I didn't get to update as soon as I hoped, RL got in the way. Oh well, at least it's relatively small gap. The reviews that came in in last chapter, although in greater numbers than usually, mostly don't really require a response (glances at several reviews over the last few chapters that consist of word 'nice' and nothing else). I don't really mind - it still bumps up my reviews counter and confirms that yes, readers care enough to let me know so, but I would appreciate some solid feedback, since that's the only thing I gain from writing this story other than the pleasure of writing itself.
Nosferatu2255 - I already have a rough idea about both Hero of Kvatch and Dragonborn, so I can make a pretty good guess how it will play out. Rotheimaak kind of made it his job to help out the protagonists of each game, so he will aim to do that, though some might argue about the way he handles it. With Dragonborn Roth will however have some problems and not just because of him.
Accursius - If anything, it will be Azirra, not him. He will be lucky to find a toothpick in his size.
Cheesecake244351 - From what we have seen from Hircine, he doesn't care if the prey beats his hunters - he might have a bone to pick with Sheogorath, but if Rotheimaak will prove himself a worthy opponent by turning the hunt on its head, the prince will most likely grudgingly accept his loss. I think, though, that it will take a direct confrontation during Bloodmoon to really get Hircine to give it up. Other princes (at least some of them) are bound to come in contact with Rotheimaak, since they always pay attention to Heroes and Roth intends to follow them around.
shirzadym - That's actually a really good question. There's a chance Rotheimaak will learn Dragonrend - it was stated that the reason Paarthurnax doesn't know it is that in order to use it one has to truly understand the concept of mortality, something that is beyond dragons. Our hero however was once mortal, so there's a chance he could learn this shout. That might actually make him a force to be reckoned with even among his kind.
TheOrangeLord - I don't think translation is necessary just yet. I intentionally replace only some words, the ones that are relatively well known, aren't difficult to figure out once seeing the entire sentence or, even if left unknown, do not actually stop the reader from following the events (like Rotheimaak's only full dragon sentence in this chapter, which is just him boasting his superiority). Every time I use a word that is important, but not well known I also have Roth translating it immediately for his listeners. If time will come where Rotheimaak will actually have an important or just long text in Dovahzul (or one that can't be conveniently explained within the story itself), I'll of course translate. There were two phrases that fulfilled those conditions in this chapter.
shirzadym - Don't worry, I have no intentions of ending the story in the middle. The upload might be slow sometimes, but I still enjoy writing very much. The only possible danger is me writing more than one large fanfiction at the time - that DID end my off-site stories every time it happened. So I intentionally hold myself back from posting new ones, even though in the last two years I had at least five very good ideas (Overlord (both game series and novel), Sonic, One Punch Man, Fallout). As for your question: yes, Rotheimaak will definitely create new shouts. Not a lot of them and it won't happen very fast (it would be too OP of him to just came up with them every few chapters), but he is already working on one to make his life easier.
Let's resume where we stopped last.
"Fuck you too, Hircine."
Ted obviously didn't like the thought of a hunting party after him, especially one that included werewolves. Sadly, you can't always have what you want.
"Can't this guy just wait a few fucking months until Bloodmoon DLC?" He sighed. "I guess I will have to face them and show them just why they won't be able to hung my ass on Hircine's wall. I hoped I could save it for an actual fight with some rah, maybe Almalexia, but it seems the technique I was developing will be put to use much earlier. Looks like I will have to use my Special Move..." A dangerous, scary glint appeared in his eyes. "...Nikriin Dovah Bo."
Tharbjorn was a very famous hunter - he traversed all of Tamriel in search of unique trophies. Who cares about bears and wolves? He wanted to become more than famous, he wanted to become a legend. A hunter that put down a legendary beast. So far he just wasn't lucky enough - the monster that lurked deep in Black Marsh turned out to be just a Sload necromancer and while it was indeed a worthy kill, it was far from being one of a kind. He was just about to head to Cyrodiil and search for one of those apparently not so extinct unicorns, when he received a tip from his friends in Hircine's cult about a new prey, a dragon of all possible things, revealing itself in Morrowind. He was more than happy to join the fun, although it was a shame he had such a massive competition. No matter. Those people may be experienced, but not as versatile as him. They belonged to the Solstheim chapter of Hircine's Wild Hunt, they didn't know a single thing about fighting a big flying animal. They brought hammers - hammers! - to put it down! Last time he checked all stories claimed the dragons were at least as smart as Nords they used to rule. What kind of an idiot a dragon would have to be to land when he can pummel the enemy with fireballs from the air?
