» Thu Jun 14, 2012 10:17 am Dominion Incursion
Do’Alkosh woke suddenly. His room was dark, his candles had burned out earlier in the night, no moonlight shone through the window. It was quiet. He looked around, his cat eyes seeing what no man could see in the darkness. He was alone in his room, nothing moved. Do’Alkosh relaxed, let go of the dagger beneath his pillow, and sat up in bed. His Housecarl, Calder, was stirring in the room across the hall. Do’Alkosh could hear him shuffling around in the darkness. Suddenly a light shone out of Calder’s room into the hallway. Calder walked into the hallway holding a candle in his left hand and a shortsword in his right, passed Do’Alkosh’s room without a word toward the stairs. Do’Alkosh listened to him on the stairs and then heard him open the front door.
Do’Alkosh sprang out of bed, threw on his blue robe, and grabbed his Dragon Priest dagger. Calder was starting up the stairs as Do’Alkosh was coming down. Calder jumped at the sight of Do’Alkosh.
“My Thane.” Calder said. “There is a messenger here for you.”
“Show him in.” Do’Alkosh said.
“He refuses, my Thane, he says there is no time.”
Do’Alkosh nodded and walked past Calder. The front door was open, and in the door frame stood an Imperial Legionnaire holding a lantern. He was panting, steam rising off his skin in the cold air, Do’Alkosh could smell the sweat, and something else. Do’Alkosh breathed in the cold air pouring through the door from the outside. It was fear. The imperial reeked of fear.
“Legate,” the imperial said addressing Do’Alkosh by his rank, “The Jarl wishes to speak with you. I am to escort you to the palace.”
“What is this about?” Do’Alkosh asked.
“The Dominion, sir, they’re invading.”
Do’Alkosh heard Calder gasp behind him. “What?” He asked the legionnaire.
“The Dominion have invaded Skyrim, sir.”
“Where?”
“I know nothing else, sir, I was just sent to get you.”
Do’Alkosh stared at the soldier for a moment, nodded, and turned for the stairs. “Come inside and close the door,” he said as headed towards his armory. Calder quickly followed Do’Alkosh upstairs. Do’Alkosh reached for his Ebony armor then changed his mind. He went to his Legion armor and hesitated. He wanted the authority of his Legate rank, but did not want to stir up the ire of the citizenry. Some loved the Empire and the Legions, others had fought against them in the civil war or lost loved ones to Imperial troops. He stood there in his armory looking from one set of armor to the next.
“My Thane.” Calder said behind him. Do’Alkosh turned. Calder motioned to his full set of Dragon Plate Armor. A good choice; it was heavy armor, forged by his own hand from the bones of Dragons he had slain. “This is Skyrim.” Calder said.
Do’Alkosh nodded. Calder’s helpfulness surprised Do’Alkosh. He was usually sullen and reserved, even snippy at times. Perhaps, Do’Alkosh sometimes wondered, Calder resented Do’Alkosh. Do’Alkosh was not a Nord, not native to these lands, not even a man. He was a Khajit of Elsweyr, banished from his own lands, but to many Nords he was just a cat, a beast of a lower order. Calder’s attitude was common, so common Do’Alkosh expected it from most Nords.
Calder helped Do’Alkosh into the Dragon Plate armor. Afterwards Do’Alkosh chose his ebony bow, his katana he called Do’Blade, and his shield Spellbreaker. Calder nodded at Do’Alkosh’s choices and started toward his room to equip himself in his steel armor and battle axe. “No,” said Do’Alkosh, “take this.” He gestured toward the ebony armor. Calder stood frozen for a moment. He shook his head no. “Please.” Do’Alkosh said. Calder nodded, came forward, and took the ebony armor off the rack. Do’Alkosh stepped behind him and took the straps in his hand.
“My Thane, no, it is not proper.” Calder said.
“My friend, yes.” Do’Alkosh said. Calder looked at Do’Alkosh in silence, differently than he had ever looked at him before. Do’Alkosh took the straps and secured the armor on Calder. Calder, in silence, allowed Do’Alkosh to help him.
