Skyrim: A Craftman's Journey

4E 201, Hall of Vigilants

Isran

The warhammer of light slammed down, shattering the oak table where Calixto had stood just moments before. Wood splinters flew across the office as the robed bastard twisted aside, his dagger flashing in the torchlight.

Isran stepped back instinctively, eyes narrowing as the curved blade caught the glow of the room. Where the dagger scraped his armored shoulder, the leather hissed, blackening, the edges crumbling to ash.

His gut twisted with recognition. "Mehrunes' Razor," he growled under his breath.

The bastard wielded one of the Daedric relics.

Calixto smirked, straightening, his crimson robes dusted with fragments of broken furniture. "It is more than a relic, Dawnguard." he said, voice oozing pride. "This is the Razor of Mehrunes Dagon himself. I, Calixto, am his chosen. The Champion of the Lord of Destruction!"

"You know what I am?" Isran adjusted his grip on the warhammer.

"Of course I do. Isran, the scion of the Vigilants trying his best to recover a dead order." Calixto scoffed. "You claimed that Vampires were a threat lying in wait, yet you never even noticed the Mythic Dawn growing beneath your notice. You're just as deluded as the rest of the Vigilants."

Isran didn't reply, absorbing the new information. 'So the Mythic Dawn doesn't know about Harkon? At least this proves they're not working together.'

He swung wide, the hammer forcing Calixto to duck low and roll across the floor, but Isran was already moving. The Razor hissed through the air as Calixto lashed out, aiming for Isran's thigh, but the Redguard twisted, deflecting with the hammer's haft.

No matter how fast that dagger came, Isran knew better than to let it touch him. Even a glancing blow could mean death—or worse.

Calixto staggered back, eyes wide.

"What?! That—That doesn't make sense!" His voice cracked with disbelief. "No conjured weapon can parry the Razor. Only—"

His words halted as realization bloomed behind his wild eyes. "Ah… I see it now. So… the so-called Divine of Mercy and Righteousness has chosen his own champion, eh? Only the Light of Stendarr's Blessed could defy the Razor!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Isran grunted. He had neither time nor energy to listen to the ramblings of a madman. All he cared about was putting this Mythic Dawn lunatic in the dirt.

He rushed forward, as Calixto fired off a firebolt with his free hand, the flame crackling across the room. Isran lifted his palm, sunlight coalescing into a searing golden dagger that he hurled straight through the bolt. The projectile dispersed in midair, the light dagger grazing Calixto's shoulder with a hiss.

Calixto sneered, circling him, pride still etched into every step. "Champion of Stendarr, you may be. But do you truly think you can stand against Lord Dagon himself?! You, a man playing priest with a hammer?!"

Isran lunged, forcing the Champion of Dagon onto the backfoot again, each hammer swing thundering against floor and wall, leaving cracks and destruction in their wake.

"You've been playing at war while the real enemies dance circles around you," Calixto spat, darting to the side. "The Mythic Dawn has been preparing for centuries! Lying beneath the shadows, waiting! It is now time for us to finally rise once more!" His eyes glowed briefly as he lifted his hand, a ripple of dark magicka coiling toward Isran's face.

The spell washed over him, covering his head in mist. He could feel something trying to push through his mind, a feeling of terror that threatened to overwhelm his senses.

Did this lunatic just try to hit him with a paltry fear spell?

His scowl deepened as he marched through the enchantment unfazed, sunlight pooling in his free hand again.

Calixto's expression faltered for the first time.

Isran threw another bolt of searing sunlight, hitting the Calixto on his right shoulder, forcing him back and pinning him near the window.

"You're not the first Daedric cultist I've broken," Isran growled. "And you sure as Oblivion won't be the last."

Calixto's arrogance cracked further as Isran fought relentlessly. With the advantage by the Razor rendered null by his warhammer, this Calixto became less and less of a threat by the second. 

He wasn't a great warrior by any stretch, though there was a certain unnaturalness to his movements. He was quick and had great reflexes, probably a result of being Dagon's champion. But none of that mattered without proper skill.

A sudden explosion rocked the hall, windows rattling in their frames. Both combatants paused as crimson light bled through the window's glass.

The Oblivion Gate, visible in the distance, flickered, spasmed—and collapsed in on itself with a thunderous explosion. A smoldering crater replaced it, smoke curling into the frigid sky.

Isran grinned, the expression sharp and predatory. "Looks like your fancy portal closed."

Calixto's face showed open surprise, before the shock turned into rage. "You… insignificant insect—!"

That single moment of distraction was enough. Isran surged forward, the warhammer crashing into Calixto's chest with bone-crunching force. The impact launched him across the room, sending him sprawling across shattered stone and broken furniture.

Calixto coughed, spitting blood, the Razor tumbling from his grasp. 

Isran stalked forward, planting his boot on the downed cultist's neck, hammer poised to strike again.

"Talk," Isran barked. "What are Mythic Dawn's goals? What's the purpose of this attack?"

Calixto only chuckled, even as blood dripped from his cracked lips. "You'll see soon enough… the world will drown in flame. Lord Dagon shall rise, Tamriel will burn… and this time, there'll be no Hero of Kvatch to save you."

Before Isran could respond, the doors burst open—three robed cultists storming in, blades and spells at the ready.

Isran's warhammer swung instantly obliterating the first acolyte's chest and caving in his ribcage. Sunlight speared through the second's skull as another conjured dagger formed mid-air and drove itself into her eye. The third barely had time to cast before Isran's boot smashed into his sternum, sending him collapsing to the floor. A quick swing with the haft broke his neck.

