Capítulo 282: Shield-Bro's
Jackle had been partnered with Bureld, the orc and the braggart barely tolerating each other's presence as they fought off a single Frost Troll. Neither was making good progress against it, with Bureld almost losing his head more than once from a frenzied swipe of its claws.
Luckily, Vilkas was well aware of the other member's weaknesses and had thus left the weaker links closer to the Whiterun guards. They sent arrows down at the Frost Troll the orc and braggart were fighting, distracting it just enough for the duo to begin hacking away at it as if they were felling a tree.
Once the creature fell to the ground with crippled legs, their battle with it was essentially over... The only thing left for them to do was finish it off, something that was actually pretty difficult during a battle... The duo was forced to ignore the slowly regenerating Frost Troll as another one breaks free from its battle with some guards and charges them.
Fortunately, the guards behind the duo manage to behead the downed Frost Troll before it could regenerate and attack the defenders from the back.
Shakeesh was also in the midst of fighting, his two Curved Skyforged Steel Swords cutting deep wounds into a Troll as it raises its arms in a weak attempt to defend itself. His attacks might not have been all that accurate or powerful, but he made up for it with speed. Given enough time he may even kill the thing with blood loss alone, an almost impossible feat against foes such as Trolls.
He was partnered with a short Wood Elf who made up for his small stature by wielding a heavy Skyforge Steel Greataxe, the head of which had been firmly planted in the Frost Troll's spine, disabling it from the legs down.
"Hah! Good hit Thausai!" Shakeesh exclaims, taking the opportunity to slash at the Troll's neck, all but severing its head barring the small bit of dangling flesh keeping it attached.
The elf grins at the praise, "You're not bad yourself, Keesh!"
"Don't call me that!"
Thausai laughs, "Sheesh, learn to lighten up!"
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The battle continues on with the Frost Troll's numbers quickly dwindling, the defending side had only lost one guard due to the man's negligence in battle, while another couple had been pretty grievously injured. Were potions not a thing, they would've died there and then.
As for Michael and Njada? They were still going strong, Michael himself becoming wreathed in flames from his skill Fiery Soul. Out of everyone, he'd been the one taking out the most Trolls... The only reason he hadn't done more was because he'd been assigned as Njada's Shield-Brother. Leaving her on her to potentially get killed was a huge no-no, and might even see him 'punished' by the others... Punished, meaning having his weapon hand cut off. Yeah, they took betrayal very, very seriously.
Fortunately, Njada wasn't a slouch in combat either. While not matching up to the Inner-Circle, she had potential. Allowing the duo to cut a swathe through the Trolls and thin out the numbers a bit so that the others could have an easier time.
Michael continued to use his magic, occasionally casting Dragonslave and Laguna blade when he could do so without harming his allies. Of course, he had to be mindful of his mana expenditure whenever he cast the latter spell, suffering mana exhaustion mid-fight would be a death sentence even for him.
Soon enough, the battle was over, Michael driving Derflinger through the mouth of the last Frost Troll, causing its large body to flop backwards dead.
The remaining warriors take one last look around the battlefield for enemies before releasing a shout of triumph, the Whiterun guards in particular cheering as if they'd just survived and won a world war...
Michael ignored them all, instead, quickly getting to work harvesting all the Troll Fat he could. For obvious reasons, people keep a good distance from him as he started hacking the corpses to pieces and harvesting the humanoid creature's tallow as if he were butchering pigs for bacon.
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To be honest, the reception they received when they got back to Whiterun wasn't what Michael had expected... Only the Battle-Born clan and the Grey-Mane clan actually gave a shit... Or maybe they were the only people who knew about the threat? Yeah, that seemed more likely, no point in causing the entire city to panic for a small army of Frost Trolls... Right?
Regardless, after a night of celebration, it was finally time to leave this place. Michael went up the steps to the Skyforge to collect the armour that Eorlund had made him, and boy, it was pretty good looking if he did say so himself.
The armour was completely black and made from half ebony scales and half ebony chainmail. The scales covered most vital areas, the chest, shoulders, forearms and back. While the chainmail covered areas that required a greater range of movement like his joints.
To Michael, it looked like a cross between the armour that the Dragon Priests wore and ebony plate amour(if it was made with scales). There was also an ebony scale skirt that reached just behind his knees to protect the weak areas of the armour, it opened up at the front however to make sure it didn't get in the way.
The only complaint Michael had, if any, was the lack of environmental protection, along with its lacking magical protection. Metal got cold incredibly quickly, which was the reason most Nord armours were fitted with many furs and padding. Eorlund also made sure to mention that while ebony was very suited to being enchanted, its magical conductivity also made its user somewhat vulnerable to magic... To most this would be a massive problem, requiring more resources to fix... But for Michael who had skills that granted magical resistance? It was only a footnote.
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