Jul
Lucius
I stood with Delphine and Esbern before the haunting, stone carving of a serious face. The arched, severe brow cast deep shadows over the sockets of the eyes and the face of the man was pursed into a disappointed, commanding scowl. He looked... familiar. "Reman Cyrodiil," Esbern finally said. "Look how the Akaviri venerated him! Venerated all Dragonborn!" The old man walked forward, marvelling at every feature on the carved face. His hands traced across the visage for some time. Eventually, he turned back and stopped at a carving on the ground.
"I know that face: you've seen something that astounds you. What is it?" Delphine asked. She walked over to the old man, leaving me standing awkwardly watching what felt a lot like a woman and her dad studying magic.
"It – it's amazing, Delphine," the old man said, his hoarse voice barely a croak in the otherwise silent room. "A blood seal. They were commonplace millennia ago, before the rise of Tiber Septim, but now... this could be the only one left in all of Tamriel. All of Nirn, if Akavir is as dead as many believe."
"Um, what's a blood seal?" I asked. "Besides a seal that acts upon blood."
"I am surprised one so learned in magickal theory and application would not know," Esbern said, turning towards me with a half-disappointed glance. "It is a Magick that is directed towards a very specific Divine Magick. One that flows in your blood, Dragonborn."
"So it was built for him to open?" Delphine asked as I neared. She grabbed my wrist and drew a blade from her hip. Before I could stop her, she ran the blade across my exposed cheek. Blood flowed from the wound and dripped onto the seal.
"Warn me next time!" I commanded. I summoned restorative Magicka to my hand and the wound on my face stitched itself closed, leaving a faded scar. As I was about to continue yelling at Delphine for cutting my face with a knife, I was stopped by the sound of stone scratching against stone. I looked down to see that the small amount of blood that had landed on the blood seal had somehow managed to flood the grooves. Stone began to spin quickly into shape, the grooves taking on the shape of a blood soaked dragon, the Akaviri symbol for me. For Dovahkiin.
"After you, Dragonborn," Esbern said, half-laughing as he gestured towards the hallway which had just recently been blocked by Reman Cyrodiil's face.
"He was still guarding his home. Wow, the Akaviri weren't ones for subtlety, were they?" I asked as I passed under the gaze of Reman and walked up the stairs to Sky Haven Temple.
"They were a warrior people, Dragonborn," Esbern said reverently as he passed beneath Reman's gaze. "Would you expect different from the Nords?"
"Ha, suppose not," I replied, ascending the steps with saber drawn and a fireball ready to fly from my hand. "Magick and trickery are frowned upon, after all."
"Aye, Dragonborn, that they are," Delphine agreed.
Finally, we reached the top of the long, dark stairway. Esbern took his torch and lit a sconce near the entry, then another, soon shedding light on the mysterious, terrifying "Alduin's Wall." "Gods..." I breathed. "Is that it?"
"Aye," Esbern whispered, just as awestruck as I was. More, perhaps. "Part history, part prophecy." The old man's hands drifted across the intricate carvings, his shoulders shaking with amazement.
"What does it say?" Delphine asked, snapping the old man from his reverent, focused state.
"Ah, yes. Pressing concerns," Esbern noted. "Of course. Let's see... Here, the beginning. The ancient Dragon War. Look upon the cruelty of Alduin and his kin, tearing across the land and destroying all hope. Across the wall stands the Akaviri, raising their blades in defense and glory of the Last Dragonborn who fights Alduin at the End of Time. Defending the world and its peoples even as they fall around him. The events that lead into the return of Alduin – When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world; when the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped; when the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles; when the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls; When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding: The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn." Esbern turned to me.
"The events surrounding the end of the third Era. Jagar Tharn's coup, the Dragon Break, the Nerevarine, the Hero of Kvatch and Oblivion Crisis. Ha! Delphine, you were right. The Thalmor, by starting the Civil War, ended up causing the Dragons!" I exclaimed, half-entertained by the notion in such a dark time.
"I usually am right about those damnable Thalmor," Delphine replied, a ghost of a chuckle running through her voice. "But, Esbern, is there a way to stop it?"
Esbern sighed and returned to the wall. "Here," he said, gesturing to the middle of the wall. "Here we see the Tongues, the ancient wielders of the Voice first blessed by Kynareth, or Kyne as she was known in that time. Alduin was cast into the drifts of time by the Tongues. Here they are, shouting him to his first defeat."
"Dammit!" Delphine hissed.
"What?" I asked, my blade ready for a fight.
