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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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He slowly lowered his hands, dismissing the massive Atronachs back to the void of Oblivion with a silent thought. He looked at the heavy, locked wooden doors of the inner keep. "Let them cower in the dark for a moment," Aerion commanded smoothly, his golden eyes cold and victorious. "Catch your breath, bind your armor, and secure the perimeter. We have taken the walls. Now, we take the inner castle."
The suffocating silence that settled over the courtyard of Fort Greymoor was heavy, broken only by the crackle of dying magical fires and the ragged, exhausted breathing of the mercenary company. The adrenaline that had propelled them through the initial breach was beginning to ebb, leaving behind the dull, throbbing ache of bruised muscles and the coppery stench of spilled blood.
Aerion walked slowly through the ranks, his dark robes gliding over the frost hardened, blood soaked dirt. He was a vision of absolute, untouchable calm amidst the carnage. As he moved, his golden eyes meticulously assessed every single warrior in his employ.
He was very impressed.
When he had initially handed Sinmir the heavy pouches of gold to build this company, he had expected competence. What he had received was elite, uncompromising discipline.
The mercenaries had held the shield wall perfectly. They hadn't broken rank when the mages rained fire upon them, and they hadn't succumbed to bloodlust when the bandit line shattered. They were a professional squad of soldiers.
'I will need to issue a substantial bonus to Sinmir for this recruitment effort,' Aerion noted internally, pausing to inspect a dented shield. 'When Adrianne Avenicci finishes the heavy smelters at the estate, I will personally oversee the forging of their new armaments. If they are to be my spearhead in this civil war, they must be clad in steel that matches their grit. Perhaps even dwarven or ebony, once I can made a fictional supplies of the ingredients.'
Aerion stopped before a veteran sellsword who was leaning heavily against a wooden post, clutching a deep, bleeding gash on his forearm where a bandit's rusted axe had slipped past his guard.
Aerion didn't ask for permission. He reached out, his hand glowing with a soft, warm, brilliant golden light.
'Fast Healing.'
The restorative magic flowed from his palm, sinking directly into the mercenary's flesh. The torn muscle fibers knit themselves back together in seconds, the bleeding halted instantly, and the pain vanished, leaving behind only a smooth, pale skin.
"Thank you, Patron," the man breathed, his eyes wide with reverence as he flexed his newly healed arm.
Aerion offered a slight, acknowledging nod and continued his rounds. He moved efficiently, dispensing targeted bursts of Restoration magic to mend cracked ribs, seal lacerations, and clear the lingering, freezing lethargy of frostbite. Within ten minutes, his private army was entirely restored to peak physical condition.
With the men tended to, Aerion gestured toward the center of the courtyard, away from the immediate stench of the corpses.
"Sinmir, Uthgerd, Jenassa, Lydia, Valdemar, and Aeloria, on me," Aerion commanded softly.
Hearing that, Sinmir, Uthgerd, Jenassa, Lydia, Valdemar, and Aeloria immediately converged on his position. They formed a tight, focused circle in the freezing mist.
"The courtyard is secure, but the true danger begins now," Aerion began, his voice low and intensely pragmatic. "Open combat allows for maneuverability. Close quarters combat in the stone corridors of a fortification is a meat grinder. The remaining garrison, approximately between thirty to thirty five armed bandits and a handful of lethal rogue mages, have barricaded themselves inside. They are cornered, desperate, and they know the layout of those halls intimately."
"A siege inside a keep is a bloody business, Patron," Sinmir grunted, resting his hands on the pommel of his broadsword. "The corridors are too narrow for a proper shield wall. It'll devolve into chaotic, room to room brawling."
"Which means we need to split their focus," Jenassa noted, her crimson eyes gleaming with tactical calculation in the shadows of her hood. "If we all push through the main doors, they will simply funnel us into a choke point and unleash a torrent of destruction magic down the hallway. It would be a slaughter."
"The assassin is correct," Uthgerd agreed, crossing her massive, steel clad arms. "Fort Greymoor is massive. It wasn't built with a single entrance. There are three primary access points to the interior keep."