The Palace of Kings was chaotic with frantic activity. Three times as many guards stood watch at the entrance, looking nervous and annoyed. Several townspeople loitered near them asking essentially the same question, “where was the invasion…how many…what was going on…” Inside, the deposed Jarls stood in the corner whispering. They glared at Do’Alkosh as he walked through the hall past them. He expected that. Recently they had been Jarls, rulers of their own holds, and loyal to Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion. Do’Alkosh had fought in the Legion against the Stormcloaks, destroyed their armies and risen in the Legion ranks until Windhelm had fallen. In fact, Do’Blade was the very weapon Do’Alkosh had used to fell Ulfric. The Jarls loyal to Ulfric had been deposed, and were imprisoned here in the Palace of Kings. They stared at Do’Alkosh, whispered behind his back, plotted revenge, but did nothing.
Jarl Brunwulf Free-Winter stood with Legate Hrollod, the commander of the Imperial forces in Windhelm. The two men were surrounded by ten Legionnaires, one of whom wore a soaking wet, mud splattered riding cloak. Jarl Brunwulf looked up from the map when Do’Alkosh and Calder entered, Legate Hrollod came to attention and saluted. Do’Alkosh returned his salute, took off his helmet and put it under his arm.
“My Thane.” Calder said, holding out his hand for the helmet. Do’Alkosh was surprised, Calder had never done this before. Do’Alkosh handed Calder his helmet and nodded gratefully.
“What is the situation?” he asked.
“Two thousand Dominion troops in twenty ships landed on our shore yesterday.” Legate Hrollod said, pointing at the map southwest of Solitude. “They were seen marching to Solitude. General Tullius sent riders to every city and Legion fort. We fear that they have besieged the city by now, sir.”
“What were the General’s orders?” Do’Alkosh asked.
“To assemble the Legion and defend Skyrim from the Dominion.”
“That’s a little vague.” Do’Alkosh said.
“General Tullius seems to be more concerned with the immediate defense of Solitude.”
“Where are we to assemble?”
“You, sir, have been given command of the Legion.”
“What? I am not a general.”
“You are now, sir.” Legate Hrollod said, handing Do’Alkosh a set of orders. “A temporary command as long as Tullius is stuck in Solitude, you are to lead the Legion with the rank of brevetted General .”
Do’Alkosh stared at Legate Hrollod, opened the orders in his hand and read them, looked again at Hrollod in disbelief. “There are many more qualified than I.” He said.
“General Tullius chose you.” Jarl Brunwulf said.
“I am not a Nord.”
“We know.” The Jarl said.
“You are an Imperial citizen, an experienced soldier, and General of the Legion. Now, sir, what are your orders?” Legate Hrollod said formally.
Do’Alkosh looked down at the map. Fear and uncertainty filled him for a moment and he said nothing. “How many men can you spare from Windhelm?”
“All but twenty, but that would reduce the guard to two ten man, twelve hour tours. They could not hold the city against attack.”
“It is a necessary risk. And the forts?” Do’Alkosh asked.
“They are barely manned now. We cannot lessen the guard.”
“Then abandon them.”
Legate Hrollod balked. “Sir, we cannot.”
Do’Alkosh looked at Legate Hrollod. “Not one of the forts can withstand the Dominion army. We need the Legion assembled, not divided among twenty forts and cities across Skyrim.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We must send the orders immediately. We must also contact the College mages, the Legate in Riften, and…”
“And who, sir?”
“We need to write the orders and send out the riders.”
“Where are we to assemble, sir?” Legate Hrollod asked.
“Rorikstead.”
Do’Alkosh, Jarl Brunwulf, and Legate Hrollod spent the next hour writing orders for every Imperial unit in Skyrim, a request for the college of mages, and orders and requests for every Jarl in every hold. When the orders were written and given to the riders, Do’Alkosh made ready to depart for Rorikstead by way of Whiterun. Legate Hrollod would depart at noon with all the Legionnaires that he could muster.
Do’Alkosh walked quickly out of the council room into the great hall. The deposed Jarls were quiet, glaring at Do’Alkosh. He strode straight up to them, stopping just feet from them.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said to them, “but what I feared has now come to pass. The Aldmeri Dominion have us outnumbered and unprepared. We have sent word to Cyrodiil, the Legions will come to our aid, but it will take weeks. In that time, the Aldmeri army will conquer all of Skyrim unless we stand against them. There are too few legionnaires left to hold against them.
“I know you hate me. But I also know you love Skyrim. Some of you are in contact with rebel forces. We need them now, we need every Nord and citizen of Skyrim to help us defeat the Dominion. I am asking you to help defend Skyrim.”
“We will never follow you, cat.” spat Korir, former Jarl of Winterhold.
