Jarl Balgruuf The Greatest

WARNING: READ BELOW

A/N: These chapters will be long, this is mainly because I feel like short chapters are a sign of lack of effort, but in reality it's because long chapters are impossible to get out on a daily basis, especially when you've a job.

 So a warning for you all for this fic:

 PROS:

 Extremely long chapters that are packed with the juicy plot and other shenanigans that come with it.

 Higher quality; this is debatable but in my opinion the higher the word count the higher the quality, as I'm able to get more detail and smaller plots across with more realism and possibly more realistic actions and decisions.

 (Potentially) Slower pace, only to ensure that all of my bases covered.

 CONS:

 Potential nothing burger; something I noticed with myself with my other fan fic is that I pad it out by giving you all a bunch of words that summarized a whole load of nothing - something I'll try my damndest to avoid.

 Slower update schedule, I'll try to aim for at least a chapter a week but I won't hold out any hope for that ladies and gents.

 And finally higher potential burnout (I love Skyrim so I doubt this) but it must be said, higher word counts for me usually a higher chance for me to get stuck on a setting or an action that I myself have difficulties passing.

 Why for such a warning?

 It's just my way to get where I'm coming from to my readers, feel free to criticize me for my views, and I'm more than open to debate them. But this is simply my way of telling everyone here what type of fan fic this'll be.

 That's all.

——————————

 When people get reincarnated or transmigrated they usually get into a rather good universe, DxD, RWBY, Harry Potter, MHA, or WoW, or even Warhammer universe.

 Me?

 I got Skyrim.

 Sorry, not Skyrim, I got all of Tamriel, and you know how people usually got a cheat ability? Say a system? Infinite mana? Some obscure power that can get stronger infinitely? Or even a power that the denizens of the universe have no clue about?

 I got nothing.

 That's what I got.

 Sure, there's someone else out there that's probably more unlucky, I mean, Warhammer 40k with no cheat sounds worse than what I got, so I don't really got a voice to complain.

 But complain I will.

 For you see, I didn't die, no. I went to sleep and woke up, and no, I wasn't a nobody or something like that. In fact, I just got my business to over a million in worth of profits in annual reports. My employees were mainly veterans as I was also one, despite me not serving in any combat zones, I wasn't as high and mighty to say or claim that I fought..

 Instead I related to them due to the bullshit our superiors put us through, sweep the runway! Get outside in formation so we can throw away your alcohol! Stand waiting outside at 4 in the morning due to the fact that someone missed CQ, Firewatch, or whatever miscellaneous bullshit they pulled out of their ass.

 As for my business?

 It was a construction company, with all the necessary benefits that come with one, from holidays, 401k's, veteran benefits, accident and injury insurance. It was busy work, but damn was it gratifying to succeed when you do.

 Now, as for who I am, I'm Jarl Bulgruuf, yes sir, Jarl Ballin' himself. Or that's what you'd think, instead I'm only 16 years old in the middle of the religious war that the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, aka, the Thalmor.

 Now, waking up in the middle of a war camp and having memories that weren't your own assault your mind left much to be desired, and a nose bleed. Being the jarling of Whiterun, the older brother of Hrongar, and the son of Eivor the jarl of Whiterun.

 This wasn't ideal, but it was the best I could get, I wasn't the Dragonborn so no need to be a yes man and get pegged by everyone around me to deal with dragur, dragons, vampires, and bandits.

 On another hand, ruling. I was destined for it, and I won't lie, I liked the idea; I was used to the feeling of being respected. Also, my modern knowledge of building and financing will go a long way in terms of ruling.

 But that leads me to the biggest issue of my life, my current situation. The placement of me… I'm not in Skyrim if you want the short end of it, I'm currently on the farmlands, the very burnt farmlands.

 We're in the heights of the Great War against The High Elves, and let me tell you, it's not pretty. From the tortured, to the women, to the children. The war has taken its toll on everyone involved, during these three years I've seen, been told, and have done some downright horrendous shit.

 A mother and daughter pair laid on the ground before me as I looked down from my horse, dead their state was, haunting their visage was even more.

 Burnt skin that had their bones sticking out of their jetted and blackened excuse of muscles, their eyes long gone leaving only sockets. The mother, probably in an attempt to let her child go without fear, held her hand over the child's eyes. That did little from the gaping, teeth less, mouth that hangs open.

 "L-Lord…" a voice called out, looking down and to my left showed a man as young as me. Looking green in the face as he held his leather covered hands over his mouth in an attempt to hold down his breakfast.

 That brings me to another thing.

 My men.

 Numbering a total of 1,500 my Legion wasn't really well equipped, we've iron and steel, but that did little to make me worry about The Thalmor. Well over 500 was of companions from Jorrvaskr, from the Dumer to the Nords, to a stray Khajiit.

 My Legion originally consisted of Nords from the Companions, but over three years of battle we've taken in the prisoners and anyone willing to take arms against The High Elves. Right now, every race except for the Elves were in his Legion, and were only growing in steadiness.

 "Take the bodies and bury them, give them a proper burial" I spoke up after noticing the man had troubles getting his words out, the more grizzled members nodded and immediately went to work.

 Now, it's time to get back to me, I… hated this. No. It wasn't the fact of what was in front of me, it was because the Thalmor did this over the worship of Talos.

 In my eyes it wasn't that big of a deal but apparently to the Thalmor it was the very front to their existence, and as such, it kicked off the Great War in a blood fest. In all honesty, war crimes belonged to both sides, from what I've done to what they've done.