"Ugh, it's a Shout. An ancient Shout, then," she began. She sighed. "And I only know of one group that can help us now."
I shook my head. "The Greybeards."
"I doubt they'll help," she spat. "They're too afraid of power, of doing anything to help."
"They are still our last hope, Delphine," Esbern explained. "Surely even they would not doom the world."
Jul
Lucius
"No. You have tied your fate to that of the Blades," Arngeir snapped. "They would have you learn a weapon that, in the hands of one as heartless as yourself, could create a monster."
"I need this to save the world, Master Arngeir," I said, trying to remain calm in the face of the old man's stubborn foolishness. What could he have meant by one as 'heartless as myself?' "You and the Blades need to stop with this... this feud that you both hold so vehemently."
"They lead the Dragonborn from the path of the Voice, Lucius," Arngeir snapped. "As they misled Talos of Atmora, so they mislead you."
"This doesn't matter right now!" I snarled back at the man. "You say you want to lead me, help me, but you aren't willing right now."
"Krosis..." one of the other Greybeards whispered, causing the mountain to rumble from the sheer power of his thu'um.
"It's fine, Master Wulfgar," I told the other old man, who smiled at me. I looked over at Arngeir, whose brows were set in an angry 'V.' "Are you ready to help me save the world, or are you going to just let it fall apart?"
"You not needed here, Dovahkiin," Arngeir whispered. "Your counterpart has it under control."
"Who – wait, you mean Thera, don't you?" I asked, incredulously. "She is a Thalmor. Whatever she told you, don't believe it, please. She is using you, Master Arngeir."
"The only one I see attempting to use us is you – and your Blade allies," Arngeir retorted. I shook my head, sighing, and began to walk away. I'd have to find another way to stop Alduin. As I left, Wulfgar whispered to Arngeir once more, shaking the world. "No, he will not learn from us again, Wulfgar. We have already crowned our Ysmir."
"Dreh ni lorfonaar wah uth dovah, Arngeir!" a deep, rumbling voice screamed from without the monastery.
Arngeir palled. "Paarthunax..." he whispered. He, and the other Greybeards, ran from their home to the back courtyard, each chanting quietly in the Dragon language. I knit my brow, and followed the three outside.
At the sight of the ancient dragon that the Greybeards bowed to, I immediately drew my blade. The dragon... laughed. "Ah, unslaad krosis, Dovahkiin," the dragon said, asking for forgiveness. "Somehow, I often forget that what I am disagrees with who I am. Greetings, Dragonborn, I am Paarthurnax."
I slowly let my blade drift towards the ground. This dragon, this... this ancient, terrible being was the leader of the Greybeards? "I... Drem yol lok, Master," I said, bowing slightly. My grip on my sword's hilt was, however, still white knuckled.
"It is good you respond as such, Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax said, chuckling quietly. "I see I will not have to be as rough with you as I was with the Fahiil."
"So you've met the Thalmor, eh?" I asked. I glanced over my shoulder at the incredulous Arngeir.
"She is... not as my students described her," Paarthurnax replied, glancing amusedly at Arngeir. He turned back to me. "I hope that you are also not as my students describe." The dragon's eyes twinkled knowingly.
"I could not be more sure of that," I replied, smiling back at the dragon.
Fahiil
Thera
I had the crushing weight of the Elder Scroll strapped across my back as I ascended the Throat of the World. The Greybeards had seemed more agitated than normal, but they did not explain. They said, merely, that Paarthurnax was awaiting me and they could say little beyond that. I was worried the dragon was going to try and kill me in an attempt to curry favor with Alduin. Still, however, I ascended the mountain, sure in my belief that I could kill the dragon if the need arose and that I could claim Alduin's power as my own in due time.
What I found at the peak of the mountain, however, was something far beyond what I had expected. My twin sabers faltered in my grip for a moment as I was greeted by the sight of an ebony clad Lucius Atmoran. "Hello, Thalmor," the human growled. There was a creak as his grip on either armored bicep tightened with rage.
"Human," I spat, carefully containing my fear. The mage hood on Lucius' head rippled in the wind as he glared venomously at me. I looked up at the dragon. "You did not say that vermin would be joining us, Paarthurnax."
"Do not tempt me to destroy you, little Dov," Paarthurnax growled, turning my superior Mer blood to ice. "Not when so much is saddled on the shoulders of you two Jokaar."
"We don't need her," Lucius snarled, his eyes casting hate-filled fires towards me.
