Skyrim Imperial Vs Stormcloak Novels & Stories

"This is not a suggestion, Alpha Liam. This is an Imperial Mandate. You have twelve hours to pack their belongings. If the carriage leaves empty, the Imperial Fleet will arrive to 'assist' with the transition. And believe me, their method of assistance involves a lot of fire." ​The Choice of a King ​"We can't win." ​Liam was pacing the war room, his eyes wild. He had already smashed a chair against the wall. "The Imperial Pack has fifty thousand warriors. They have air-ships. They have mages. If I refuse, they’ll level the Silver Moon to the ground just to make a point."

“You are so beautiful, dark dragon,” Madchen reached her arms around his neck, never wavering her gaze. “As are you, Madchen, and I love you,” Drago crashed his lips onto hers, searing her mouth with his passion.Black wings erupted from his back, engulfing Madchen in a cocoon of protection. He didn’t care that he was standing stark naked in front of his gathering family, all he cared about was that Madchen accepted him for what he was, a dragon who had found his mate.

The myrmen swapped jokes as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire, but young Lord Bar Emmon had turned a splotchy grey, and Lord Velaryon was watching the king rather than the conflagration Moriah would have given much to know what he was thinking, but one such as Velaryon would never confide in him. The Lord of the Tides was of the blood of ancient Storm Drone, and his House had thrice provided brides for Drone princes. It was the same with the other lordlings. He could trust none of them, nor would they ever include him in their private council My grandsons will joust with theirs, though, and one day their blood may wed with mine. In time my little black ship will fly as high as Velaryon's s

Damon The Councilors were speaking again. They were always speaking. Reports, figures, meaningless noise that slid over me without registering it. I stood at the window behind my chair – which Asher hadn’t managed to take yet – my fingers resting on the cold sill, watching snow drift down over the courtyard below. The banners of Stormfang hung limp, their colors dulled in the foggy weather. “…the eastern packs request aid, Your Majesty.” “…rebellion at the southern border.”

"Do you really think that would work?" "I had my doubts. But yes. I think Alpha Landon would be more than happy to agree to this deal. We all know what Alpha Landon truly fears is a take over by Midnight Shadow or Imperial Heart. They are both equally strong packs with high ranking Alpha's. While Midnight Shadow is known to be more merciless, I think Alpha Landon is truly afraid of Imperial Heart. They come from old blood, and are more traditional in their beliefs. Omega's are not taken care of, and women are seen but never heard. Imperial Heart also consider themselves royalty, due to their heritage. Imperial Heart was formed by one of the first werewolves, making them as close to a pure bl

They looked bored. "Open the doors," Cyprian ordered. The knights unbarred the massive oak doors and pulled them inward. The Imperial Guards outside stumbled forward, their ram losing momentum. They looked up, expecting cowering diplomats. They saw a wall of black steel. "Kill them all," Cyprian said. The Iron Legion charged. It wasn't a fight. It was a harvest. The Northern knights were larger, stronger, and fought with a savage ferocity the Southern guards had never seen. Oryn wielded a greatsword with one hand, cleaving through pikes and shields as if they were made of paper.

The ground rumbled with a deep roar, setting the stage for Jim as he led his crew of infant spirits into a clash with the Haunts that sliced through the wind. Those infant spirits were fierce, leaving the Haunts no chance to stand their ground. Under Jim's leadership, the enemy was slowly pushed back, inch by inch.

“Dragons burn first and negotiate later.” “And the Interregnum does not negotiate at all,” I replied. His gaze held mine for a long moment. “You have been seen in proximity to her circle,” he said carefully. “External alliances must not dilute Stormhollow’s loyalties.” “My loyalty is not diluted,” I said, keeping my voice steady but firm. “Stormhollow defends its own. And right now, what threatens Obscura threatens pack territories as well.” “You speak boldly,” he observed. “I speak accurately.”

The cold wind bellows within the early night. Shivering sensations reap within the tired bones of the traveling trio that rides to the blackened and fallen kingdom. With the sensation of the cold draft comes the frosty rain. Droplets pillage the abyssal knight’s armor. On impact, the water retaliates by splashing along other parts of the metal suits but then dissipating altogether with the soil of a grassy and plain field. The smell of the coming storm wiggles the nose of the lead rider, Scar. It is a talent to smell a storm before the weathering entity hits the land in which he is in. Like most old, season orc, warriors, he is no stranger to war caught in the eye of the storm, in fact, he e

The scene below was chaos. Three hundred Imperial knights clad in polished steel armor were swarming the shattered southern gate. Orange fire-powder smoke rolled across the mud in thick, choking clouds. But Asher’s shield wall was holding the archway—a dense, rigid line of Black Moon wolves snarling and slashing at every knight who tried to force their way through the bottleneck. Right in the middle of the Imperial rear line stood the Imperial Commander, mounted on a massive white warhorse, shouting orders to his heavy cavalry. He was totally focused on the gate, leaving his supply wagons and rear archers completely exposed to the high ridge where we stood.