 Or rather the remnants of it.

 Now for why I'm out here in the farmlands, it's not only to protect our food supply, but it's to track down the general behind this. He's been a thorn in our supply chains for months now, and after so long we've tracked him down to the fort before this small village, I saw it in the horizon just crawling with the elves.

 I'm going to set up camp, but if I did they'd have all these plains to surround as such, a bit of modern knowledge came in here.

 Whiterun's calvary was unmatched in Skyrim due to the plains there, as such my 250 calvary men were extremely skilled and highly trained. This is where my idea comes into play, it was Rome or maybe it was Ghengis Khan, either way, I don't remember; but the plan goes like this, harass the fort with cavalry and archers both day and night, wearing down the opposition and making them sleep deprived.

 It was a good plan, or at least it was to me.

 "Get me my cavalry and archer captains, I've a plan" I commanded as I stepped down from my horse by battle axe clanking on my back, as I grabbed the mother and daughter duo, their corpses still warm, a sign of magic being used as I walked towards the holes where they'll be buried.

 My Legion fought all over Cyrodill, pushing back and winning all of our battles so far, and our high was noticeable, as my Legion was the top 100 most popular in the empire. They never let you know how many legions the empire has until you've seen it for yourself, I've seen the numbers it was gigantic on how many are fighting, much less dying.

 I sighed as I gently laid the duo down onto a grave made for them, it wasn't the best by far, their names unknown and as such their family would never know, but it's what I can offer.

 "To Sonvengarde" say what you will, but I took to the Nordic way of life easier than I want to admit, and no, it wasn't just 'live hard die harder' type of life. There were hidden rules and traditions that he's taken to heart.

 And all in all, I've to say Sonvengarde is the best place for afterlife, maybe it's the information that has assaulted his mind when he got here, but it's far better than some bastards like Molag Bal's afterlife.

"Brother" turning around I was met with my brother Hrongar, he spoke with hatred and anger that was warranted from anyone else in our situation "The High Elves are watching us from the fort"

 "Let them, they won't act on it" I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked up to the fort on the hill.

 "Why? We should be marching onto them and stroke them down for the women and children they've slaughtered" Hrongar spat out.

 "Tell me brother, if we march onto them as they sit on top of the hill, how many of us will die from their archers and spellflingers?" I asked him as I grabbed a shovel that one of my soldiers gave me and started to fill in the grave.

 I didn't let him answer "too much, as such I've a plan"

 Hrongar stared down at the dirt that slowly filled the grave of the duo with a frown before he met my eyes, measured and steel, he's seen as much as I have.

 "What is it brother?"

 "We'll have our Cavalry harass any Thalmor that comes out of their fort, while taking pot shots inside with arrows, and then our archers will also do the same" I spoke as I crossed my arms.

 "That was the plan" I bemused.

 Hrongar caught on "was?"

 "Yes, it was, however it's on a hill and as such easy to defend, for all intensive purposes, it's a suicide to seize the fort in such an environment." I gestured around as Hrongar nodded.

 "So what would you have us do?" Hrongar.

 "We will besiege the fort using the wood here" I said.

 "T-the burnt wood? Brother, the wood here can't survive a fire bolt, much less a siege" Hrongar shook his head.

 I smiled lightly "not in that way, we gather the wood and set it ablaze, in one massive spot"

 Hrongar huffed "that sounds pointless"

 "It isn't" time for a physical lesson dear brother! "For you see, when the eye is used to a bright object, say the sun, it attempts to see light as little as possible to not damage the eye"

 Hrongar attempted to follow but I saw that he was quickly lost, so to hell with it "…okay, the brighter the light in the dark the harder it is to the the shadows within the dark."

 "You'll have us sneak in?" He asked as I nodded.

 "It'll be too difficult to see us in time, much less to stop a hundred or so wood elf's shoot arrows at the back of the fort allowing the bulk of us to kick down their front gate and skewer them on our swords" I smiled as his right fist open and clench again a habit he has when he's bloodthirsty.

 And my captains have arrived, let's get this underway.

——————————

 The war was going great, the pathetic empire was as weak and predictable as they'd predicted, the heresy of the empire isn't going to stand anymore with him and his men here.

 Harassing the empire's food supply was good, sad that they couldn't get to Skyrim and attack the empire's largest potato importer. That damn vegetable tasted awful, but it can be used in too many ways and has been fueling the empires' war efforts for far too long!

 Swallowing his saliva, a bad habit he inherited from his professors in the officer school he attended. He shook his head as he peered at the reports, he's been getting them more and more, ever since his detachment was cut off from the Dominion he's been hunted and clawing his way away from the same Legion that followed him.

 And the leader was no mere Tribune, it was a jarling from Whiterun, a Nord. That wasn't a cause of concern, such brutes were simple minded and easy to control, outflank, and slaughter.

 But not this one.

 It was Balgruuf The Great.

 He only gained such a title given by his peers due to his consistency of slaughtering his kind, win after win, each outlandish than before. From harassing a war camp day and night with small skirmishes so that they couldn't rest before they were overrun, to the outlandish act of making an entire 25,000 detachment of Thalmor soldiers believe a staggering 100,000 reinforcements were coming from the ocean from Skyrim.

