Factions in the the Night of Convergence and their numbers:
United Skyrim: 6 champions, 1 Savos Aren, 1 dragon, 3.000 legionnaires, 1.000 Whiterun Guards, 30 Companions, 60 Dawnguard (+armored trolls and war dogs), and 6 Shor's Guards (~4.100 total)
Court of Volkihar: 1 champion, 50 vampire lords, 100 lesser vampires, 2.000 thralls (Elenwen's former warband), and twice as many Death hounds (~6.000 total)
Mythic Dawn: 1 champion, 3 elite mages (camoran's), 50 acolytes, 10.000 dremora (comes in waves, had a bunch stolen) (~7,000 total)
Alduin's forces: 2 dragon priests, 4 dragons, 200 draugr deathlords, 3.000 draugr wights, 3.000 dremora (stolen from the Mythic Dawn) (~6.200 total)
-
While the allied forces have the least amount of soldiers, their high tier combat power easily trumps the others, and even then, they still have capable warriors like Vilkas, Farkas, Legate Taurinus, Hadvar, and a bunch of Dawnguard.
…
4E 202, Labyrinthian
Kiera Fendalyn, the Dragonborn
Seeing a war of such scale from a bird's eye view was something Kiera never believed she would see. From this high up in the skies, the war was nothing short of madness incarnate.
Kiera could see the entirety of Labyrinthian's valley sprawling below her. Flames, smoke, and frost waved together this nightmarish tapestry.
Armies of mortals, undead, and Daedra collided in an endless churn, the land itself cracking beneath the weight of so many powers unleashed. Dragons swooped through the clouds above, their Thu'um swallowing dozens by the second.
As the primary defenders with a stationary camp, the allied forces were initially at a disadvantage, for all three of their enemies attacked them from different directions.
However, that disadvantage was now rendered null when the fighting spilled across the entire valley. More so when Volsung took control of a few of the Daedra from the Mythic Dawn.
[Map of Battlefield]
Among the four armies, only the legions and the dremora formed proper lines. Ranks of spearmen and lances formed the frontlines, while the arches continued raining arrows into the enemy lines.
Harkon's forces had no discipline, sending his thralls forward in a neverending wave as meat shields. They were unlike most thralls from Skyrim's wilderness, for the ones created by a Vampire Lord bore the natural healing of their masters.
Each one fought with reckless abandon, knowing that all wounds they received would not be permanent.
That wasn't even mentioning the numerous vampires in his employ, veteran warriors and spellcasters, each one possessing years of experience honing their craft, whose regeneration was even more potent than their dominated servants.
Of course, they still paled in comparison to the recklessness of the Draugr, who cared nothing for the injuries wrought upon their bodies. Why would they? for every man that fell was another soul fighting for the army of the dead.
Nevertheless, those were all concerns for the people fighting down below. Kiera's concerns were of another matter entirely.
Vermithor rolled from beneath her, tilting his wings into a dive as Kiera's entire vision spun, the horizon whirling upside down . Even so, she righted herself with practiced ease, having gone used to the feeling after countless times flying with her bonded partner.
Instead she timed it perfectly as a sapphire-scaled dragon surged into view.
"YOL TOOR SHUL!"
A river of flame erupted from her maw, consuming the sapphire beast in a blazing torrent. The dragon screamed as fire devoured its scales before Vermithor raked its chest open with a claw, sending the body plummeting.
Kiera turned just in time to see another spectacle. Aela, in her massive wolf form, pounced upwards onto a passing dragon mid-flight, her claws and fangs tearing it from the sky and dragging it back down to the ground.
Kiera's lips curved faintly. When she initially volunteered to help with the dragons, Kiera didn't know what to expect. Suffice to say, she was woefully impressed.
With two dragons down, that left only the frost-drakes still circling above, which Vermithor should be more than capable of killing.
"Vermithor! Bring me down!"
The dragon rumbled in acknowledgment and tilted into a dive so sharp that Kiera felt her lungs compress. Wind screamed past her ears. At the last second, Vermithor pulled upward, and Kiera released her harness.
With a leap, she hit the ground rolling and landed on the chaotic battlefield.
Immediately she had to lift Dawnbreaker upwards to block a coming attack from a Draugr Wight. Parrying it to the side, her left hand darted upwards as she grabbed the undead by the skull and brought it down to her knee.
Bone exploded under the impact as the corpse fell limp.
"Lady Kiera!"
She turned to see Praefect Hadvar, who had been given command of this side of the battlefield while Legate Taurinus handled the Mythic Dawn front with Gerron, sprinting toward her through the chaos.
He didn't look that great, with a small gash over his right brow that continued to spill blood over his eye. His armor was battered, his red cloak with the imperial banner already torn to shreds. Yet still, he remained fighting.
