Rashan's breath steadied, heartbeat measured and rhythmic as he watched the first vials spinning silently through the misty drizzle, gleaming briefly in muted daylight before plummeting toward the confused Dominion ranks below. Chaos still reigned from the impact of boulders, soldiers scrambling in confusion, attention scattered, completely unaware of the insidious danger now descending from above.
The vials shattered upon impact with armor and weapons, releasing thick, viscous gel that splattered broadly, clinging tenaciously to exposed skin, leather armor, and polished metal alike. The gel's sheen glistened under the thin veil of rain, innocuous for just the briefest of moments.
Rashan exhaled smoothly, his trained eye locking onto the vial Jalil threw high into the air. Time seemed to slow. His HUD targeting reticle pulsed calmly, perfectly aligned. The enchanted arrow leaped from his bow, slicing precisely through the air, striking the vial squarely. A sudden, sharp bloom of flame exploded outward, transforming the harmless gel into incandescent droplets cascading mercilessly upon the soldiers beneath.
Instantly, shrieks of terror erupted from the Dominion ranks, raw and agonized, slicing through the marshland's oppressive stillness. A Bosmer archer, drenched in accelerant from the shoulders down, became a human torch in an instant. His high-pitched screams pierced the air as he clawed frantically at the flames consuming his skin, the fire blistering flesh and searing nerves into unbearable torment. The scent of burning flesh wafted upward, acrid and nauseating.
Nearby, a High Elven mage frantically raised a ward, fingers glowing desperately with conjured magicka, only to watch helplessly as a fireball from Adrien collided into the thick pool of gel splattered across his torso. The flames surged aggressively, devouring the mage's robes, greedily seizing hair, skin, and muscle beneath. His eyes widened in stark, helpless horror as he collapsed to his knees, magic forgotten in a final, futile attempt to beat away flames that refused to extinguish. The once-proud mage fell, writhing weakly in his fiery torment, finally going still beneath the unrelenting inferno.
Rashan smoothly released arrow after arrow, each projectile perfectly aligned, the enchantments sparking minor bursts of flame that found and ignited lingering gel patches with devastating effectiveness. Each fresh ignition spread like wildfire, stubbornly resistant even to the persistent drizzle overhead, clinging tenaciously and greedily consuming the soldiers trapped beneath its terrible embrace.
An armored Khajiit warrior, drenched across his chest and arms, swung wildly in blind panic, the blazing gel eating voraciously through fur, leather, and flesh. His screams were raw, primal, animalistic, clawing desperately at his own burning body, dropping to his knees as smoke and flame enveloped him entirely. He fell into the mud, twitching and choking, his agony echoing through the chaos before ending abruptly in a dreadful silence.
Adrien continued methodically hurling controlled fireballs, striking with pinpoint accuracy, transforming strategic gel patches into roaring bonfires. Flames rippled outward, leaping eagerly from soldier to soldier, enveloping the panicking Dominion troops in relentless heat and agony. The marshland became an inferno, littered with smoldering, blackened bodies thrashing and tumbling helplessly beneath the merciless flames.
Rashan's lips curled faintly beneath his mask, satisfied and coldly resolute. The ambush was flawless, execution brutal and precise. His heart thrummed in quiet exhilaration. This was war—merciless, unyielding, exact. Each fiery death below cemented the bitter price of invading his homeland.
The Elven commander scrambled desperately through the unfolding chaos, boots slipping on the slick, muddy earth as the shrieks of agony echoed around him. His heart hammered in his chest, each breath harsh and ragged from exertion and mounting dread. Flames roared, illuminating the dark drizzle in surreal bursts of orange and red, casting dancing, nightmarish shadows on the surrounding vegetation.
He dashed toward the nearest mage—only to find the Altmer's body crumpled grotesquely, skull shattered by a head-sized boulder, blood mingling with the rain. The commander spun, throat tightening as he called urgently to the warriors around him. "With me! Form up!"
Four Elven soldiers responded instantly, moving swiftly behind him as they navigated the raining chaos. But then, without warning, a javelin whistled sharply through the gloom, impaling one warrior directly through the throat. The soldier collapsed gurgling, eyes wide with shocked disbelief, blood spraying from his wound. Another soldier turned abruptly, startled, as a vial struck him squarely in the chest—he glanced down in confusion just as an enchanted fireball exploded against his torso. Flames consumed him instantly, his screams rising sharply before choking into silence.