But in the chaos, Calixto crawled toward the fallen Razor, fingers grasping the hilt. His body shimmered with crimson magic as he bellowed in Daedric tongue, a rift opening beside him.

A towering figure emerged, taller than even Isran himself. Red skinned and black horns , Isran scowled as he set his eyes on a Dremora Lord for the first time.

"Coward!" Isran roared as Calixto, bloodied but grinning, stumbled through the window vanishing into the courtyard.

Isran was about to give chase when the Dremora snarled, stepping between them, blade raised.

Isran gripped his hammer tighter, fury simmering.

"Fine," he growled, cracking his neck as his warhammer glowed brighter. "You and me then."

…

At the same time, Outside Battlefield

Keeper Carcette 

Lightning ripped across the snow-choked ground, crashing against the glowing shield of her ward. Carcette grit her teeth, the power of the spell humming against her palm as she pushed forward.

Ruma Camoran met her head-on, her bound sword crashing against Carcette's weapon. Sparks hissed where sun-forged steel met spectral edge.

The crack of their clashing blades echoed across the battlefield as the two women strained against one another. Ruma's hand sparked with lightning again, bolts arcing toward Carcette's chest.

'Not today,' Carcette thought grimly, channeling magicka into her ward just in time. The bolts burst harmlessly against the barrier.

She pressed the assault, sidestepping with a practiced motion and sweeping her blade low. The weapon forced Ruma back, the Altmer woman faltering under the aggressive advance.

But the moment's advantage was cut short.

A glint of steel flashed in the corner of Carcette's vision. She twisted on instinct, but not fast enough.

Pain lanced through her left forearm, searing agony spreading like wildfire. Her fingers spasmed, the sword clattering to the snow. Her breath caught as black veins began spiderwebbing out from the wound, skin charring unnaturally.

'The Razor…'

Every Vigilant knew its vile shape—the curved, obsidian blade of Mehrunes' Dagon. A Daedric relic of assassination and instant death. Her pulse thundered as panic flared. She'd been marked by it.

Calixto surged forward for the killing blow, a bloody grin on his face.

Carcette channeled healing spells as fast as her battered body allowed, layers of golden light forming over her skin, but the Razor's curse resisted, numbing her limb. Her focus wavered. She wouldn't be able to block Calixto's strike.

Before he could, Tolan crashed into Calixto like a charging bull, both men sprawling across the blood-stained snow. The Razor tumbled from Calixto's hand, embedding itself in the ground.

"Tolan—!"

But he was already in front of her, standing protectively, blocking Ruma's conjured blade with his ebony greatsword. He swung wide, forcing her back.

Ruma shouted something, rushing to where Raven's charred body lay slumped near where the portal once was. The stench of burnt flesh clung to the air.

"Calixto, we're leaving!"

The cultist sneered, retreating with one final hateful glance at Carcette before grabbing the Razor and scrambling to Raven's side. Their hands wove complex runes in the air, opening a swirling crimson portal behind them.

In a flash of light, they vanished.

Carcette collapsed to one knee, breath ragged. Tolan's hand hovered over her wound, golden light streaming as he aided her attempts at healing the blackened wound. The corruption faded slightly, though the flesh still ached like fire.

"Easy," Tolan muttered, helping her rise. "The spreading stopped, but you're in no shape to fight."

"I've faced worse." Carcette clenched her jaw, but accepted his grip.

They stumbled across the battlefield, past bodies of Vigilants and Daedra alike. Scorched snow steamed under their boots.

Gunmar approached, a bloody cut over his right brow, but he was alive.

"The Dremora Lords?" Carcette asked, leaning heavily on Tolan.

"Either dead or banished," Gunmar replied. His voice carried the rough edge of exhaustion. "I held on long enough for one of your Vigilants to kill the summoner. Tolan handled his. But the last…Agmaer…"

His expression darkened.

"He didn't make it. Bought enough time for Sorine to put six bolts in that monster's eye socket. Forced it back to Oblivion."

Carcette exhaled, a feeling of guilt and regret creeping in. She forced it down. This was no time.

They crested the rise near the Hall of Vigilants. The once-pristine snowfield was a battlefield of mangled corpses, crimson stains seeping across the white. Scattered Daedra bodies were dissolving back into the planes of Oblivion, their forms breaking apart as the portal's collapse severed their anchor, leaving only the corpses of her Vigilants and initiates, along with the numerous dead red cloaked soldiers.

She forced herself to look away, mourning would come later.

Aldis, his face haggard and lined with grief, directed his remaining Solitude guards, hauling the wounded back toward the hall. Healers worked tirelessly over fallen Vigilants and guards alike.

Tolan carried Carcette through the carnage, each step biting with pain. Her gaze scanned the hall entrance.

Isran emerged from the stone doorway, battered but upright, his warhammer of light resting on his shoulder, streaks of ash and blood marking his armor. His eyes met hers, hard as ever—but alive.

She released a sigh of relief.

…

AN: Yeah, a few months of training ain't enough for Calixto to beat Isran, who has been fighting daedra and vampires all his life. It's not like the Mythic Dawn are known for their warrior skillset anyway. They're mages, first and foremost.

Also, Isran is the unknowing Champion of Stendarr. His light magic is majorly buffed and he possesses greater endurance and physical strength than the norm.

Anyways, this concludes the small mini arc of the attack on the Hall of Vigilants. The aftermath of this will be discussed in the coming chapters.

I also posted an auxiliary chapter detailing the population size and military strength of each major Hold in Skyrim. Make sure to check it out since those are the numbers I'll be using for the foreseeable future.

As always, more chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 44 should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!