“I would not expect you to follow me, nor would I ask. I ask that you stand with me and all of Skyrim against the Dominion.”
“What would we gain from it?” Korir asked.
“I could only ask the Queen for your freedom. Prove yourselves worthy and loyal to the Queen, to Skyrim, and I know she will consider my request.”
“Never.” Korir said.
Do’Alkosh looked at the group. Korir’s face was filled with loathing, but Skald and Laila looked hard at Do’Alkosh. They detested him, but loved Skyrim. Perhaps they would join him yet.
In the courtyard outside the Palace of Kings six fully armored people waited for Do’Alkosh. Five of them wore the distinctive armor of the Blades and the last wore plain steel armor. Delphine, leader of the Blades, walked purposely toward Do’Alkosh. Calder stepped in front of Do’Alkosh and drew his axe. The Imperial guards drew their weapons in response, the Blades drew theirs as well.
“HOLD!” Do’Alkosh shouted. He opened his arms and embraced Delphine. Calder lowered his axe and stepped behind Do’Alkosh.
“They have come for you.” She said in his ear.
“You mean you have come for me?” He asked her, looking at her face.
“No, the Dominion is here for you. The Dragonborn is a threat to them, to their plans for an Elven Empire. We pledge ourselves to protect you.” She said.
Do’Alkosh nodded, looking at Esbern, Kharjo, Illia, and Golldir. They bowed slightly to him. The sixth warrior in the plain steel was Jordis, his Housecarl from Solitude. She looked anxious. Do’Alkosh beckoned her over to him.
“I am glad…” Do’Alkosh began and stopped. He smelled blood on her, dried blood from fresh wounds. “What happened?”
“An intruder, two days ago, my Thane. He was looking for you.”
“Did he…what happened?”
“He is dead. I found this on his body.” She handed him a note. Do’Alkosh read the note. His name and description were on it.
“You were right to find me.” Do’Alkosh said.
“I was right as well, they are after you.” Delphine said.
“We don’t know that.” Do’Alkosh said to her.
“What race was the intruder?” Delphine asked Jordis.
“Khajit.”
Delphine looked knowingly at Do’Alkosh, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
Do’Alkosh, his two Housecarls, and the five Blades rode for Whiterun at a full gallop, arriving in the dead of night. The Jarl was up, organizing his forces, and the entire city guard was on duty patrolling the walls and roads. Do’Alkosh left the Blades and his Housecarls in the Great Hall. Delphine and Illia refused to leave his side, so together they joined Jarl Belgruuf and his council inside the war room, studying a map of Skyrim.
“Do’Alkosh, my spirit is strengthened now that you are here.” Jarl Belgruuf the Greater said.
“What news?” Do’Alkosh asked.
“Two thousand Dominion have besieged Solitude. The Imperial forces and their General are imprisoned inside. That’s all we know.” The Jarl said quickly.
“What are your plans?” Do’Alkosh asked.
“We do not have the forces to contend with their army.” Irileth, the Jarl’s Captain of the Guard, said. She was a dark elf, not native to these lands, but fiercely loyal to this Jarl. “We will strengthen the walls, recruit and train civilians for the defense of the city.”
“There is no time. Whiterun will fall.”
“What do you suggest, cat? No army in Skyrim is large enough to defeat the Dominion army. We have to wait for the Legions in Cyrodil to reinforce us.” Irileth responded angrily.
“That will take weeks. In that time the Dominion will conquer every city of Skyrim one by one. There will be no cities to reinforce. The Legions coming north will be slaughtered in the mountain passes.” Do’Alkosh said calmly.
Jarl Belgruuf stepped back from the map at the table. “What do you suggest, Dragonborn?”
Do’Alkosh looked at the Jarl, then to Irileth, “We must meet them.”
“With what army, fool?” Irileth said.
“Forgive Irileth, Do’Alkosh, she is passionate and ready to fight. She has a point, though. What army will we send to meet them?” Jarl Belgruuf asked seriously.
“Twenty men from the city guard of each hold, the mages from the college in Winterhold, and the legionnaires spread throughout the land are already being mobilized. Even those still loyal to the Stormcloaks have been offered amnesty to fight.” Do’Alkosh said.
“Twenty men? That’s half our garrison. No.” Irileth said.
“Then ten. Ten men.”
