Elder Scrolls: The Great War (IC)

[Wolfmanne]

OOC

Imperial City
Imperial Palace
Cyrodiil
4E 171, Tirdas, First of Sun's Dusk

It's been 2 days since the Thalmor emissary came and dumped a hundred heads of the Blades. Emperor Titus Medes II stood behind his chair, anxious about the arrival of his Generals, his Counts, his advisers and all sorts of Imperial bureaucrats from Cyrodiil in regards to the Declaration of War. The worse he was expecting was the Marshal of the Blades in Cyrodiil; 100 of his comrades were beheaded while on operations in Dominion territory. The Blades could well be blamed for instigating the war, but now wasn't the time to point fingers; now was the time to decide. The Penitius Ocultis stood close; they had a role once filled by the Blades. To guard His Imperial Majesty. Although the Blades weren't an official Imperial organisation, they still supplied the Empire with intelligence, along with the Penitius Ocultis. Without their information, they wouldn't be aware of the amount of soldiers, the tactics, the formations and other important details which will be vital for the war.

A few Bureaucrats, Counts, Jarls and other government officials entered, but none of the Generals, the Marshal of Imperial City and the Blades' Marshal was here. Medes expected that they were already busy, planning the defense of Cyrodiil and Hammerfell, the two provinces most likely to be invaded. After all, what would be the point of landing a Thalmor army in Skyrim?

Suddenly, a messenger stormed through the halls, without any courtesy greetings. He proceeded to read a scroll, without stopping to catch a breath.

"Message from the Count of Leyawiin - the reason he's not going to come here is because they've done it" the messenger the begun. "It may seem impossible but they've already crossed the border and an army lead by Lord Naarfin, is besieging Leyawiin. The city guard and the few legionnaires present are ready to fight, but we know that our cause is lost. I'm sorry, Your Imperial Majesty, if this message gets through".

The speed was amazing; the border guards probably couldn't stop the advance. The Blades gathered a dossier on Lord Naarifin, described as a master general. He would be a challenge for the finest of his Generals. For three years since he's been Emperor, Medes had time to prepare. But he failed his role and now he is less than a week to amass several armies. But it was either a unified Empire against a strong Thalmor, or a divided Empire who gave into Dominion demands, while the Thalmor invade.

---

Riverhold
Thalmor Embassy
Elseweyr
4E, Tirdas, First of Sun's Dusk

For Lord Naarifin, it was all going well; Lady Arannelya would soon cross into into Southwest Cyrodiil from Valenwood, linking up with forces which had already sneaked through the Imperial Navy in Hammerfell. The ultimate strategy for the Thalmor was to focus on Hammerfall; they were disunited and divided, the Imperials had committed only a few Legions and politically, it would make it look like to the Dominion citizens that they were going for what they claimed in the ultimatum they gave to the Empire, instead of seeking to destroy the Empire completely. Southern Cyrodiil was vital to the plan; the only way to Hammerfell from anywhere north was through the desert, or through Southern Cyrodiil. Therefore, Lord Naarifin planned to play an aggressive defense strategy. He wanted to advance as far as he could into Imperial territory, taking as much ground as possible before defending Lady Arannelya's rear. To take Imperial City itself seemed unlikely, however Hammerfell seemed like easy prey.

He picked up a report on Commander Enelya, one of the youngest Commanders of the Dominion Warlock Corps. Described as 'cold-blooded, brutal but an efficient Battlemage', she had rooted out many a Blade and seemed even more bloodthirsty. She didn't care if it was a Legionnaire, a Guard or a Blade - all were fair game to her. She was a true Thalmor; one dedicated to her Army.

---

OOC:

Ok, so I know the OP could had been much better. Basically, the Thalmor have invaded two days after the Thirtieth of Forstfall. There are three potential battlegrounds; firstly, to the north of Rihad, a small Dominion force has landed. It isn't really much of an Army and depending on how the Dominion Navy fairs against the Imperial Navy, it's supply lines, which travel through water, are at risk. They have the advantage of surprise, the fact that most Legions are deployed in Cyrodiil, or are soon to be and the fact that the Redguards are divided. Therefore, Lady Arannelya is to invade from Valenwood into Western Cyrodiil, with the aim of reinforcing the armies in Hammerfell and keeping a second supply line open. Meanwhile, Lord Naarifin plans to pin Imperial forces in Cyrodiil. He launched an attack from Elseweyr, the speed of which was so fast that it seems certain that Leyawiin will soon fall quicker than if the Imperials had already established an effective defense of the city.

Emepror Titus Medes II has called a Council in Cyrodii, a council which shall include the Marshal of Imperial City and the Marshal of the Blades, as a general Council of War; the aims of which include a general defensive strategy, a discussion over increasing the size of the military, which Generals will command which armies, attempting to get Counts, Jarls and other governors to commit their Guards, along with several other trivial issues. Imperial Legions right now are scattered all across Tamriel and the Generals are trying to gather together the various Legates and their Legions into armies. Much of the initial defense is going to be based around bandits, local villagers, guerrillas and few isolated units of Legionnaires and City Guards defending their homes, raiding supplies and being nuisance to the Thalmor until the Empire can devise a strategy and get an Army together.

[Lancearc]

Jo'rak crept stealthily through the swamps of Southern Cyrodiil, just to the east of Leyawiin near the Black Marsh border. He stopped only when he made too much noise or to cover his tracks. The captain's orders of course, but he would've done it anyway, whether ordered to or not. The patrols and scouting missions around Leyawiin had been uneventful, to say the least, and Jo-rak could only hope that they would get a more exciting assignment soon. However, nowhere in Cyrodiil was particularly exciting right now, especially not the quite swamps around the Topal Bay.

He smelled something. He flicked his tail and turned around. He saw the smoke. Strange, he didn't hear a thing. Then he heard screams.

Tink. Tink.

He snapped his head to the left. Upon hearing the sound, his instinct told him to jump into the nearest tree and wait for this obviously heavily armored stranger to pass.

Tink. Tink.

