Chapitre 470: Route to Freedom
Surtr and Ralof make their way through the fortress, killing any Imperial that gets in their way, while also freeing those that were being tortured and interrogated underground. With replenished troops, it isn't difficult to eliminate the remaining Imperials that were taking refuge in the fortress...
Unfortunately, they hadn't managed to find Ulfric or Galmar, meaning that they were captured, dead, or managed to escape through some other way.
Surtr and the other Stormcloak run through a large hallway with a drawbridge near the end of it which allowed a stream of water to run under it. They all stop however as they spot another Imperial force running in their direction, led by General Tullius, Legate Rikke, and the Thalmor they had with them.
"Tullius! You'll regret making enemies of Skyrim! Nothing will stop us from putting your head on a pike!" Ralof growls as he readies himself for combat.
Tullius sneers back, "Skyrim belongs to the Empire! You dogs of Ulfric wouldn't understand the situation of Tamriel even if I tried to explain it to you!"
"General, stop conversing with these savages, we need to escape." the robed Thalmor remarks.
Tullius nods, "Yes, but first we'll get rid of them before they can strike at our backs. Men, kill them!" he commands, only for the charge of the Imperial soldiers to be cut off as the ceiling collapses, burying the drawbridge and cutting the hallway in half, separating the two groups.
Surtr looks up at the hole in the ceiling, spotting the dragon looking down towards where the Imperials were. "Ralof, ignore Tullius, we need to go!" he says, leading the Stormcloaks through an alternative exit that may or may not bring them to freedom.
Thankfully, after killing some Frostbite spiders and a larger than average bear, the group found the exit, only to be forced to duck and hide in cover as the dragon flies by overhead. It hadn't noticed them, but it was more than enough to scare them still for a while.
"N-No! It's headed for Riverwood!" Ralof utters in horror, scared for the safety of his friends and family that lived there.
Surtr rests a hand on Ralof's shoulder, "Even if we sprinted there we wouldn't make it in time. That's a day's travel on horseback..." he solemnly says. He also left unsaid the fact that they'd be useless even if they were there... What could they do against a beast like that? A beast which could smash its face through stone walls and act completely unbothered... A beast that steel literally bounced off of, with even its eyes harder than stone.
"B-but..." Ralof starts but trails off, "No, you're right... Their fate is in the Divine's hands now." he looks to the other Stormcloaks, "You all, make your way to Windhelm and search the roads for Ulfric if you have the chance. I'll head to Riverwood and catch up with supplies... Surtr, you come with me." he says, or more like orders as everyone quickly departs, not wanting to wait around for the dragon to return.
"Shouldn't I head with the others? I'm basically a Stormcloak now..." Surtr asks as he and Ralof begin walking towards Riverwood.
Ralof shakes his head, "You're not widely recognised as a Stormcloak yet, meaning you can do what I cannot... I need you to go to Whiterun and tell Balgruuf about the dragon. I would if he hadn't made his allegiances clear, but I'd rather not have a second chance at the chopping block." he explains.
Surtr frowns in slight confusion, "Wouldn't you want Whiterun to be unprepared for the dragon if it's under Imperial control?"
"No, this isn't just about Skyrim's independence anymore, it's about survival. That beast wasn't even trying and it tore apart Helgen like it was nothing. What if there's more? What if they decide to start waging war against Man like in the legends of old? No, we need to work together if we're to survive through whatever this is." he says, looking sure that the worst has yet to come.
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*SHIIIING!*
Michael lets out a sigh as soon as he respawns, he couldn't even begin to speculate how many times he'd died, but he knew for certain that it was way more than he wanted.
Dagon had soon gotten bored of just instantly crushing him in favour of more 'creative' techniques... Tying him down and having him devoured by lesser Daedra, dealing small cuts until he eventually bled out, inserting molten magma into his open chest cavity, the list goes on and on.
To be honest, Michael had gotten bored of the whole charade... Pain wasn't really a factor that affected him much anymore. Sure, it was annoying, but 'effective', not really. If he was to put it into words, he'd say that the tortures were akin to a mosquito bite in his old world...
Shaking his head, he looks around for his captor, wondering why he was taking so long this time... Usually, Mehrunes Dagon already had him in restraints while inflicting a newly thought up torture.
Still, the fact that the god hadn't yet appeared was a boon in of itself... Shaking his head, he manifests his Book of Legends and decides to put a plan he'd thought up into action. While he had no chance against Dagon, that didn't mean that no one else did.
From his inventory, he pulls out the Skeleton Key, Ebony Blade, Azura's Star, and the Vessel of the Hunt. Each was a Daedric Artifact belonging to their respective Daedric Prince that Michael had basically stolen and hidden within his Book.
What purpose did this serve? Well... He'd gotten the idea when he thought back to the rules of the Hunt. Where it was made clear that any Artifact collected by a Champion would become their Patron's by right... Meaning, that they couldn't track it, couldn't summon it, couldn't alter it, and wouldn't be able to reclaim it without either dealing for it, or claiming it via conquest.
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Niggross
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