“No, we cannot-“
“Silence, Irileth. Ten men from each hold, the mages, the companions, Stormcloaks and legionnaires. Hmmm.” Jarl Belgruuf scratched his beard. “It can be done, but is it enough? But where do we assemble.”
Do’Alkosh pointed at the map. “Rorikstead. In one day.”
“That is impossible. It cannot be done.” Irileth crossed her arms and scowled.
“Then Skyrim will fall.”
“I will send riders immediately to every hold and the college. Irileth, ask the Companions to meet us in Rorikstead and prepare to ride.”
“Riders have already been sent.” Do’Alkosh said.
“Us? My liege…” Irileth began.
“I will not sit here and wait while my home is invaded by those damn elves.”
“My liege…”
“There will be no discussion, it is an order, now move or I will find someone who will do as I command.”
“Yes, my liege.” Irileth said and departed.
“What will you do?” Jarl Belgruuf asked Do’Alkosh.
“I have been given command of the Fourth Legion, I am mustering them at Rorikstead. I will collect Lydia, my housecarl of Whiterun, and go to Rorikstead tonight.”
“I must see to the preparations here, I will meet you there with the Companions and twenty of my guard at midday.”
“The Companions, good, I had not thought of them.”
Do’Alkosh bowed to the Jarl and left. He walked quickly down the steps to his home in Whiterun to find Lydia. She was already wearing full armor and waiting by the door. “My Thane,” she said to Do’Alkosh, “what do you wish of me.”
“Come with us.” Do’Alkosh said. Together, Do’Alkosh, Lydia, Jordis, Calder, and the Blades left the city gates and rushed to the stables. The ride to Rorikstead took the rest of the night, over the tundra of Whiterun hold. Rorikstead was a small village on the road to Solitude or Markarth, on top of a steep hill at the foot of the western mountains. Dawn was rising in the east as Do’Alkosh rode into town. Four guardsmen stopped them, demanding they dismount and identify themselves.
Lydia spoke first, telling the guards who Do’Alkosh was and his purpose there. The guards seemed relieved. Do’Alkosh rode through the village and stopped on the north side of the village in a large field. He dismounted, gave his reins to Calder, lay on the ground near the rode and slept. The clatter of horses and armor woke him well before midday. Jarl Belgruuf, his twenty guardsmen, ten Companions, and another fifteen guardsmen from Morthal were making camp, setting up tents, making fires, and roping off stables. Irileth walked over to Do’Alkosh when she saw him stir.
“I thought you would sleep all day, cat.” She said.
Do’Alkosh said nothing to her, simply nodded to her and walked over to Jarl Belgruuf’s tent, clearly marked with his banner flying over it. Inside Jarl Belgruuf was staring at a map with Vilkas, a companion warrior, and the leader of the Morthal guard.
“Do’Alkosh,” the Jarl said, “just the Khajit I wanted to see. Windhelm and Winterhold guards should be here by nightfall, the legionnaires before that. I have no word from Riften, Markarth, Dawnstar, or Falkreath. There are others volunteering as well. We shall know our strength by morning. What is our plan?”
“Solitude will hold for days against two thousand, for months against two hundred. We must lure the Dominion away.”
“How do we do that? There are forty of us, thousands of them?” Irileth asked.
“There will be more of us in the morning. By then the Dominion scouts will have seen us and reported us. We will make for the Dragonbridge. There is no other crossing or ford for miles. The Dominion will send a force to contest our crossing and we will slaughter them, and any reinforcements they send afterwards.”
“How will forty stop a thousand?”
“We need one hundred. We will take control of the east side of the bridge. They will cross the bridge to engage us, but their numbers will make no difference on the narrow bridge. We will kill them as they walk into us.”
“Why,” Irileth said exasperated, “would they cross the bridge to engage us?”
“They are the Aldmeri Dominion, the past and future rulers of Tamriel. Their arrogance will drive them to cross against us.”
“I see.” Said the Jarl. “It could work. But will steel work on mages and magical swords?”
“Spears. We will have a shield wall studded with a hundred spears. The college mages will enchant our shields to repulse magic and the Dominion will be forced to close on us. Our spear wall will meet the enemy before they can engage us.”
The Jarl stared at the map for a moment, nodding. He looked up at Irileth, “Send men to cut down every tree and make as many spears as possible. Get the blacksmith at Rorikstead to forge as many spearheads as he can.” Irileth nodded curtly and left the tent. “It will be a great battle.” Belgruuf said to Do’Alkosh with a giant smile on his face.