A dragon landed on top of the hill they were climbing and Nord stopped, much like the rest of his company. He did it because it shocked him just how stupid, even if impressive in terms of size, his target was. It was unusual for the prey to reveal itself like that - anyone knew that once the Wild Hunt spotted the animal, it would never survive the night.
"Foolish joore," stated the beast in a threatening voice. "You think you stand a chance against me? Zu'u zok mul! It is you who is the prey, not... ARRGGH!"
Tharbjorn had little patience for fools and thus he shot him as soon as he had the chance. The arrow was now sticking out of the scales right above the right eye. Nord scowled - was he getting old to miss like that?
"YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! YOU DON'T JUST SHOOT WHEN A PROTAGONIST GIVES A SPEECH, YOU ASSHO-!"
Another arrow from another hunter, probably inspired by Tharbjorn's example, was shot, but this time it just bounced off one of the spines.
Who are those people with me, thought Tharbjorn with disgust as he prepared to fire again, to not score a hit on a stationary target?
"AGAIN?! That's it! Brace yourself, hunters, for now I won't hold back on you!" Another arrow was sent flying, but to his surprise the dragon didn't even flinch as it got stuck in his chest. "Pray to whatever god you think is listening, for I am about to end this encounter... with my Special Move."
The dragon stood on its' legs and stretched his wings, casting his wast shadow over all of them. Tharbjorn, being very capable of sensing intentions of the pray, immediately put away the bow and prepared himself for a quick dodge - the beast was about to attack and others realized it too. The werewolf at the front growled. The target took in a deep breath...
"Special Move... Dragon Dash!"
The dragon blew them raspberry, which was followed by a strong flap of wings. A few seconds later bewildered hunters were looking at a distant dot, already barely noticeable in the dark of the night. A distant yell pierced the silence caused by the unexpected turn of events.
"Trololololololo la la la... Oh ho ho ha ha ha...!"
Tharbjorn started shaking and then, when the 'song' reached its culmination point, he exploded in righteous fury.
"THAT SON OF A...!"
"...Ohohohohooooo!" finished Rotheimaak. He smirked. He knew memorizing the entire 'lyrics' would be useful one day. "Suckers. I think, though, that I will have to throw them off my trail. Otherwise they are going to cause trouble in the area and I don't want that. They would scare off all bandits and what would I hunt then?"
Being a miner is a hard work... as long as you work in your typical mine, excavating ores. In Morrowind, however, there is a particular brand of mining that doesn't even require the miners to touch a pickaxe (barring, say, a tunnel collapse). We speak, of course, about the egg mining.
The relation between kwama and Dunmer is similar to that of chickens and men - one is cultivated solely so that the other will gain food, mostly eggs. As kwama are common on Vvardenfell, the farms of the mainland didn't take root here. There was just no point when kwama eggs are bigger and the species is better accustomed to the local climate (read: cursed sandstorms). Many people found employment in egg mining - while it took a moment for kwama to get used to new faces so that they won't attack the newbies, it certainly paid off. In the end those eggs were amongst the most popular food on the island.
Still, it's a bit surprising someone cared enough to start poaching the eggs. Apparently other miners managed to lock the poachers in the lowest level of the mine. Until the orc send from the Fighters Guild sorted them out the two miners camping in the entrance to the mine had to wait - their work involved the maintenance of queen's lair. With nothing else to do, the two decided to chat about recent events.
"I don't think he can do anything," stated the first of them, a Bosmer named Findulain. "The situation is not in his favour. Any potential - or confirmed - Camonna member leaves the jail faster than an arrow leaves the bow. So what if he is pretty good in catching them if the judges are in Camonna's pocket?"
