"So let me get this straight, woman... You want to confirm that I'm Dragonborn by having me kill a dragon that might not even be there." Surtr asks Delphine as they walk out of Riverwood towards Kynesgrove.
The blonde Breton nods, "Yes, what's so strange about that? I am confident that Alduin will act as he has been, following the path the Dragonstone set, and reviving its kin from the dragon burial."
Surtr shakes his head, "No, I don't give a shit about the dragon burial, I can believe that... What I cannot believe is you still thinking I am some, fraud! A liar! Most of Whiterun knows what I did! The guards saw me do it! I can use the Thu'um better than a man with twenty years of learning!"
Delphine sniffs at him, "Whether or not your arrogance is well-founded, we'll find out."
"And if I'm not the Dragonborn? You know we will both be killed if it turns out I am lying." he growls.
...
"That is a risk I'll have to take." she admits.
"And the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller? Who are you to impede the Dragonborn's education of the Thu'um? Is what you provide better than anything the Greybeards know? Or are you the one letting your arrogance rule your thinking?" he grouses.
"I'm one of the last Blades, Surtr, we follow the Dragonborn and give our lives to serve. I NEED to know whether or not I am following the right person... And don't speak of those old mountain hermits to me, would they know anything about the dragon burials? The prophecy? Or are they too busy meditating, high on their own self-importance!?"
Surtr grips her shoulder, actually causing her to grunt from the strength of it, "You can call yourself a 'Blade' all you want, but to me, you're just a sad tavern wench with a sex-dungeon. Think I'd be happy to have weak and useless lackeys like you? While you disrupt my training with the Greybeards you strong-arm me into traipsing across Skyirm for what, a test? To deal with a dragon I might not even be ready for!?" he lets her go and walks ahead, "I barely survived my last encounter, and that was with most of Whiterun, the Companions, and two Hammerfell Blade-Masters."
Surtr shakes his head with an almost humour expression on his face, "And what do I get this time? Minimal training with the Thu'um, and some decrepit slave of the Emperor. I have half the mind to head back to High Hrothgar and leave you to your doom."
"And let Kynegrove burn?" Delphine asks, mildly panicking at the chance of Surtr simply leaving.
"You mean, let it burn without me inside it? Yes."
"I... We wouldn't be alone in this. I contacted Kjeld and Ulfric's General, Galmar Stone-Fist. We should have a large force of Stormcloaks supporting us... They think they'll have the support of the Dragonborn."
...
Surtr grits his teeth as he turns to her, "I will go, but if you use my name again without my permission. I will hurl you off of the top of the Throat. Do you understand, wench?"
Delphine nods, "I do..."
"Good, because I won't repeat myself. Mark my words."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Surtr and Delphine reach Kynesgrove a couple days later, the former's patience with the Blade even less than before due to her incessant chatter during the journey. Yes, he hated the Thalmor as much as the next Nord, but using his feelings to try and garner his trust in such an obvious and artificial manner made him want to crack her head on the nearest stone.
The woman's sense of entitlement and arrogance didn't make sense to him. She was one of the last members of a group of dragon hunters that was extinguished by the Thalmor... Which, when you thought about it, didn't make sense... If they were supposedly strong enough to take on dragons, the Knife-ears wouldn't pose any threat to them... Perhaps they just followed the Emperor around and carried his luggage?
"Over there, they're waiting for us." Delphine says, pointing to the hastily constructed ugly-looking watch tower that'd been built on the outskirts of Kynesgrove.
"You mean, they're waiting for me." Surtr can't help but retort as he marches ahead. "You know what will happen to you should you be wrong about this, wench?"
Delphine frowns at the nickname that'd been thrust upon her, "Yes... But I am sure I know what's going on. The Dragonstone said it all."
"And how would an ancient tablet know when a dragon is going to be resurrected... I'm just looking forward to seeing you thrown in a cell."
"Halt! Who goes there!" A Stormcloak soldier exclaims as the duo approaches.
"Surtr of Stonehills, Dragonborn."
"Delphine of Riverwood."
"Ah, Galmar is waiting for you in the Braidwood inn!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Aha! Surtr you big bastard! About time you showed your face!" a voice exclaims as the duo enter the inn.
"Ralof?" Surtr asks, spotting the grinning Nord, "I'm surprised you're still alive, to be honest." he remarks.
"Ah? What do you mean? I'm as spry as any man!"
"You might be, but I know only one who'd run into dragon fire to save a fellow prisoner..." Surtr smirks, giving Ralof a spartan handshake. "Maybe you just haven't gotten the chance to try again?"
Ralof chuckles, "Probably! I've taken some arrows to the chest, but dragon fire? Think the scars I get will be impressive?"
"Impressively burnt. I'm sure you remember those blackened bodies in Helgen..."
"Aye, looking like the rations Windhelm gives us." Ralof laughs before escorting Surtr further into the inn to where Galmar is, ignoring Delphine entirely.
"Ah, it's you lad... Dragonborn, huh? How's it feel? Any different to the rest of us 'peasants'?" Galmar asks as they approach, putting down his mug of ale.
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"It feels different." Surtr confirms, "Like an extra arm I never knew I had." he states, not completing the thought of his new arm having a mind of its own.
Galmar nods and looks to Delphine, "And who are you? I thought some 'Farengar' was supposed to turn up?"
Delphine coughs into her fist, "Ahem, he's busy with... Something. How about we concentrate on the impending dragon attack?"
