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Journal Of Aelfgrim Frostborn's Account Of The Akaviri Invasion

By: Rainingblood

I entered Eastmarch following the White River toward Windhelm and followed a pass through the cairn-topped mountains for a more direct route. The closer I got to the city, the more I realized that the smoke I had seen was a larger plume that I had thought, and it was not from a camp. It was from Windhelm. I needed to scout ahead and get a closer look to figure out what was happening. Even with everything I had witnessed over the years, the scene outside the city walls was a macabre vision. Burning corpses, arrow-laden horse corpses, and Nord body parts littered the ground. Squawking crows filled the air in anticipation of their next meal. The mud on the ground was slightly frozen and tinged with crimson. The dead and dying were sprawled everywhere amidst wreckage of siege weapons and battle pyres. Many of these bodies were not Nords; they looked like beings I’ve only heard in old songs of battles long ago… the Akaviri.

I sensed movement to my left and I positioned myself to fight, but I saw a Nord draped over a piece of a shattered trebuchet, clinging to life. Crouching low, I moved over to him. This man’s will was the only thing keeping him alive. His face was badly charred and both legs had been lopped off above the knees. “What is your name, shield-brother?” I asked. His mouth was filled with thickening blood, so I cleared it out with a finger. “Thonar Fire-Beard,” he gurgled. “Windhelm has been sacked and… the Queen and princess have been killed. Our forces gather in Riften… ride to Riften,” he said as he sputtered his last breath. I found a decent horse that was wandering the trenches and headed south.

Days later I approached Riften, I saw the barricades in preparation for the impending Akaviri assault. I asked the first guard I saw to direct me to the officer in charge so I could join to fight the invaders. I followed the guard into a tent which looked to be the command post. “So you wish to join the fight?” the battle-hardened captain bellowed. Looking around I said, “It looks like you can use all the help you can get.” He glared at me. “Maybe I should send you out first. You seem to have enough of an ego to face the entire Akaviri army! But-” He was interrupted by someone I recognized- Ulfrick! He had survived the sacking of Windhelm! “Captain, this is the one I told you about,” he whispered. Having no clue what to expect, I was staring at my brother. I wanted to hug him, but did not want to break ranks in front of the captain, so I just grinned. Ulfrick, with a gleam in his eye, made a slight grin and looked back at the captain who was intently staring at me. “This one?” the captain scoffed. “This is the one called the Frostborn? I figured the rumor couldn’t be true; an Altmer who thinks she is a Nord!” His laugh bellowed loudly and there was some whispered discussion between a few of the men beside the captain. It looked as though Ulfrick, being a bit of a bard, had sung some embellished song one night about our fight with the Glenmoril Witches. “Well she is as big as a Frost Troll.” The captain grinned as much as he could; he had a scar running from his cheek to his chin across his lip where none of his beard hair grew. “Well we may be able to use you for more than cleaning up horse shit after all. Ready to prove your worth, elf?” “If I am needed, I fight in the name of Arkay: for Skyrim; for honor.” I knelt down. “At your command, you have my sword and my oath of loyalty.” I said to the captain as he turned to address the rest of the men as well as me. “Good to hear… Jorunn has been crowned King, and the Greybeards have summoned Wulfharth the Ash-King to fight with us against these milk-drinking dogs. We have gotten word that the Akaviri army learned of our forces here in Riften, so they have turned toward Mournhold!” He glanced at me again. “Do you think we should let them run, elf?” he asked. “Captain, I may not have Nord blood in my veins, but this is my home. These are my people. And I say we hunt down and slay every last one of the bastards.” The captain let out a thunderous laugh. “I like you Frostborn. We’ll see what you’re made of once we get into battle,” he said before taking a drink of mead. “Jorunn and Wulfharth are each leading a legion of Nords toward the enemy army into Morrowind. You will march with Wulfharth, so gather your gear and get some rest. Someone will call on you when we are ready to depart. It will be a glorious battle, Shield-Sister!”

As the dawn created an ominous red sky, I was awoken from another restless night to rally for the march to Morrowind. We pushed southeast to Morrowind in pursuit of the invaders. After marching all day and through the night, there was a light blanket of snow on the ground and frost clung to our armor and crusted on men’s’ beards. After days of marching, we could finally see smoke from the enemy encampments on the horizon, and it energized and excited every Nord for battle. “Shield Brothers! Shield-Sisters! Do you see the sight before us?” The captain shouted. “For generations bards will sing of our victory today!”