The clatter of the plate armor and boots crunching against the soft wet ground of the swamps alerted him once more. He strained to see through the mist that covered the swamps currently, but he could see the basic outline of the mysterious shape. He saw a longsword in the figure's hand. The man stopped, doubled over and breathing hard.

"Jo'Rak!" the man yelled. He recognized the voice as that of Hakiig Shield-Smasher, the Nord soldier with whom he'd bunked most of the time in training. Jo'Rak descended from his perch gracefuly, and nocked and arrow, his tail flying behind him as he made his way towards Hakiig. Something was wrong, he could sense it. His ears twitched with unease.

"What is it Hakiig? What's going on down there, I've been seeing that smoke for a while now." he reported. Hakiig caught his breath before replying.

"Thalmor...They're...They're attacking the city...We're...Overwhelmed. Captain said...meet...on the road...outside the gates. Guard needs help.." he panted. Suddenly, a fireball flew over Jo'Rak's left shoulder an burned the plates of the armor he wore.

"Die, Imperial dogs!" he heard someone cry. He turned and, having already nocked an arrow onto his bow, drew it and loosed the projectile with great speed, even by Khajiit standards. The arrow buzzed through the air and hit it's target, the Thalmor wizard's chest. The Altmer wizard fell, not even magic could heal a wound such as his.

"Come Hakiig, we should get to the Captain with all possible speed." he suggested. The two ran off, leaving the writhing wizard on the ground in pain.

[North Banrodesia]

Isratial sat on a weathered, Rotten log at his station along the Niben bay, Surrounded by his comrades Philiminius Arcoda and Gulundirl, Who were enjoying a good-natured flask of ale. The commotion they were making was quite disturbing to Isratial as he read about Daedric magic, So he drew a Atronach of Fire from the planes of Oblvion to make them watch their tongue.
'Come on, Isratial, It's all in jest. Have a drink!' Gulundril said, Nudging a drink towards him. 'no need to be dull!'
Isratial grunted and continued reading, But this was soon interrupted by a shout and the noises of hooves along the rode. Rising to his feet, Isratial cast a spell of light, And beckoned for the others to follow to the road.
Soon after, the battlemages arrived beside the rode which shimmered in the pale moonlight. Blood spattered the cobbles, wet from the earlier rain, which was still pattering relentlessly against the earth. Beside the calm waters of the niben stood two men, clad in woven armour, removing a fine blade from a deceased legionarres chest as he tumbled backwards into the chilly basin.
Returning the ball of light to his hand, Isratial flicked his hand, which was now coated in frost. His comrades produced similar spells of fire and shock, shortly before Isratial launched a spear of Ice towards the elf, missing by a sliver. The hostiles span and dashed for the mages, one recieving a icy spear to the neck, making a guttural noise before collapsing. The second Thalmor slashed into the treeline and caught Philiminius in the leg before being stabbed in the back by a silver dagger.
'Trouble in Leyawiin.' Gulundril said, lowering his hands. 'We should go get the others, patch up the breton and head down there.' With that, they jogged through the forest to gather up the rest of the detachment.

[Lancearc]

"FALL BACK!" Captain Antioch cried. Jo'Rak and Hakiig had arrived in enough time to help the Leyawiin town guard to combat the invading Thalmor for only a few minutes, and the town was now in smoking ruin. Citizens ran here and there in an attempt to escape from the city, and lost children cried, however this was barely audible to Jo'Rak as the bloo pumping through his body was te only sound he heard, except for the captain giving orders. He loosed an arrow towards a Thalmor magician. It struck him in the forehead, and he fell.

However, most of the time when Jo'Rak fired, the Thalmor's wizards simply healed the wound with little effort on their part. The elves advanced, and the Legionnaires fell back, back up the Green road. They'd not been prepared, theywere overwhelmed. Jo'Rak fired another arrow.

"Jo'Rak, c'mon!" Hakiig cried. Jo'Rak had been standing his ground, firing arrows, he hadn't even noticed the lightning bolt that singed some of the fur on his arms. Reluctantly, he started running with the rest of the Imperials.

He eventually caught up with Captain Antioch.

"Jo'Rak! Go on ahead and warn any Legion squads in the area! Tell them to prepare a proper defense if the Elves reach Bravil!" he shouted, ducking as another magical attack flew past. "Do these bastards ever stop casting?!"

Jo'Rak nodded. "Yes sir, best of luck Captain!" he said. He turned and clamped Shield-Smasher's arm. "Good hunting my friend, stay safe."

"Good hunting brother, stay swift and silent."

Jo'Rak nodded, and with that, was off down the road, shouting, "The Thalmor are advancing!" any time he saw the occasional traveler or soldier. "TO ARMS, THE ELVES ARE HERE!" His cry rang clear and far across the Green road.

[Lancearc]

On his return journey, Jo'Rak still cried out his message. He found what looked to be a campsite, hastily deserted, and the body of an Imperial and a Thalmor magician. He nodded solemnly and continued with swiftness to the Imperial Line, which the captain and the remnants of Jo'Rak's squad had thrown together on the road. They would soon attempt to counterattack Leyawiin. It was obvious to Jo'Rak that this battle would either be a defeat or a long and bloody siege.

He quickly located Hakiig. "I see we've a temporary respite from those Thalmor traitors." Jo'Rak said. Hakiig nodded.

"We barely got out of there. The captain says as soon as we've got reinforcements, we'll attempt to push forward. We just have to hope that in the mean time, the Thalmor are too busy securing Leyawiin to care about those Imperials down the road." Jo'Rak nodded. He flicked his tail the way he usually did when he was nervous. He knelt and recited a silent prayer.

"Alkosh keep me safe and Rajhin keep me silent." he muttered.