"Praefect," she barked, "have you spotted Vokun?"
"Yes, my lady!" Hadvar nodded, pointing to a side of the battlefield where the fighting was heaviest. "My men and I spotted him in the southeast, protected by a legion of Deathlords! We tried breaching twice but couldn't hold ground!"
"Then we break through together. Rally your forces to me!"
Hadvar didn't hesitate. He drew a horn and blew, a deep, resonant sound that cut through the roar of war.
"Legions! The Dragonborn herself leads us! To war! For the Empire!"
At his cry, Imperial voices rose in unison. Soldiers, all who were bloodied, bruised, but unbroken, fell into line around her. Battle-mages formed the rear, centurions hefted shields, and steel-clad soldiers locked formation.
Before them, a wall of Draugr Deathlords answered in kind, ancient war cries echoing through hollowed throats.
They all inhaled deeply, and so did she.
"FUS RO DAH!"/ "FUS RO DAH!"
The sound of shattered air echoed as her Thu'um thundered forth, meeting a dozen lesser Shouts from the Deathlords. Their power cracked like breaking glass against hers. Kiera's Voice consumed theirs, the shockwave ripping through the undead ranks.
Earth tore open, and a furrow fourty feet wide split the battlefield. The front lines of the Draugr scattered like dust.
Kiera's gaze lifted upwards, meeting the twin eye of blue that belonged to Vokun. Even though his face was mostly hidden by the iron mask, Kiera knew he felt fear.
[Vokun image]
Kiera's grip tightened on Dawnbreaker. Golden flames burst along the blade, cascading up to her elbow. "This ends now."
She charged.
The world blurred around her, the sound of her own heartbeat the only thing she heard. Vokun shrieked and leveled his staff, summoning another tide of undead to intercept her, but Hadvar and the Legions surged forward, intercepting them.
Centurions smashed Deathlords aside with tower shields, while Imperial battlemages unleashed arcs of lightning that tore through the restless draugr.
"Hold the line!" Hadvar shouted, slamming his shield into a Draugr's chest and splitting its skull with his gladius. "Cover the Dragonborn's advance!"
Even as their bodies tired and their blood split, they did not concede, not allowing the draugr to pierce through.
Kiera swung her blade, cleaving through bone as she leapt through. Vokun unleashed a torrent of fire that turned the air molten, but she raised her left hand, a shimmering ward of magicka forming in an instant. The inferno broke against it, flames splitting harmlessly around her.
"Your flames are weak," she growled. Vokun snarled at the insult.
She broke through the last line of Deathlords and closed the distance. Dawnbreaker came down in a blinding arc. Vokun barely blocked with his staff, flinching backwards from the force of her strike.
She instantly pivoted, turning another swing midway into a perfect sweep, cleaving through the pitiful armor like paper.
His left arm went flying, severed clean at the elbow.
Vokun shrieked, a high, keening sound that made the very ground tremble. He fell back, clutching the stump, dark ichor spilling over his robes. Flames burst around him as he moved back for some distance.
He moved his staff in a circular pattern to summon another ring of flame. It surged outward, a roaring circle that split the battlefield and forcibly separated him from her.
But Kiera strode through it, her armor glowing from the heat, her skin shrouded in shimmering Dragonflesh.
Her next swing shattered his guard entirely, his other arm splintering into fragments. She kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling back over the edge of a mound of burning corpses. The staff falling with a clang.
He tried to rise. He managed half a syllable of a Thu'um, then Kiera was there, her eyes burning gold, voice like thunder.
"YOL TOOR SHUL!"
Her shout met his dying flame. The resulting explosion flattened everything nearby. When the smoke cleared, Kiera stood amidst a circle of charred ash and molten bone.
To his credit, Vokun was still alive, body twitching weakly before her. The mask still clung to his skull, blue fire flickering within the sockets.
"Say hi to your siblings for me," she whispered. "I'll be coming for them all next."
Then she drove Dawnbreaker through his chest.
The moment the blade pierced him, light erupted, pure, golden, holy flame that roared skyward like a beacon. The sound was that of a hundred bells ringing at once.
Vokun screamed one last time as the light consumed him. His body disintegrated into ash. When the radiance faded, only the iron mask and the staff remained.
…
4E 202, Labyrinthian
Serana Volkihar
Twin arcs of lightning erupted from her fingertips, the violent surge leaping and chaining from thrall to thrall. Nine of them convulsed, their shrieks drowned by the thunderclap that followed. The smell of burnt flesh filled the cold mountain air as the last of them fell twitching to the ice.
Serana let them drop without even batting an eye. She of all people knew the truth of her kind's weakness.
It wasn't sunlight that truly damned vampires like the Volkihar. Not anymore.