Aerion nodded, drawing upon both the mercenaries' practical experience and his own encyclopedic, past-life knowledge of the fortress's sprawling architecture.
"Precisely," Aerion confirmed. "We will divide the company into three distinct strike groups and breach simultaneously. We will overwhelm their internal communications and force them to fight on three separate fronts."
He quickly mapped out the assignments.
"Aeloria, you will take Valdemar and six of the man and woman. You will breach the primary ground floor doors. That path leads directly into the main garrison hall and the dining quarters. Expect heavy physical barricades and the bulk of their melee fighters."
Aeloria grinned fiercely, hefting her axe. "Consider the front door broken."
"Sinmir, you and Uthgerd will take six of the man and woman, then breach the side entrance near the crumbling eastern wall," Aerion continued. "That leads down into the subterranean prison blocks, the torture chambers, and the lower armory. It will be pitch black, narrow, and likely trapped. Proceed with extreme prejudice."
"We will clear the rats from the cellar, Patron," Sinmir promised, a dark look in his eye.
"I will take Jenassa, Lydia, and the remaining three mercenaries," Aerion finalized. "We will ascend the outer stone stairs and breach the upper balcony entrance. That leads into the commander's quarters and the strategic libraries. That is where their rogue mages will have retreated for the high ground. I will neutralize their arcane advantage."
Before the officers could disperse to their teams, Aerion raised a single, elegant hand, demanding their absolute attention.
"One final matter regarding the spoils of war," Aerion stated, his voice ringing with cold, unyielding authority.
He looked around the courtyard, where the rank and file mercenaries were already beginning to systematically strip the dead bandits of their coin purses.
"You may loot the dead. Any loose septims, jewels, common steel weaponry, and standard armor you recover are yours to keep, divide, or sell as you see fit," Aerion declared, setting the terms of their employment. "However. If you find any enchanted items, spell tomes, staves, or weapons and armor forged of rare materials, like elven, ebony, glass, or dwarven metal, those are to be collected and surrendered directly to me upon our return to the estate. Unique trinkets and journals as well."
He locked eyes with Sinmir.
"And there will be absolutely no infighting over the common spoils," Aerion warned, his golden eyes flashing with a terrifying promise. "If I see a single blade drawn between brothers over a garnet or a pouch of gold, I will freeze the blood in your veins before it hits the dirt. Are we clear?"
"Crystal clear, Patron," Sinmir nodded firmly. "I'll skin any man who breaks the rules myself."
"Excellent. Strip the courtyard, form your groups, and prepare to breach," Aerion commanded.
For the next five minutes, the mercenaries moved rapidly through the courtyard, cutting heavy leather coin purses from belts and prying silver rings from dead fingers. Once the dead were relieved of their valuables, the company cleanly divided into their three assigned strike teams, stacking up in absolute silence against the heavy oak doors of their respective entrances.
Aerion stood on the upper stone balcony, the freezing wind whipping his dark robes around his boots. Lydia stood in front of him, her shield raised, while Jenassa crouched low by the heavy iron handle of the door.
Aerion closed his eyes, extending his magical senses to feel the positions of Aeloria and Sinmir below.
"Now," Aerion whouted the signal into the air to be heard by everyone.
Aeloria didn't bother with the iron handle.
She took two steps back, braced her heavy steel boots against the flagstones, and delivered a devastating, Fus Roh Dah directly to the center of the massive, iron banded double doors.
The ancient wood immediately splintered and violently blew inward, the heavy iron latch completely shearing off the stone frame.
Aeloria charged into the dimly lit, cavernous dining hall of the main keep, a roaring battle cry tearing from her throat. Valdemar was instantly at her side, his heavy shield raised, with the six Whiterun mercenaries pouring in directly behind them like a tide of steel.
The room was a claustrophobic nightmare.
The bandits had overturned massive, heavy oak dining tables, creating a maze of jagged wooden barricades across the center of the room. Nearly fifteen desperate, hardened marauders were waiting for them, armed with heavy iron warhammers, dual wielded axes, and drawn crossbows.