"That doesn't mean Varro doesn't have a fighting chance." His companion, Redguard Dinok, had a different opinion about the recent oath taken by Fort Moonmoth's second in command. "He isn't a city guard, he's not going to just be content as long as he gets his pay. He seems to take personally the fact everyone he captures is released by a bribe. He strikes me as a man that, when law fails, will handle the issue in less official... Who is that?"
The Bosmer quickly saw the person in question - a woman was running towards them, coming from the road to Balmora. Both miners were instantly on high alert. It was unlikely to encounter a bandit this close to the city, but they did just have two armed poachers spotted in the mine. As she approached, however, they slightly relaxed - the Imperial didn't have any visible armor or even weapon and was wearing simple clothes typical for commoners, not much different from their own. Much to their relief the stranger slowed down and finally stopped a few meters away from them, though she still kept jogging in place.
"Hello," the woman greeted them. "Flaenia Amiulusus, Fighters Guild. How are things? If I remember right, our guild member should be already inside?"
The miners relaxed completely.
"A large orc? Yes, he went inside a few minutes ago. It shouldn't be long before he is done. Why, are you here a backup?"
"Oh, no. I might not like Gromlak, but I can't deny he is more than capable of sorting out two poachers. This place just happened to be at perfect distance from the city to give my student a workout."
"Student?"
In the distance appeared another person, running out from around the bend of the road. Long, thin tail trailing behind her indicated a Khajiit. She was clearly not used to this kind of activity - by the time she joined the group, she had trouble breathing and her legs were shaking.
"...I thought *wheeze* you were supposed to *wheeze* teach me spear combat, not..."
"It's all tied together, Azirra. The better your endurance, the easier it will be to use your weapon. All your knowledge on the subject will be useless if you won't have condition good enough to keep your hands on the spear when the other end is stuck in, let's say, the belly of the bear. Heh... that reminds me my first bear hunt back in Bruma. I went with a spear and an axe. First I run the spear through the chest when he stood up, then I kept him away with the spear still in him and waited until he got weak from the blood loss and I could get close with the axe."
"I'm in Morrowind, I won't *wheeze* fight bears here!"
"You never know. Ah, doesn't matter. I suppose it's time to go back. See you back at the gate, we will continue with sparring. I'll be counting your time."
"WHAT? I'm supposed to run also on way back?!"
"You wanted to 'teach me everything on the subject'. Sorry sister, you must suffer to get better."
The two miners just observed in amusement as the cat barreled onward while swearing.
"Are you sure about this?" Rotheimaak looked with distrust at the pot in front of him. There was plenty of smoke coming out. "Any visions I get always come on their own."
Nibani Maesa nodded, while still stirring the content.
"That may be true, however it is confirmed even those with natural talent are even more efficient when using this method."
The dragon sighed.
"Still, smoking weed? That sounds like an advice Jerry would give me. And those never end well."
He was starting to regret his official stance on the subject of inconsistency between his own memory and the events of the War of the First Council. To be specific, he kept his own version - he didn't even remember meeting Nerevar Indoril in the first place. He didn't feel confident enough to actually pretend to know him in person, not when there were still some people who knew better and could call him out on this, as unlikely as such event is (Tribunal and daedric princes aren't exactly trusted by everyone, nor do they often contact mortals in person). Furthermore, the most important people within the Nerevarine cult already heard him claiming ignorance, so changing his mind without a good excuse was out of the question. Thus he had only one option: be brazen enough to still claim he didn't remember. And there was actually something working in his favour to actually pull this off.
"You do realize this won't help me recover my missing memories if the reason behind their loss is Tiid-Ahraan, a Dragon Break?"
"Dragon Break... You mentioned those before. An anomaly in the flow of time caused by misuse of divine power by mortals, wasn't it?" The other Wise Woman, Manirai of Erabenimsun, was performing her own unrelated alchemic duties close to them (most likely concocting potions that lessened the danger of being infected with Blight). "How would that relate to your situation?"
