Mine this is not. Most of this belongs to Bethesda Softworks; I just own Nirael.
I am Qodovahsil, the Last Dragonborn. Perhaps you have heard of me, or read a book with my name in it. Or perhaps you do not know me as that name. I have gone by many in the long years of my life: Champion of Hermaeus Mora, Merida, Azura, Mephala, Boethiah; Listener of the Dark Brotherhood; Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold; Thane of Whiterun, Solitude, Winterhold, and Riften. And yet I also go by my birth name, though it is long forgotten by many: Nirael of House Telvanni, one of the few remaining Wizard-Lords of the Telvanni.
I do not live in a mushroom Tel, as many Wizards have and do. I prefer my mountain, high in the clouds, close to the sky. I have always dreamt of flight; as a mortal, it is impossible. But I have had the honour to ride upon the backs of my fellow dragons. It is a most incredible feeling; soaring high above the clouds, breathing that cold thin air that makes me feel light headed. There is no shout made to allow mortals to take the form of dragons, allowing them the freedom such a form gives. I have found manuscripts of those Dragonborn who have tried: all have failed.
But you must forgive me for rambling. I am sure you are wanting to ask, "what is this that you are writing, Nirael? Why is it in the Dragon tongue?" I believe I shall answer.
This transcript is my memoirs, my story of how I went from aspiring Telvanni Wizard to Dragonborn, Wizard-Lord of Telvanni. I have many spells to preserve my memory, Shouts that I have discovered to make remembering easier. But I fear that in my old age, not even those safeguards are holding, and my memories are fading.
The Common Tongue does not come so easily to me now; I am an aged Dragon, and the language of my soul is what I wish to write in. Yes, I can still speak, read, and write in Common and Elvish, but they are harder to comprehend. It is too soft by comparison to the Dragon Tongue, where each line that is spoken sounds like a harsh incantation to the Divines. They are gentle, soft, forgiving in the mouth; Dragon is strong, harsh, and powerful.
Perhaps before we begin I should tell you a bit about myself. I am currently 686 years old, and I do not believe I shall live much longer. Yes, many Dunmer live to be at least 700 years old, but few of them carry the guilt and sorrow that I have had to bear for the past several hundred years.
What a strange concept, in and of itself: that a Telvanni may carry such heavy sorrow and guilt. Few of the Telvanni I met, knew, and grew up with have such scruples. They have done terrible things, but they do not feel such remorse. Perhaps I am a defective Telvanni; I do not care.
In my age, my hair has thinned and turned white, where it was once a beautiful black. No longer do I keep it in that fierce spikes I so loved. The lines around my eyes have deepened, both the ones of laughter and worry. My children certainly saw to that,
There are no adventures left for me. I helped many when I was young, and killed many others. I saved this world from the fury of Alduin the World Eater, sending his soul deep into the many crevasses of Aetherius, that he may not return until he is called on to fulfil his prophecy. I walked in the shadows with the blessing of Sithis, killing for those people who had being wronged. I destroyed necromancers, killed dragons and fellow followers of Boethiah, retrieved dark artifacts that should never have seen light again.
But once again I am rambling. I think perhaps that you would like to hear my story, not be told of things that happened because of it. So let us begin…
This is the translation of its counterpart, Dii Tey. I got a comment asking for a translation, somewhere, please. So, here it is! :D
If you are interested in the Dovahzul one and are just coming across this now, you can find it on my profile.
Abandoned Cub, this is for you! And, yeah, I totally get it. Here it is!
Twillin Out!