Note: I have made a small change to the dovah, that being certain species will be bigger and smaller than others. Green and brown skinned dragons will be regular sized, serpentine dragons will be slightly smaller than normal, though barely noticeable, frost dragons will be a bit bigger. Elder dragons will be much bigger, their heads now big enough to be the size of a large cow. Ancient dragons will be huge, like, Smaug size. Paarturnax, Odahviing, and Durnehviir will be slightly bigger than Ancient dragons. Also, the dragons can grow with age, just not all of them.
Alduin is exempt from this rule, as he's bigger than Shor's Hall.
Black and gold, purple and red, metal and madness. These things danced the dance of death as they whirled around each other, ebony plate smashing against ancient gold, a blood red skirt moving with light purple robes, and a pure black greatsword against the hardened bones of an eldritch horror. Thus, these two danced, the old and the new, the First versus the Last.
A blade thicker than a man's arm smashed against a sword of insanity, sending it flying. Miraak merely tsked and shouted, the words known to the Last, and his blade suddenly joined Miraaks over the edge of the Summit of Apocrypha.
Both stared down at each other, before both roared and charged, fists flying. But it was soon clear who was stronger, as a black gauntlet gripped the First's purple collar tight, the other was smashed into his gut, both throwing Miraak across the summit.
Breathing heavily from the battle that lasted hours, the Last went for his greatsword, picking it up with one hand, and making his way towards Miraak, his blade cutting a path through the green stones of Apocrypha. As he neared, he brought up the sword, ready to deliver a downward swing, before something ripped it from his grasp. He turned and looked into an open maw, a torrent of frost sent straight into his face.
The Last grabbed the beast by its jaws and snapped them close, using all his strength to keep it that way. The cold was always deadly against him, but he had trained long in the frozen lands of Skyrim, and now felt his blood begin to run as the frost began to recede. For a moment, a calm entered him as he grappled with the dragon….only for it to be wrenched away as a blade pierced his back.
With a roar of both pain and rage, he held the jaws hard, and swung the beast at his attacker. The First stepped back as a mass of scales and flesh was sent towards him and sent him flying, the dragon now howling as it struggled to turn over.
How many dragons does he have? That had been the fifth to intercede in the fight, and still he heard roars echo in the distance.
The Last seemed to sense his frustration, and laughed as he stood, "Now do you see? It is hopeless. Countless beasts have tried to find the secrets of Herma Mora, but now they serve him. Now, they serve me! Yol Tor Shul!" A stream of fire sped towards the Last, who braced himself as the flames rolled over him.
"Wuld!" The First gasped as a fist sank deep into him, the Last now in front of him, a path opened in the wave of fire. With another heave Miraak was thrown across the summit.
As the Last walked towards him, he stopped, and looked for his blade, only to find no black blade to speak of.
"Tuz, Daal." A *shink* could be heard as the greatsword flew through the air, spinning, and landed in the opened hand of the Last, who gripped the handle tightly.
"I don't care how vast your army is, none of it matters if their master is dead. And you will die Miraak!" He charged forth, greatsword in hand, and roared as he brought it down onto Miraak's head, his own blade blocking the five foot long sword.
As the battle raged, Miraak grinned as he saw more and more beasts of Apocrypha begin to appear, flying through the air. Deformed Cliffracers, giant floating squids and octopus, and even the smaller Lurkers, Hunters as Hermaeus called them, charged with slaying invaders from other realms atop their steeds, giant eyes with eye stalks on their heads.
All of them, served him.
"You will die, Last. And with you, any hope for Nirn." And with a speed only few could match, the First weaved through the Last's guard, burying his blade deep into his side.
The Last gasped and coughed up a spout of blood, before falling to one knee. The First smiled beneath his mask, before placing the blade against the side of their neck, ready to decapitate him.
"Last words, Last?" Hundreds of creatures were now beginning to emerge on the summit, and his dragons began to land, three of them coming to look down upon the Last.
"Just three….Dur Neh Viir!" An orb of purple energy rapidly expanded from beneath Miraak, and as he stumbled on the new surface, the summit fared much worse.
Huge chunks of ancient masonry fell towards the black sea, bringing hundreds of creatures down with them. Seekers, Lurkers, Hunters, and all manner of Apocrypha's creatures sank into the broth of tentacles, sinking into the sea. Dragons screeched as the ground was upheaved, flying through the air.
Miraak meanwhile had finally found more stable ground on the back of one of his larger dragons, an Ancient whose scales had turned a dark green, almost black, in its time in the realm of lore.
As the orb popped in a flourish of energy, Miraak bit back a growl at the sight of the most stubborn dragon he had ever encountered.
Where once red orange scales glimmered, making his scars all the more defined, were now aged and rotten beyond recognition, the dragon's whole body a sickly light green.
"Dii kogaan, Qahnaarin, I am always welcome to new realms to spread my wings. Who is our foe, to be in such a realm?" The Last took a deep breath as ribbons of gold twirled across his body, himself thanking Akatosh he had decided to learn the arts of Restoration instead Destruction.
"The First of my people." Durnehviir looked up to the sky and snarled as he spotted Miraak and his steed.
"Miraak, with Krasnovaar no less! Zu'u Fen Luv Hin Slen, Krasnovaar!" The green dragon let out a snort, green flames billowing out from his nose, as it looked down in contempt at Durnehviir.
"Hin Qah Fen Ag, Mey Do In." Durnehviir roared in fury and flew towards Krasnovaar in a rage, smashing into the dragon and sinking his fangs deep into his collar.