By morning there were two hundred thirty five men in the field, armed with rough spears and newly forged spearheads. No other Jarls had come, but guardsmen, legionnaires, and Stormcloaks from every hold except Solitude, even eleven mages from the college, had come. Jarl Belgruuf was de-facto leader of the army, but Do’Alkosh was general of the legionnaires. Do’Alkosh went through the camp all night making preparations, insuring the spear heads were good quality and mounted well, watching the mages enchant the shields, dividing the two hundred into two units of fifty footmen, two units of archers, a unit of mages, and every man or woman with a horse, about thirty of them, into the cavalry.
They set out at first light, half of the cavalry lead by Do’Alkosh first, followed by one unit of archers, foot, mages, foot, archers, and the rest of the cavalry led by Irileth. Jarl Belgruuf rode beside Do’Alkosh at the head of the column, much to the displeasure of Irileth. It was an hour’s march to the Dragonbridge, but Do’Alkosh went slowly, scanning the horizon in every direction for any sign of the Dominion army. Do’Alkosh’s scouts returned and said the Dominion forces had been running into the town of Dragon Bridge, just on the other side of the bridge, for the last twenty minutes. Do’Alkosh smiled, his men were rested and knew the plan, but the Dominion forces were exhausted from their run and had no plan.
Do’Alkosh stopped the column near the bridge, but far enough away out of bow shot or magicka. He kept his column in line as if he were going to cross as soon as he figured out a plan. Dominion forces continued to stream into the village, in ones or groups of ten. Sometimes the wind caught a shout or command and carried across the river canyon to his ears, he could never understand what was said but it always sounded rushed and frantic to him, which pleased him greatly. They were disorganized, unusual for the Aldmeri Dominion, but it suited Do’Alkosh perfectly. Soon there were as many Dominion forces across the bridge as Imperial forces ready to meet them. He saw them organize into units, form up into a single column, and begin to march across the bridge. Do’Alkosh had predicted the arrogance of the Dominion accurately. He felt Irileth looking at him, and couldn’t help but feel vindicated.
His forces were already deployed in battle order, just lined up perpendicular to the way he wanted them. He shouted his order and his army moved. The front archers ran to the left side of the bridge, the two units of shield and spear foot formed a “V” formation at the entrance to the bridge, and the last unit of archers went to the right of the bridge. His mages stood behind the foot to heal any that were wounded, and his cavalry behind them to strike at any Dominion units that broke through.
When the leading Dominion units were halfway across the bridge, lightning bolts, fireballs, and ice bolts flew out from the leading mages. The strike was meant to decimate the front ranks and cause fear and panic to spread throughout Do’Alkosh’s ranks. The magic repulsing shields of his footmen worked and there was no panic, no casualties. He ordered his archers let loose and the lightly armored or unarmored mages fell in droves. The battle of Dragon Bridge had begun.
The Dominion army could not break Do’Alkosh’s lines. They charged at the footmen, pushing the spear wall back, crowding the entrance to the bridge with hundreds of men, but his lines held and the spearmen, archers, and mages cut down the Dominion forces. The Dominion’s own numbers became their weakness; there was no room to maneuver or retreat on the bridge. Two thirds of the Dominion fell before the call rang out to send in reinforcements. Within the course of an hour, five hundred more elves ran from Solitude to Dragon Bridge and, still panting from the run, the Elven commander ordered them across. Again and again they fell without breaking Do’Alkosh’s lines. At one point a group of forty Khajit leapt over the lines and scattered the college mages. Do’Alkosh charged and mowed them down with his cavalry.
When the Dominion broke and ran Do’Alkosh separated his foot and charged his cavalry into the rear of the retreating elves, cutting them down as they ran across the bridge, through the village, and up the steep road to Solitude. He did not follow them far, wary of a trap, but cut down half of those fleeing. He returned to his army on the other side of the bridge, amidst cheers and the beating of spears on shields. His army of just over two hundred had won and killed nearly five hundred Dominion, compared to his sixteen slain. It was a great victory. The Dominion army would have to respond, as a quarter of their men had just died, and Do’Alkosh would be there. There would be more battles, more death, Do’Alkosh knew. The Dominion incursion had just begun.
) per day, with lots of factors but still. That means a 200 km trip like the one I mentioned above would take an army moving at 20 km/day 10 days (I hope the math is right) to march from city A to city B in my real-world example.