Galmar folds his arms and leans his chair backwards, "Alright, let's." he says, looking intently at Delphine, who quickly unfurls an annotated map of Skyrim which had circles around every known dragon burial, each was numbered and a line followed one to the next in a clockwise pattern.
"These three burial mounds have already been unearthed." she points to the Western ones nearby Solitude, Morthal, and Dawnstar. The next one should be here in Kynesgrove, unless there's another that we haven't discovered yet." she explains.
"Wait. You're telling me the dragons are being raised from the dead? I thought Necro-magic and Conjurers were extinct thanks to that Tahlin tower?" Galmar asks in disbelief, "You expect me to believe this shovel?"
Delphine nods, "Look, dragons aren't like you, me, or any other creature in Tamriel. They don't die when killed, they simply rest until one of their kin can revive them. Alduin, the World-Eater, has been doing just that... How else do you think the dragons were returning?"
Galmar shrugs his shoulders, "They're dragons! They can fuck to get their population up for all I care! I'd rather believe that than immortal undead dragons going around burning cities!"
"I... I think she's right on this... In this instance. Dragon souls are different to mortal souls..." Surtr mutters, "More powerful, more resilient... When I absorbed the dragon's soul in Whiterun, it resisted despite being dead."
...
"That's what you think, Dragonborn?... Right..." Galmar strokes his beard, "How long are we going to have to wait here then? I don't know if you noticed, but we've still got a war to win."
Delphine smiles, "The war is almost finished... The Thalmor fleet is destroyed, the Imperial army crippled, Markarth has declared themselves neutral, and Falkreath is on the edge of returning to their Stormcloak loyalties... You can spare a couple days to help deal with the dragon crises." she states.
...
"Fine. But if those beasts don't turn up in two weeks, we'll be gone." Galmar states.
Delphine nods, "That will be enough. Thank you."
Galmar waves her off and begins trying to tempt Surtr with some of the local alcohol. And he succeeds despite Surtr trying to keep a level head for the attack that was supposedly coming.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"SOUND THE ALARMS! SOUND THE ALARMS! DRAGON APPROACHING!"
The yells of many men echo in the night, awakening everyone as a large, loud bell is rung to force everyone into action.
Surtr, despite his small hangover, leaps off of his bed still in armour and sprints towards the door after collecting his weapon.
Outside, he spots multiple groups of Stormcloaks manning ballistae and firing almost blindly into the sky... The only indication that there was anything above them was the two red eyes flying in the distance, peering from the darkness.
Surtr remembered this well. Those eyes. It was the same dragon that destroyed Helgen, and from what Delphine tells him, Alduin the World-Eater.
"STOP STANDING THERE LAD! WE'VE GOT A DRAGON TO KILL!" Galmar shouts from behind Surtr, dragging him to the nearest Ballistae.
"These won't do anything to it!" Surtr objects, knowing full well how thick dragon scales were.
"These are enchanted ebony bolts bought from that Sky-Rend merchant company! I'll kick the shit out of the fuckers who sold us this if it doesn't work!" Galmar exclaims, just as the dragon glides down in a blind spot of their formation.
"YOL TOOR SHUL!" Searingly hot fire spews from the maw as it passes, instantly burning two ballistae and two dozen Stormcloaks alive.
"TOR SHUL FUCK YOU LIZARD!" Galmar angrily shouts as the dragon gets some distance, all of their bolts barely missing it.
"That was a Fire Breath shout, Galmar! We need to do something before it comes back and gives us something worse!" Surtr hurriedly says, feeling his instincts pushing him to have a direct confrontation with the dragon. Regardless of the fact that he'd die almost instantly. God what he would do for Saeko to be here right now!
Galmar glances to Surtr, "WORSE!? IT JUST KILLED A DOZEN OF MY MEN!"
"DO YOU WANT TO SEE IT RAIN METEORS FROM THE SKY!? BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT DID IN HELGEN!" Surtr shouts, "We need to bring it to the ground or we're all fucked!"
"WHAT DO WE DO THEN!?"
"We need to bait it into an attack!" Surtr says, glancing around the area for a moment before locking eyes on the nearby treeline. "There! Hide a ballista there and have it positioned in another's blind spot in its path!"
Galmar wets his lips, "Aight! If you think that'll work! MEN YOU HEARD HIM! QUICKLY NOW!"
The dragon continues burning people, which the Stormcloaks barely mitigate by having suicide squads draw its attention... All attempts to hit it with ballistae fail, as if the dragon could tell exactly where the attack would come from... Fortunately, they manage to follow Surtr's plan, the ambush ballistae ready to attack the dragon when it glides down.
A single Stormcloak stands with the bait ballistae, knowing full well he was going to die... And he takes it with a warcry as he's incinerated, just as Surtr and Galmar shoot the ambush ballistae.
*SHOOK!*
*CLAAAANG!*
The bolt flies out... Hits its wing... And bounces off...
...
"FUUUUUUCK!" Galmar roars as he slams his fist into the ballistae, leaving an indentation in the hardwood. Indeed, everyone shared similar sentiments as they now had Alduin's attention... The dragon flew in close and began incinerating the forest around them...
Surtr blacks out as a burning tree falls atop him, the last thing he sees being a fellow Stormcloak's burning corpse... Is this how it ends? That fucking whore Delphine!
Hope you bois liked the chap, if I missed anything please let me know. Thanks!
Also, thanks to my patrons for their support :
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