Anders makes his way to Whiterun, where he owns a house and is known and trusted. It was Jarl Balgruuf who named him BROvakhiin and sent him to meet his patron deity, BLOBERT. Though his heart is hardened and he is prepared to go to any lengths to achieve a free Skyrim, Anders' heart twists with anguish at the thought of betraying his friend.
the fuck
: I suppose it's time I give him an answer...
: Proventus, what do you make of all this? If Ulfric were to attack Whiterun...
: As in all things, Lord, caution... I urge us to wait and see.
: prey waits.
: I'm of a mind with Irileth.
: it's time to act.
: you plan to march on Windhelm?
: I'm not a fool, Proventus. I mean it's time to challenge Ulfric to face me as a man, or march his Stormcloaks up to the gates.
: he'll do no such thing! A dagger in the back is all you can expect!
: he was rather straightforward with High King Torryg.
: Torryg? He walked up to the boy and murdered him!
: that "boy" was High King of Skyrim.
: I'm not the high king, but neither am I a boy.
: Well, fuck me!
: if Ulfric wants to challenge my rule in the old way, then let him. I suspect he'll prefer to send his "Stormcloaks" to do it for him.
: true. He's already proven his personal strength. Now he seeks to prove his army's.
: then might I urge you to consider General Tullius' request? I mean, if you are bent on offending Jarl Ulfric... what harm is there in letting a few legionnaires die in place of your own men?
: It seems cowardly.
: was it cowardly to accept the White-Gold Concordat and bow to the demands of the Thalmor?
: who let this bitch into my house? What purpose does she even serve? And why is the homosexual man still standing there? Take your fucking axe back to Ulfric and tell him I don't love him anymore.
: thank god. I'm coming back here to burn this place down personally now.
Anders returns to Jarl Ulfric, attempting to collect his scattered brain cells after the immensely stupid conversation he bore unfortunate witness to in the halls of the Jarl of Whiterun. This is what happens when you let an alien into your inner circle, he realises, grimacing at the decadence of the multikult Empire.
: give the word, my lord, and Whiterun is yours.
: Whiterun is only a means to an end.
: that bears absolutely no relevance to anything I said, or anything at all, so I'm just going to ignore it. This seems to be a common thing in these unskippable and unspeakably dull conversations. Anyway... we're ready, Ulfric. Whenever you are.
: is any man ever ready to give the order that will mean the deaths of many. [sic]
: yep.
: neither is every man able to give that order when he must. But you are that man, Ulfric. You've been that man before, and you'll be him again. And these men and women... they call themselves Stormcloaks because they believe in you. They're the meanest, toughest sons of bitches Skyrim has to offer. And they want this. They want this as much as you do. Perhaps they want it more.
: I feel like I have to interject here and mention that "meanest, toughest sons of bitches" wasn't a made-up anachronism. He said that. He actually said that part. He... said it, that's all.
: Whiterun's army will no doubt be bolstered with Legionnaires. And those walls are old, but they still stand.
: they're ready. And I might be old myself, but I'll kick those damn walls down with my bare feet! - if you would only ask me to do it!
: and I'm sure you could do it, too. Alright... this is it. Send the word. "A new day is dawning and the sun rises over Whiterun."
: BRO DO ME PROUD I BELIEVE IN YOU
The soldiers just... interrupt the subtitles like this. A lot. For some reason I find it endlessly hilarious. I just kind of imagine this great general being unable to give orders or be heard because his soldiers are all autistic and are screaming incoherently at random intervals.
And the mighty invading army of six men and a tranny are off!! It's majestic, bros, I shit you not. No, really, this is probably the most NPCs that have ever been on-screen at a time in a Bethesda game. Also, the corpses in this part fade away when they hit the ground. It still lags. New engine, everyone! Really!
The army of screaming autistic manbabies seems to have met their match. And yes, random Imperial soldiers are just called Generals. They're not any harder to kill. I'm not sure why Generals are on the front lines, but I am beginning to see how the Thalmor won.
: BROS CHECK IT OUT I LIT A FART
: BROTASTIC
His heart alight, Anders easily cleaves his way through the traitorous hordes, opening the gate and allowing the Stormcloaks into the heart of Whiterun. If there are any other Stormcloaks left. I'll be honest, I haven't seen any for a while.
Anders stealthily rushes through the giant swinging doors with three allies and a huge fucking mace in hand. Apparently.
Anders smashes the barricade keeping him from Whiterun's central plaza, a stone's throw from the palace of Dragonreach itself. Anders lets loose a warcry, and prays to the King of BROS for his blessing on this fateful day.
: GO FORTH, BLOBERT ROARED, INTO THE BELLY OF THIS NEW LAND! DRIVE THE WRETCHED FROM THEIR PALACES OF IDLENESS! OBLIGE THEM TO SQUALOR AND TOIL, SO THAT THEY WOULD SEE THEIR BETRAYALS AS THE ALL-SIN AGAINST OUR KIND! GIVE THEM NO QUARTER! SHOW NO KINDNESS! FOR THEY WOULD NOT GIVE NOR SHOW YOU THE SAME!
: BRO I PEED A LITTLE IN EXCITEMENT
And the heavens opened with a peal of thunder, and they say lightning lashed the dogfuckers that day.
The popamole fell away before him, for he was a BRO among men.
Arm in arm, our hero and his stalwart companion
mounted the steps of Dragonsreach, cleaving the few remaining foes in twain. Praise be!
And so the battle is reached.
No guard is a match for the fury of Anders. He sweeps the villains aside, the winds of change at his back lending weight to his every blow.
The Jarl stands... a little longer than most. But soon, even he falls before the liberators of Skyrim.
Fuck doing another huge dialogue scene, my arms hurt and I need to study. Have some screenshots.
Anders was briefly concerned about just who he had enthroned, but is assured that Vignar is, despite appearances, as Aryan as Ulfric himself.
: that... that's not how that works. You're a prisoner, right? Aren't you? Why are we just letting him go? Will someone please explain?
Anders' pleas fall on deaf ears, as he remembers too late that his allies are functionally retarded. Sighing, he returns to Windhelm, and Balgruuf wanders off to sulk in bed or something.
: We'll call you Ice-Veins now, for the thick blood of our land has seeped into your heart.
: here, take this. It's an Imperial officer's sword, fit to use against our enemy.
: thank you for the weapon inferior to the one I'm using. What's our next move?
: I suspect you'll be of greater use to us with greater freedom, so you're free to engage the Imperials as you see fit.
: so by freedom you mean I can keep doing other stuff and my actual missions will be as linear as ever.
: right. Had you going for a second, huh? Find our hidden camp in Falkreath. Galmar will have special tasks for you, and will need you when we liberate the capital. Talos guide you.
Soon, our glorious patron will be as revered across the land as he deserves. A great blow in the name of Andersianism has been struck today.
Can Anders put aside his righteous fury in order to attempt a stealth mission? Fort Neugrad, the heart of Falkreath hold... its taking will bring us within the reach of the heart of the Empire in Skyrim, the decadent fortress city of Solitude. The way will be long and
hard dull, but Anders smells victory on the horizon.