Dragon's Conquest

Wounds Left to Rot

Felldir handed Nariilu her lost sword, retrieved after it fell to the ground from Alduin's corpse. He left nothing behind, no bones like other dragons did, save for puddles of red-black blood and scales the warriors had pried off before falling. And fall they did, Gormlaith found no survivors in the immediate aftermath, though she admitted Alduin's Dismay could have easily left even the most battle hardened running for safety.

Hakon knelt down beside her, carrying her helmet perched on the handle of his axe. Her helmet was covered in steaming vile blood. "Is it bad?" she coughed once she found the strength. Her body throbbed and stung and burned despite the overwhelming numbness she felt. One eye was swollen shut, her other stung with her own blood. Nariilu futilely tried to blink it away.

"Wounds are nothing compared to the great deeds you've accomplished on this most glorious day," Felldir announced. His white hair was matted with blood. "For Alduin, the World Eater, threatens us no more!" His two companions cheered in agreement. It felt empty on the vast battlefield. No other voices rose.

Nariilu tried to smile. Instead, she vomited and choked on her own bile. Hakon tilted her head to let black sick fall from her mouth. She choked up more sick, magical fatigue pressing at the back of her eyes. "I have food in my pouch," she forced between gags. Shor's blessed food for the dead, to heal her up or to welcome her as one of his dead souls. She swore to herself she wouldn't die here, but death was looking more and more comfortable with each passing moment.

Hakon wiped her face with his hand, clearing her one good eye to see plainly. It wasn't just her helmet covered in Alduin's blood, it was her whole person. The ebony and malachite of her armor steamed around her underlayers. She could see boiling skin poking through melted leather and cloth. Hakon's own legs, bare under fur armor--she'd never understand why Nords seemed to favor less armor--were in a similar state from whatever splatters of blood he'd caught on his own skin.

Worse, her pouches were gone, along with the food she'd snuck inside. She sighed and leaned back, feeling tired enough to sleep for an entire era.

"Hail, Dragonborn and Time-Bound Companions!" Tsun's booming voice shocked her into opening her eyes again. "'twas a mighty deed preformed on this day, to rid Sovngarde of Alduin's evil snare. His doom shall follow no more!"

Nariilu didn't feel like celebrating, but being praised for what was, by all means, a damn near impossible task still raised her spirits slightly.

"They will sing of this battle in Shor's Hall forever, Dragonborn," Tsun continued, his face growing grim. "And though many of your Shield Brothers and Sisters have not prevailed to sing of their victory, I trust you will spread the tale of your triumph far and wide. Shor has given decree that bids you return to join blessed feasting once the count of your days has finished, should you meet your fate in an agreeable manner. For my lord graciously does not judge one on the deeds of life," Tsun paused and frowned at her, "but by the manner of their death."

"All hail the Dragonborn!" Gormlaith cried. She'd obviously missed when Nariilu slaughtered the other, weaker Dragonborn. Tsun and Shor, it seemed, had not. "Hail her with great praise!"