"Krosis, Lucius, but you do. The prophecies that were given to Alessia, then Reman Cyrodiil after her, and Tiber Septim even after state that the Dragonborn can defeat Alduin. Bormah – Father-Akatosh – sent two Dovahkiin to stand against his first child. Our father does nothing without a reason, Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax explained, first to Lucius but soon to the both of us. "As much as you two are Jokaar, you are the same. The powers and duties of the Dov fall to you, even the responsibilities for our long-lived sins."
"That's why you teach the Way of the Voice, isn't it?" Lucius asked the dragon. His crossed arms fell to his sides and he stared up in... a sort of admiration one has for a teacher. "You want the Dragonborn to be ready to fix what the dragons have caused."
"Krosis. Placing my sins upon you is selfish," Paarthurnax said, bowing on his perch to Lucius. "But it is prudent. You were chosen by Bormah to defeat my brother. I was not."
"That's nice and all, but how do I read the Elder Scroll so I can kill Alduin?" I asked, annoyed with how Paarthurnax and Lucius were falling deeper and deeper into a moronic philosophical conversation. "The longer we wait, the harder it will be to tear the power from him."
Paarthurnax growled at me in response, smoke drifting from his nostrils and melting the snow that fell around him. "You have the Kel?" he asked a moment later, staring at the heavy item on my back. "Both of you, do you know why I remain at this strunmah – mountain?"
"Because dragons like mountains?" Lucius asked, bemused.
Paarthurnax laughed dryly. "Aye, perhaps. But I remember what many – all, perhaps – have forgotten. On this spot, countless millennia ago, I was spectator to the greatest battle in the history of Taazokaan. Here, the ancient Tongues, my first students, used their shout to tear Alduin down. They made him joore – mortal, if but for a moment. And then, using the Kel, they cast him through time. I maintained my vigil here, knowing that, one day, my brother and paal would return to wreak havoc upon Vus once more. Even now one can see the place where Kel vaaz tiid. Where the Scroll of my father tore open a wound in his flesh." The dragon's head nodded over to a shimmering, broken spot on the mountain.
"A tear in time," Lucius echoed, walking slowly over to the shimmering wound in reality. "The Scrolls are... not bound to a single future or past. But this wound will show us what was, perhaps even what may be..."
Lucius turned to me. "As much as I hate to ally myself with you," he snarled, "it seems a necessity. Bring the Scroll."
"Do not presume to command the superior race, human," I snarled back as I approached the wound in time. "It is unfitting for a slave to believe he carries authority."
Merethic Era – Fahiil
Thera
The events long past played out before us in a delightful dance of gore, the humans revolting against the dragons falling by the thousands. It was a power I could soon expect as mine own. I did have to admit, however, that the strength of these ancient Nord heroes – these 'Tongues' – was truly a terrifying sight to behold. The woman of the trio – Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, as she was called – laughed as she buried the saber of her blade deep into the skull of a dragon. Her blonde hair swayed, mixed deep with the crimson of blood as she attacked the dragon. "Know that Gormlaith sent you down to your death!" she screamed. She laughed and turned to her peers. "Hakon! A glorious day, is it not!?"
The other human, a burly Nord who somehow had become a weakling and lost the taste for blood, replied. "Have you no thought beyond the blooding of your blade?" he asked, half-disappointed.
Gormlaith – quickly shaping up to be my personal favorite of the two, replied with a hearty laugh. Were she an elf, she would have been perfect. "What else is there?"
Hakon sighed and walked to the edge of the peak. Ignoring what Gormlaith had said, he spoke, "The battle below goes ill. If Alduin does not rise to our challenge, I fear all may be lost." He crossed his arms and gazed out over the endless expanses of the Dragon War and the rivers of blood it had created. Screams echoed from miles below into our hearing.
Gormlaith smiled at her ally. "You worry too much brother," she said, playfully mocking Hakon. "Victory will be ours."
"Then why does Alduin hang back? We've staked everything on this plan of yours, old man," Hakon said, turning to a third, as-of-yet unseen, member of the Tongues.
The other Tongue, an old man dressed much like the Greybeards and wielding a Greatsword, reassured Hakon and Gormlaith. "He will come. He cannot ignore our defiance. And why should he fear us, even now?"
"We've bloodied him well, Felldir," Gormlaith admitted as Hakon shook his head and walked away to await his enemy. She smiled and I soon admired her strength even more, even though she was a human. "Four of his kin have fallen to my blade alone this day."
"But none have yet stood against Alduin himself. Galthor, Sorri, Birkir..." Felldir fell quiet as he remembered those inferior to him, perhaps in the same sickening way Lucius considered Lydia his 'Friend.'
