Kvatch part 1
I honestly thought to find some large fire somewhere... but the entire city of Kvatch -- the entire mountaintop -- was a smoking ruin! There was not grass or leaf left among the ashes, and what trees were left had been practically reduced to charcoal. Some enormous magic or unimaginable might had shattered the city walls and broken the buildings within.
I dismounted and sent my skittish horse back down before she bolted or threw me. She'd probably find her way back to Anvil. From the city gates, a motley crew of city guards were hustling a handful of survivors ahead while they desperately tried to hold off monsters harrying them from behind.
This was some kind of hellish daedric invasion! Right in front of the city gate was a grand, flaming gateway. An oval of obsidian framed that looked like it had sprung out from the very earth.
Fortunately for me, the invasion was over and the main forces, having razed the city, had pulled back for now. There was nothing here for them, or anyone. Only a few had been left behind, or wanted to stay behind, to clamber over the ruins and kill the last few citizens of Kvatch trying to escape.
Some Dremora were goading Scamps onward to delay the guards and survivors while they, weighed down in their heavy, spiky war-armor raced to join the melee.
I notched my redwood warbow which had served me so well in Fort Strand recently and cast a spell to attune it to me, forming a magical conduit to lace every poison-tipped arrow with electricity.
As you know, I was born with a stunted ability with magic, and have to make it up with potions (which presented logistical issues, of course) but there were times when you just had to burn through your reserves and drink potions like water.
The warbow had a very heavy draw weight, and was slow to fire. But when you only need one shot...
TWANG! The first shot was loosed and it punched right through the Oblivion-iron helmet of a dremora soldier. The magical "lightning strike" seared him inside his metal shell and if that hadn't killed him outright, the poison finished him off.
In the rush of melee, no one noticed yet or could do anything about it. A second arrow felled another, and the guards rallied. The survivors never looked back even when all the guards had stopped and turned. I tried to ignore them and maintain my focus while they swirled around me, heading down the mountain. The melee of guards, dremora, and scamps made shooting tricky business but I managed two more shots at those still closing in before I set aside my bow in favour of sword and shield, and ran in to help.
The commander of the ragtag band was a war-weary man with a wrinkled care-worn face. The fighting was over for now, but there was no time to rest. He directed two of his men to start building whatever barricade they could to help make their position defensible.
They looked at him as if he were mad.
"We have to hold the road. Keep the daedra contained until reinforcements can come."
He'd no sooner said that when a couple of Scamps wandered out of the flaming gate. We all jumped into action and after a short and brutal bout, cut them down.
"How can I help?" I volunteered.
He looked surprised and relieved at the same time. "Follow the survivors. Make sure they get down safely. They're too tired to go far but there's a clearing not far down. Help them make camp there for the night. I'm sure reinforcements will arrive from Anvil or Skingrad soon, and they can be escorted to Anvil tomorrow."
"We didn't hear anything in Anvil," I informed him.
"No? Damn... Then... Then we're the only ones left. I sent riders to Anvil and Skingrad, and a force into that accursed gate to see if they could close it. No one's come back."
"Is there no one else?
"We were cut off from the Chapel of Akatosh and had to fight free out of the city. The rest of the survivors and any soldiers left are in there. Only the Divines know how they're holding out, or if they've been overrun."
"I'll get the survivors set up and get back here as soon as I can."
"We'll be here holding the road. And-- My name is Savlian. Savlian Matius. You have my thanks, civilian."
*
A priest was already organizing the survivors into building fires and foraging for food, but they were largely a lost lot, unused to roughing it. Some of their number were too hurt or exhausted to carry on, and the group was resigned to waiting here. Thankfully my horse hadn't wandered far, and I took out my alchemy gear and supplies to mix up some healing potions and poultices. A beautiful golden-haired Nord quickly came over to offer her help.
Her name was Sigrid, and she was an alchemist.
"You picked a bad time to visit Kvatch," she weakly joked.
"What happened here?"
"The Daedra came out of the gate in the middle of the night. People who fought, died. People who ran... they at least had a chance."
She was wearing quite an expensive looking dress of fine blue velvet, and from the confident and casual way she measured ingredients I could tell she was a very experienced alchemist. Probably did well for herself in a big city like Kvatch. She gently took me under her wing and gave me some valuable pointers.