 Only for a further 50,000 sent to guard a beach that never once saw combat. By the time the generals knew of this it was far too late, a wedge was made in their borders and they lost Elsweyr due to this mistake, they managed to take it back but at the cost of nearly a million.

 Balgruuf was a trickster and a cunning tactician, as such the guess was made that he was weak in combat, and as such they paid for another mistake at his behest.

 They were on the verge of the winning of Cryodill, the seat of the empire, all they needed was a rather large port town. The empire had no navy at this point and as such it was easy to think it was easy to conquer.

 Only for Balgruuf's men to be there.

 Half of his size now, but equally in determination and disgusting grit.

 108 days of continuous bombardment from them and they still failed to take the town, how so? Balgruuf let them take the town multiple times, only for ambushes and bombardments of their own to take their men and the boats that docked.

 Usually any one that went to the town never came back, and the very few that did recounted the actions of Balgruuf and his men, to sticking to the shadows and using the ruined town's rooftops to strike down at them, each time they thought they took the town, they came out of nowhere and killed either all or 95% of those that went to fight.

 In the end over 4,000 elves died and 40 ships were taken from them compared against the force of a mere 750 legionnaires.

 It brought him great shame, shame that brought him here, to the farmlands.

 And now, Balgruuf is here.

 Expect the unexpected, and as such when he put the report down he wanted to skewer the elf before him, but it would do next to nothing but provide small amounts of satisfaction. He met the eyes of the elf.

 "What are they doing?" 

 "Building a fire my Lord"

 "…" the elf shifted and liked his lips in the silence, no doubt nervous of his general's actions.

 He got up, throwing the chair back in the process which nearly broke on the cobblestone floor and immediately went outside to see for himself. The air felt cold inside his lungs despite it being the summer as he saw a faint bonfire that dwarfed the fires onto lighthouses.

 The legion that surrounded it seemed to move with action, Balgruuf had a plan, either way, he wasn't going to take this lying down. Looking around he had a force of almost 3k with him. Exhaling he glared at the disgusting beings down the hill.

 Maybe it's time he went on the offensive since they had this Legion chasing them?

—————————

 I smiled as I noticed the gates open, it's time to hit them with the double whammy!

 "Men, listen up!" Almost all eyes were on me "Sisters and Brothers of the sword have fallen to these elfs! Fair women and fair men has died by their magic and I'm sure you've seen it first hand" 

 I inhaled "Then they decided to insult us, not in the way of words but in the way of actions, instead of meeting on the battlefield and killing us holding swords and shields they rather kill those holding books and wheat!"

 I gestured over to the fire "This. This isn't some form of show, this is the part where you will avenge them, be it Sonvengarde, Hist, Far Shores, or even Dreamsleeve! They actively mock everyone in each of our afterlives!"

 I then pointed at the fort that had a small force of Thalmor coming out of the gates and coming down the hill with my battle axe, the weight of it feeling far more comfortable than my past life would ever want it to be.

 "They laugh and pleasure themselves at the thought of innocent people's suffering, well, no more! They die, they die and be forgotten from the Divine's minds, for even they will shame them" I hissed.

 "So I want you to fight, not for me, not for the empire, not for the divines, not for yourselves, fight for the innocent people they've killed while laughing, raping, and pillaging." Then arrows and magic flew, most of them aimed at me.

 I immediately dropped to the floor, as my men gathered themselves and turned to see the elfs, rapidly approaching, sure I wasn't able to finish my speech but it wasn't my best work.

 Once the magic and arrows done sailing over me. I stood up and held my steel battle axe over my shoulders "So fight, rage, kill, kill them as how they'll kill us without mercy, for the empire, for Talos!"

 The last bit was only to spite The High Elfs but it only emboldened my men to attack harder and faster, both women and men met in the middle but just because I used underhanded tactics due to always being outnumbered didn't mean that his forces were weak.

 Nah, it was a ruse, for you see, using highly secret training measures (DBZ style) they were far stronger than what they look, this is due to the fact that I had forced them to go through weighted training.

 And as such they were quite strong.

 Who knew that Dragon Ball's training methods actually worked?

 Okay, now that I'm thinking about it, it's making it seem like I'm using the men and women that follow me as test subjects.

 I immediately jumped into the fray, starting off by blocking a cross attack by an elf and met its wrist with the handle of my battle axe, before I pulled away and slammed the blade downwards onto the skull of the elf. This broke the helmet and my blade was lodged perfectly in the middle of the elf's head.

 This sight was easier to get over after a while, the blood, bone, gore, the death. The elf's mouth was wide open and her eyes rolled back, I placed a foot between her breasts of her chest plate and kicked her off of my axe, blood followed and I blinked.

 Ducking underneath a swipe I sidestepped in my crouched position while swinging my battle axe and with a smile I refused to acknowledge the axe head met true in the elf's gut. He crumpled forwards, his armor having no match for true steel, but the elf had more willpower than I thought as he looked up with gritted teeth.

 Pulling away from the axe in his gut I let it go as I dodged another much weaker strike before I lunged forwards and kicked the knee of the elf as he yelled and fell to the side before I grabbed the handle of my axe.

 Looking into the face of the elf I pulled out my axe before I gripped it closer to it's bloodied head and slammed it into the throat of the elf, coating the axe head with the blood as the elf's shocked a fearful face matched with the gurgling nose his throat made.

 Exhaling, I pulled my axe out before I looked around, we were winning, that much was clear, it appeared to be a small force, only being close to 300, small in terms of men he had.

