Soon enough, the attacking force reaches their destination, the Forsworn seemed to already be aware of them, so the Falkreath forces threw away any notion of stealth. A few hundred meters away from the Cracked Tusk Keep, Stormcloak archers sprung from behind the treeline with their bows already raised.
"Loose!" Galmar shouts, allowing his men to unleash their 'hot' ammunition.
The Forsworn give alerted shouts at this, but they are unable to do anything to prevent the volley of arrows that strike the log-wall fortifications.
*THWOOM!*
As if it were covered with oil sections of the wooden wall go up into flames. The Forsworn standing nearby them leap away or run in terror at the sudden conflagration, thinking that they'd be the next target if they stood around.
Some Forsworn stood their ground however, shooting back in retaliation... Unfortunately for them, the Stormcloak's had the high ground, making most of the Forsworn arrows miss, or lose so much power in transit that they were unable to breach the boiled leather and chainmail armour.
A few Forsworn mages quickly set to work on extinguishing the flames via Frost spells, but it's a slow-going effort due to the alchemical concoction that was used in their creation. Another volley of arrows later and the mages give up their futile attempts, likely thinking that there were more arrows like that to come.
Unbeknownst to them, the second volley was the last of the alchemical arrows, if they had just continued their efforts, they may have saved part of the wall... But now it was too late.
"Essence of all magic and death! Show my enemies what true might really is! Show them the hand that truly guides them!-"
Michael hears Megumin's chant and feels his heart drop, unable to leave the Jarl's side without being called a coward, she continues and finally finishes it...
"Make the world tremble! Explosion!" Megumin finishes, but doesn't twirl her staff, nor do magical circles form around her... Instead, many Fire Destruction Runes form along the tops of the walls where the Forsworn were standing.
A small lull of silence reigns as the runes take a moment to activate... And then.
*BOOOM!*
An explosion brings down what was left of the wall, additionally killing thirty or forty Forsworn as it all collapses.
"Haha! Take that you goat fuckers!" Jarl Dengeir laughs as the Forsworn scramble to create a sort of shield wall behind the burning remains of their wall, but they were struggling to withstand the continual volley of arrows, they'd probably flee as soon as the Stormcloak forces charged them.
Michael glances over his shoulder to congratulate Megumin on a job well done, but... She was currently laying face first on the ground with Tiffania next to her trying to help her up. Seems like she'd still used too much mana... Figures. To be frank, he was surprised that she was even able to cast Fire Runes so far in the first place...
Michael follows Jarl Dengeir closely as he leads his men forwards, his armour easily deflecting any stray shot that came to him. The man retrieves two average-sized vials before throwing them onto the burning remains of the wall, causing heavy smoke to billow out and smother it... Seems like such tactics weren't uncommon in this world.
With the flames smothered, Dengeir roars for the army to charge and it is parroted by Galmar who was on the Eastern front. Michael charges alongside him, slamming his shoulder into a Forsworn shield before thrusting his ebony sword through the unlucky man's unprotected neck... Their furs were no match for Michael, Dengeir's, or even the Stormcloak's weapons and armour. So while some more skilled Forsworn were holding the men off, it was only a matter of time before their frontline collapses.
Nearby, a shadow opens up behind from the ground and a shadowed claw wielding Derflinger pops up, stabbing a surprised Forsworn in the back as the sentient blade laughs. "Another!" he shouts, prompting Darth to skewer another man, and another.
The Falkreath forces were put off by the strange sight but ignored it for now as the creature appeared to be on their side.
Unfortunately, this was where the success for Falkreath started to falter, as Newmi and the Hag Ravens had made an appearance, along with the Forsworn's elite units... Briar-Hearts.
A Stormcloak soldier yells in fear as a Briar-Heart wielding an axe barrels into him, easily deflecting his sword and shield before cutting one of his arms off. Even after dealing the crippling injury the Briar-Heart wasn't finished, breaking the man's knee with a kick and bringing him low before crushing his head with an unbelievably strong stomp.
"RAAAGH!" the Briar-Heart roars, striking fear into some of the Stormcloak forces as they move to flank it.
The Briar-Heart kills another, but a flanking sword successfully finds its mark, burying itself into the Forsworn's side, puncturing a lung and likely many other vital organs.
"Y-yeah!" the Stormcloak yells but is taken off guard as a fist crushes his face. The Briar-Heart pulls put the blade sticking from its side as if it were nothing and continues its rampage. The blood seeping from its wound had already mysteriously clotted.
"M-Monster!"
"Fucking abominations!" Dengeir growls as he barely fends off another Briar-Heart, his heavy warhammer easily getting deflected by the pale-skinned fur-wearing man. "Fire! Use fire to kill these undead fucks!" he commands and Michael obliges.
"Dragon Slave!" he shouts, throwing out a massive gout of flames in the shape of a dragon that burns through the Briar-Heart and many other Forsworn behind it.
Despite the powerful attack it still wasn't dead however, the Briar-Heart sitting in the open cavity of the man's chest where his heart should be, glows intensely as it pulses like a heartbeat. The Briar-Heart's skin had all but been scorched into black charcoal, but it continued to try and move... Until Dengeir crushes the thing by planting his warhammer into its chest, causing the creature to instantly drop dead.
"That'll show you! Damned monster!"
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Michael continues fending off the Forsworn, his job only being made harder by Dengeir's assistance to be on the front-line in obviously conspicuous armour all but shouting of his rank and authority.