[North Banrodesia]

Upon arriving back at the small imperial outpost, Isratial hastily doused Philiminius' minor wound with a healing potion before applying a healing spell. Once the Breton was up and moving, The three mages headed to the Legates tent to inform him of the news. Within the minuscule margin of five minutes, 250 Legionarres, 50 Battlemages and 100 Imperial Archers were assembled in the trampled down clearing that was now an assembly point. Legate Hjoriln stood in front of his grand tent, Imperial flags flapping behind him, he began to address the crowd.
'Honored soldiers of the Imperial army, I have grave news for you. It is this day that the forces of the Aldmeri dominion have chosen to claim our homeland from us. Already, they are laying siege to the Beutiful town of leyawiin; Not beautiful once it is rubble. We must throw aside our fears of this merciless adversary and drive them through! They will never claim Cyrodiil! For the empire!' He drew a elegant blade and pointed it towards Leyawiin, shortly before the minor force began marching down the green road to blockade any Thalmor from reaching Bravil.

[Lancearc]

Upon arriving back at the small imperial outpost, Isratial hastily doused Philiminius' minor wound with a healing potion before applying a healing spell. Once the Breton was up and moving, The three mages headed to the Legates tent to inform him of the news. Within the minuscule margin of five minutes, 250 Legionarres, 50 Battlemages and 100 Imperial Archers were assembled in the trampled down clearing that was now an assembly point. Legate Hjoriln stood in front of his grand tent, Imperial flags flapping behind him, he began to address the crowd.
'Honored soldiers of the Imperial army, I have grave news for you. It is this day that the forces of the Aldmeri dominion have chosen to claim our homeland from us. Already, they are laying siege to the Beutiful town of leyawiin; Not beautiful once it is rubble. We must throw aside our fears of this merciless adversary and drive them through! They will never claim Cyrodiil! For the empire!' He drew a elegant blade and pointed it towards Leyawiin, shortly before the minor force began marching down the green road to blockade any Thalmor from reaching Bravil.

Captain Antioch, atop his beautiful white steed Snowfire, squinted as a bit farther up the road towards Leyawiin, he saw what appeared to be a force of Imperials marching towards the town. "What the..." was his only comment. From somewhere in the ranks, a soldier shouted, "Looks like we're not losing this after all!"

Captain Antioch drew his silver longsword and, turning to the force he had at his disposal, cried "Join their formation and follow whatever words come from below that crest!" he said, pointing towards the Legate. The extra Imperials rushed into formation with the others, and Captain Antioch descended from his steed and hurried to join the Legate.

"Sir, my humble forces are at your disposal." he said.

Meanwhile, Jo'Rak, standing behind the Captain, nocked an arrow and prepared for the order to volley fire, as he knew they would.

[North Banrodesia]

The Legate looked over to the captain whose ranks had just merged with his own, slowing his horse along with the legion's pace.
'Captain! I thank you for your support.' the legate said gratefully, glancing into the thick shadow that engulfed the treeline of the forest. 'We should set up camp outside the city Walls, but to ensure we reach our destination with minimal casualties, I require your scouts to scan the woods beside us and flush out any Thalmor scum' The Legate cleared his throat before continuing. 'We do not want an unexpected volley of arrows raining down as we march. You have your orders. Also, try and get your scouts to locate any incoming Thalmor. Dismissed.'

Isratial had a bad feeling about the march; too exposed the army was, strolling down the road like it was Sundas morning. The darkness seemed to swallow the forest, and the occasional howl of a wolf could be heard from the seemingly endless ranks of trees.
'Have your wits about you.' He whispered to his two closest comrades. 'If we're lucky, there might still be someone alive in that forsaken town.

[New Armarzia]

Legate Mist-Walker knelt down at the altar in the Great Chapel of Zenithar. He offered a quick prayer to the nine as was his routine each day and got up. STanding behind the legate were two soldiers in leather armor of the legion, each armed with a broadsword. Both were human, one breton and one Imperial. The Legate nodded to the two who in turn knelt down and offered their own prayers. Mist-Walker ensured his accompanying guards always prayed at the chapel with him. By serving the emperor, they served the nine and Legate Mist-Walker was intent on reminding his men of that. The two men got up and Mist-Walker turned to leave when a man is Imperial steel burst into the chapel yelled, "The Thalmor! Sir! Couts are reporting Thalmor!."

Mist-Walker raised his hand and replied, "Show respect soldier, you are in a chapel. Now what are the scouts reporting exactly?"

"Sir, the scouts are reporting a large Thalmor force only a few miles out, enough to take the city and continue marching with little difficulty," said the soldier in a quieter, but still anxious tone.

Mist-Walker took a short moment of thought and said, "Well soldier, I hope to prove you wrong. The legion will always provide difficulty to her foes. Gather what member of the Fifth are garrisoned here and bring them here." Mist-Walker realized he sent nearly ten men on patrol as a precautionary measure and would pay for it now. Mist-Walker turned to his guards and said, "Head to the castle and have a bird sent to the general to inform him of the situation. Than join with the count's guard, make sure he is alive!" The three soldiers ran off to do their duties as Legate Mist-Walker cooly walked outside of the chapel.

Within a few minutes the remaining garrison of the Fifth stood in front of the chapel. Twenty-three men in total not including Mist-Walker: thirteen swordsman, eight skirmishers, and one battle-mage. An adequate defense against bandits, but from highly trained elves, their was hardly a hope in any of their eyes. Mist-Wlaker stood on the steps of the chapel and faced the small force. He began to speak to them before battle, but his emotionless voice did little to his his encouraging words, "My fellow soldiers of the empire, a force marches on this city in greater numbers than we have. But fear not, the Empire may lose this battle, but we have never lost a war. The empire fought Molag Bal and his Dremora, not the dominion. The empire had their leader become divine, the dominion has not. The empire has taken all of Tamriel before, the Dominion has not. ANd when we drive back this army, we will march and reconqueur all of Tamriel again!" Mist-Walker could tell some of the moods were lightened with words, but no one believed they would fight the army off, not even Mist-Walker. Mist-Walker led his men to the gates to fight alongside the town guard and other members of the tenth...