The skirt portion of her dress she had cut off to make a small blanket for a baby of one of the other survivors, leaving a daringly short miniskirt. My eyes were constantly distracted to gaze at her beautiful white skin, firm thighs, and shapely calves. If she noticed she said nothing. Thankfully, a distraction came along.
Ilav Dralgoner, the priest, came over to thank me for my help and humbly ask if I had any food or water to share. I turned over what I had and took up my bow to see if I could do some hunting, though it was unlikely any animals would have lingered so close to this disaster of otherworldly origins.
Sigrid promised not to run off with my alchemy kit and to watch my horse. I was therefore very disappointed to find her beside herself at having lost my mount when I returned lugging a boar.
"Hirtel took it. He was hysterical. He grabbed your horse and I couldn't stop him. I'm sorry."
She seemed genuinely contrite and really, I couldn't blame her for not trying to wrestle down a desperation-maddened man.
It was evening now, and it'd been a long day. Still no sign of reinforcements. Not even a road patrol. We were all really worried now. When night had fallen, someone pointed to strange flickering fire-like lights here and there in the distance from our halfway-up-the-mountain vantage.
They were too big to be mere campfires, and I had a sinking feeling that they were in fact Oblivion gates.
Hell was invading Tamriel.
Swell.
*
I had initially planned to stay up all night to watch over the survivors, and it looked like Sigrid, possibly feeling guilty at losing my horse, would keep me company. But a few hours in, a few of them came to relieve us and insist we get some sleep.
I let Sigrid lead the way, and was curious when she pulled us discreetly out of the light of the campfires.
"Thank you for saving us," she said. "We wouldn't have all made it out if you hadn't shown up."
I wanted to protest that I hadn't done it single-handedly but she put a finger to my lips.
She pressed her lips to mine and held me for a long while, her kiss first soft, but becoming firm and aroused when she found me receptive.
"I'm sorry I lost your horse. But you can ride me instead."
Sigrid roamed her hands from my back to my shirt and pants to remove them. My hands explored her up and down, finally focussing on her firm ass and lifting her thigh to caress her hips and delicious swell of calf.
We sank to the ground and she pulled me over her into the classic missionary position. I was of course hard with anticipation (and had been for most of my time with her) but I had no idea how hot and wet she already was. In one smooth and sure stroke she pulled me deep inside her with a happy gasp.
I dismounted and sent my skittish horse back down before she bolted or threw me. She'd probably find her way back to Anvil. From the city gates, a motley crew of city guards were hustling a handful of survivors ahead while they desperately tried to hold off monsters harrying them from behind.
This was some kind of hellish daedric invasion! Right in front of the city gate was a grand, flaming gateway. An oval of obsidian framed that looked like it had sprung out from the very earth.
Fortunately for me, the invasion was over and the main forces, having razed the city, had pulled back for now. There was nothing here for them, or anyone. Only a few had been left behind, or wanted to stay behind, to clamber over the ruins and kill the last few citizens of Kvatch trying to escape.
Some Dremora were goading Scamps onward to delay the guards and survivors while they, weighed down in their heavy, spiky war-armor raced to join the melee.
I notched my redwood warbow which had served me so well in Fort Strand recently and cast a spell to attune it to me, forming a magical conduit to lace every poison-tipped arrow with electricity.
As you know, I was born with a stunted ability with magic, and have to make it up with potions (which presented logistical issues, of course) but there were times when you just had to burn through your reserves and drink potions like water.
The warbow had a very heavy draw weight, and was slow to fire. But when you only need one shot...
TWANG! The first shot was loosed and it punched right through the Oblivion-iron helmet of a dremora soldier. The magical "lightning strike" seared him inside his metal shell and if that hadn't killed him outright, the poison finished him off.
In the rush of melee, no one noticed yet or could do anything about it. A second arrow felled another, and the guards rallied. The survivors never looked back even when all the guards had stopped and turned. I tried to ignore them and maintain my focus while they swirled around me, heading down the mountain. The melee of guards, dremora, and scamps made shooting tricky business but I managed two more shots at those still closing in before I set aside my bow in favour of sword and shield, and ran in to help.
The commander of the ragtag band was a war-weary man with a wrinkled care-worn face. The fighting was over for now, but there was no time to rest. He directed two of his men to start building whatever barricade they could to help make their position defensible.
