#“DIVINES! I WILL SHOUT YOU INTO OBLIVION MAGE”

[callmegaith]

I'm very flattered every time people write to me how much they enjoy the dynamic between my orc, Edyir, and Farengar cuz in my head it's funny and it goes exactly like this scene from Night at the Museum with Edyir being Kahmunrah lmao

[dalekofchaos]

Why The Last Dragonborn is the greatest threat to the Aldmeri Dominion

The Dragonborn is without a doubt the most powerful being in the Elder Scrolls. But no one really understands that he could bring down the Dominion and bring order to a chaotic Tamriel. 

Whether you side with the Imperials or Stormcloaks. I strongly believe that this could be the first stepping stone to becoming Emperor.

If we look at all he is capable of doing, he would get a lot of influence in the Empire. In this scenario let's say that the Last Dragonborn sides with the Empire and completes every side quest in the game. He would be a Legate in the Legion, thane of every hold, Archmage of the College, Harbinger of the Companions, Hero of House Redoran, a member of house Telvanni, the head of the largest thief organization in Tamriel, head of the Dark Brotherhood, head of the Blades, owner of 2 dragons, high ranking member of the Dawnguard or Lord of the Volkihar Clan, herald of all the Daedra, and basically The Last Dragonborn has all the love and support of Skyrim.

Let’s look at the accomplishments of TES previous heroes. 

In Morrowind The Nerevarine unites the five houses of Morrowind and the Ashlanders, brings an end to The Tribunal, stops Dagoth Ur thus completing the Nerevarine Prophecy, completes the Bloodmoon Prophecy(in which he fucking fights The Daderic Prince Hircine!), kills the god Almalexia, gains the corpus disease and becomes immortal and goes on a expedition to Akavir.

In Oblivion The Hero Of Kvatch/Champion Of Cyrodiil finds the heir to the Emperor, helps Martin Septim become Emperor, shuts down the Oblivion gates stopping the Dadera horde, Martin Septim sacrifices himself and becomes the avatar of Akatosh to stop Mehrunes Dagon and ends the Oblivion Crisis. The Hero Of Kvatch becomes The Champion Of Cyrodiil  and is known and celebrated throughout Cyrodiil for what we did to stop the Oblivion Crisis. then finds the relics of the crusader, becomes the divine crusader and defeats Umaril the Unfeathered. And lastly The Hero Of Kvatch goes to The Shivering Isles, does the bidding of Sheogorath, ends The Greymarch, stops Jyggalag and becomes the new Sheogorath.

As for Skyrim, The Last Dragonborn fulfills the prophecy as Dragonborn and stops Alduin from ending the world, stops Harkon from plunging the world in eternal darkness and travels to Solstheim to stop Miraak, The First Dragonborn. I feel that Miraak is the true climax of the story. The First Dragonborn fighting The Last Dragonborn. Fight to the death between Dragonborns. That for me is basically the ultimate culmination of the game.  But I find it dissatisfying because it just doesn’t feel like anywhere near the level to The Shivering Isles or Tribunal. We don’t become a Daedric Prince or immortal. If anything I feel a new story DLC should be given where The Last Dragonborn becomes the new Emperor of Tamriel. Not High King, Emperor. Tidus Mede II is dead, we know nothing of heirs of The Meade Dynasty and it shouldn’t be unthinkable to assume that the Last Dragonborn can’t become The Emperor. Talos was Dragonborn and it was the Dragonblood that made the Septim Dynasty and a dragonborn who made Tamriel united. Skyrim was on the verge of seceding like Hammerfell did, most likely The Imperial side won canonically(which is for the best, Ulfric did exactly what The Thalmor wanted to divide and conquer so the Empire can fall easy in the next war) as for The Blades, the next duty of The Blades would be to guide The Dragonborn on the path of becoming Emperor because what else are they meant to do? What else can they do? Alduin is dead and it is the duty of The Blades to guide The Dragonborn and to protect The Emperor. The Dragonborn as Emperor can make the Empire stronger reunite Tamriel and unite a strong Tamriel against The Thalmor.

And guess how The Dragonborn as Emperor can stop The Thalmor? Dragons.  Depending if you choose to kill or spare Paarthurnax. You either gain Paarthurnax as an ally who spreads the way of the voice to the other Dovah or The Dragons recognize your Thu’um as the strongest and Alduin’s lordship is passed on to you.  Either way after Miraak’s defeat, The Last Dragonborrn becomes the most powerful being in all of Tamriel.