...The battle went as Mist-Walker expected, terribly. Some members of the tenth were sent to message the rest of the Empire, but Mist-Walker refused to weaken the city by sending his own men. Mist-Walker now regretted sentencing those men he kept to their deaths. Mist-Walker stood behind a closed gate along with some civilians, guards, and the remaining legionnaires. The elves had taken the city, but they still held the castle and did the best thing they could, wait behind the walls. The remaining defense heard as Thalmor mages blasted the gate and all the men ducked for cover as siege weapons fired at the castle from outside the city. The count was outside along with his guard now. Mist-Walker intended upon holding the castle till the death, but his priority was the count. Unfortunately, the enemy were on the other sides of both gates, all the legate could do was wait till his final fight or until reinforcements could buy him the time he needs to escape with the count.

[Spetznaz Assault Teams]

Benyamin Do'urden
The Dark Brotherhood
Chorrol, Cyrodiil

The man's covered head leaned back ever so slightly, he sniffed the air. Clean. Pure. As far removed from the job he was about to execute as possible. He smiled grimly, moving forward at a rapid pace. He was here on a job, naturally. This was no ordinary job however. For that, one of the lowly minions could have been sent. Oh no, this job required the delicacy and deadly efficiency of one of the Black Hand.

The stranger moved forward, one hand out, seemingly casually swaying with the motion of the walk. He seemed however, to only have that one hand. His uniform was pinned up at the elbow, drawing a curious glance, followed immediately by a bashful turn of the head, embarrassed to be staring at a man who was obviously a soldier of the Empire. Coming home after loosing his arm in the war no doubt. And that was exactly what the man inside the uniform wanted them to think. At his side was belted what looked like a standard Imperial sword, but was a cleverly disguised Scimitar in reality. The uniform had been taken from the corpse of a man who had bled out after loosing his arm in the war. The man inside the uniform was in possession of all four limbs, though curiously was missing the little finger from his left hand, the one that was displayed for the world to see.

Now the "soldier" turned, walking down a side street. The guise was only to get him past the guards at the front of the city, just to get him easy access, without too much questioning. Every detail of this hit had been planned out, down to the exact placement of the killing blow. The target in question was a no account Merchant, who had decided it was acceptable to ignore his debt to a certain crime lord. That crime lord had contacted the Dark Brotherhood, and asked them to make an example of the man. After a small conference, the Dark Brotherhood had agreed, cautiously. Then the Crime Lord had tacked on an additional provision. There were to be no mistakes. One of the Black Hand would have to be sent. Benyamin Do'urden had volunteered. Benyamin Do'urden, who's past was known not even to his four peers. All they knew was that Benyamin lived for the streets. They were his art, his city, his music. He played the subtle strings of men's hearts, manipulated them into doing what he wanted. He sang the crashing chorus of violence, joyfully and artfully slaughtering those who stood in his way. And he did so with utter mastery, such that he was certain of his ability in this case.

The Assassin, the Murderer, the Blessed of Sithis, call him what you will, shed the Soldier's uniform. Underneath were the symbolic and honorary clothes of his profession. Skin tight black, with armor plates sewn into them at various points. A hood came up, obscuring his, admittedly, handsome face. The belt went on, his two scimitars, his two beloved scimitars, at his hips. Various deadly knives were sewn into his outfit at key points, and more than a few had a deadly or inhibiting poison on them. He leaped away, clambering onto the roof of a nearby building, before leaping off again. He did a hand spring, artfully leaping the gap between two roofs. It was night time, the time of the assassin.

[Lancearc]

"Yes, Legate." the captain replied. He looked over his shoulder, and Jo'Rak nodded. "Jo'Rak, take Gaeleg and Steps-Lighter to scout out the forest, then report back once you've scanned the whole of the woods." The Khajiit nodded once more and turned, waving a hand to indicate an Argonian and a Bosmer to follow him. The trio sped into the woods.

They entered the shadowy forest, the soft ground nearly silent as the three scouts treaded lightly through the underbrush. The Bosmer shook slightly, obviously the atmosphere unnerved him. "Have courage brother, we must not fail, or our comrades are doomed." Jo'Rak consoled him. The elf nodded, his expression tightening.

"...They come, stay quiet." Jo'Rak held up a hand, kneeling. The others did the same. Steps-Lighter and Gaeleg nocked arrows to their bows.

"But Aldaril said to return immediately Fainde." Jo'Rak saw them now, two Altmer were arguing, crouched behind a bush near the road. Both had fireballs in their hands.

"Aldaril is an incompetent coward, and you know it. Besides, we could wipe out their entire flank, and the others can attack! We'll be heroes! The first Altmer, also the tallest, retorted.

Jo'Rak nodded to the others and, all at once, they loosed their arrows. They took down the spellcaster easily, with the element of surprise.

"Over there!" someone cried, and an arrow flew past Jo'Rak, narrowly missing. "They're to our right, in the trees!" Jo'Rak reported, as more arrows bombarded them.

Jo'Rak peeked from behind his tree, and guesse that none of the Thalmor archers saw him, for they focused all their fire on the Wood Elf and Argonian. Because of this, Jo'Rak was able to take out one of the four. He fell from the tree with a thud and a grunt. He fired a second arrow, but it bounced off the armor of the Thalmor soldier.

Steps-Lighter took advantage of the momentary respite, and fired. The second and third archers fell, those ones lacking armor. The fourth, jumped down from his tree weilding a shortsword. He caught the Argonian completely by surprise and shoved it through his stomach, with terrifying ease. However, his sword got stuck and the Bosmer was able to hit him with an arrow.

The two stood over the body of their comrade. With solemn nods, the returned to the formation.

"Captain, Legate, the forest has been cleared, but Steps-Lighter has fallen." Jo'Rak reported, falling back into rank.

[Vahvanti]

After what felt like years trekking through Hammerfell and the Colovian Highlands, Niniel spotted a watchtower in the distance. It was tall enough to spot a Khajit wearing black everything at night, and it was certainly tall enough to spot a tired-looking Bosmer with a lot of things in her hands.