"Loose!" a bandit chief screamed from behind a flipped table.
Three steel areows slammed into the mercenary shield wall with deafening cracks. One bolt sparked violently off Aeloria's steel breastplate, staggering her slightly, but she didn't stop.
Using the Unrelenting Force in an enclosed, heavily barricaded room filled with her own allies was too dangerous; the concussive ricochet could crush her own men against the stone walls.
She relied on raw, Nordic brutality.
Aeloria leaped onto the first overturned table, her boots crushing the wood. A bandit lunged at her legs with a rusted spear. She deflected the thrust with the haft of her axe, spun elegantly, and brought the blazing ebony blade down in a devastating arc. The intense heat of the Axe of Morthal cleaved cleanly through the bandit's leather helmet and deep into his collarbone, dropping him instantly.
"Push the line! Break their cover!" Valdemar roared over the din of battle.
He slammed his massive iron shield into a bandit trying to flank his Thane, crushing the man's nose, and followed it up with a brutal, horizontal slash of his broadsword that opened the bandit's throat.
The mercenaries surged over the barricades, turning the dining hall into a vicious, suffocating melee. The air grew thick with the smell of sweat, spilled blood, and the metallic tang of clashing steel. It was a brutal brawl. Fists, pommels, and knee strikes were used just as often as blades.
A massive, hulking Orc bandit wielding a two handed iron greatsword roared in fury, charging directly at Aeloria. He swung the massive weapon with bone crushing force.
Aeloria didn't block it. She ducked beneath the sweeping horizontal strike, the heavy iron passing inches above her blonde hair. She stepped perfectly into the Orc's guard, reversed her grip on the Axe of Morthal, and drove the heavy, spiked pommel of the weapon directly up into the Orc's jaw with the sickening crunch of shattering bone. As the massive beast stumbled backward, Aeloria swept his legs out from under him and buried her blazing axe into his chest.
"Keep moving! Clear the adjoining rooms!" Aeloria commanded, pulling her axe free as the last of the dining hall defenders fell.
They stepped over the bodies, pushing deeper into the dark, stone veins of the fortress.
Meanwhile, below the earth, the air was entirely different. It was freezing, damp, and reeked heavily of rot, mildew, and ancient, rusting iron.
Sinmir kicked open the heavy, reinforced grate leading down into the dungeons, his steel sword drawn, his shield held tight to his chest. Uthgerd the Unbroken descended the spiraling stone stairs right beside him, her massive greatsword resting on her shoulder, an eager, bloodthirsty grin on her face.
The subterranean corridors were incredibly narrow, barely wide enough for two men to stand shoulder to shoulder. The only light came from a few sputtering torches mounted on the damp walls.
"Check your corners," Sinmir growled in a low whisper, motioning for the six mercenaries to fan out behind him. "And watch the floor for tripwires."
They moved methodically through the cell blocks. The rusted iron doors of the cages hung open, revealing empty, decaying straw beds. The silence was unnerving.
As they rounded a sharp corner leading toward the torture chambers, the ambush was sprung.
From the shadows of an alcove, a bandit lunged forward, swinging a heavy iron mace directly at Sinmir's head. The veteran captain didn't even flinch. He raised his shield, catching the mace with a loud, metallic CLANG that echoed painfully down the narrow stone hall.
Before the bandit could recoil, Uthgerd stepped forward, her greatsword thrusting violently in a tight, brutal stabbing motion that impaled the man against the stone wall.
"They're in the shadows!" Uthgerd yelled, ripping her blade free.
Suddenly, the narrow corridor erupted in violence. Eight heavily armed bandits poured out of the adjoining torture chambers, desperate to hold the choke point.
"Shield wall! Lock it down!" Sinmir bellowed.
He and two of his heaviest mercenaries instantly formed a solid wall of steel across the width of the corridor. The bandits slammed into them, hacking wildly with axes and swords, but the steel held firm against the frantic assault.
It was a terrifying, visceral meat grinder. The tight quarters meant there was no room for elegant swordplay. It was a contest of pure physical leverage and stamina.