Lets look at the benefits of The Last Dragonborn as Emperor. He is the Harbinger Of The Companions, so The Companions can aid The Legion with their most strongest warriors, The Dragonborn restores The Blades to their former glory. Guildmaster of The Thieve’s Guild, so Thieves can steal powerful artifacts that benefit The Thalmor, Archmage Of The College Of Winterhold, while Nords do not trust Mages, they will trust their Archmage and The Mages’ power of the arcane can rival that of the High Elves. Listener Of The Dark Brotherhood. As The Listener The Dark Brotherhood, he can arrange the deaths of important and high up Thalmor in power. He is the new Lord of the Volkihar Clan(let’s face it, absolutely no one chose to side with the Dawnguard) The Dragonborn is Champion to the Daedra. And with The Dragonborn being in service to  Hermaeus Mora, we have a chance to obtain Thalmor knowledge for our Daedric Prince of knowledge.

Skyrim’s leadership needs to change. The current leadership of Skyrim needs to be destroyed. And that’s because Jarl Balgruuf can’t even maintain his own hold. It’s a crumbling piece of ruins, even before the dragons came back. Whiterun was a shadow of it’s former self. It used to be this massive trade hub, under Balgruuf, it’s garbage. Riften is a den of corruption and Jarl Lalia who has a carriage ready in case Riften falls to Imperials. It’s fitting that at least Riften’s leader survives but leaves it’s people to the mercy of Maven Black-Briar or the dragons. Each Jarl in Skyrim is equally incompetent. If Skyrim becomes independent, they will all be incompetent together meaning the province will fall that much faster. The only potential that Skyrim has to endure for a good period of time is get better leadership. The Thalmor do not want to conquer  men. The Thalmor want to deactivate the towers, destroy the race of men and remake Nirn so that they can be gods again. And it is our duty to stop this. With the Civil War over, Aludin, Harkon and Miraak defeated, what is there for the Dragonborn to do? Become Emperor and bring an end to The Thalmor. In almost ever Elder Scrolls games, the guild questlines are canon, so The Dragonborn kills Emperor Titus Mede II. The Dragonborn can lead to an Imperial Renaissance, allow it to flourish once again. He helped quell the Stormcloak Rebellion. But what could happen is that after the Civil War is that The Dragonborn would be hailed as a hero in Skyrim and in The Imperial City. Then one day, The Dragonborn declares himself the new Dragonborn Emperor of the true Empire of Tamriel. He saw what Ulfric saw that the current Empire was weak and needs change or it will fall to the Thalmor. The Empire needs a Dragonborn Emperor once again. The Dragonborn walks into the Elder Council chambers and declares he killed Titus Mede II and declares himself Emperor. And pretty much everyone is calling for the Dragonborn’s death. But guess what the Dragonborn does next? BEND WILL! The Dragonborn uses the Bend Will shout on the Elder Council and the Elder Council declares you the Emperor of Tamriel. Now not only do we get a new Dragonborn Emperor, but we also have an army of dragons to join us. Paarthurnax could be convinced to join and lead the dragons on the path to the way of the voice to fight for The Dragonborn or if you do kill Paarthurnax, you gain Alduin’s lordship and the dragons will follow you. So you have an army of dragons and Paarthurnax as your ally. Where Tiber Septim had his personal dragon Nafaalilargus, The Dragonborn has Odahving and Durnehviir. So with the combined might of  The Last Dragonborn, Dragons, the guilds and the backing of the Imperial army led by General Tullius. Once again, Tamriel will be united against The Thalmor and  The Thalmor will be stopped and The Summerset Isles will be burned to ashes.  

[autumnbrambleagain]

when Oblivion came out, i quickly became disappointed with how much it failed to live up to that Morrowind had set up

Where was the succession crisis? All the provinces were already at the edge of bailing on the empire. The Emporer's heirs were thought to be doppelgangers. With Morrowind being a game with a lot of politics, it was reasonable to expect Oblivion to be an equally politics-heavy game, instead of the LotR knock-off high fantasy adventure it ended up being

but now, now that Skyrim's come around, I always look back at Oblivion with a new fondness and nostalgia

Yes, the Mages Guild was basically just a pointless gang-war and Mannimarco was just some nerd in a robe... but what even was the College in Skyrim? You go to two classes (neat!) and... and... then three dungeon fetch-quests with no explanation what the McGuffin you're dealing with is, and then you're just... in charge? after two weeks? what?? at least Oblivion had you go around and do all the letter of recommendation stuff, paid any lip service to magic being anything more than elemental superpowers you shot out of your hands like a marvel hero

Yes, the main quest forced an urgency on you that sits entirely at odds with an open-world game... but Oblivion made the bold move of not even making you the main character, of having you be just part of the heroic team, had you do all kinds of neat skullduggery missions and stuff. in Skyrim you're the Chosen One because... well fuck it man you paid for the game, do you wanna be the hero or not? what does it mean that you are a random person actually are the Dragonborn? Don't worry about it.

