Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 452 - LXXI: The Deshaan Campaign

(Reyvin's POV)

The people of Mournhold cheered as the army paraded out of the city, our numbers now refilled and increased to a nice round fifteen thousand strong creating a veritable sea of colorful banners that would have no doubt been followed by a cloud of dust if not for a slight application of wind magic by yours truly.

Varan Sarano's arrival signaled the end of my short stay in Mournhold, his twenty five thousand strong army taking over the task of garrisoning the city and occupying the numerous smaller settlements surrounding the area as my smaller but far more elite force went out to search and destroy as many enemy armies as possible.

He was rather impressed by my current achievements and voiced his regret that he would not be leading the charge by my side. Still, he was more than content with his less glorious duty of actually occupying the land and beginning its integration, something he would then hand over to the Dres and the final wave of our forces as he kept tailing us.

Well at least once Aneris was done with her current task of advancing from the west and sweeping her forces around Lake Hlaalu to the west of Deshaan, an area left totally unprepared for an attack by the rapidly scrambling Argonian army stationed there.

Hitting Mournhold and taking it before they could so much as realize we were there certainly gave the lizards a good scare.

As we were leaving I even noticed a three thousand strong regiment flying the familiar banner of Kragenmoor, all of them carrying the same longspears and armor I had given them, only they were now protected with additional layers and were all given one handed sidearms in recognition of their bravery.

To say that they were happy to see me would be the understatement of the year and while I was tempted to bring them with me they were still far too inexperienced for my current goals.

And so it was that I left yet another conquest behind me, my soldiers and officers well rested and well equipped, all of them more than motivated to kick the Argonian invaders out of our lands once and for all.

Twas time to play whack-a-mole with entire armies, and my reflexes would prove far faster than those of a gaggle of sentient trees.

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(General POV)

*The fall of Selfora*

The army of the Kingdom of Morrowind struck out after a mere three day stay in Mournhold, leaving behind a shaken but pacified city as they marched east to the smaller city of Selfora and the island fortress of Tal'Deic that blocked sea access to the Thir river, the same body of water that bordered Mournhold to its north and gave it access to the sea.

The obvious supply route was deemed the most important target by both the Hortator and the slew of hardened Redoran tacticians that followed him, and the army was ordered to march down the riverside with utmost speed.

A forced march was called even before the news of the Argonian response came, and only sped up once the army got word that a force of a proper An-Xileel warband moving north from Thorn to reinforce Selfora.

They reached the city days before its reinforcements came and besieged it, scything through the defenders on the walls of the hillside city with both magic and artillery and crushing the gate with a force of a dozen automaton centurions, focusing most of the defenders on the western gate even as a force under Merin Zadir of the Dres combined with the warband of Dagoth Ulthis scaled their eastern walls.

Their successful infiltration shook the defenders' morale and soon the city fell to panic as its now majorly Argonian population attempted to flee or fight for their perceived survival.

The final nail in the coffin for the Argonian held Selfora was struck when the Hortator himself took to the field, flying over the walls atop his flaming familiar and raining down fire and lightning upon any point in the battle line where the enemy seemed to be gaining an advantage.

Quarter was asked and after only an hour of additional fighting given, the few hundreds of surrendered Argonian warriors swiftly moved to an outside camp created with transmuted rock and placed under the watch of Alandro Indoril.

As this was going on, the Sworn Mer of Dagoth with the vast majority of the Telvanni forces made their way to the fort of Tel'Deic, where under the cover of night they struck swiftly and terribly, leaving no survivors within the military base and opening the way for the Sadras fleet to deliver supplies to the front.

A mere two days later, the An-Xileel warband under Chief Xizerk arrived, and immediately retreated west to join with the remnants of what once was the army of Argonian-held Mournhold, taking only minor casualties to the constant harrying raids as they pulled back in good order.

*Western Push and Counterattack*

To the west of the front, Aneris Dres led the least experienced part of Morrowind's army from the restored fortress of Andrethis and struck the city of Sekramora, taking it with some difficulty before meeting up with a small part of the army under Varan Sarano and besieging the city of Narsis that overlooked Lake Hlaalu and was once the capital of that selfsame Great House.

The An-Xileel did not take all of this laying down however, as more reinforcements surged from Black Marsh itself under the urging of the Council of Shamans, and with their numbers bolstered once more they marched up the center and at Mournhold with an army of seventy thousand strong.