He hummed in thought.
"How to explain this phenomenon to you... Alright, I suppose doing so by the example would be best, there was a Dragon Break very recently in Iliac Bay. It's called Warp in the West. Before it took place, the territory was divided into dozens of little kingdoms. Forty-four, if I remember well, which is NEVER certain when a Dragon Break is involved."
"Iliac Bay... that's High Rock and Hammerfell, correct?" asked Nibani. "I know little on the lands of the Empire, but I'm certain no province is that much divided. You must be mistaken."
"I would be if I said that it's a current state of the area. It used to be like that... until Dragon Break happened, because now it never happened, even before Dragon Break."
Nibani paused.
"I'm pretty sure you didn't yet inhale the smoke, and yet..."
"Let me finish. It's a crazy concept, I know, but it's very much real. Here's what happened, as far as I can tell: there was an exceptional hero in Iliac Bay. In one way or another he somehow recovered a powerful item known as the Totem of Tiber Septim. It held tremendous power, since with it one could control Numidium, the Brass Tower. It was created by the Dwemer as their artificial rah, god, hence where the 'divine power' comes from. And then... and then everything become vomindok. The adventurer had several options regarding the fate of the Totem and as such also Numidium. He could give it to one of the four most significant royals in Iliac Bay, making them the supreme power in the region. He could also give it to Mannimarco, the King of Worms. That would result in him ascending to divinity. Hun could also hand over the item to the Underking, a former Imperial battlemage cursed with being unable to truly die, the Totem would realize his greatest wish. Finally, it was possible to send the Totem to the Emperor himself, securing his power over the region. Guess what was the choice of the hero?"
Manirai chuckled.
"Given that High Rock still isn't united, but isn't divided that much, I would say the Septim got his toy."
"He did... but so did everyone else I mentioned. At the same time."
Both witches paused at this conundrum. Rotheimaak elaborated.
"The name of Dragon Break is very literal. It works by breaking the nature of the greatest of dragons, Bormahu, who is Time itself. The normal rules of causality are denied and logic sits weeping in the corner. In this particular case the Break was tied to the decision of the hero. All possible outcomes were realized. The Totem and Numidium, being the at the center of events, divided into seven instances of the same objects from seven separate timelines that, due to Tiid-Ahraan were, against all laws of physics, all taking place instead of just one of them. On the ninth of Frostfall seven Numidiums emerged from Iliac Bay and each did the bidding of a different master. The Brass Towers led by the local royals and the one controlled by the Emperor destroyed all armies in their way, even though said armies ended up completely victorious thanks to owning the Numidium. All lost due to not having Numidium and at the same time all won by owning it. Mannimarco ascended to godhood and at the same time didn't. In short: events were so convoluted that one might think Sheogorath took the timeline and skipped ropes with it. The entire mess lasted three days, not counting the aftermath. The madness stopped only once the Underking took action and destroyed every instance of Numidium while killing himself in the process. Once it was over Mannimarco was mortal once more, four countries that controlled the Tower were much bigger in territory, their borders turning into desolate wastelands and Emperor was still in mulaag."
After a few seconds of silence caused by this lecture, Nibani sighed.
"And that, right there, is why Azura asked Nerevar and Tribunal to destroy whatever Dwemer discovered in their foolish quest for godhood. Everything becomes so complicated when a mortal aspires to more than he is meant to get."
"So yeah. If you were to go to Iliac Bay, you would find plenty of people who remember at least one version of events, even though the end result doesn't match up. I think that's why I don't remember my participation in kein." If Ted could still shrug, he would do so. "The Dwemer experimented on divine power and actually attempted to do so during the final battle. To this day we still don't know for sure what exactly happened - both with the dwarves and the death of Nerevarine. There are also some conflicting testimonies. That sounds like Dragon Break to me."