Oblivion was a culmination of everything set up in the previous GAMES. the loss of Walk-Brass in Daggerfall, the loss of Red Mountain in Morrowind, it all sets up Dagon's invasion after the collapse of White-Gold. it GOES somewehre

and in Skyrim, where Akatosh (Alduin) is the BAD GUY, fulfilling a divine purpose, we could have had the cool awesome dragon that shows up at the end of Oblivion be the BAD GUY this time but only in that he was fulfilling his natural role of ending this kalpa...but...

instead it's Akatosh's son, and also dragons apparently have always been wyverns and also they used to rule the world (no we never mentioned this before don't worry about it) and also Alduin is just evil and wants to destroy and or rule the world, nothing REALLY about the cosmic cycle of nirn repeating,

you SEE SHOR'S EMPTY THRONE but NOTHING about how Akatosh is Shor/Lorkhan is Alduin is the enantiomorph NONE of the weird crazy stuff we could have gotten

instead, a Bad Guy Dragon shows up, but it's okay, you paid 60 dollars for this game so you're the chosen one and here to save the day by shouting at him and then smacking him with a sword a few times. good job!

for as big as the oblivion crisis was, it's super weird that Skyrim doesn't even touch it beyond a few dialogue mentions :/ like it was a pretty fuckin violent tamriel-wide event, it's gotta have some more far reaching consequences over generations of people than just 'well that's the end of the third era'

having just finished the oblivion main quest, npcs talk of celebrating dagons defeat with new songs and broken oblivion gates dot the landscape. martins dragon statue serves as a somber reminder of all the friends you had that are now dead

in skyrim where are those songs? the oblivion gates? the graves? martin? the written and oral histories of the crisis itself and the aftermath? for a province known for its bardic traditions there's nothing about any historical events newer than 'ancient as shit' and it's really quite disappointing playing oblivion and knowing that none of it actually matters

i could understand bethesda wanting to distance themselves from the cheerful tone and style of oblivion in order to be able to appeal to GoT fans and in line with the popular gritty and '''''realistic''''' style of early 2010s media, but like. honestly. marketing is stupid af and not sticking with the Basic Lore of Literally The Previous Game's Main Quest really shows a lack of imagination and backbone on the writer's part. Like you want gritty and dark? There's an apocalyptic event right there and you could write about how people have been dealing with it!

man don't even get me started on the whole 'mages guild broke up cos people thought they were involved with the oblivion crisis' thing. common oblivion npcs literally talk about mythic dawn and knew what was going on. fucking come on man

och just a painful reminder that these games could be so good if they were actually like. good

[full-moon-battle]

Op can I kin you

By the nine divines! What did you just say about us, you little skeeverbutt? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the College of Winterhold, and I’ve been know to cast one hell of a fireball, and I have over 300 confirmed summons. I am trained in daedric warfare and I’m the swords master of the entire Imperial forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will make you beg to Akatosh as I bend you over like a common whelp, mark my words, on my oath as the Dovakin. You think you can come into my mind though this magic device and insult me? Think again,scum. As we speak I have every assassin and thief across all of Tamriel looking for your initial position so you better prepare for the storm atronach,you drauger. The storm atronach that wipes out the pathetic little husk you call your life. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my dragon shouts! Not only am I extensively trained in archery and horseback riding, but I have access to the entire congregation of the thieves guild, dark brotherhood, Mages college, and untold hordes of deadric warriors, and I will use every one of them to banish you to the plane of oblivion.. If only you could have had the clairvoyance to see what divine retribution your little “clever” runes were about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your tongue you dunmer. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will become the embodiment of Mehrunes Dagon, and open a portal to oblivion the likes of which you have never seen. You’re ******* dead, milk-drinker

[ixiethepixiewrites]

SkyTalia Chapter 2/??

Chapter 2: A Face to a Name

Rating: T (maybe M later)

Warnings: Not many for this chapter

Summary: Son of some of the most prominent nobles in Solitude, Alfred soon finds himself stranded in the Reach. A mysterious and seemingly lonely hunter lends him a hand.

Chapter Summary:  Alfred had just used a simple spell to heal his leg, but his saviour doesn't take too kindly to magic users.

A/N: :’D I’ll try to make them longer next time, but I’m very busy rn. I’m moving in 9 days AHHHHHH

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Dagger at his neck, Alfred could feel the regret seep into every crevice of his mind. The kindly stranger was breathing heavy behind him, almost as if he were in some kind of panic. Using magic so openly had been a bad idea, though Alfred should have expected that. No matter how many times he used this gods forsaken skill, something bad happened. Hopefully he could talk his way out of this.