The barely rested force at Selfora, having been reunited with its other detachment mere hours before receiving the news, marched out once more, leaving behind their Dres compartment to watch over both city and prisoners.

The following forced march stopped only a day before they reached the main road to Mournhold, giving themselves but half a day to rest before striking out once more only to arrive at the sight of an open battle.

*The Battle of Mournhold Hills*

Days prior, Varan Sarano, knowing that Mournhold was not yet stable enough to truly hold off a siege, began sending out raids against the fresh Argonian army, slowing their advance by a full day before sallying out and meeting them in the field.

He took the high ground on a hill some hours march south of the new capital, a perfect position that overlooked all the easy paths north, and challenged the Argonian army by having the detachment of Telvanni under him bombard their force with long range spells.

His ploy seemed to work and the Argonians formed up for battle, charging up the steep hill and meeting his mostly Redoran forces in a thunderous clash, overcoming part of the height advantage with sheer stubbornness and physical might.

The Kragenmoor regiment, coming to call itself the Hortator's Own to the chagrin of many, did a surprisingly good job at holding the left flank against enemy shock infantry, giving the defending army considerable breathing space as reserves meant to replace them if and when they fell could be used to head off other flanking attacks.

The fighting was bloody but by the end of the day the Redoran army held and the Argonians retreated to their now fortified camp, bloodied but nowhere near broken.

A second sunrise saw the fighting reigniting with an increased ferocity, the lizardmen having had more than enough time to plan around the Dunmeri positions attacking from all possible angles at the same time while delivering a constant stream of reinforcements to the front, so much so that the Telvanni bombardment failed to slow it down to any relevant degree.

The instant the Dunmeri mages began faltering due to simple Magicka exhaustion, the Argonians redoubled their efforts, their Shamans controlling the still Hist-influenced plant life to disrupt the Dunmeri formations to great effect.

The Redoran force would have fallen then and there if not for Archmaster Varan Sarano himself taking to the field and leading a charge with his most trusted house nobles straight through the center of the enemy formation.

They struck fast and they struck hard, disrupting the attack and buying their kinsmen valuable time to reform.

The Argonian Chieftain took this as a challenge and struck with his own personal guard, threatening to overwhelm the counterattacking force that even now faltered under the sheer weight of numbers their enemy carried.

But when all seemed lost a loud noise came from the east and a golden shooting star cut through the skies, striking the Argonian flank in an explosion of brilliant golden flame, followed quickly by a quartet of figures cutting through the unlucky survivors like a scythe through grass.

The sight of the Hortator and his three bodyguards taking on an entire flank on their own reinvigorated the spirits of the Dunmer, which was only bolstered when another army crested the eastern hillrise, charging at the army of lizardmen without breaking their stride.

The Argonian army was shaken, but what truly broke them was when Varan Sarano reached Chieftain Xizerk and struck him down in a personal duel, completely overcoming his foe's physical superiority with pure skill and experience in such an absolute manner that his mere gaze made his enemies flee.

To make things even worse for the An-Xileel, their rear was then struck by a force of Legion cavalry, their colors slightly changed so as to not drag the Empire into the war, and a mindboggling number of automatons, all of whom were led by Archmagister Baladas Demnevanni.

The old Telvanni had to burn many favors to get to play around with those marvels of magical engineering but as he conducted the slaughter of thousands with barely any effort he felt selling his soul would have been more than worth it for the experience.

It is said that even the ever proud members of his house were now terrified of the elf, all but a few of them thinking twice before so much as raising their voices in his presence.

The Argonians broke and fled, and even as they left tens of thousands of bodies behind they were saved from complete annihilation due to the simple fact the Dunmer were exhausted from days of fighting and forced marching, leaving only a few troops to pursue them.

All in all, it was a grand victory for Morrowind, and yet it was also a costly one as seven thousand Dunmer lay slain before the day was through.

*Recovery*

The Hortator, granted wisdom by the Good Daedra, declared a pause in the campaign as his troops were too worn out by the rapid conflict. They retreated to Mournhold once more, where they oversaw the transfer of the few Argonian prisoners into a new camp near the city and the arrival of the Dres led army.

Aneris Dres managed to take the western city of Narsis with moderate casualties, and her numerous force slowly began taking over garrison duties from the other armies, allowing the main strike force to reform and recuperate.