Niniel raised her torch above her head to identify the two figures at the wooden gates. The guards of Chorrol, both seemingly as tall as the gates themselves, gave Niniel some spine-tingling scowls as she approached them. The rookie adventurer didn't think much of it.

"Good morning, officers!" Niniel greeted the two. "Would it be alright if I settled down here for the night?"

"What do you think, treehugger?" one of the guards fired back.

This comment obviously took Niniel by surprise. "I'm only looking for a place to stay at this time of night..."

"Then you'd better give us those heads if you don't want any trouble," the other guard told her, referring to the cluster of wolf heads she held on to with some rope.

Niniel knew better than to argue with a large man and his equally large friend, surrendering her heads to the guard. The guard rummaged through the fur and blood before tossing it back at Niniel.

"That's odd," the guard commented. "I couldn't find the head of a Nord in this filthy collection."

Niniel was shocked. Who in their right minds would carry a Nord's head around with them willy nilly?

"You may go in, sera," the first guard said to her. "Heed my advice, though: You will be facing the same treatment anywhere else in Cyrodiil if you don't chop off those pointy ears."

Niniel kept herself alert as she walked on the streets of Chorrol, receiving less than friendly stares from all who reside there. The evil eyes everyone was giving made her tense and afraid as she went past the door of the Oak and Crosier.

[New Endenia]

City of Leyawiin, Thalmor Dominion Advance Invasion Force

"Lord Commander, our forces have secured the majority of the city. Pockets of resistance still endures near one of the gates but the city is ours." One of the Thalmor battle soldiers reported to Enelya. She smirked and waved him aside. She did not care about minor reports such as this, what is important is that the city is theirs, pockets of resistance can be easily squashed out by their superior forces or even stopped with a proper display of Thalmor power. She giggled to herself as she thought of the various ways she could easily kill every single soldier resisting. Her orders from Lord Naarifin was to capture Leyawiin and secure the city before advancing. She had already taken the city, easily even, the imperial forces here could barely stand up against the superior magics of the Warlocks Corps. She studied the map of the area, noting Thalmor scouts reports of an imperial force gathering in the distance, possibly to attempt in retaking the city. She was about to issue orders when another battlemage entered the Temple of Zenithar which Enelya had taken over as her command center.

"Lord Commander, we have captured this imperial dog scouting near the city walls. We believe him to be a herald of Imperial forces marshaling near here."

"Oh? Bring him in, let me see this 'herald' of the Empire."

Two Thalmor battle soldiers dragged in a bloody and bound imperial soldier who was obviously already tortured by his captors. Enelya looked at the bloodied face of the Imperial soldier and shook her head, "Who did this to him? I will not have him appearing like this in the Temple of Zenithar! Someone find a priest and heal him immediately!"

The Thalmor were stunned at those orders but quickly obeyed her, they found a priest of Zenithar who had been locked in the temple cellers and had him use his restoration powers to heal and fix up the imperial soldier. After tending to the soldier's wounds, the Priest of Zenithar bowed to Enelya, reporting that the Imperial had been healed and his wounds closed. "Thank you Priest of Zenithar. We have no more use for you anymore." She smiled at him and her right eye turned blood red as fire enveloped the Priest and turned him into smoldering ashes infront of the shocked Imperial Soldier. "Have his ashes dumped on the shrine to Zenithar then destroy everything here. There is no worship of any Gods allowed here, after that, begin executing one imperial prisoner on the shrine's remnants every hour, I want this place completely desecrated."

"At once Lord Commander."

"And as for you Imperial, we are going to have a little talk." She cast a conjuration spell and a ghostly image of a dagger formed in her right hand. "Oh I had him fixed you up so that you wouldn't die when I torture you, it takes out all the fun when my prisoners die while I'm having my fun." Using her powers, she pushed the imperial soldier against the wooden door of the Temple and stabbed the conjured dagger into his right hand, impaling him onto the door. She summoned another dagger and stabbed it into his left hand, impaling it as well. "Does it hurt? Tell me what are the imperials planning on doing? TELL ME."

Enelya conjured another dagger and begun to slowly move the dagger across the imperial soldier's face, cutting it slowly. "I can make the pain infinitely worse for you, tell me now and I will grant you a quick death, resist and I will have your family's bodies fed to you. Tell me what the imperial soldiers are planning against this city!"

[Avorez]

The City of Leyawiin
Maximus and a few of his soldiers had infiltrated the city under the cover of a storm, as such occurances were common throughout the southern portion of Cyrodiil. He and his ""honour guard" moved through the city silently, narrowly avoinding Thalmor patrols as they skirted through the shadows in their heavy black cloaks. They moved through the night, black shadows of death as they marched through what was seemingly a dark and empty city since the Thalmor invasion. "Feldar, Briggs, I want you both to run recon on the inn." Maximus whispered to two of his twenty men.

Faldar, a Breton, and Briggs, a Nord, both approached the Inn, a decrepit old thing called the Five Claws Lodge, and peered into the window, seeing nothing of interest or value. They both quickly slipped back to Maximus and the others "Nothing to report sir." Faldar said in a soft tone "Perhaps we should..." they heard a loud scream, echoing from a place far to the east of their position "It seems that our compatriot from the Legion was not so lucky..." they started off in that direction, the echoes of the fighting at the gates filling their ears.

They came nearer to the Temple and slowed down to a slow crawl as they passed silently by the two Thalmor agents whom of which were discussing Enelya and her 'tactics'. Now, Maximus made a split second decision as they passed by the Thalmor agents, "Sylorn, Nenya, take out those Thalmor and put on their robes. We're breaking that officer out of this accursed hell." Suddenly, Nenya and Sylorn, both anti-Thalmor Altmer, sneaked up behind the Thalmor agents and pulled out their blades and put them to their throats "Be quiet yet, and you won't face your demise." Nenya whispered into the ones ear.