We stayed with Jorunn, while Wulfharth’s brigade veered south into flanking position. By this time, the Akaviri saw our advance and were strengthening their rear defenses while we formed our ranks. I worked my way up toward to front lines as much as I could and watched as Jorunn rallied and inspired us all. Has it all come to this? Will today be the day I see my father in Sovngarde? I thought. The sound of a slow profound rumble started to build from the hastened march of my brothers and sisters. Within minutes the roar was more like a growing, ominous thunder; a warning to the Akaviri that they would soon meet their gods by the hands of the Nords and the will of Arkay. Just as the captain signaled us to start the advance a Nord messenger rode at speed to Jorunn. The captain galloped his horse over to the king after being beckoned, and after a quick discussion he returned to us as our march was slowly picking up speed. The captain’s yell was barely audible over the sound of the Nord advance as he trotted next to a group of us, but I could make out his words: “So it would seem we have an unlikely ally today, my friends! It looks like the whore Almalexia is attacking on the eastern flank of the Akaviri with her Dunmer legion! Attack, shield brothers and shield sisters! Victory is yours today! Take it!”

With the encouraging words our legions became a momentous charge of judgment barreling toward the Akaviri horde. The enemy numbers seemed immense as they volleyed arrows toward us, but we charged on and hit their forward line with a sound that would have woken the dead. I saw Akaviri and Nord bodies dropping as swords, shields, axes and maces pounded against metal and flesh. I tended to the initial wounded as much as I could so they could keep fighting. As the battle spread a bit, I drew my sword as I felt someone hit me from behind. I wheeled around to see Ulfrick, who had a bit of blood over his left eye. “I see you’ve been wounded!” I yelled above the roar of the battle. Breathing heavy, he looked at me with a grin and we instinctually stood back-to-back while defending ourselves. “Perhaps… but the day is young! What do you say we make a wager, my sister? A flagon of mead says I kill more of these milk-suckers than you do!” Damn him. “Haven’t you learned not to bet against me, Ulfrick?” A Kamal was fighting his way toward us and I swung my sword through his head, just above the nose. “I’ve killed three,” he said proudly. I retorted with a smirk, “I can taste that mead already. That was my tenth!”

The battle stormed on as Wulfharth the Ash-King lead his men in from the south, flanking the enemy which caught them off guard and weakened their lines. We used the opportunity to push forward though the Akaviri held strong and were impressive in their tenacity. As I was surveying the scene, a Kamal lunged at me. I parried his attack from short guard and swung low, lacerating his stomach then crushed his head with my shield. Not today, I thought.

We were attacking them on three fronts, with Jorunn in the west, Wulfharth in the south, and Almalexia’s Dunmer hitting the eastern flank, but after weeks of battle the invaders were maintaining their position. I was quite a sight at this point; covered in blood, mud, snow, and piss, but the Akaviri were worthy opponents. We were at a standoff making no headway, and we had already lost many Nords, as well as Dunmer. “LOOK THERE!” I heard someone yell from a nearby ridge. She was pointing toward the southeastern front of the battle. It looked as though the Dark Elves had amassed a legion of their slaves. What bastards, I thought. “Argonians!” Ulfrick yelled as I was attempting to heal his arm where the hand had been lopped off. I had been doing the best I could to get him and any soldier back in fighting form.

There was suddenly a shift in momentum. The Argonian phalanx pushed through the Akaviri line… It was unbelievable! Jorunn and Wulfharth saw the opportunity and commanded us to breach their defenses. “Forward, shield-brothers and sisters!” I yelled to the Nords in my vicinity. “Let’s show these beasts how we treat unwelcomed guests!” We charged in with newfound vigor and ferocity and the three armies began making headway. The Akaviri army began to fall back and completely lost all formation. We slaughtered them all the way to the Sea of Ghosts and those who survived our onslaught met their demise in the sea. It was a great victory that day, and the battle gave me a new respect for the Dunmer and the Argonians. Many lost their lives, but the Kamal will know their place and to not test the mettle of the Tamrielic people.

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