering his body. The only thing saving him being his full plate Dwemer armour.
Once the dust clears, Michael surveys the damage, breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that the Markarth Court Mage Calcelmo had raised a large ward to cover them and everyone else, barring a couple unfortunate guards who couldn't escape in time.
"Piece of shit." Michael growls, stomping over to the downed man and tearing the helmet from his head, revealing a tattooed Nord.
"Ugghhhrrragh! Y-you're the real damn shits! TRAITORS, THE LOT OF YOU!"
*PAP!*
Michael slaps the man, hard. "Unless I ask something, shut your mouth and stay quiet. You might have lost an arm and had your legs crippled, but there's still a lot left to lose." he states, clasping the man's shattered knee and squeezing it, making the man scream out in agony.
Vilkas walks over and places a hand on Michael's shoulder, his armour slightly scorched and shield slightly melted from protecting a downed guard earlier. "Calm yourself, the Jarl will want to speak with this man."
"I am calm." Michael says as he leans closer to his victim's face, "I'm just eager to get him talking... You even want to find out what having your balls flayed feels like? Because I've found the perfect subject to test it on."
Vilkas grimaces at that but says nothing in response, instead, a man steps from the rooms that was being protected earlier, his fine clothes and circlet around his head letting all know his position.
"That won't be necessary, Tahlin. We aren't savages, only those dishonourable Forsworn would be willing to perform such disgusting things."
"F-Fuck you!" the downed man growls in response, causing Jarl Igmund to smile slightly through his exhausted expression.
"Did I touch a nerve, Forsworn scum?"
"Forsworn?" Michael parrots, "I thought we dealt with you lot back in Falkreath."
Igmund shakes his head, "That was just an attempt to expand their territory. Their main focus has and always will be the Reach, their 'supposed' homeland." he focuses on the downed man, "The time for your savage ways, gods, and rituals has passed. My father fought you, and his father before him. I will be the one to finish it, I promise you that... Guards! Take him away, and have Calcelmo get him talking. I'm sure he'd be eager to find out where you found those Dwemer artifacts."
"SKYRIM BELONGS TO THE TRUE NORDS! THE SONS OF KYNE! YOU DOGS OF THE EMPIRE ARE ALL TRAITORS!" he screams as he's dragged away, leaving Michael standing with Vilkas and Igmund.
"I thank you for you and your friend's assistance Tahlin. I suspect we'd have been overwhelmed without it." he looks to Vilkas, "You too, you honour yourselves and the Companions."
Vilkas nods, "The Harbinger sends his regards, Jarl."
Igmund smiles, "I'll have to remember to send old Kodlak something nice. You think he like scented candles?" he chuckles before shaking his head in amusement, "I'll have the men prepare your reward, for now though I need to get my city back in order..."
"Uh, wait, if you could, keep me updated on your investigation. I'd like to know where that fool got those artifacts... Plus, any opportunity to stick it to the Forsworn is a good one." Michael says before the man departs.
"I'll make sure to do that, you will have some competition for them though. Calcelmo is more than a little obsessed over his research." Igmund says before leaving.
Vilkas lets out a sigh, "Eh, politics... I like speaking with Balgruuf but, most Jarls feel more like Imperial Nobles than Nords... Want to check out the Shrine of Talos? This is the last 'official' place you can worship him in Skyrim... At least, if the Imperials have their way."
Michael is about to shake his head but catches a glimpse of a Thalmor mage looking far too interestedly at Tiffania, specifically, her ears. "Sure, let me grab the others first though."
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Vilkas leads Shakeesh, Michael, Tiffania, Megumin, and Illococoo through the city of Markarth and towards the Shrine of Talos, which had been hidden slightly to alleviate the pressure that the Thalmor had been applying to have them outlaw Talos as per the White-Gold Concordat.
They walk through some Dwemer doors and into a large, dimly lit room with a large statue of Talos set in the middle of it, the bearded man wearing a feathered helmet and wielding a sword.
"Talos, Tiber Septim... My ancestors would spit on his grave if they had the chance" Shakeesh mutters grimly.
"Why? Upset that he could grow a beard that didn't look like pubic hair? Or because he clapped your cheeks when he invaded?" Vilkas snarks as he drops to knee before the shrine, lowering his head in respect.
"Because they valued freedom above all, ironic now that it is forbidden to worship him. I see now that without the Provinces being united, the Elves would have enslaved us all centuries ago." he says, taking a knee next to Vilkas.
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