 Laughter reached my ears "haha! Brother, these elfs are as predictable as ever when it comes to you! Tell me you dirty dog, how do you do it?"

 Hrongar laughed as he walked up, his warhammer coated in blood and brain matter, his left chest dotted with blood, it seemed he had fun.

 "Oh you know, milk drinking" I smiled only to get a bigger laugh out of him.

 "Lord Balgruuf!" A Bosmer ran up "the spell casters and archers are in position!"

 "Good, Calvary! Ride forth, men and women that follow Talos and the empire charge forth after them" I ordered as the horn sounded, guess that fire isn't needed after all.

——————

 The general grunted as he watched the men and women he sent down be put down, he thought that sending them down he'd stall or stop Balgruuf's plan, instead it seemed that he lit up the fuse for him and his men to storm the fort.

 And the worst part?

 It can be chalked up to his fault.

 "Grrr… you! Get be that damn Nightblade or whoever she claimed to be, if torture wouldn't work then maybe this will" he swiped his hand to the nearest elf who nodded before going down to the jails of the fort.

 "Lord Saathar! Spell-casters!"

 "What?! Men-" his words was cut off as suddenly the first and front wall of the fort began to burn as no doubt the spell casters magicka began to go to work.

 Say what you will about the lower abilities of the empire's mages if you get enough trash together then eventually you'd find a garnet here and there.

 Saathar's eyes blinked as he unsheathed his sword and began to bark out orders, the heat of the mages' magicka started to die down but that didn't stop the wooden door to collapse into ash nor the very outer shell of Cobblestone to melt.

"Archers draw now! Mages, I want fire and frost ready! Swo-" he was cut off by a scream.

 "ARROWS!!" Looking up, hundreds of steel arrows came whistling down, frowning as he held his shield over his head.

 "Hold your positions, hold your positions!" He screamed out but it was for naught as through the ash that covered the entrance an Orc berserker came through, shirtless and holding two Orcish war axes.

 Eyes widened he attempted an order but it died as nearly ten more orcs came out of the ash, each with their own weapons. But what made Saathar's voice die is the fact that their old, as such he came to the conclusion.

 Balgruuf recruited these old orcs with the promise of a good death!

 Divines be damned! He's using the Orc's religious zealot ways to control them! Smart he'll admit it, but a Nord to use such tactics?

 He regained his voice after the first ten of his men fell by the Orcs "MAGES!!"

 His voice cracked as he turned to his sides as Destruction spells surged forth, fire, lightning, frost. As if the Divines answered their plea as nature followed their call, but his voice died down as Bulgruuf's own mages stepped before the orcs and called their wards to hold off the spells.

 He predicted it.

 By the Eight he swore he did.

 But what can he do?

 "Archers!" He called out as arrows were unleashed from both sides. He knew that Balgruuf would use the opening of the mages unable to do anything to allow his archers to shoot off, it was a classic tactic he employed, but unlike some others, Saathar learned, he adapted, and he studies.

 "Mages, now!" 

 Runes came a light all over the fort, lightning, fire, frost, all of the runes covered Balgruuf's mens' advance, and for once Saathar smiled, for this might be the first time anyone has outsmarted Balgruuf and his men.

 No one moved for a moment, the mages sweated a bit as the started to cast again, as Balgruuf's mages prepared to settle up another wards no doubt, and as such-

 "Mages, hit the runes!" He didn't recognize it but in his heart he knew, he knew what was happening he just didn't want to admit it, it was Balgruuf. Balgruuf was here. 

 Then, the runes exploded, as war cries screamed out.

——————————

A red haired female Dumer hanged against the wall, her wrists attached to rusted chains, her wrists were scarred from the sheer pressure of her weight against them. Her legs have long given out due to having to stand, her thighs have healed due to restoration magic but the scars will never fade, just like the ones on her stomach, chest, back, and arms.

 Her only consolation prize was that she wasn't raped yet.

 But she can admit that it might not be that far from now.

 She was a Nightblade, her guild has long since called for the head of Saathar's head for his atrocities against the Dumer, and she volunteered. However, in a perfect world, she'd be ready for another mission and Saathar would have been fed to the maggots.

 Instead, she's here.

 Her guild has no doubt have called for her death, and as such her mission was a failure, and as such, death was a result she was more than happy with because if she does go back they'd call for her head for failure and if she dies then it is her repentance.

 Her name was Irileth, and she was tired, but the magic thy was bound to the shackles wouldn't let her rest, the moment sleep comes it automatically shocks her, as such, she's gone weeks with torture, no sleep, and little food.

 The only tell of time changing, would be the daily visits of her torturer, who she came to learn was a woman by the name of Lunnwese, and by the Nines she hated her. 

 If it wasn't torture it would be the fact that the woman couldn't stop verbally sucking the dick of Saathar's actions, constantly saying how 'it was love' and 'do you think he's big or small? Either way I'm happy as long as he put's a baby in me!'

By Talos's name just do it, don't dance around it.

 But she prided herself on being a logical woman, not an emotional one, as such she cannot wrap her head around dancing the feelings of love, why not say it?

 Such emotions elude her.

 Swallowing her saliva at the hurried steps approaching her cell, she thought it's time to hear another delusional rant from this sad woman. Pushing her eyes slowly up she grit her teeth seeing a High Elf man, guess they had enough and were now going to try and see if rape would work.

