(General POV, hours before the assault)
Hundreds of torches burst into light as a group of Dunmer entered a vast underground chamber, illuminating the vast meeting hall that had been the sole source of hope that their current situation would one day change for the better.
And today was the day that change would come.
A veiled woman awaited them as they approached, her kind and somewhat sultry smile barely visible below the thin cloth hiding her face "You've sent the news then?" She asks the lead elf.
The group stops and the leader nods "Aye, everyone who doesn't want to fight is hiding in one of Free-Winter's safehouses."
"The lord will be pleased they are out of harms way." The veiled woman's smile widens briefly before asking "What of those that do wish to fight for their lives? How many have you managed to gather Ambarys?"
"There are some eight hundred of us." Ambarys Rendar, the de-facto leader of the Grey Quarter Dunmer answers with some hesitance "Most of those who could fight have already left to join Lord Dagoth's forces in truth."
Beetle waves her hand "Worry not, my dear. My lord doesn't expect your people to fight on the frontline itself, merely to hold the ground taken in his name."
Many of the gathered elves relax visibly at that. Oh they were more than willing to give up their lives for a better future but none deluded themselves into thinking they were some warrior poet of old.
"Your people will be arriving soon then?" Beetle asks expectantly.
Rendar shifts somewhat uneasily "They will gather before the hour is out."
The agent immediately notices it and leans in "Expecting traitors, are we?"
"No, no!" He shakes his head "It is just that some of them are too young to be fighting."
She puts her hand on his shoulder "At least they will have something to brag about in their later years, no?"
He huffs "If they survive the experience."
"They will." The certainty in her voice does serve to ease his worries somewhat. A light humming noise fills the chamber and her solemn expression twists to a grin then "Ah, it would seem our guests have arrived."
A vast purple circle lights up in the room's center, setting off a flash of light before a portal opens and heavily armed and armored Mer start pouring out from within, quickly followed by row upon row of spider and sphere automatons, even a ballista or two.
"Well, even if we do die, at least the Stormcloaks will die more." Ambarys lets out a strained chuckle as he observes the force before him.
-----
Hours later, just as the sun begun its slow rise to the skies, the vast chamber was filled to near bursting by well over a thousand Mer, many of them talking in hushed tones to distract themselves from pre-battle jitters.
A couple were even tempted to start drinking some... liquid encouragement, but before they could start, and earn a rightful beating for it, the portal lit up once again and all thoughts of doing anything but look at it disappeared in an instant for a presence of such weight descended upon everyone that they may have made the mistake of thinking they were now in the domain of a god.
Most of the quarter's residents had never seen the young elf who had commanded their very future, and even those who did failed to recognize him as he descended into the so-called Pit in full combat regalia, a hawk made of flame on his shoulder and an immense warrior clad fully in ebony at his side.
But even if they could not recognize the person, none were quite so foolish enough as to not understand just who had come to free them of their filth and squalor, even more so as all the soldiers of House Dagoth immediately saluted.
All of them held their breaths, waiting for some glorious proclamation about their futures with baited breath... They should have known better because a moment later the dreadful crown atop Reyvin's head disappeared as his eyes landed on the old innkeeper "Rendar my good man! How have you been?"
Ambarys attempted to keep a serious expression but faltered near instantly and grinned "I've been good Serjo."
They kept exchanging pleasantries for a good five minutes and all the other Windhelm elves could do was gawk at the sheer difference between what they imagined the 'dreaded lord of Dagoth' to be and what they were seeing right now. Their confusion grew even more as the troops did not react whatsoever to the lack of formality.
The lordly elf summoned forth a bottle of some kind of wine and poured a glass for the two of them, seemingly oblivious to all the gawking "So tell me Rendar." He sipped his drink almost daintily "You ready to crack some Stormcloak heads?"
The innkeeper, now thoroughly relaxed, merely shrugged at that "As ready as I will ever be."
"And what of you all?" Reyvin looked to the others, making them hide their gawks in near synchronicity "Are you all ready to fight for your futures?"
Affirmative, if not terribly enthusiastic, murmurs spread amongst the crowd.
"I've heard goblins with more enthusiasm than that!" Reyvin taunts.
The murmurs grow a bit louder then, there is even a shout or two from some of the younger ones.