Gormlaith scoffed at the dead fools. "They did not have Dragonrend," she said, naming the ancient shout I needed to take Alduin's strength for myself. "Once we bring him down, I promise I will have his head."
Felldir shook his head. "You do not understand," he lectured the woman. "Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He... Ugh... He is beyond our strength." The words seemed like poision coming from the Nord's mouth, a bitter admission of weakness in a race that worships strength.
"Which is why," Felldir continued, the bitterness passing from his voice, "I brought the Elder Scroll."
Hakon turned, frightened and angry. "Felldir!" he shouted. "We agreed not to use it!"
"I never agreed," Felldir spat, further revealing the fracturing of the group. His voice then softened. "And if you are right, I will not need it."
"We will deal with Alduin ourselves. Here and now," Hakon stated, as if trying to assure himself.
Gormlaith laughed in excitement. "We shall see soon enough!" she shouted gleefully. "Alduin approaches!"
Hakon sighed as he drew his battle-ax. "So be it."
Alduin flew through the air, somehow the size of a giant with the grace of a hawk. He roared in rage-filled betrayal as he landed upon the word wall at the summit of the mountain. He cursed the three in his language. "Meyye. Tahrodiis aane. Him hinde pah liiv! Zu'u hin daan!"
Gormlaith set her feet as she readied her blade. "Let those that watch from Sovngarde envy us this day!" she screamed, ready to attack the dragon at any moment.
Then, as one, the Tongues revealed the shout to us. "Joore Zah Frul!" The shout echoed through the air, the force of it colliding with Alduin and bringing a blue light emanating from within his scaly body.
The dragon roared in pain and rage as he crashed onto the mountaintop. "Nivahriin joorre! What have you done!?" he screamed in rage. "What twisted Words have you created!? Tahrodiis Paarthurnax! My teeth to his neck!" The dragon then seemed to smile. "But first... dir ko maar..."
Alduin looked at all three of the Nords around him. "You will die in terror, knowing your final fate..." he threatened before grinning wickedly. "To feed my power when I come for you in Sovngarde!"
"If I die today, it will not be in terror!" Gormlaith screamed as she attacked Alduin.
She was the first to fall. If she had been Mer, she would have survived. Emerged victorious, even. As it was, her greatest flaw was being of Man's descent. She died quickly at the hand – or maw, rather – of Alduin. "NO! DAMN YOU!" Hakon screamed, redoubling his efforts against the king of dragons. Hakon screamed in rage as he attacked Alduin. He partially turned his attention to Felldir. "Use the Scroll, Felldir! Now!"
The old man nodded and dropped his blade to the snow, knowing that if this final attempt to defeat his better were to fail, his death would be assured regardless of the blade. The old man dragged the Elder Scroll from his back and set himself. "Hold, Alduin on the Wing! Sister Hawk, grant us your sacred breath to make this contract heard!" the Nord cried, invoking some false version of the Aedra in a call for aid. "Begone, World-Eater. By words with older bones than your own, we break your perch on this age and send you out!"
Alduin screamed in rage and launched a blast of fire at Felldir. The Scroll in the old man's hands glowed momentarily, and the fire passed harmlessly around the Nord. "You are banished!" the old man cried, a dreaded finality passing through his voice. "Alduin, we shout you from all our endings until the last!" Then, suddenly in a flash of green Magick, Alduin was gone. "You are banished!"
All was quiet for a moment. "Y-you did it," Hakon stated, barely believing it himself. He fell to his knees, panting from the fight that he had narrowly survived.
"Yes, the World-Eater is gone," Felldir agreed. He looked forlornly up at the stars. "But may the spirits have mercy on our souls."
And then, as suddenly as the vision began, it was over.
4E 201 – Jul
Lucius
I blinked away the bright light of Time's passage with tears in my eyes. The Ancient Tongues had sacrificed so much for the freedom I could enjoy. Freedom from Alduin and freedom to make a path in this world that the Dragon-King would have long since destroyed. "Fool humans" the Thalmor bitch stated. "They challenged their superior and paid the price, just as when Man challenge Mer."
I snarled at Thera. "How dare you?" I asked, shoving her. She stumbled through the snow and drew her blades. I drew mine in kind and aimed its tip at her, ready for the inevitable battle that would erupt between us. "They sacrificed everything!"
"They were fools. Los folov fahiil," a deep, thundering voice said from the sky. Paarthurnax made a half-whimpering noise. "Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor. My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin. Perhaps even theirs."
Thera and I glanced up at the black, spiked dragon, then to each other. Together, we looked up at Alduin again, and shouted. "Joore... Zah Frul!"