The sun burned, yes, but it could be endured. Fire scarred, but they healed. Their bodies were built to mock mortality.
No, the true bane of her kin was lightning, the thief of magicka, the element known as the bane of mages. It stripped away the very energy that fueled their immortal flesh, leaving them unable to mend or feed. Lightning made them mortal, if only for a heartbeat.
It was part of the reason why Gerron chose the element to enchant on his hammer. He had told her plenty of his experience back in Redwater Den, the first time he encountered people of her kind.
A hiss of anger snapped her from her thoughts.
"Serana! Traitor!"
The voice was sharp, filled with contempt. Serana turned.
Vingalmo stood amidst the bodies of his fallen thralls, his elegant crimson robes torn and smoldering where her lightning had grazed him. The centuries had carved cruelty into his Altmer features, his eyes glowing with a pale, hateful red.
[Vingalmo Image]
He was one of her father's oldest converts, older than any memory she had of being mortal. Some whispered that he had seen the fall of Saarthal itself, present during the Night of Tears. Serana had never believed it. Not until this moment, when she saw the age of the world burning in his gaze.
"We've been looking for you," Vingalmo hissed, baring his fangs. "Where is the Elder Scroll?"
Serana tilted her head. "Hello, Vingalmo." Her voice was mocking, almost amused. "Still barking after scraps from Father's table, I see. Tell me, where's Orthjolf? Still racing you for father's approval?"
His snarl deepened. "That pretentious fool remains as arrogant as ever." His gaze flicked down to her armor, the mix of ebony steel and red dragonscale bodice, both Gerron's creations. "What is this mockery, Serana? Do you truly side with the mortals now?"
"Better mortals than leeches," Serana replied smoothly. Lightning began to crawl across her palms like living serpents.
"Return." Vingalmo commanded, stepping closer. "Return to us and bring the Elder Scroll we know you have. Harkon is merciful. He may forgive you yet.
"Merciful? Him?" she repeated, a hollow laugh escaping her.
"I've long since given away any hope of reconciliation. After all," Serana reached up and pulled back her hood, letting the bit of sunlight that pierced through the clouds wash over her. She didn't burn. Didn't smoke. Her skin only glimmered faintly. "I'm no longer shackled like you are."
For the first time, Vingalmo faltered. "You—" his voice trembled, disbelief cutting through his rage. "How?!"
"Let's just say dear old Father wasn't the only one who could make a deal with a god." Her tone was venom wrapped in silk. "Meridia showed me what he never could, a way to live without feeding on others. To be free."
"Blasphemy!" Vingalmo roared. His hands ignited as cold frost lit up from his fingers.
He was too slow, a single bolt of lightning struck him mid-chant, blasting him back through a half-collapsed ruin of a watchtower. He landed in a plume of dust and snow.
"You talk too much," she murmured, stepping forward.
Lightning flared again, striking his chest. Vingalmo screamed as his protective ward was burned away, his flesh sizzling under his own robes.
"I am going to kill my father," Serana said, her voice steady, almost reverent in its conviction. "And when that's done…" She clenched her fist, lightning dancing around it like a crown. "I'll find my mother. Wherever she is."
Vingalmo staggered to his feet, his face half-burned, his fangs bared. "You insolent child! Do you have any idea the power that Harkon now wields?! He is the most powerful existence that now walks the land of Skyrim! Not even the Black Dragon compares!"
"Arrogance shall be the basis of his downfall." Serana said coldly. "Besides, fighting him alone was never the plan."
The sky rumbled as thunder rolled through the ruins. A flash of light illuminated from behind her as a metal boot crunched on the snow. Isran stepped up, his eyes already glowing with Stendarr's Light, clasped in his hand was the body of Orthjolf, rapidly turning to ashes.
[Orthjolf Image]
"Who the hell is this guy?" Isran asked as he raised a brow in Vingalmo's direction.
"One of my father's advisors." She replied incredulously. "And a dead man."
"Foolish girl…" Vingalmo sneered as he raised his staff, the burns already healing at a rapid rate. "If you will not join us…then die with the rest of them!"
Serana merely smiled. "You first."
She raised her hands as Isran did the same thing. There was a flash of blue and yellow, and Vingalmo's body followed Orthjolf's in the afterlife.
…
AN: The continued war of the Night of Convergence in the perspectives of Kiera and Serana.
The whole war itself will probably take a few chapters to properly portray, we'll most likely have a bunch of POV shifts during the whole thing.
I hope you don't mind that!
The sale on my Pat_reon is still going strong! Get 40% for all tiers! There's a lot of content there that should make worthwhile :)
Even so, more chapters are available. Chapter 86 should be available by the time this chapter is posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Cheers guys and see you next time!