 Frowning took a monumental amount of effort, but she did it only out of spite.

 The man juggled the keys between his fingers and even in her own tired state could easily tell the fear that his body rocked with.

 The cell opened, usually they do it slowly, just so the horrid screeching of the hinges could torture her all the more. He immediately went to her and juggled with the keys before he unlocked the shackles.

 Gravity was unforgiving.

 The wet floor wasn't either.

 She couldn't even move her hands in time to lessen her land, instead she landed directly on the ground, hitting her nose in the process. Then she looked up enough to see another pair of elven armored feet approaching her.

 "Get her up, Lord Saathar needs her before the damn empire gets here!" An elf sneered as she was lifted by her biceps and was taken, sadly her feet dragged on the ground, but she didn't have the strength to resist at all.

 Then she heard it as soon as they left the cell's walls.

 War Cries.

 How dare the Nine give a Dumer like her hope?

————————

 I slowly walked through the burnt down gates, the residual heat still there, but it didn't stop me nor anyone else to go through, stepping on and then over a dead elf a small smile came to my face.

 Say what you will but if you give the promise of fights and a potential good death to a few orc strongholds and then you'll get some bored old and young Orcs willing to follow you.

 Say what you will, but Orcs are hella strong!

 No wonder the Berserker rage in the game was so strong, you got to see one in person!

 Our mead supply will be low after this.

 I held my battle axe open, its handle resting on my right shoulder as I looked up, and I saw him, General Saathar.

 His crimes were great, if this was earth he'd be compared to the great dictators, Stalin, Hitler, Ghengis Khan.

 Then again, so would I.

 We've all done things we aren't proud of, and this war could be chalked up to something I'm not proud of. Never in my life would I think I'd see so much barbaric actions with deranged smiles and promises of torture.

 But General Saathar is bad because he's on the enemy side.

 Or that's what I tell myself.

 Rape, torture of the obscene, killing of the innocent, I mean, these are all not really that bad compared to the worst, the absolute worst was during the fight at the plains where our blood went cold.

 He forced the spell Fury on children via enchanted necklaces onto various races and sent them out to fight us instead, we were appalled, the mothers and fathers within my ranks immediately refused to fight - hell, all of us, refused to fight. This allowed him to escape, we tried to take off the necklace, and that's when we found the worst of the worst on it. He burnt the flesh of the neck to force the necklace of fury to be glued to the children's skin.

 So I called onto my mages in an attempt to disenchant them, no luck either.

 In the end there was no way to pass the army of children with weapons, without harming them, and I couldn't send in my men to kill the children.

 So I killed them.

 I couldn't leave the children out to be found by any other Legion nor be found by the Thalmor, so I had to swallow my emotions and I had to kill them.

 Oh trust me, I was angry.

 My forces understood why I did what I did but that didn't stop concerns nor talk of deserting happening, the parents of my forces just… they had a hard time accepting what I did, and in the end I left it open on who'd want to transfer legions and fight on a different front.

 Some parents did, but most wanted to see the bastard die before they did and as such I only lost a minisule amount.

 I had bottled up my rage and anger for months, he was going to pay, I died a bit on that day, I had to kill my morality just so my men won't have to have the burden of child blood on their hands.

 So I drowned in it instead.

 So he's going to get his due to-fucking-day.

 Inhaling in, I ducked underneath an arrow that attempted my head with a glare, he was not going to let this bastard pass through his fingers at all. My axe head met true with an elven greatsword and I tore my eyes away from Saathar and met an elf's eyes.

 I frowned as I pulled my greatsword and attempted my own attack, raising my sword over my head. I tried to slam it down but I was met with the edge of the greatsword and a torrent of sparks met my eyes. I blinked as I saw the elf grit his teeth as he took a step back, no doubt he didn't expect me to be this strong.

 Yeah my armor had a way to disguise how strong I am.

I exhaled as I took my battle axe off his sword, and pulling back I was slightly surprised at the fact that the elf tried to push forth, so to stop him, I punched him in the face with a jab.

 Minimal damage, high disorientation.

 Say what you will but punches to the face, especially unguarded hurt for both parties, it hurts even more if you're wearing armor.

 The elf's eyes closed immediately as blood came out of his nose, the elf took a step back as his body leaned back and his grip faulted on his greatsword. And I was all too happy to take advantage.

 Bringing my axe down I swept the leg with the axe head with a small smile, this is why I chose a two handed axe instead of everything else, extremely versatile and I can put a lot of force down on one point.

 I'd have a halberd to cosplay a little Lawbringer, but eh, I forgone the idea to embrace all Nordic culture and Norse ones. Terrifying on how similar they are.

 The elf landed with a pained yelp and I immediately planted a foot on the hand that held his greatsword, I raised my battle axe over my head and brought it down just in time for the elf to open his eyes and scream in fear, pulling my axe out I saw the aftermath for just a split second, the sight I could never get used to.

 Of a split face that is.

 I sidestepped an wave of fire that a mage attempted and as such, I ran full force towards the Thalmor mage, the only thing I learned about these fucks is that if your quick enough they can't make their attack up in time and as such it quite easy to cut them down.

 I smiled a little as the eyes of The High Elf widened as I kicked a stone at him, causing him to shield himself, as it's just instinct. This was a distraction and allowed me to easily close the gap, it was a second, but in battles like this seconds are too long.