But I actually doubt it, added the dragon in his mind. There could be a Break, but didn't have to be. Conflicting testimonies might be simply either Tribunal lying or Ashlanders being in the wrong. And while sudden removal of an entire race might be a work of the Dragon Break, it's also possible that every single Dwemer was for example simply instantly torn down on atomic level by Lorkhan's Heart due to some miscalculation of Kagrenac. If this was a crossover, the end result could even be Thanos dropping from the sky with Infinity Gauntlet, that's how little I know.
"So we can make a guess that there were at least two versions of events," concluded Manirai. "One with you taking part in the battle and another with you sleeping through the entire conflict."
"Most likely. Hence why there's a chance this won't help - if there's nothing for this version of me to remember, then I obviously won't see anything."
Nibani stirred the content of the cauldron for the last time and stepped away.
"It's possible, but we have yet to rule out anything and this is first step. Now then, the incense is ready. Go ahead, Rotheimaak."
The dragon focused his eyes on the cauldron once more. As much as he didn't like it, he knew there was no getting out of this. He crawled closer to the campfire.
Hopefully this time he won't say anything incriminating when high - he barely survived the teasing that followed when Jerry learned his fetish.
"Alright, I'll do this. If I'll see any talking rat-ghosts, I'll sing off-key serenades outside your tent all night to keep you awake and frustrated."
To be honest, it wasn't that bad in retrospective. He remembered only the first five minutes. After that, according to the tribesmen, he was just droning on something in Thu'um while flying in circles over the camp.
Backwards.
There's no doubt anymore. Mods must be involved - there's no such a thing as Nerevar's tomb in the vanilla game.
Alright, maybe 'tomb' is a wrong word here - it was about daedric ruins. They were, however, said to be the first Hortator's place of final rest, at least in Urshilaku tradition.
"I don't buy it, Nibani," stated Ted. "It's not possible. If the knowledge of where Nerevar's corpse was placed still existed, the remains would be taken by the Temple. They scorn the prophecy, but he is still a saint to them."
"Do not be foolish, Rotheimaak. The Nerevarine cult is small, few know about the location. When Alandro Sul, ancestor of Sul-Matuul, received the body from you... or another version of you, he hid it away from the Tribunal so that the hero's remains won't be mistreated by those who murdered him. Only those closest to him, the founders of the cult, knew the location. I believe you should know it too."
"Why daedric ruins?"
"First off, those weren't yet ruins when the burial took place. Over the ages the shrine was a place of worship to several different daedra, but at the time it was dedicated to Azura. As Nerevar was prophesied to return in order to fulfill promise given to her, it was the best location to put him to rest until his time comes."
Rotheimaak blinked. Yes, there was a shrine (very small shrine), but still...
"On Azura's Coast?"
"...How did you know? Yes, it's on Azura's Coast. Very close to Sadrith Mora, as a matter of fact. Just east of the city, on the same island."
Alright, so it's not the same place. East of Sadrith Mora... was there even a ruin there? I don't remember, in cities like these you tend to focus on the massive mushroom in the middle of the city, not horizon.
"I see..."
"This is also where your statue was placed, so that your appearance, as the last sign of the prophecy, could be easily recognized by any Urshilaku Wise Woman no matter how much time has passed."
"That does explain why I was welcomed so quickly." Rotheimaak nodded slowly. There was an ongoing storm of thoughts in his head.
I'm, according to Akatosh, a new dragon. As absent as he is, he is probably still reliable when it comes to information on his children, since they are literally pieces of him removed during the creation of Mundus. Dragon Dad outright said that the piece of him that was me was grabbed by the alter ego of Deranged Dad, who put his own twist on it before dropping me in Tamriel. He paused. Wow. Never thought I would make such a sentence... Anyway, the point is that this body didn't exist until recently. I'm technically less than one month old. And yet there is a dragon with the exact same looks and name mentioned in historical event connected to the prophecy in which I am interested too. I think Sheo did much, much more than just paint my forehead purple and possibly removed what little sanity I had left. Anything is possible, given that he had a fragment of a God of Time in his hands.
Either way, I should investigate this. Now is as good time as any.
"I suppose it is obvious then what action I should take now. If meditation is..." he ignored the Dunmer's annoying smirk, "...of no use to me, then I must uncover the truth with normal research. I need to travel to Nerevar's tomb and take a look, hopefully this will explain what exactly is going on."