[North Banrodesia]

Tensions continued ascending as the small army began nearing the city, and as the looming gates approached, the legate gave his orders.
'Good soldiers of Tamriel! The savage Thalmor have overrun our Leyawiin! As they are currently regrouping and without reinforcements, they are weak! We strike now! Burn down the gates!' the legate lit a torch and hurled it at the huge wooden gates, shortly followed by the torches of the front line of Legionarres, and the fireballs of the Battlemages. Soon, the gate was nought but kindling, and the Legionarres were charging into the city. 'Head for the castle! We must ensure that the count is safe!' The legate yelled over the fires and yelling voices.

Wits about him, Isratial stayed as close to Gulundril and Philiminius as possible, chucking a spell around, trying to keep up with the charging crowd that had now been halted by many opposing Thalmor. 'Talos be with you' he muttered, Conjuring a Clanfear.

[Spetznaz Assault Teams]

Benyamin Do'urden
The Dark Brotherhood
Chorrol, Cyrodiil

Benyamin wiped blood off his scimitar onto the cloak of the now deceased merchant. He bowed reverently to the corpse. Unlike many that Benyamin had killed, this one had not relied on his guards as his only means of defense. The man was no mean hand with a sword, and had bought enough time for the hidden wizard to cast a rather impressive stream of ice at Benyamin. Totally pointless of course, but impressive none the less. Instead of being frozen where he stood, Benyamin had leaped up high, doing a flip in the air, letting the ice smash into the far wall. Mid flip he removed and threw a dagger at the now revealed wizard. It struck home, right through the wizard's eye.

He landed, and quick as a striking snake, slipped his scimitar up and through the merchant's ribs, puncturing the heart. The Assassin lowered the dying man to the floor reverently, and marked upon his forehead the sign of the Crime Lord, in the man's own blood. Message delivered. After a quick check of his clothes, looking for blood splatter, Do'urden donned the cloak of a traveler, and exited the building. The door of an inn beckoned, and the man was more than happy to oblige.

Mentally he marked down the name of the inn. The Oak and Crosier. As he walked in he relaxed almost imperceptibly, extending his hearing.

"...did ya hear about..."
"...heard that..."
"...stupid wars..."
"...get us all killed..."
"...damn pointy ear..."

The last one caught Benyamin's attention. He moved to a nearby table and quietly ordered a drink, before listening in. Three men sat there, quietly talking, but loud enough for the skilled assassin.

"...came in through the north gate."
"No' even a Norn head."
"Ah yer kidding."
"Nah. The guards were right pissed."
"Is tha' so?"
"Aye."
"Damned pointy ears."
"This is a bloody human city."
"You an' ah know it."
"Wonder wah she's here."
"Heard she had wolves heads fer sale."
"Ah tha's bull and you know it."
"Say's who?"
"Say's me. Probably a damned spy..." The man let the words trail off.

Benyamin smiled a bit. This could prove an entertaining night. Three men versus one mer, hardly a fight. If she was half a decent fighter this mer would mop the floor with these fools. Benyamin sat back, and took a sip of his drink. Two more men sat at the table. Benyamin's brow furrowed a tad, not even enough to shift the cowl that covered his head. Two more sat, and ordered drinks. The four newcomers seemed to already know what was going on. They also had swords.

"Alright Joen. Ya done good. Us four boys will take care of the pointy ear."
"Four guards versus one of her? You think ya got enough men?"

Sarcasm, but with a grain of information embedded in it. Four guardsmen... that might be enough to take the mer by surprise. Benyamin took another sip of his drink. Not his problem. Still... his gaze wandered around the inn. Eventually, it settled on the only person who didn't quite fit in. She had a cowl up, concealing her ears. Smart, but not enough. The men had already marked her as their target. A first year novice within the order could have snuck up behind her and killed her, so keyed up was she. Her body language was all wrong, it made her look suspicious, at least to Benyamin's trained eye. With no small internal debate, Benyamin walked over.

"Four men. Tonight. Guards. Heavily armed." The words came from behind the wood elf, with Benyamin's loathing to interfere in the affairs of lesser beings carefully concealed behind his words.

[New Armarzia]

Mist-Walker could hear the sounds of battle outside of his wall-off defense, but he could also still here the battering of the gates. There was no chance of a quick escape, only the hope to hold out until these newcomers could fight their way to the castle to allow the legate to extract the count from the city. "Everyone fall back tot he castle, they'll break this gate soon enough." The small group of survivors went into the castle to hold from there. Mist-Walker took a look around to excess his strengths. One battle mage, four swordsman one of which was not even from the fifth, and three of the city's guards. They were guarding the count, his family, and a few of their servants. None of the civilians from the rest of the city were able to make it to the castle in time. Legate Mist-Walker pointed to one of his recruits and said, "Take the count and his companions to his room. Take two of the city's guards with you and protect the count with your life."

"Yes sir," said the soldier wearing only leather armor provided by the legion. He along with two of the city's guard escorted the Leyawiin Count, his family, and their servants to his room for protection. The remaining soldiers quickly started dragging tables and chairs to block the large doors that would protect them from the enemy. Mist-Walker stood with his flail in hand along with the legionnaires. The city guard stood on either flank of the door.

One of the swordsmen, Mist-Walker's Tribune, turned to Mist-Walker and said in a hushed tone, "Sir, there is no way an entire legion could have been prepared in this amount of time. Whatever force attacked the Thalmor will be vastly outnumbered by this Thalmor army."

"I know, just pray to the nine that they can reach the castle, so their lives could by the count just enough time to escape this city," replied the Argonian legate. He heard snapping and knew the Thalmor had broken through the castle's gate. All that stood now was the castle's door and a few tables between Mist-walker's men and the Thalmor.

[Vahvanti]

The footsteps that were approaching her definitely weren't asking for a dead wolf. Said footsteps also aren't suggesting that a suave casanova is about to sweep her off her feet. No, these footsteps were telling Niniel that they were going to put on a violent show, and the lone elf in the room was going to be the star of it all.

Niniel had to put down her drink before it started spilling all over the counter. Eagle-eyed observers would note that the Bosmer's hands were shaking, and she swore that one of her fiercest trainers would roast her alive if he caught Niniel shaking. She couldn't help it: She was on high alert for a fight, and the wait has become unbeara-

SWOOSH, went the thug's sword. Niniel barely dodged the swing as it cut through the counter. Turning around, she found herself ganged up by four men, all Imperials.