 He attempted to send out a fireball, but the blade of my axe met his hand, bisecting it to his wrist causing him to scream horribly. He dropped any other attempt of fighting back as his other hand grabbed his bloody wrist.

 I smiled as I pulled my axe back, but seeing as it was stuck in muscle and bone it took the elf with it, and as such, with nimble use, I pushed the axe head up and into the jaw of the elf, easily piercing it.

 I pushed the elf into the fort's wall and using my foot and pulled the ache back, and by the Nine this guy doesn't stop screaming does he? Either way I punched him in the face and maybe out of cruelty I left him there, bleeding and in pain.

 Taking a quick glance around there was a lot of blood being shed, dismembered arms flying and of course decapitated heads rolling. This wasn't a new sight, as I was far too desensitized to sights like this due to a few of the prisoner camps we came across during our raids.

 Never have I seen people so skinny, so sad, so…

 Helpless

Either way, in the end, this fort will be ours and I'll have Saathar's head on a bronze platter. This fort was actually massive, possibly meant to protect several kilometers of farmlands from bandit and goblin hordes, sad that the Oblivion Crisis has a few of these taken over by bandits or small insurgents.

 "Brother, come join us, the bastards retreated inside!" Hrongar spoke as he attempted to go forwards.

 "Hold!" I held up a hand "they intend to create a choke point" I stepped forwards and creaked the door open to show that they've prepared their mages who're waiting for the door to open.

 "Mages on the other side" my men went around, mainly to kill off anyone else that hadn't gone inside.

 "What're your orders Tribune?" A Dumer spoke up as he looked up at me, I rolled my neck as I observed the fort.

 "Mages, I want you to turn this door into ash, archers draw your bows and prepare!" I gave the order as I took a knee and waited for the door to be set aflame.

 "Hrongar, I want you to take the Orcs, circle around the back and enter through the side doors" I gave the order to my younger brother just as the Shield Sister of the Companions came up to me.

 "Grey-mane, Battle-Born, I want you two to infiltrate the two side doors" I looked up to two of the leaders do the families who nodded respectively before I turned to the Shield Sister

 "Aela" I spoke up as I glanced up to the fire haired woman "I want you and Farkas to lead the men into this fort"

 "And the jails?" She gestured to the door that's off to the side, substantially less men guarding, waiting for the elves to potentially come out.

 "…Uthgerd The Unbroken will assist myself and Ulfberth War-Bear in clearing out the jails, if any one of you encounter Saathar, capture him, but if not, I will not be opposed to witnessing his dead body" I got nods in return as they dispersed.

 "Unbroken! War-Bear to me! The rest of you, get in there and kill them!" I spoke as I walked towards the jails.

 ""Lord"" Unbroken and War-Bear came form with weapons drawn, Unbroken was a great woman, blond, blue eyed, covered in steel plated armor, blood and adorned the Whiterun colors on her lienen cloak.

 War-Bear was like a bear despite being the shortest of us three, instead of wearing steel or leather he adorned a full set of iron armor, covered in blood he followed after me.

 "Unbroken, War-Bear, we'll take the jails, luckily every pathway will meet together so once we're done we'll take our steel to assist others" I got nods as they both unsheathed their weapons.

 I grabbed the door handle and nearly tore it off the hinges, took a deep breath and went forwards preparing to kill every Altmer I met.

——————— 

 Saathar sneered as he gave out another order, he didn't expect Balgruuf to use such complicated tactics, despite being a Nord Balgruuf had the mind of some of the greatest tacticians but if there's anything the Thalmor has learned from the man, it's to not show your hand to your enemy.

 Take the battle before Balgruuf tracked him down to this fort, his Legion's cavalry was unmatched in Skyrim; here? Despite his and his men's best effort they are top tier, only second to the mages of his court.

 Conjuring up fire, ice, and storm atronachs he swallowed his saliva as he got into his office, he started hearing war cries and screams of pain. Balgruuf's men has breached the choke point.

 He hurried his steps, picking out a book he frowned, the ritual called for both Altmer and Dumer blood, luckily he has a Dumer captive, as for Altmer…

 Well, if needed, killing one of his men to further increase his chances to survive this ordeal is an easy thing to do. He can just say it's to further the Dominion's goal then if not, he'll order them to kill themselves or he'll kill them himself.

 He's not above putting his dagger into their backs.

 He smiled as the door to his office was open "Lord the Prisoner"

 "Good, place her down on the altar" this fort wasn't a throwaway one, no. It belonged to witches and worshipers to the daedra, as such, when they killed these people they didn't bother to destroy nor hide their rituals.

 So with a smile he prepared the necessary ingredients for the ritual.

 What he's doing could be considered the highest level of treason to both the Empire and the Dominion. However such drastic measures must be taken against Balgruuf, not only that; he's enough of the man!

 He wants him dead!

 To have royalty and the council question his leadership due to Balgruuf's outlandish achievements in this war. So what's he going to do? What great ritual is he going to do?

 He's going to summon a daedra from the gates of Oblivion.

 He didn't care that it might cost him his life, he just wanted that man gone; and if it cost him his life he'd gladly let it be taken.

 Looking down at the very thin and weak woman he smiled, if this woman was an Altmer he'd no doubt she'd be considered a beautiful woman, instead he was a lowly Dumer, let alone a Nightblade.

 His men tossed the woman onto the altar, he knew the woman was far too weak to resist, and with a smile he dismissed one of the guards, and ordered the other one to close his eyes.