"In that case take Manirai with you. New Ashkhan of Erabenimsun is young and while his opponents in the tribe are no more, he will still need advice from the Wise Woman. As fruitful as meeting with her was, she must return to her duties soon."
"Noted. I'll make sure to pick her up before heading out."
The life of a scamp is a tough one. If you count it based on how long they last before something slaughters them (rather than count all their lives together), then said life is also usually short. They were at the very bottom of daedric hierarchy, even freaking clan fears usually made quick work of them, to say nothing about sentient foes. Scamps inhabited a very unfortunate ecological niche: they were humanoid enough that they couldn't win with brute force alone due to lack of good natural weapons, but in most cases weren't smart enough to actually use man-made weapons. That meant that only their inability to truly die kept their kind going - even with legendary taste for mayhem and disregard of their own safety.
Jrii (whose real name was too difficult to pronounce, and thus was never used by anyone) wasn't any different from his many, many siblings. If he could, he would throw a fireball in the face of any mortal that approached the ruins of Anudnabia, which he managed to acquire as his playground. It was nice, getting a spot at one of those shrines. Few non-worshippers ventured here (meaning less of a threat), they didn't have a daedric prince breathing down their neck and, best of all, they didn't have to follow orders of some wizard prick that bought his first summoning book at a discount.
Jrii growled. That wasn't a nice memory. A few years ago the scamp was first forced to serve some Altmer mage. If only it was someone competent - then it wouldn't be so bad. Talented, high profile wizards simply don't use imps for long, they quickly move on to elementals and dremora, no longer bothering with scamps. There also wasn't any shame to be bested by a master of art... well, it would be better to say the shame was minimal, since it's unavoidable to be ashamed by being beaten by a mortal. But to be bound to a single failure of a mage for years on end? When your captor can't even advance in his studies a single step and yet you still remain their slave it is unavoidable even other scamps would make fun of you... and in the case of scamps 'making fun of someone' involves a lot of fire.
Fortunately, Jrii's luck at some point turned around. The incompetent sorcerer recently slipped up during one of his summonings, thus failing to actually enforce his will on Jrii. It wasn't Jrii's first rodeo, so he knew exactly what to do - a mage is always on alert right after the spell, but if everything seems alright, they no longer pay attention. The moment Altmer turned around, Jrii grabbed the hem of his robe, lifted it and shot a fireball point blank at wizard's butt. Given the fact he wasn't repeatedly summoned and killed afterwards, it was safe to assume the Altmer died. Best. Kill. Ever.
Jrii grinned, causing grief to any possible observer with his dark yellow, nearly rotting teeth. Yes, in the end he was on top. Getting a spot at a daedric ruin was a true miracle - he just so happened to be first in line when the scamp previously having the spot was cut down by a slaughterfish. Now he could finally take a breather in a relatively safe spot. Jrii sat down with a wide, nasty grin that his kind defaulted to when not angry. After a moment he lied down completely to enjoy the shine of Magnus showering him with subtle, though powerful magic of Aetherius. Until something blocked the view.
Animalistic, high pitched screech was the last sound the scamp made before Tamriel's largest lizard parked himself right on top of him.
"Oh my God!" Loud, panicked voice rung above the bloody pancake imprinted into the ground. "Please, don't say I just ran over some Bosmer!"
An older Dunmer woman stepped down from his back and glanced at the carcass.
"A scamp, not a Bosmer," she decided, before stepping away from the mangled mess. It's not easy to remove blood from robes. "Not that there's much of a difference, especially in this state."
"What a relief. A Bosmer splattered all over the ground is not a pretty sight, one I would rather not see again." The dragon glanced down at his chest, now colored crimson. "Oh, come on! I've already bathed today!"
