“What if Ulfric were no longer a factor?” Medane asked, stroking his chin.
“What do you mean?” Balgruuf asked, a sense of unease prickling at the back of his neck.
“What if Ulfric were no longer in a position to attack?” Medane repeated. “Would you do it then?”
Balgruuf sat up, staring at Medane. The man actually looked serious, as if he might, just might, be able to do something about the civil war.
“If Ulfric were no longer camped on my borders waiting to attack, then yes, I'd happily consider assisting in your mad dragon trapping scheme,” Balgruuf sighed.
“You mean it?” Medane pressed. “You swear it on your honour as Jarl?”
“Yes, yes, I swear on my honour as Jarl that if the civil war ceases to be a problem, I will help you trap a dragon in my palace,” Balgruuf sighed. Anything to get the madman off his back. What were the chances of having to honour this promise? Not like Medane Dareche had an army at his back after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week later and two Bretons, father and daughter, and their Orc bodyguard, were seen chatting to Susannah the Wicked in Windhelm, and later hanging out in the New Gnisis Cornerclub and on the docks.
Three weeks after that, and the Argonians were bringing in a lot more shipments than usual, from ships that all seemed to be crewed by Bretons and brought a lot of cargo in by night, but never seemed to take anything away. Meanwhile the Dunmer were looking just that bit more cheerful than usual, and even took Rolff's abuse with a smile.
Two weeks after that, and the uprising happened. Rolff Stone-Fist was out in the Grey Quarter shouting his usual abuse, heard the flare of magic and cries of “The Forsworn shall rise again!” and the last thing he saw was a horde of fur-clad barbarians swathed in flame cloaks pouring out of the Dunmer homes around him.
The guards were quickly overwhelmed, although those that surrendered were spared and homes and businesses were left alone. The effort focused on the Palace of the Kings, and the building might have held had those two new Stormcloak recruits, Borkul the Orc and Lydia Ice-Veins not turned traitor, killed the gate guards and opened the doors to the howling Forsworn horde, led by none other than the feared King in Rags himself, Madanach of the Reach, wielding his Destruction magic to devastating effect.
Ulfric appeared in his steel plate armour, sword at his side, shouting “I have won this battle before, Madanach! FUS RO DAH!”
To his eternal surprise, all the Forsworn soldiers threw up wards in unison as soon as the first syllable left his lips, and Madanach staggered but did not fall. Then he just looked up, cruel, vicious smile on his face that none who saw it ever forgot.
“Is that all?” he purred. “SU GRAH DUN!”
No ordinary mortal should ever have been able to move that fast, but Madanach of the Reach had left behind all claim to being one of those the night he'd finally decided his people needed him and broken out of Cidhna Mine, run into a dragon on the way back, managed to kill it with help from his fellow ex-prisoners and then staggered back in shock as the thing fell apart in fire and yielded up its soul, and suddenly those strange glowing words on all those walls in the various Forsworn hideouts finally made sense. Much research later, not to mention sending Kaie and Odvan off to Solitude in disguise with orders to find some students at the Bards' College, buy them drinks and get every single story about dragons off them they remembered, and Madanach had felt his world pivoting on one single word: Dragonborn.
It had been a bit of a shock to put it mildly, but he was a practical man and once he'd finished calming his nerves with strong drink, he'd admitted the Nords might have some use after all, and trekked up to High Hrothgar.
Re: Season Unending's End 1.2
“What do you mean?” Balgruuf asked, a sense of unease prickling at the back of his neck.
“What if Ulfric were no longer in a position to attack?” Medane repeated. “Would you do it then?”
Balgruuf sat up, staring at Medane. The man actually looked serious, as if he might, just might, be able to do something about the civil war.
“If Ulfric were no longer camped on my borders waiting to attack, then yes, I'd happily consider assisting in your mad dragon trapping scheme,” Balgruuf sighed.
“You mean it?” Medane pressed. “You swear it on your honour as Jarl?”
“Yes, yes, I swear on my honour as Jarl that if the civil war ceases to be a problem, I will help you trap a dragon in my palace,” Balgruuf sighed. Anything to get the madman off his back. What were the chances of having to honour this promise? Not like Medane Dareche had an army at his back after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week later and two Bretons, father and daughter, and their Orc bodyguard, were seen chatting to Susannah the Wicked in Windhelm, and later hanging out in the New Gnisis Cornerclub and on the docks.
Three weeks after that, and the Argonians were bringing in a lot more shipments than usual, from ships that all seemed to be crewed by Bretons and brought a lot of cargo in by night, but never seemed to take anything away. Meanwhile the Dunmer were looking just that bit more cheerful than usual, and even took Rolff's abuse with a smile.
Two weeks after that, and the uprising happened. Rolff Stone-Fist was out in the Grey Quarter shouting his usual abuse, heard the flare of magic and cries of “The Forsworn shall rise again!” and the last thing he saw was a horde of fur-clad barbarians swathed in flame cloaks pouring out of the Dunmer homes around him.
The guards were quickly overwhelmed, although those that surrendered were spared and homes and businesses were left alone. The effort focused on the Palace of the Kings, and the building might have held had those two new Stormcloak recruits, Borkul the Orc and Lydia Ice-Veins not turned traitor, killed the gate guards and opened the doors to the howling Forsworn horde, led by none other than the feared King in Rags himself, Madanach of the Reach, wielding his Destruction magic to devastating effect.
Ulfric appeared in his steel plate armour, sword at his side, shouting “I have won this battle before, Madanach! FUS RO DAH!”
To his eternal surprise, all the Forsworn soldiers threw up wards in unison as soon as the first syllable left his lips, and Madanach staggered but did not fall. Then he just looked up, cruel, vicious smile on his face that none who saw it ever forgot.
“Is that all?” he purred. “SU GRAH DUN!”
No ordinary mortal should ever have been able to move that fast, but Madanach of the Reach had left behind all claim to being one of those the night he'd finally decided his people needed him and broken out of Cidhna Mine, run into a dragon on the way back, managed to kill it with help from his fellow ex-prisoners and then staggered back in shock as the thing fell apart in fire and yielded up its soul, and suddenly those strange glowing words on all those walls in the various Forsworn hideouts finally made sense. Much research later, not to mention sending Kaie and Odvan off to Solitude in disguise with orders to find some students at the Bards' College, buy them drinks and get every single story about dragons off them they remembered, and Madanach had felt his world pivoting on one single word: Dragonborn.
It had been a bit of a shock to put it mildly, but he was a practical man and once he'd finished calming his nerves with strong drink, he'd admitted the Nords might have some use after all, and trekked up to High Hrothgar.