They looked at him as if he were mad.
"We have to hold the road. Keep the daedra contained until reinforcements can come."
He'd no sooner said that when a couple of Scamps wandered out of the flaming gate. We all jumped into action and after a short and brutal bout, cut them down.
"How can I help?" I volunteered.
He looked surprised and relieved at the same time. "Follow the survivors. Make sure they get down safely. They're too tired to go far but there's a clearing not far down. Help them make camp there for the night. I'm sure reinforcements will arrive from Anvil or Skingrad soon, and they can be escorted to Anvil tomorrow."
"We didn't hear anything in Anvil," I informed him.
"No? Damn... Then... Then we're the only ones left. I sent riders to Anvil and Skingrad, and a force into that accursed gate to see if they could close it. No one's come back."
"Is there no one else?
"We were cut off from the Chapel of Akatosh and had to fight free out of the city. The rest of the survivors and any soldiers left are in there. Only the Divines know how they're holding out, or if they've been overrun."
"I'll get the survivors set up and get back here as soon as I can."
"We'll be here holding the road. And-- My name is Savlian. Savlian Matius. You have my thanks, civilian."
*
A priest was already organizing the survivors into building fires and foraging for food, but they were largely a lost lot, unused to roughing it. Some of their number were too hurt or exhausted to carry on, and the group was resigned to waiting here. Thankfully my horse hadn't wandered far, and I took out my alchemy gear and supplies to mix up some healing potions and poultices. A beautiful golden-haired Nord quickly came over to offer her help.
Her name was Sigrid, and she was an alchemist.
"You picked a bad time to visit Kvatch," she weakly joked.
"What happened here?"
"The Daedra came out of the gate in the middle of the night. People who fought, died. People who ran... they at least had a chance."
She was wearing quite an expensive looking dress of fine blue velvet, and from the confident and casual way she measured ingredients I could tell she was a very experienced alchemist. Probably did well for herself in a big city like Kvatch. She gently took me under her wing and gave me some valuable pointers.
The skirt portion of her dress she had cut off to make a small blanket for a baby of one of the other survivors, leaving a daringly short miniskirt. My eyes were constantly distracted to gaze at her beautiful white skin, firm thighs, and shapely calves. If she noticed she said nothing. Thankfully, a distraction came along.
Ilav Dralgoner, the priest, came over to thank me for my help and humbly ask if I had any food or water to share. I turned over what I had and took up my bow to see if I could do some hunting, though it was unlikely any animals would have lingered so close to this disaster of otherworldly origins.
Sigrid promised not to run off with my alchemy kit and to watch my horse. I was therefore very disappointed to find her beside herself at having lost my mount when I returned lugging a boar.
"Hirtel took it. He was hysterical. He grabbed your horse and I couldn't stop him. I'm sorry."
She seemed genuinely contrite and really, I couldn't blame her for not trying to wrestle down a desperation-maddened man.
It was evening now, and it'd been a long day. Still no sign of reinforcements. Not even a road patrol. We were all really worried now. When night had fallen, someone pointed to strange flickering fire-like lights here and there in the distance from our halfway-up-the-mountain vantage.
They were too big to be mere campfires, and I had a sinking feeling that they were in fact Oblivion gates.
Hell was invading Tamriel.
Swell.
*
I had initially planned to stay up all night to watch over the survivors, and it looked like Sigrid, possibly feeling guilty at losing my horse, would keep me company. But a few hours in, a few of them came to relieve us and insist we get some sleep.
I let Sigrid lead the way, and was curious when she pulled us discreetly out of the light of the campfires.
"Thank you for saving us," she said. "We wouldn't have all made it out if you hadn't shown up."
I wanted to protest that I hadn't done it single-handedly but she put a finger to my lips.
She pressed her lips to mine and held me for a long while, her kiss first soft, but becoming firm and aroused when she found me receptive.
"I'm sorry I lost your horse. But you can ride me instead."
Sigrid roamed her hands from my back to my shirt and pants to remove them. My hands explored her up and down, finally focussing on her firm ass and lifting her thigh to caress her hips and delicious swell of calf.
We sank to the ground and she pulled me over her into the classic missionary position. I was of course hard with anticipation (and had been for most of my time with her) but I had no idea how hot and wet she already was. In one smooth and sure stroke she pulled me deep inside her with a happy gasp.
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