As it was written by the hands of fate. As it was foretold by the Elder Scrolls.
You, born with the soul of a dragon, but given mortal flesh. One who would touch the power of the gods themselves, before turning that same power upon the undead hordes of the west.
You who are chosen by Akatosh to slay his firstborn son. The god we serve even after our deaths. Alduin, our lord, will fall by your hand, Dovahkiin. We have seen this as a possibility. We do not desire this outcome, however, we recognize strength.
We recognize that you who art the strongest of mortals, having slain not only we 8, but the 5 to the East, the Traitor chief among them, deserve a token of our respect. And so, we have sent our thralls to gather the materials so that we may begin to work on our boon to you, your badge of honor and rank.
Should this fate we do not desire come to pass, Konahriik, we know at least that this golden mask will shout to the world that you are not just Dovahkiin.
You, are the truest Warlord of the Age.