Niniel smiled sheepishly. "Err, are the wolf heads bothering you, sera?" she asked.

The thugs' laughs could be heard from the floor above them. "Nah, the heads are fine, lass," said one of the thugs. "Just like how we were 'fine' with your kind dropping a hundred heads of our friends on us."

Niniel was dumbfounded. "... I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Enough with the stupidity, pointy-eared brat!" the thug commanded. "We know all about the Thalmor's plots, and we will destroy them all after we're done with you!"

The thug lifted his bastard sword over his head, preparing to throw down his blade on the hapless elf. His great show of power was rewarded with a wooden stool in the face as Niniel danced around the hapless thugs, avoiding the thrusts and lunges of the crooked men.

It took her a while before she realised she was fighting for her life, and with realisation comes a pair of steel scimitars. She effortlessly made short work of the thugs, breaking weapons and hewing heads with little difficulty.

By the time she was done with the thugs, she turned to see an entire tavern standing up against her. For the love of Mara, this was not the start I was looking for, Niniel thought to herself.

[Lancearc]

Jo'Rak stood beside a fellow Imperial, firing arrows towards the Thalmor that had arisen to oppose their push into the city. The soldiers fighting up close seemed to have a slight advantage on most of the elves, as they were more adept at magic than swordplay. As he saw a fireball cast be an unknown magician hurtling towards him, he made a dash for the nearest charred house. There, he was ambushed by a Thalmor who threw a fist across his face with a mighty war cry.

Jo'Rak stumbled to the ground, dazed. The thalmor was about to bring down a war axe, but he rolled, the axe bouncing of the thicker part of his light armor. The Thalmor threw another punch, but the Khajiit caught the fist, and sent his sharp and lethal claws towards the man's throat. The elf fell, gurgling as blood poured from his wound.

Jo'Rak left him to die, continuing the battle.

He soon realized that if they reached the castle, that was the extent of their push, they certainly wouldn't be able to take the city from the magical invaders.

[Sibernova]

The Topal Bay

Varnan sat in his quarters contemplating his next move. Him and his fleet had just plundered a trading convoy,before sending it to the depths. Should they stop in Leyawiin and raid the city or should they continue on to the Imperial City? He leaned back in his cozy chair and finally came to a decision. At daybreak,the seas will have carried them to Leyawiin. Varnan rose from his chair and strode towards the door,a grin plastered on his face.

The crew of the Bloodrose were hard at work. A few were swabbing the decks,the helmsman stood by the steering wheel,the carpenter was below deck,inspecting the ship's hull,the healer sat on a crate in a corner,creating potions and studying medicinal herbs and the archers sat on the railing,polishing their bows. The captain's sudden roar of "ATTENTION,CREW!" made them all jump up and rush to stand at attention. Once they were assembled,captain Liric came into view,standing in front of the door to his quarters.

"Crew,the seas have spoken to me. They wish for us to travel to Leyawiin and pillage it in their name," Varnan shouted.

The crew cheered,it was a long time since they had engaged in their favorite pastime and now an opportunity had presented itself. The ship's healer didn't think the same though,"Captain,the Dominion and the Empire are fighting for control of Leyawiin,are you sure this is a good idea?"
Varnan's grin merely grew wider,"All the better. Men, by sunrise we will be in Leyawiin,inform the rest of the fleet and get ready."

[North Banrodesia]

The fighting continued fierce as ever, With arrows, Spells and swords cleaving through the air, Eager to claim a life. One hour after the minor Legion had entered Leyawiin, And only 150 of the original 500 soldiers remained, But nonetheless, The force had reached the castle gates, Where a group of city guard were desperately holding their own. The castle gates swung open and most of the force got inside before the Thalmor could reach the castle, But those unlucky legionarres who were stuck outside the gates fought valiantly, but were mercilessly cut down. Philiminius was one of these people.

Now inside the castle, Isratial and Gulundril began tending to the badly wounded guard, Drizzling their injuries in a Healing Potion before slowly applying a healing spell. The Legate found the leader of the band, Who appeared to have found the count.
'Legate' The legate said, Saluting whilst Awaiting a salute. 'Is there anyway that we can get out of the castle without passing through the city? We must ensure that the Count remains alive, And just as importantly, The small invasion force we have used.' The legate informed the other legate, Hoping there was some kind of dungeon or sewer that ensured safe passage outside the walls. Of course, Only the count and a select group of people could go, And the others would have to hold up in the castle until the Thalmor killed them or the extremely unlikely option of giving up.

[Lancearc]

Jo'Rak had barely made it into the gates, as he was overengrossed in combat as he usually got. The doors slammed shut just as he'd made it in, and now he leaned against the wall, breathing a sigh of relief and closing his eyes for a minute. A stinging pain caused him to look to his right arm. The fireball he thought he'd dodged had actually scorched a portion of his fur down to the skin, making it appear black and swollen. Hakiig walked over, whistling at the wound.

"That'll need a thorough looking at by the healers." he said. Jo'Rak shook his head. "Not now...Too many wounded in here already." he said. Hakiig nodded his silent agreement. "Well at least we're safe for now and with the count I assume, though I haven't seen him." Hakiig replied.

"I wouldn't call this safe." Jo'Rak retorted.

[Spetznaz Assault Teams]

Benyamin Do'urden
The Dark Brotherhood
Chorrol, Cyrodiil

Benyamin sighed irritably and stood, stepping forward next to the wood elf. If she had only killed the leader of those idiots, then perhaps the rest would have left her be. Perhaps the rest of the bloody inn wouldn't have been pissed. At a glance Benyamin surveyed the inn. Six of the faces he recognized as a band of very expensive, very good mercenaries. Four others were well known rogues. Men without a fixed location, who would kill their own mother if they thought it would be worth something. In a crowd like this, they would side with the majority, hoping to cut some purses no doubt, but he who got the kill would be showered in gold.