As much as Manirai wanted to scold him for being childish, in this case she had to agree his reaction was fully justified. For those of Erabenimsun tribe water, especially one fit for drinking, is the rarest commodity of all. In order to have a proper bath Ashlanders living in Molag Amur had to go all the way to Azura's Coast, since in their region finding a body of somewhat clear, not boiling water larger than a puddle was impossible. Bathing on the coast wasn't all that comfortable either - in every part of the coast one could easily trip over a slaughterfish. Some people even said there are three monsters one had to be wary of: a cliff racer in the sky, a slaughterfish in the sea and a mudcrab on the land. The trio of misery, they called it.
Manirai knew better and made sure so did her people: namely that the greatest monsters are little invisible daedra of Peryite than dwell in filth and old food. Still, every visit to the coast was a pain due to wildlife.
"If you are done, Thunder-Lizard, I'd rather take a look at the ruins."
The look given to her confirmed that yes, he still didn't like the traditional title given to him in legends. Too bad for him - when something was accepted for generations, it's not easy to do anything about it.
As the Wise Woman of Erabenimsun she saw more than one daedric ruins in her life. There weren't many she actually entered (the followers of Dagon and Molag seemed to be everywhere these days), but she knew their style well both inside and outside. This ruin... it was simply falling apart. Some level of damage was to be expected (it's called ruins for a reason), but Anudnabia was obviously close to disappearing altogether. If she had to make a guess, it was caused by the proximity of Sadrith Mora. Telvanni are a very aggressive House, quick to eliminate any possible danger within their borders. Despite their own many dealings with daedra, the wizards certainly had no intentions of letting any daedric prince gain a foothold within a spitting distance of one of their biggest cities. The same went for legendary predators, of course - hence Manirai commanded Rotheimaak to stay far away and approach the island from the east on a low altitude, so that the chances of being spotted before they could finish their business here were minimal.
"I'm not an expert on architecture, this kind of knowledge is useless to dragons," started Rotheimaak as she approached one of the few still standing walls. "However I'm fairly certain we won't find much. The place looks completely ruined, joke fully intended."
"...not completely. Look."
The wall was clearly a remainder of a small, above-ground entrance hall to the proper ruins. The only two other things that survived the test of time was yet another door leading into said depths and...
"Is my head really so blocky?" asked obviously upset dragon next to her, looking at the same object.
Manirai compared the statue to the one it was meant to represent.
"...no," she finally admitted. "It was either sculpted some time after the events, when the memory faded, or maybe intentionally altered so that the shape of the statue would be more resistant."
True, Rotheimaak's statue wasn't exactly impressive. While large (perhaps even half as big as him), the pose was just boring - rather than, let's say, capturing him mid-flight, he was just lying, with both wings and head also resting on the ground. At least the material was good - the sculptor attached a small slab of light purple marble on the forehead, imitating Rotheimaak's only feature that could be used to tell him apart from others of his kind.
"I'm more golden than brown, but I suppose using gold would be idiotic, too many pesky adventurers stealing everything in sight. What does the writing on the side say? I don't know daedric."
"Give me a moment. We Velothi don't usually use written word, except maybe in rare rituals. I need to focus..."
"I'm done. It's nothing important, to be honest. It just informs the statue depicts Lord Nerevar's companion, who will also mark his return."
Ted wasn't interested in his statue. Not really. He could already tell its function - it was just a reminder that would allow the Ashlanders to recognize him no matter how much time passed, the bulky shape clearly indicated the maker wanted it to last. Still...
Did they really have to do it this way? They could sculpt a relief. My fearsome visage could be kept without any alterations. This? This makes me look like a freaking LEGO Smaug.
He suddenly paused.
"Manirai... do you hear something?"
"...No," came an answer a few seconds later. She glanced at him. "Where?"
He looked at the door to the underground part of the ruins and frowned.
"Down there, I think. Perhaps my senses are just sharper and the source isn't so close. It's... I don't even know how to describe it."
Rotheimaak slowly approached the entrance. When no demonic abomination jumped at him, he decided to press his ear to the frame... only to just now realize he had no idea what could be considered ears for dragons, as they clearly weren't obvious. In the end he just placed his head as is the rules of human anatomy still applied. He clearly had done it right, for the sound actually become recognizable.
