It was a site similar to Kvatch. Though it was even more hellish. Dagon’s realms were known as the Deadlands. It was an ocean of lava with small volcanic islands scattered across and around, ruined daedric war gates and monoliths dotted these islands.
At the centre island was the largest tower. He assumed that was where he had to get to. A strongly gated bridge blocked the straight way there, but there was one more path to follow. From what he saw it seemed to loop around the gated bridge. And thus he decided to take it as his only option.
A ball of fire flared past his hood. It cme from up on a ledge, another scamp was jumping up and down in frustration at its miss.
Tarthas unslung his bow and nocked an arrow, pulling the bow the length of his arm, up to his cheekbone, as he let the string go he jerked his elbow. A strange trick he had picked up from Aela, it seemed to increase accuracy as well as consistency. Sure enough the arrow hit the mongrel in the chest.
As the one scamp fell a swarm of the creatures started climbing over the ledge, screeching. The horde came charging at the spellsword. He summoned his jackal and unsheathed his silver sword; it glistened with an orange hue in the red light of the Deadlands.
They were shooting flames at him, Tarthas’ eyes turned ghostly blue and the flames invigorated him as he absorbed the magicka, the dragonskin covering his leather and mithril. More of the scamps were crawling towards him. He lopped ones head off while the jackal attacked another.
One tried to land a hit from at his side but the jackal already had formed a shield to protect. The shield, the jackals head opened wide, it jumped into form and consumed the scamp.
Tarthas fiercely and with heavy concentration got into rhythm while surrounded with scamps. One jumped at him, he let it fall on his sword.
In a swift movement he pulled the sword and cut a deep wound across another. He spun around stabbing another of the beings through the shoulder and shot an ice-sickle at one on his right, the spear of ice lodged into the side of its skull. More tried to burn the Breton, but it just gave him more fuel.
And they still kept coming. One finally got a bite out of his arm only to be thrown off with a shrug and and a chain of lightning following him, electrocuting more of the scamps. Tarthas summoned a lightning cloak and started placing ice runes under their feet. Watching them burst the moment they were stepped on into huge pillars of ice, spiking the scamps. With the endless stream of flames his magic never ran out.
And still more were streaming at him. He hadn’t even gotten farther than a few steps from the gate. It had to end some time. But he wouldn’t give up, not today, not this time.
One scamp far out in the hoard screeched something he couldn’t understand and they started to flee. What could make a daedra run in fear?
A larger daedra, the bipedal alligator like Daedroth, two of them. And they looked hungry. Where was Nocturnal’s damned luck when you needed it?
He sheathed his sword and started shooting arrow after arrow at the armored hide of the Daedroths and they advanced mercilessly swatting aside the scamps, lunging down to eat them alive as well. The petty arrows just irritated them and gave them a target.
The spellsword slung his bow and unsheathed his sword; the jackal jumped in his other hand becoming short sword with a jackal head as a cross-guard, its body spread across his fore arm like a long shield, it did not encumber or get in the way as it was spectral.
Tarthas ran full on at the daedroths, they sweeped their cumbersome claws which he easily rolled out of the way of, while cutting at the limb with his long sword. As he stepped out of the roll he was face to face with the other lizard. To be more accurate, face to stomach. He spun around in a whirl of blades hacking at the stomach, spilling black blood and grotesque guts.
Tarthas’ feet had spectral paws and he kicked the deadroth, the corpse was blasted away, his guts spilling as it flew.
He jumped up, lifting himself higher than he knew he could. Divines, he loved his familiar. He was level with the Daedroth’s face and cut its head straight off. Black blood spurted out of its neck. The beast shuddering until death reached it.
What more would he see in these Deadlands?
He finally took the side road, praying it would lead to the central tower. On the right was a cliff face with looming thorned weeds that tried to grab Tarthas as he walked past them.
A couple more scamps crossed his path and there were strange flesh like pods dangling from some of the thorned trees. Curiosity got the better of him and het pulled open one of the pods and found gold, soul gems as well as a valuable little dwemer dagger enchanted with fire. He should check these out more often.
As he passed another lake of lava there was a charred and burnt corpse his hand reaching for something to latch onto before his death. Tarthas eyed it curiously. Something urged him to get closer, a silver glimmer by the corpse and the lava. A silver axe!
As he knelt down to pick up the axe the charred human grasped his arm. It was rough and hot, painfully hot. The charred man gasped hoarsely “Help… me!” It’s eyeless burned sockets opened wide “I need water! Daedra… everywhere! Don’t continue! You will burn! The fire! Hot! Burning…” The corpse turned to ash and drifted with the wind. Tarthas left the axe and ran off the way he had to go. He stopped a distance away to heal his burned arm. Only to find it was perfectly fine. He looked at where the corpse had been, only to see it still lying as he had seen it.
He shook his head, but the charred body was still there. What was he thinking? He needed to continue. Get this Oblivion gate shut. Somehow…
I hope you enjoyed, comments would be appreciated.
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