The Assassin's voice was a fear to behold. As cold as the arctic wind, as harsh as a Nord's blade, and as remote as the distant edge of the world.

"Leave now. Or die." He addressed the crowd. One of the six mercenaries stepped forward.

"Ere now mate. We're not fer killin ya. Jus' let us at tha' damn pointy ear."
"Hardly."

A casual observer wouldn't have seen anything. A close watcher would have seen Benyamin's had flicker, his sword bounce a bit, and a flash of silver. If your eye and mind were fast enough, or you were under the influence of a wizard's spell, then you would have pieced together the action. Benyamin flipped his sword up a few inches, flicked his wrist, caught the knife that slid from his sleeve, and thrown it with deadly accuracy, before catching the sword again. The cold steel sliced deep into the Mercenary's neck, slicing the artery and cutting the wind pipe in half. The man gurgled, then fell to the floor like a marionette with it's strings cut.

The other five men howled with anger and charged. The fight, if you could call it that, was short and bloody. Benyamin's feet never moved an inch. His twin scimitars, somehow alternating with thrown knives, made short work of the men. His first two strikes cut one of the men across the eyes and throat. His third opened a hole over another's heart. The remaining two men didn't even notice the fate of their companions, and were killed in short order.

All the rest of the men who had risen against a seemingly insignificant wood elf were taken aback by the sheer ferocity of Benyamin's killing. One small woman killing four men, in their warped mind set, was a fluke. One man slaughtering six heavily armed mercenaries, now that, to them, was far more intimidating.

[New Endenia]

Enelya could hear the noise of battle happening outside the temple and turned to faced the now bloodied face of the captured imperial soldier. "Oh I don't think you will be of use to me anymore trash." She smiled at his face which was now filled with fear, Enelya right eye flashed red again as green flames consumed the tortured body of the soldier. She signaled to one of the battlemages next to her, "Report."

The mage bowed to the head of the Warlock Corps. "Great One, a band of imperial forces have broken into the city and slayed several of our troops and forces, they are currently holding out in the besiged castle within the city." Enelya gave a hollow bitter laugh at the absurdity of the idea of a band of imperial troops having the audacity of daring to challenge the might of the Dominion. "Bring me the commander who was in-charge of holding the city walls. Now." The battlemage bowed and ran off, soon he brought in the Thalmor officer who was in-charge of the city walls. "So tell me officer, how did a small band of imperial troops enter into the city that we capture? Did they just magically slip right in? Was the gates open? Answer me trash. How can such a small band of troops bypass Thalmor troops?" The officer tried to bow and stammered an answer back to the General of the Corps, "RUBBISH! EXCUSES!" Enelya shouted at the officer, "How dare you fail the Dominion....." Using her powers, she impaled the officer using an ice-bolt, the massive shard of ice went through the Thalmor officer's throat, instantly killing him. His body slumped on the floor., blood spilling out of the open wound.

"Enough, you lot are utterly useless. I will handle this...castle myself." She walked out of the temple, escorted by two other battlemages. She calmly walked towards the castle, noting the number of Thalmor soldiers and battlemages gathering right outside the castle, siege equipment was moved into position while castle defenders continuously fired arrows at the Thalmor troops. "What are you all doing? Why are you all not attacking the castle? You lot vastly outnumber the troops in there and you are all sitting out here being shot by arrows?" The Thalmor troops tried to give some stammered answers to Enelya. Young by Thalmor standards, Enelya was widely feared for her.....nature. She waved them all aside and started walking towards the castle gates. "Enough, I will finish this personally."

One of the Imperial troops spotted a lone female Thalmor battlemage walking towards the gate. He aimed his bow and arrow at her direction and loosen one at her. It flew through the air and seemed like it was going to hit the target, between her eyes. Instead the arrow seemed to break near her, he fired another one and it again broke apart before it could reach her. Enelya laughed at the futile attempts by the Imperial troops in trying to shoot arrows at her, she was like no standard Thalmor Battlemage, if only these imperial dogs knew the amount of power that she effortlessly wields on a whim. Before approaching the castle, she lay a powerful barrier spell on herself, powerful enough to block most spells and attacks from the imperial forces. She stood in-front of the massive Castle Doors and touched it gently with her right hand, "oh how sweet, such a nice lovely gate." She smiled as the arcane powers gathered inside her, her eyes turning red as green flames started gathering around her right hand, ready to unleash it on the door.

There was a loud explosion as she unleashed her arcane might against the door.

[Lancearc]

Jo'Rak's ears twitched nervously and his tailed swayed slowly as he watched the archers firing towards the Thalmor with little success. Hakiig winced, sweating as she approached. "Jo'Rak, if they get in we don't stand a chance, we're besieged in this damned castle, it's not exactly Cloud Ruler Temple." he said. Jo'Rak nodded. "Maybe we could do something about--" he was cut off by a sound akin to the roar of a thousand screeching dragons, so close to his sensitive hearing it made him wince in pain. The force of the explosion knocked him back and he landed on his burnt arm, causing more pain to shoot through his body.

Hakiig helped him up. Jo'Rak's vision was blurry as the concussion of the explosion had probably rocked him severely. However, it soon came back and Hakiig let up on his support holding Jo'Rak up. Jo'Rak nodded his thanks, but soon realized that Hakiig himself had taken the brunt of the blast. His long time comrade was riddled with the splinters of what remained of the gate, and he swayed on his feet. Jo'Rak then took over Hakiig's role just moments before, and supported him as they made their way deeper into the castle. As they limped along, he saw Captain Antioch giving orders to retreat and men rushing past them.

The Captain and Jo'Rak helped Hakiig as they fell further back into the castle, up the stairs and into the private quarters. Shouts of "Where's the count?!" fill his still ringing ears.

The Captain approached the Legate with whom they'd joined on their march towards the city. "Legate, sir, what's the plan on escape?" he asked, still maintaining the cofident and stone-wall attitude Jo'Rak and his fellow soldiers had grown accustomed to.