Sinmir bashed his shield forward, breaking a bandit's ribs, and thrust his sword through the gap. A bandit archer at the back of the hall desperately loosed an arrow into the fray. The steel tip sparked violently off Uthgerd's heavy shoulder plate, glancing upward and slicing a shallow, bleeding line across her cheek.
Uthgerd didn't fall. She let out a manic, terrifying laugh.
"Is that the best you can do, you milk drinking bastards?!" Uthgerd roared.
She pushed past Sinmir's shield, abandoning defense entirely. She swung her massive greatsword in a devastating, tight figure eight pattern that completely shredded the front line of the bandit defense. Blood sprayed across the damp stone walls as she butchered two men in a matter of seconds.
Sinmir and the mercenaries surged into the opening she created, driving the remaining bandits back into the torture chamber and slaughtering them among the rusted iron racks and hanging cages.
"Clear!" Sinmir yelled, breathing heavily, his armor coated in grime and blood. He looked at Uthgerd's bleeding cheek. "You took a hit."
Uthgerd wiped the blood away with the back of her gauntlet, grinning fiercely. "Barely a scratch, Captain. Let's find the rest of them."
High above the blood soaked dining hall and the damp dungeons, the atmosphere was thick with the distinct, terrifying smell of ozone and burning sulfur.
Jenassa silently picked the heavy iron lock of the upper balcony door in less than three seconds. She pushed the heavy wood open with a slow, agonizingly quiet motion, slipping into the dimly lit, lavishly furnished commander's quarters like a ghost.
Lydia stepped in next, her shield raised, covering the center of the room. Aerion flowed in last, his dark robes making absolutely no sound against the opulent rugs.
The upper level was a sprawling complex of bedrooms, private libraries, and strategic oversight rooms. And it was heavily defended.
Standing at the far end of the long, stone hallway connecting the quarters were five rogue mages. They were completely cornered, frantic, and rapidly cycling their magicka. The absolute moment they saw Lydia's steel armor step into the light, they unleashed hell.
"Die, you filthy dogs!" a Breton cryomancer shrieked.
A massive condensed sphere of pure, jagged ice hurtled down the hallway, accompanied by a roaring torrent of superheated flames from an Imperial pyromancer.
In a narrow stone corridor, area of effect destruction magic was an absolute death sentence. The fire would instantly consume all the oxygen, and the expanding kinetic force of the frost would crush their internal organs.
Aerion did not panic. He didn't even blink.
He stepped smoothly around Lydia, placing himself directly in the path of the incoming arcane artillery. He raised his right hand, his golden eyes flaring with absolute, localized dominance.
'Greater Ward.'
A brilliant, massive, multi layered dome of translucent golden magic violently erupted from his palm, expanding to completely fill the width and height of the stone hallway.
The ice sphere and the torrent of fire slammed into the magical barrier simultaneously. The impact was deafening. The golden ward hissed and rippled violently, the sheer kinetic and thermal energy washing over the barrier, splashing harmlessly against the stone walls and scorching the tapestries.
The mages stared in absolute horror as their combined, maximum effort assault completely failed to break the High Elf's shield.
Aerion dropped the ward the absolute millisecond their spellcasting faltered.
"Take their summoner," Aerion whispered to Jenassa.
The Morag Tong assassin was already moving. While the mages had been entirely focused on the blinding light of the ward, Jenassa had slipped into the deep shadows along the wall. She closed the distance with terrifying, unnatural speed.
Before a robed Altmer conjurer in the back could finish tearing a rift to Oblivion, Jenassa materialized behind him. She drove a razor sharp, poison laced orcish dagger directly up through the base of his skull, instantly short circuiting his brain and dropping him silently to the floor.
"Kill the elf!" the pyromancer panicked, his hands glowing with fresh fire.
Aerion didn't give him the chance.
He raised both hands, funneling the terrifying power of his Destruction matrix directly into the narrow, enclosed space.
'Chain Lightning.'