His eyes dart to a Hag Raven which had conjured a blue spell in its palm and was thrusting it towards Dengeir. He steps in front of the man and activates "Counter Spell!", causing a blue shield to manifest around him.
A spear of ice hits it, but the shield ripples before sending it right back at its target. The Hag Raven had already set up a ward, which breaks as the spear shatters against it. But before he can retaliate, someone else had already taken action.
"Erase!" Tiffania exclaims as she thrusts her wand at the Hag Raven, its newly conjured Ward doing nothing to impede the Void spell as it connects. The monstrous lady's eyes go cloudy as its expression blanks. By all accounts, it was already dead, but an arrow from behind punches through the back of its head, finalizing the job.
"Hah! You're done now!" a familiar voice shouts from behind the Forsworn forces.
"Valdr? Stupid idiot, why announce your position you dumb cunt!" Michael exclaims as he spots multiple Briar-Hearts and Hag Raven's turn towards the small flanking group that'd attacked the back of the fort.
"Damn fool couldn't keep his mouth shut!" Dengeir growls before raising his warhammer, "FORWARD MEN! TEAR THESE SAVAGES APART! SHOW THEM HOW SKYRIM TREATS ITS ENEMIES! CHARGE!"
"Darth, make sure those idiots up back don't die." he says causing his shadow to ripple as it and Derflinger make their way over as ordered. With that done, he follows Dengeir, using a combination of various magic to prevent as many losses as possible. He wasn't omniscient however, so many of their forces died anyway... But his attention had certainly provided those careful and skilled enough with a buffer against the enemy.
*Slash!*
*Cut!*
*Stab!*
*Clash!*
The battle ensues and Michae looks up after dispatching yet another Briar-Heart, only to find a better-armoured Forsworn rapidly approaching Valdr's group. The man was wearing steel plate armour with many furs coating it, and an armoured deer's head as a helmet. He cuts through one of the men beside Valdr but has to back up as Darth shoots from the ground with Derflinger.
The Forsworn avoids the thrust and swipes at it with his sword, managing to cut through Darth's shadow-arm, causing Derflinger to clatter to the ground. Darth retrieves Derflinger as it does but the attacker was already moving towards Valdr who was quickly becoming surrounded.
"Damn it Valdr." Michael mutters to himself, scanning the area around Dengeir to check for danger before Blinking towards Valdr. Once there he tries to cast Serpent Wards... Tries. Rhasta's Serpents don't appear however, instead, Michael ends up summoning ten 10ft arms made of shadow that look suspiciously like Darth...
"Masster." they all intone simultaneously, knocking Michael from his thoughts. He shakes his head, "Kill the Forsworn!" he shouts and the hands nod, each sinking into the ground and appearing from the Forsworn shadows, grabbing them and beginning to throw them around like wet chew toys.
"M-Michael! Thank the gods! I thought I was done for!" Valdr exclaims but is ignored as Michael focuses on the armoured Forsworn that'd avoided one of Darth's arms long enough for a Briar-Heart to destroy it.
"You! Foreigner! I'll have your damned head!" the man shouts, as he deflects an arrow from Valdr.
Michael shrugs, pointing a finger at him and casting Laguna Blade. The sound of thunder rocks the area as the man had a head-sized hole punched into his sternum, his body lifelessly falling to the floor and beginning to seize up from the leftover electricity.
"N-Newmi's dead! Fuck! Run!" a Forsworn suddenly shouts, prompting many to disengage from battle and start fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. The only people who stay are the Hag Ravens and Briar-Hearts, who quickly get outnumbered and cut down now that the chaff had fled.
"The battle is won!" Dengeir loudly announces as the Stormcloak and Falreath forces cheer victoriously.
Michael gets pat on the back by a grateful-looking Valdr, "I owe you my life! Come, let's find the others hand drink! It's all on me!" he says, laughing despite the wetness in and around his eyes.
"Sure, and no problem." he offers, "Though, doesn't this make it the second time I've saved your ass?"
"W-hat? No, you must be mistaken."
Michael nods, "Alright, keep saying it and it might eventually become true." he shrugs.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the battle over the only things left to do now was to loot the place, recover the dead, and make sure any injured don't die before they can be treated. Michael wasn't involved with any of this however, instead, he, Valdr, Ari, Niels, Tiffania, and Megumin once she was able to move, moved to the Dead Man's Drink to celebrate...
Unfortunately, despite his attempts to not use anything too flashy, people had still noticed him during the battle. He was next to Dengeir for the majority of it, so he was bound to catch some eyes, but he hadn't counted on people being so attentive as to watch him teleport and one-shot the enemy general...
The only good thing about it was the fact that he and his friends didn't have to buy drinks the entire time as other people kept paying for them. Dengeir joined them afterwards as well, after he, Galmar, and the other heads had looked over reports, the dead, the injured, enemy survivors, etc.
Out of the two hundred and twenty soldiers, one hundred and sixty of which being Stormcloak, only around forty-six people had died. This was the best they could have hoped for, as the enemy had three-hundred and something Forsworn, around fifteen Briar-Hearts, and six Hag Ravens. By all accounts, it was a decisive victory, even with the losses they'd incurred.
Sadly, the joking atmosphere of the bar quieted significantly at the Jarl's next words. "So, Michael, how about it? Do you want to become a Thane of Falkreath?"
...
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