Ten days passed as the units were refilled and reorganized, a new year greeted the lands of Nirn, followed by a short celebration at the behest of the Hortator, celebrating the first year of Morroiwnd's return to prominence.

Some still questioned their honored leader's connections to the humans of the Empire but victory silenced all detractors, and the collective subconscious of Morrowind's people soon began changing without them even knowing.

*A Tear in Their Flank*

The army of Morrowind, now consisting of only two forces instead of three, split up once more at Mournhold as the force under Grand Magnate Aneris Dres consisting of forty thousand elves stayed behind to secure the new conquests, while the force of Hortator Reyvin Dagoth struck out south, now joined by Archmagister Varan Sarano and thirty thousand strong.

They moved southeast, now marching at a more reasonable pace as they aimed to take the minor city of Rithendis before striking at the ancient capital of the Dres, Tear.

Their enemy had grown wiser however, and as the land turned more and more alike to that of Black Marsh itself, guerilla attacks and raids by the Argonians became ever more common.

No grand casualties were inflicted upon the army of Morrowind, but the constant attacks and minor losses wore upon morale, and the Hortator could only burn down so many forests before even his magic started looking impotent to his subjects.

And so he deployed his own countermeasures.

A special strikeforce under Legate Furius and Davos Dagoth was formed, granted the best supplies and maps of the area, and tasked with hunting down each and every enemy raiding party in advance.

They faltered at first but once they got used to the moist air and even wetter forests, they began extracting a grand toll upon the Argonians, even as they took losses themselves.

The home field advantage was just too great to simply be ignored even by the most prepared of armies.

Things took a turn however, as rumors began to spread amongst the Argonian raiders of a dread beast in the night, of eight legs and eight eyes and skin of orichalcum. They spoke of diabolic chittering and of webs taking over their woods and devouring the souls of all who walked into them.

Nimhe feasted well in those weeks indeed.

Rithendis fell without much fanfare, the small city simply getting overwhelmed by volleys of crossbow fire and the piercing limbs of an automaton swarm, the easy victory bringing a much needed reprieve to the mentally exhausted army of elves, even as their leaders grew apprehensive at the lack of competent resistance.

They did wonder why the Hortator made the point of turning yet another great tree to ash, like he did at Selfora and all the other settlements they came upon.

The march to Tear came only a day of rest later, the troops left behind to garrison their most recent conquest being both thankful and angry at being left out of even more trudging across muddy roads.

The Hortator's scrying and the reports of the scouts brave enough to wade into the Thornmarsh, the northernmost domain of Black Marsh, confirmed that another grand host was gathering in the city of Thorn even as they left Rithendis, far outstripping both of the armies they faced previously.

This only made reaching Tear quickly that much more important, as the enemy obviously aimed to use the fatigue of the Dunmer to crush them once and for all.

Once more the reconquering army was met with constant raids and harassment, as even the overgrowing forests seemed to fight their approach, but with grit and magic they pushed through, and they came upon the city of Tear... only to find it utterly ruined, only a single massive tree standing where the proud Dres once held court, surrounded by barely visible ruins of what were once grand walls and towers.

Reyvin the individual understood the reason, as the Dres were the main proponents of Argonian slavery for thousands of years. Reyvin the Hortator however, made a show of extinguishing the Hist Hub, to the vindictive glee of his people, and called for a small celebration as with the retaking of the ruins Morrowind was once more whole.

Well, there were still hundreds of minor settlements to retake and pacify but they did not need to know that. All the major cities were in Dunmeri hands, and that was all that mattered.

For now.

*March On The Thornmarsh*

The Hortator held council with his subjects upon the ashes of the Hist Hub, and a consensus was rapidly reached that the Argonians would not simply sit idly as the Dunmer consolidated the reconquered part of their Kingdom, and would strike out once more and in force.

A mountain range, relatively small in truth, separated Black Marsh proper from the reunited Kingdom of Morrowind, and a wide pass bridged the way between the two kingdoms, all other entrances being blocked by wide rivers and perilous crossings.

It did not take much for all to agree that it was at this pass the fate of the war would be decided, and so after another day of rest, the army of Morrowind marched out once more, every single one of them sick and tired of the land that fought them even now.

And every single one of them more than ready to take it all out on their enemy.

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Conquer stones in my name!

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