He gets up from his seat and all of them feel him stare at them directly "If that is all the zeal you are ready to show me, then you may as well all go home." An emotion of shame comes to all of them unbidden "I came here expecting to find those who are sick and tired of their oppressors walking all over them and what do I get instead?" The shame is replaced with anger "A bunch of pathetic slaves still cowering even as they are given an opportunity to take the future into their own hands!"
"Hey! We ain't slaves!" One of the less intelligent of their number shouts back.
"Then why do you hesitate?!" Reyvin demands "Why do you even now fail to grasp those weapons I have given you with the righteous fury they deserve?!" Once more a wave of anger, but now directed at the Stormcloaks bubbles within them all as many hands reach for swords or axes "Do you expect me to fight for your future with my all if you will not do the same?!"
"NO!" A good chunk of the crowd shouts back.
"Are you telling me that you want Ulfric's little army of bandits to keep walking over you!?" He demands, indignation and determination building with his words.
"NO!" The shouting is much greater this time.
Lord Dagoth grins a bloodthirsty grin "Are you going to hesitate even now, in the hour of our victory?!"
"NO!!!" They roar out, with a newfound fire in their hearts.
'Good ole' browbeating and illusion bullshit, can't ever go wrong with it.' Scorch chuckles and I grin, my crown once more materializing "Then let us go burn some Stormcloak fuckers alive!"
------
All around the ancient city of Windhelm, different leaders find themselves inspiring their own troops, calls for honor and duty resounding through the hearts of the thousands and thousands of Nords gathered for this fateful battle.
The King of Skyrim rides up to the immense bridge leading into the City of Kings, his eyes blazing with determination. Without a word he unsheathes his family's skyforge steel blade and raises it up, all of his men stopping in formation behind him.
They stay still for minutes, waiting, and then as if a signal being given, the massive siege ballistae in the camp let loose their munitions and strike the gate as a hammer would a gong, the ringing noise deafening those rebels unlucky enough to be too close.
Those positioned in the barricades on the bridge itself shudder in fear as the artillery flies just over their heads, hitting with almost unnatural precision and ignoring them in its entirety.
They had other issues to worry about though as the King's blade was finally lowered, pointing directly at them "Forward men!" Torygg shouted "For Skyrim and unto Sovengarde!"
His men roar in approval and surge forth, seemingly not noticing the now somewhat wiser ruler holding back a bit and saving his strength for later. The first line of legionaries clashes with the rebels, swiftly breaking through the small wooden barricade and cutting down those stupid or unlucky enough to be assigned to their position.
In the distance the ships of the Imperial Navy begin their assault upon the docks, the troops housed within their holds dislodging upon the defenseless district and swiftly making their way to the gates, their assault swiftly joined by the men of Riften and Winterhold as they break through the light garrison guarding the eastern entrance.
The western wall is barely held as a massive Nord bursts out of a siege tower and starts cutting the defenders down in a frenzy of blood of such might that would make an orc blush.
The rebels are not defenseless though, and soon the legion finds themselves showered by thousands of arrows as the city's well stocked armories fed the furious defenders.
Mere minutes passed, and hundreds were already dead. Only the gods would know in truth how many thousands would join them before the day was out.
(A certain blonde rebel's POV)
The ground shook as the city was attacked from every possible direction, the screams and shouts bouncing against the walls and making it impossible to remain calm. My empty eye socket aches as I feel the urge to scratch at my burn scars but I hold back as the men look at me for guidance "Keep calm brothers." My voice comes out more weary than I intended "We will join our kin soon enough."
One of my men, built like a bear and armed with a long axe scoffs "We should be out there right now, killing those bloody elf lovers. And what do we get instead? Guard duty!" He spits.
"We gots ta guard tha elves." Another, missing numerous teeth slaps his shoulder "Wouldn' want em ta stab us in tha back."
"Aye, you are right." The axeman nods "If we can't help our brothers in battle we can at least make it so they can fight with honor and without worry."
I exhale "Do they even have time to worry in a fight?"
"The idle ones do." he shrugs and we continue on our patrol.
There was some thirty of us assigned to this area, the closest thing the Dunmer had for a square in their quarter, a spot just in front the New Gnisis Cornerclub and the only place where a Nord could go and not disappear these days.