 "My Lord, why?" He asked, but once when he was alone with the guard he slit the guards' throat, splattering his dagger with blood and staining the altar and the Dumer woman with Altmer blood.

 "Part one done, now, for-" Saathar fell to one knee as the fort shook, nothing Balgruuf had nor what he had could do such a thing. Swallowing his fears, he rose with a little sweat onto his forehead as he watched the eyes on the Dumer widened at the action he took against his own men.

 "Don't give me that look you filth, you shall be used for a great sacrifice, and I'll send the head of Balgruuf to the Imperial's unless emperor" he opened up a book and stood before the Altar as he smirked at the long dead language.

 "Now… Watch as I do the impossible" he spoke as I inhaled.

 "Aukhu'nama guenoa stukna-"

—————————————

 I blinked as the surroundings got white and my movements started to slow, my breath shortened as the air started to fill with immense pressure, I looked towards Unbroken and War-Bear only to see them frozen before me.

 Unbroken was stuck pulling out her greatsword from the head of a high elf while War-Bear was stuck blocking an overhead strike with his battle axe.

 My chest tightened, as the magicka lines from both myself, Unbroken, War-Bear, and the damnable Thalmor, all got to one point, blinking, I turned to the central point of the mana gathering.

 And I became embarrassed as I should've known who it was from the beginning, it was the being who sent me here from Earth. Admittedly I showed the woman hate but I got over it when he saw the benefits of being in his favorite game.

 But not like this.

 So I gave her a little flak for it, which she took it giggling and in stride, throwing some barbs towards him, and despite the woman's identity I'll gave the woman credit for not being a stuck up bitch.

So who was she?

 Ithelia.

 The daedric prince of fate.

 A reality warper.

 So with a sigh I put my hands on my hips and smiled a little "well, well, well, look who's here the woman of fate herself"

 "You know, Champion, you've become quite the tactician" her voice came from the glowing mass of magicka.

 "Oh please flatter me more, it'll get you everywhere" She giggled in response, its ethereal sounds made my organs shake, seriously this woman's voice sounds like thousands of women combined into one and it shakes the surroundings whether or not she wants it to.

"You're father has been boasting about your feats from the safety of his hold"

 "My father is an old man" I rebutted.

 "Mmhhhmm, anyways, your target Saathar is attempting to contact a daedra to defeat you"

 "Oh no"

 "There's more"

 "Dear you" I covered my mouth in mock surprise.

 "Take this seriously, Champion" her tone took a dive guess it's time to be serious.

 "Okay, okay" I got an - what I can only assume - an appreciative hum.

 "He's attempting to take a Daedra from the realm of Dagon, this won't bore well, Champion"

 "Can you stop it?" I asked as the magicka felt strained.

 "No. But I've taken… an idea from Sheogorath, so expect a loud noise" she spoke and only after she said this the gathering of Magicka flashed red before it returned back into their bodies, and then time resumed.

 Only for the Fortress to shake.

———————

 "-Naagrama fulmua pultenia bulwnta ngk'tha moosa!" At the last bit of chant the room filled with power, the magicka was immense and Irilith felt something leave her she wanted nothing more than to sleep but the pure magicka pressure kept her awake.

 Her breath shortened as the room filled with a red glow, it was downright ethereal in nature - in fact, it was a very front, an insult to everything natural in the world of Nirn.

 Her breathing immediately became shallow as her mind went to theories, was it a portal to the Dominion with thousands of soldiers waiting? Was it a portal to escape?

 By Azura she couldn't stop thinking about what it could be.

 "Finally! The gates of Oblivion are OPEN!!" Saathar cackled madly, from killing his one man now opening a portal to oblivion, has he gone mad?

 "Yes. YES!" Saathar's excitement was short-lived as the portal condensed quickly, was it closing?

 "What? N-no, stop, no! Stop it!" Saathar spoke and commanded like he had power over the gates of oblivion, such words made her lisp form a grin no matter how weak it was.

 Maybe Azura decided to have pity on her, and in that case she'd happly die and go to speak of the praises to the Daedric Prince.

Then a bright blue light filled the room as the gate started to close further and further as the soft giggling of thousands of women filled the room, this didn't have any resemblance to any Daedric Prince she could remember, she looked on at the gate that's closing.

 Then the blue light exploded out as she closeted her eyes, it felt like a mothers' embrace which she didn't feel at once in her life. She was an orphan and she was trained to be a Nightblade as soon as she turned 5.

 She opened her eyes and all concern went away and instead her eyes turned to Saathar's face and she felt satisfied.

 "…Cheese?" He spoke confused.

—————————

 Sheogorath was pissed.

 For you see he was seconds away from eating his divine cheese when *pop!* it disappeared, he immediately thought it was Molag Bal's fault and immediately stood up to go ahead and kick the bastard in his spiky balls only to pause.

 The power felt familiar, but he tossed it away, pushing it away to think about later, and instead searched the Daedric Princes' realms and found no traces of his cheese.

 Sighing he went to Nirn, those mortals are ignorant but he didn't expect them to go ahead and take his cheese!

 They'll pay for this fully!

 Taking a bite of regular cheese… ew.

 He found it only a second after it was taken, and he frowned, he thought the cultists were dead. Either way, looking closer he saw a siege and he immediately became intrigued, the Altmer that took his cheese will die.

 But how so?

 Then it hit him!

 Why not send a message to everyone else that might take his cheese?