...What the fuck is this shit? It's the same sound that the Word Walls made in Skyrim when approached for the first time!
He took a step (well, crawl) back to stare at the door stupefied.
I don't even know what is going on anymore... Only Nords made Word Walls, since only they had both knowledge of Thu'um and, uh, the means to use a trowel. Hands, I mean. Nords were in Morrowind once, true, but thats long after the dragons, they no longer made Walls in those times.
"And?"
"I heard that sound before," admitted Ted. He would rather keep the information to himself - the more Ashlanders knew, the bigger the chance of them discovering he wasn't exactly honest with them. Manirai had no knowledge on the subject, so telling her wouldn't benefit him in any way either. Still, here he just had to tell - he simply had no immediate excuse to give her. "Ancient Nords used to make special walls under the orders of my kind back when Skyrim was under our control. Those walls would be later infused by the dragons with the source of our power, Thu'um. The sound I'm hearing is exactly like the one the walls give when approached by someone who doesn't yet know the Word of Power written on it."
"But why would there be one so far from Skyrim?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, sadly. It would take both some mortals to build a wall and a dragon to give it power... or a mortal very good with Thu'um. It's technically possible the Nords build the wall during their invasion of Resdayn, they still used my language in battle in that war. I doubt it however. I'm not sure if their attack even reached that far and..."
He stopped.
The sound wasn't the only thing of importance in this picture. There was a small, but important detail that only now registered, after he was taking in the door for a while.
Back in his previous life Ted had a bad habit when playing Morrowind - since Oblivion was his first game, he was used to saving outside of the door to the dungeon. It is a sound tactic when playing newer games, but Morrowind had its flaws - saving in the outdoor areas, especially on newer computer, was dangerous, saves often couldn't load as a result. That resulted in a lot of frustration... and becoming intimately aware how looked the texture of any type of the door in the game.
It definitely shouldn't have a small imprint of moon and star in the middle, along with a horizontal line connecting them. Rotheimaak's brain was working overtime.
"Rotheimaak?"
"Hush!"
A decoration to fit Nerevar's grave? On the door? Possible, the Cavern of the Incarnate does have it. But in that case the shape would be convex, not concave - not many people actually notice it, but that's how such things are made, makes it look better. The shape isn't regular either - the horizontal cavity is much deeper in the middle than on the edges, the same goes for sun and moon. It look like something should be...
He smiled.
...Put here. And I'm pretty sure I know what. But just to be sure... Ted put his head on the door (this time his forehead) and pushed. As expected, the door refused to open.
"Alright, Manirai, our business here is done."
The Wise Woman frowned.
"Just like that? We hardly started."
"I would like to continue, but I'm afraid it's impossible to progress any further. This miiraad won't open to anyone but Nerevarine, I'm certain of this now. Looks like we will have to wait a bit until we get our answers. Let's get going."
As they lifted off and dashed west (no longer bothering to hide, as they were leaving anyway), a panicked screams came from Sadrith Mora below. They must have caught Master Neloth just when he was outside, given how many fireballs were sent their way from the top of the mushroom tower. It goes without saying Manirai was pissed at him the rest of the journey, even if he evaded every projectile thanks to large enough distance.
A sudden thought made Rotheimaak hesitate as they left the coast behind.
I really hope that the door didn't just open the other way. That would be embarrassing.
If you are curious: yes, there is indeed a daedric ruin east of Sadrith Mora. It is, however, a bit different from others - the front door is blocked, meaning you can't enter this way. The ruin is called Anudnabia and you can get inside only through nearby tomb. Apparently only part of the ruin is accessible (Forgotten Vaults) and there's nothing inside indicating what daedra was worshipped there. I decided to give the ruin an additional purpose, might as well use canon, but mysterious location rather than make up a new one. All I had to do was make a few not so drastic changes to the outside area.
Translation of more important words:
Nikriin Dovah Bo - Cowardly Dragon Flight. In other words, Dragon Dash. xD Not an actual Shout, of course.
mulaag - Means power in general; it's not the same as fus, which refers only to physical strength.