The blinding, jagged bolt of pure, localized atmospheric fury violently erupted from his palms. The thunderclap in the confined stone hallway was absolutely deafening, shaking the dust from the rafters.
The lightning struck the pyromancer directly in the chest, the sheer voltage instantly stopping his heart. The arc violently jumped, seeking the path of least resistance, tearing into the cryomancer and the two remaining mages. The violent electrical discharge illuminated the stone hallway in a stark, blinding strobe light of purple and white.
The mages violently convulsed, their nervous systems completely frying, before they collapsed into smoking, twitching heaps upon the expensive rugs.
The air in the hallway was thick with the stench of charred flesh and ozone.
Aerion slowly lowered his hands, the residual static electricity crackling softly across his fingertips.
"The upper level is secure," Aerion noted smoothly, his golden eyes completely cold. He turned to the three mercenaries who had followed him in, entirely untouched by the brief but brutal fight. "Search the commander's quarters. Secure all ledgers, maps, and enchanted items."
Ten minutes later, the three strike teams converged in the massive, central spiraling stairwell that connected the three levels of the inner keep.
Aeloria jogged up the stone steps from the ground floor, her armor painted in fresh blood, Valdemar and the infantry following closely behind. From the heavy iron door leading to the cellars, Sinmir and Uthgerd emerged, looking bruised, battered, but highly victorious.
Aerion stood gracefully at the top of the landing, looking down at his exhausted, blood soaked, entirely unbroken army.
The heavy, violent sounds of combat had completely ceased. The only noise remaining in Fort Greymoor was the crackle of the wall torches and the heavy breathing of the victors.
"Report," Aerion commanded softly, his voice echoing in the stairwell.
"Ground floor clear, Patron," Aeloria reported, leaning on her axe with a tired, proud smile. "Every last bandit in the dining halls and barracks is dead."
"The dungeons are swept and empty," Sinmir grunted, wiping his blade clean on a rag. "No survivors."
"And the arcane threat has been entirely neutralized," Aerion concluded smoothly.
He walked slowly down the stairs, joining his officers in the center of the keep.
He looked at the hardened men and women who had just breached a fortified castle and slaughtered a garrison three times their size without losing a single soul. "Fort Greymoor is now fully secured," Aerion announced, a deep, triumphant smile touching his lips. "All of you fought flawlessly. Rest your blades, gather the high tier spoils, and if you all have any wounds, come to me. Tomorrow, I will deliver this fortress to the Jarl."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 630/630 Stamina: 660/660 Magicka: 830/830
Level: 172
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Dragon Master (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+3)/Lightning(+2)/Frost(+1)) (Level 97/0/84), Restoration (Healing(+1)/Purify(+2)) (Level 79/50), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/38), Persuasion(+1) (Level 89), Smithing (Level 57), Sneak(+1) (Level 0), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor(+1) (Level 50), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii (Fade Spirit), Su (Air), & Laas (Life)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, The Mirror, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Sapphire, Ruby, Dawnbreaker, Traveling Backpack (Supplies), Potion of Minor Magicka, Vampire Armor, Vampire Boots, Movarth's Golden Ash (Unique), Dwarven Sword, Hide Boots Of Sneak, Gold Ruby Ring of Fortify Magicka, Iron Garnet Ring of Fortify Conjuration & Magicka Regen, Elven Dagger, Potion of Healing, Honed Ancient Nord Sword of Sparks, Gold Emerald Circlet, & Scroll of Fire Storm, Ring of Archery,Hide Boots of Stamina, Ancient Nord Sword of Absorbing, Iron Garnet Circlet, Iron Sapphire Circlet, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, & Dwarven Shield
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), Elven Sword, Amethysts, Potions of Plentiful Magicka, Scroll of Conjure Familiar, & Scroll of Magelight
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Flawless Sapphires, Gold Necklace, Iron Necklace, Petty Soul Gem (Filled), & Potions of Minor Magicka
4x Spider Eggs, Garnets, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
12x Black Soul Gem (Filled)
Weight: 94.21 KG / 630 KG
Septims: 81,582