"How low we have fallen." I mutter bitterly.
"You say sumthin brother?" Toothless asks.
"Nothing." I shake my head firmly "Just thinking aloud."
"Well, wha' are ye thinking about?" He leans in.
"Hold." Another brother, a ranger from the southern marshes raises his hand "Do you hear that?"
"Hear wha'?" Toothless gives him a confused look.
"Exactly." The man responds "It is far too quiet here."
Now that he pointed it out I realize the place is creepily silent, my instincts slowly awakening and beginning to scream at me to run away as swiftly as I could.
But I was given no time to do so as the small doorway leading to the balcony above the entrance to the Cornerclub was slammed open and five Dunmer wearing black armor and white fur cloaks rushed out, in their arms were held machines of death which shook even my resolve.
Sadly, not all my brothers were quite as resolute as before I could even call out "SHIELDWALL!" five had already broken ranks and fled.
They were shot first.
Bolts started to pelt us at those familiar unearthly speeds, felling many without mercy or hesitation and I swiftly realized that if we remained here we would only die like fools.
But a retreat was not an option either.
My mind made I lowered my shield for a moment and sent forth a spiral of ice at them and forcing them to pull back behind the walls for a moment "We have to charge them." I say as my men gather themselves in the brief seconds I bought.
"We are with you, brother." Ygrim, the axe wielder declares, ignoring the bolt in his thigh.
"Aye, can't have tha cowards live after killing ole' Bryn." Toothless chuckles painfully as a bolt sticks out of his stomach.
"Forward then!" I grip my sword and shield and the twelve of us still alive start running at the building. We thought then that we would reach our destination and fell them, a foolish determination rising with each step.
And yet fate had other plans, the balconies to our left and right were suddenly filled by elves, familiar elves some of whom I had once held pleasant conversation with, all of them armed with simple crossbows and armored in leather and chain.
All I could do then was rush forth as quickly as my legs could take me, my men falling behind me to the last as we were showered with bolts. Determined to take at least one of them with me I slammed into the Cornerclub's door with all my might and prepared to run up the stairs only to suddenly feel like I slammed into a wall.
A wall that was not there before.
I looked up to see twin purple eyes staring down at me from a height that no elf should ever be blessed with.
My last thoughts were 'that is one big motherfu-' before a fist collided with my face and I awoke in Sovengarde.
(Reyvin's POV)
"Hey pops." Scorch calls out from my shoulder "Isn't that the 'hey you, you are finally awake' guy?"
I look down at the corpse Akulakhan had just finished shortening by a head and shrug "Maybe."
"Poor fucker." The bird cackles.
Davos walks in then "All the patrols have been cleared Boss." He informs boredly.
"Capital!" I clap my hands "To the gates then!"
(Skirnir Stormcloak's POV)
It took me days, but I had finally managed to sneak into the palace after marching wounded all the way from the fields of Dawnstar, the legionaries and their allies somehow missing my unconscious body as I was buried below a fallen bit of palisade.
A secret passage I found in my youth swiftly let me enter and I found myself slinking through the familiar halls my once innocent self hand loved exploring when things used to make sense and honor still mattered.
I had seen the effects of this rebellion and observed both sides from a position not many others could claim, and to my horror I have found that we were in the wrong. My father truly was just another power hungry tyrant, and it was my duty as a Nord to stop him.
But as I walked the ancient halls of my family I soon found another reason to fight the dishonor that now lay upon my ancestors, for Draugr walked by the side of my father's housecarls as if they were brothers in arms.
By the gods, father! What have you done?!
Almost as if they heard me, two Draugr shifted in my direction and went for their blades.
They called out in challenge with their disgusting voices and a challenge they would have!
(Reyvin's POV)
Another poor idiot shatters as I pull my blade back from his friend and slam his face with the flat end of my sword, the small shieldwall shattering before Akulakhan's might as he simply cuts through their iron-reinforced shields with a lazy swing of his glaive. Even the 'totally not disguised Draugr dragon cultists' fall before him with such ease that it makes my blade look harmless by comparison.
I go to pursue the now retreating rebels but a slight reddish hue of magic draws my gaze downwards, through the stone and below the city itself. As I observe the massive ritual circle hidden beneath the battle, all I can think is 'That motherfucker!'
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