Only two warriors remained at the commander's side now, eyes wild, breathing heavy with barely contained panic.
Finally, the commander spotted another mage, standing frozen with terror, desperately firing bolts of ice in random directions. The commander seized his arm roughly, yelling above the din, "Can you get us up there?"
The mage blinked, eyes wide, then nodded shakily. Raising trembling hands, he quickly cast an Alteration spell. Magic surged, launching them upward. They soared through the damp air, landing roughly but safely on the lower ridge twenty feet above, below the main ambush point.
On the ridge, Rashan's team noticed them immediately, down to their last few vials. Rashan swiftly loosed an arrow at the descending enemy trio. The enchanted arrow punched cleanly through one soldier's chest armor, penetrating deeply into his heart. The Altmer let out a choked cry, body limp as he plummeted back down into the burning chaos below.
Jalil, closest to the enemy landing spot, calmly drew his sword, breathing steady and composed.
The first soldier landed roughly, already lunging forward with his blade drawn. Jalil met him fluidly, swiftly disarming the Elf in a practiced move. Without hesitation, Jalil drove his blade under the soldier's arm, severing the major artery in a single precise motion. The Elf's eyes widened in shocked pain as blood spurted hot and fast, and Jalil smoothly pivoted behind him, sword slicing cleanly downward. The blade cut through flesh and bone, beheading the warrior cleanly. The soldier's head toppled to the muddy ground, eyes blankly staring upward in disbelief.
Commander Iltharin, face contorted with rage, snarled and summoned crackling arcs of electricity, launching a powerful lightning shower toward Jalil. Jalil raised his shield instinctively, vitality flaring visibly around him as the electric storm slammed into his defense, energy crackling over the metal surface.
Unfazed, Jalil advanced relentlessly, closing the distance despite the blistering attack. Iltharin swung fiercely, lightning-infused blade crackling ominously, but Jalil deflected it expertly, ducking and rolling swiftly beneath the blow. He emerged seamlessly on the commander's exposed side, sword slicing into Iltharin's flank, nicking deep enough to draw a sharp grunt of pain.
Enraged, Iltharin spun violently, attempting a heavy strike, but Jalil was already there, shield snapping upward to smash brutally into the Elf's face. Bone cracked audibly, blood erupting from the crushed nose. The high elf staggered, eyes watering, disoriented.
Jalil capitalized instantly, shield again smashing ruthlessly into Iltharin's already shattered nose, further deforming the broken bones. Iltharin reeled backward, head swimming in agony, guard momentarily lowered. Jalil pressed his advantage with a swift sword slash—Iltharin barely dodged, but the feint opened him perfectly for Jalil's shield to bash savagely into his chest, sending him sprawling backward onto the ground.
Desperately, Iltharin raised his hand, preparing another spell, only to scream in sudden, searing agony as Jalil's blade flashed downward, cleanly severing his casting hand at the wrist. Blood sprayed violently, pulsing from the raw stump. The Elf howled, eyes wide and wild, staring in disbelief at the blood pouring from his severed limb.
Without hesitation, Jalil brutally smashed his shield directly into Iltharin's temple, the blow instantly knocking the Elf unconscious. Iltharin's armored head clanged sharply against the earth, the rain mingling with the blood pooling steadily around his battered form.
Rashan stepped forward calmly, eyes scanning the unconscious enemy commander. Kneeling, he methodically pressed glowing hands to the bleeding stump, magic flaring softly as he staunched the flow of blood, healing the injury just enough to preserve the prisoner. With practiced efficiency, Rashan then touched Iltharin's broken nose, carefully stemming the bleeding without fully mending the severe damage.
Standing again, Rashan surveyed the scene below with grim satisfaction, the air heavy with smoke, screams, and the pungent stench of charred flesh.
The he looked back down at the one handed high elf and smiled. They had their perfect prisoner—someone who would carry the true horror of Anbu back to the Dominion. Rashan's lips curved into a satisfied, ruthless smile beneath his mask.