 Smiling he threw down a madness spell onto the Altmer and the elf immediately fell to his knees, and exploded a lantern on top of the highest tower on that fort, causing it to collaspe.

 "And that's what you get!" His cheese fell back into his table.

 Damn Altmers.

——————————

 I kicked in the door that busted wide open with Unbroken and War-Bear flanking me on both sides as I looked around and saw Saathar on his knees whimpering.

 "Heh, it seems he's given up Lord!" Unbroken barked out.

 "How pathetic, I expected more of the man who caused us this much trouble" War-Bear walked forwards as I stepped behind the Altmer who seemed to stiffen at my footsteps.

 Looking in front of him, on the altar was a frail and very scarred Dumer woman and *damn* she was quite the catch if she didn't look so thrashed; I mean her cheeks are suken and her bones were showing. Wearing nothing but a simply cloth to cover her crotch leaving her bare breasts exposed.

 "Unbroken" I gestured to the sole woman "get her to the healers" I got a nod in return as Unbroken stepped past the Altmer.

 "YOU!" Suddenly Saathar stood up and writhed to me and I frowned at the sight, his eyes were darting everywhere, the floors, the ceiling, to me, to his nose, it's like he's trying to see everything at once.

 "Saathar, to-" I was cut off.

 "Balgruuf, it was you wasn't it?!" He spoke Derik coming out of his lips "you're the one that compromised the ritual?! Huh? HUH?! ADMIT IT!!!"

 He lunged for me.

 I took a step back and slammed my fist into his face as he backed up a bit. It seems he's forgotten all of his training and went to caveman 'unga bunga rock big, so I'm big!'

 Why did I say that? Because he just picked up a rock instead of his sword on his side.

 "He's gone mad" War-Bear said pitifully as the Thalmor slammed the rock down onto his own hand while laughing.

 "Seems so" I sighed watching the self harm happening before me, I would let him kill himself but he's not taking that satisfaction away from me!

 I took out my dagger and stabbed the man in the throat, not even bothering to meet his eyes as I sighed and pulled the dagger out and kicked his body down.

 "Ugh, leave his body, I don't want whatever he had to transfer over to you" I stopped War-Bear from stepping forwards as he nodded.

 "Now" I swiped the blood off the blade "let's see what our men are doing" War-Bear nodded more than eger to shed more blood.

———————

 We took the fort shortly after, no prisoners thankfuly, but sadly one rape, even in his own ranks people like that existed. In other legions rape of defeated female Altmers were ignored, it's simply due to the hatred that boiled between the two factions. However, his legion is one of the very few that do not tolerate such things.

 As such, the transgressed had his duck cut off and was subsequently hanged for his crime, and now it's time for the aftermath of this siege.

 "How many died?" I asked as I approached the war table.

 "Less than a hundred but more than a hundred wounded" the companion leader Vilkas spoke up.

 "Any permanently?"

 "One" I clicked my tongue as I shook my head "loss of leg"

 "Send him to his family with 2,000 Septims, let him know he has a home ready in Whiterun if he needs it" I spoke.

 "I'll let her know" Vilkas corrected.

 "Let her know" I nodded.

 "Now, I believe that we rescued a female dunmer" I asked "who's she and her condition?" I asked the priestess of Kynareth.

 "She's extremely weak, however her purity remains true" so she hasn't been raped, that's the only mercy she had. "Her body is covered in scars, mostly on her back, it seemed they wanted to break her only for their amusement"

 She inhaled dusting off her robes "she has given her name to me before she passed out, Irileth"

 Ah? I was wondering when she'd pop up, and eventually I thought I missed the chance encounter but it seemed I'd be getting my very own dunmer bodyguard.

 "She's extremely weak and after healing some opened wounds we forced her under a sleep spell after feeding her, as she was extremely tired" the priestess finished.

 "Good, and thank you, when she's awoken let me know, I need to know where she'd like to go" I got a nod from the priestess.

 "May the Divines protect you lord Balgruuf" the priestess bowed.

 "To you too priestess" I bowed to her in turn.

 I exhaled as I started to hear the festivities outside the camp begin. I guess I can expect a few new pregnant women and hangover men tomorrow; and who am I to judge or not join in the celebration.

 Smiling at myself in the mirror I acknowledged myself in the mirror, I was tall, extremely so, as it was from my fathers' side. Eivor The Giant, my father was that, a giant but a Nord all the same, he was well over 7ft tall and I seem to also inherit some of that height, being only 6'7" or maybe taller.

 The beginnings of a beard and braided blond hair that reached down to my shoulders I embraced the looks of the Nords. I wore simple armor, being mostly steel with a little bit of fur, on my shoulders was the fur of a black bear. Apparently it was my first kill with a bow when I went on a hunting trip with my father.

 And I treasured it.

 And my cloak was black but had the Whiterun holds' emblem in white being in the middle with it being slightly tattered on the ends, my steel plate was dotted with small slashes and dents. I smiled at myself, it was good to check up on yourself after a battle, never know when you'd lose yourself or find a wound that adrenaline hid.

 But now's not the time.

 I had to go and celebrate with my fellow Nords!

 So I left the tent and picked up the nearest mead near me, laughter and smiles went around, except for the moody Orcs. Either way, this was a night to remember because I had finally got Saathar's stupid ass gown from This war.

 Man was not worth the effort…

————————

 A/N: Potential Love interest for Balgruuf you can leave below, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!