With a roar, they fell to the earth, both grappled to each other as they claws and bit at anything they could. The First and Last merely clung to their mounts.
Note: I must remind you that these dragons are now HUGE! While not all of them, Ancient dragons and Durnehviir are as big as Smaug, Durnehviir being only slightly bigger. Why did I put this? Because I know you skipped that note at the beginning!
The Last began to grow worried as they continued falling, only for relief to spread through him when he saw stone instead of the writhing sea beneath him….which was coming towards him very fast.
"Wuld!" He rocketed off of Durnehviir, seconds away from being flattened, and looked back to find the two still fighting. Krasnovaar went to bite at Durnehviir's face, but was smacked aside by his wing, before Durnehviir spun around and socked them in the face with their tail.
As the Last watched, he was suddenly tackled from the side and found himself rolling down a staircase, Miraak with him.
"One of us will die, Last! And it will not be me!" With a flourish of orange energy, the Last was sent flying towards a pillar of books, held together by the sheer weight of all the other books atop them. The Last stood up, and ripped their helmet off, before sending it away in a flash of purple energy.
Miraak paused at the sight, before laughing at the irony of the situation.
"Once again, our people stand at odds!" Miraak removed his helm, revealing the grey skin and red eyes of a Dark elf, "Tell me, do those Nords truly trust you? Or do you always wear your helm, hiding your face? Afraid that they will try and slay you for coming from a race of, what did they call it? Milk-drinkers?" Red eyes twinkled in amusement at the slit, amber eyes of the Argonian.
Donned in black armor of his own make, matching his black scales, his face showed no emotion as he said once again, "Tuz, Daal." Another *shink* could be heard as his blade tore through the walls of Apocrypha and landed into his hand.
"I must say, Last. This is a very interesting turn of events. But truly, what could you expect? Would only make sense for this to be, for the gods are so fond of making a joke of our lives." Miraak held out his hand, and his own blade appeared in a pop of black sludge
"Before we end this, may I know your name?" He had strode towards him, intent on using his black blade, but paused at the question, before standing a bit straighter as he announced.
"Blackheart…Champion of the Hist." Miraak grinned, wiped away a strand of auburn hair, clinging to his sweaty face, and charged.
He brought it low to meet the sweeping blow of Blackheart's blade, the sound of bone meeting metal resounding through the air, and went for another stab at his ribs, a hole noticeable in his armor. But it met only air as Blackheart moved to the side and shoved him with his shoulder. Tumbling from him, he kept rolling, before coming to a halt and onto one knee, blocking an overhead swing meant to cleave his arm off. He slashed at his leg, but was disappointed at the clang of metal. His blade of bones could cut through most, but Ebony and beyond needed to be dealt with in different ways, and slashing wasn't one of them. He kicked at the Last's knee, attempting to bring them low so he could lay into him or attempt to conceive a plan. On any other, the force of Miraak's kick, the soul of a dovah giving him strength far greater than any mortals, would snap their bones and break their armor. But on the Last, he hurt himself…as well as ended himself.
His foot was grabbed when it made contact, and he was thrown into a wall. As he tried standing up, a number of actions passed through his mind. Bring his blade into a arc towards his head, use Fire Breath, summon a golem, create a wall of fire to protect himself, use the magic Hermaeus gave him to move through the wall and create a plan, try to bend his will. All of them went through his mind as fast as a bolt of lightning, as fast as a steed in threat of death, as fast as a husband caught cheating.
A fast as the blade of Blackheart went through his flesh and heart.
With a gasp he looked down at the blade, itself going through him and severing his spinal cord, likely cutting his heart in half. After a moment the blade came out of him, and he fell back against the wall, clutching his chest. Blood poured out of him, along with a clear liquid, and onto the floor, a circle of dark red beginning to grow. He reached for his blade, trying to will it closer to him, but found he could barely summon the magicka to do so.
Blackheart brought the tip of his blade right at his nose, and said, "I told you, you die today." And in a flash, the Dragonborn swiped at his head, Miraak's eyes jiggled for a moment before a thin red line appeared across his face and his eyes burst, juices and blood mixing together as the top half of his head fell off.
And just as the Dragonborn sheathed his blade, just as he turned away, intent on seeing the battle between the goliaths through, a hand gripped at his red skirt.
"Not yet…" Eyes wide, Blackheart whirled around before grunting as a blade pierced his chest, sinking into his lung, and a grinning MIraak appeared, black tendrils wiggling from his stump of a head.
"I won't allow it! You may escape this realm, but you will NEVER return to Nirn! Suleyksejun! Sizaan! MAHFAERAAK!" A Shout, never to be uttered only for the most brutal of punishments, tore through the Last.
He screamed in earnest as his body was beginning to fade, like molten metal coursing through his veins, and found his vision fading. Not into black, no, but the very things he saw fading. Miraak, the walls, even the jaws of Durnehviir as he tore apart Miraak and tried to reach for him, his bloodied mouth just about to grasp him, only for those to fade, replaced by the orange and azure sky of a sunset.
His vision faded in earnest, as he fell to a whole new world.
Like? Hate? Want to run around naked for no apparent reason? Well more power to you.
I accept any kind of criticism as long as it actually points out things that I could improve on and isn't just a stupido wanting to hate on a super novice writer! And if you have anything funni to say, please do so after to actual review.
Reference:
"Chris, if you're ever homeless, just beg in Plankton's voice. Be like, 'if you'll give me a dollar I'll…."
"Heh, "I'll give you the crabby patty secret formula!""
*laughter*
Hint: He made Dragonzball pee