“W-Woah there! I didn't mean to frighten you, it just hurt so damn much-" He was cut off as his back hit the rocky cavern wall.

Venomous green eyes bore into his very soul with a look of such scathing hatred, it honestly almost made Alfred soil himself with fear. Now that Alfred could get a better look at them, he noticed that the scars on this man's face were not only bear claws, but also faded frost burn scars across his right cheek and onto his neck.

Nervously, Alfred held his hands up. They were visibly shaking now, and he prayed to all the divines that this would not be his end. After a few tense moments of silence, the dagger was sheathed, but a strong arm kept him pinned to the wall.

“If I had known you were a mage-" The man began to speak, but Alfred quickly cut him off.

“I'm not! I'm not a mage! I-I only know a bit of basic healing magic!” He shouted in a panic, too scared to stop. “My nanny would teach Mattie and I all about restoration and alchemy and only one destructive spell of fire because she wanted us to be safe and if we ever needed healing or defense then we would have it but my mom found out and had her sent away and oh please in the name of Talos and the Eight, please don't kill me!”

Confusion was the first emotion Alfred recognized on the stranger's face. He could practically see the words being picked apart within the mind of this lone hunter. Well, Alfred assumed the man was a hunter. His leather armor and the pelts strapped to his belt gave a few clues, as well as a bow and dagger being the weapons of choice for him. Not to mention he lived alone out here. All were telltale signs of a poacher or hunter.

“Could you, uh, let me down?” Alfred asked weakly, trying his best to smile, even a little.

“If you're well enough to walk, then you can leave. Now get out.”

“Wait, what? But it's dark out now, can't I at least--"

“No. I don't want anything more to do with magic users of any kind, or anyone for that matter. Get. Out.”

Alfred stumbled as he was released from that tight grip, though he didn't dare leave the cave yet. He had to at least stall and try to convince this man that he could stay the night. Hopefully he could even get an escort to the nearest city, though he doubted that very much.

“Please just... just let me stay for tonight? I don't even know which direction to go from here and what if more Forsworn come? I couldn't defend myself against a toddler if I wanted to!”

He felt desperation leak into his voice, but there were no other options for him now. Going outside this cave on his own would almost certainly be suicide! Not to mention he'd used all of his magic energy on that healing spell. The wound had been large enough that it simply sucked away all of his magicka as it healed.

Tension filled the stale air of the cavern, and it almost became unbearable before a heavy sigh broke the silence.

“One night.”

Alfred could feel hope rise in his chest. “Oh Gods above bless you! I don't even think I could walk very far alone anyway... I didn't quite get it healed all the way through, but it was enough to stop any bleeding. I wish I knew--"

“If you keep talking, I will cut your tongue out and leave your for dead in the woods.” A sharp glare and those words had Alfred shutting up instantly.

For about five minutes anyway. He had always been a talker, especially when he was nervous or upset. Parents being dead and left for the wolves definitely fit under the upset category, and his nerves still hadn't quite settled from the threats before.

“So...” Alfred began as he took a seat by the fire, “You got a name? It's kinda hard to just keep referring to you as ‘Scary Hunter’ in my head.”

He got no reply at first. Then after about the tenth time asking, that very same dagger from before was being held up to Alfred's mouth.

“If I give you a name, will you stop talking?”

“I'd say that's fair.” Alfred gave a little nod of affirmation, eagerly awaiting the name of his terrifying saviour.

After another silence, Alfred was about to speak again, but he was cut off by the very name he'd waited to hear.

“Arthur.” Green eyes watched the fire, expression unreadable. “My name is Arthur. Now go to sleep and stop talking to me.”

Well, that was a start. Alfred watched as Arthur stoked the fire, even more questions popping into his mind. Sadly, he'd agreed to be quiet, so instead of asking anything else, he tried to get comfortable enough to sleep on the rocks.

There was always tomorrow.

When tomorrow did come, Alfred was slow to rise. The entirety of his sleep had been plagued by nightmares of the attack, leaving him mentally drained by morning. Those nightmares must have been heard by Arthur, because there was food waiting for him as he sat up, and even a dried bear pelt had been placed over him at some point in the night. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad, or maybe Alfred had just sounded super pathetic.

After eating what had been left for him, Alfred went to the entrance of the cave, where Arthur was using a stone to sharpen his tools. He was greeted with a glance and a grunt, Arthur not really being one for conversation once again. That was fine, Alfred could hold both ends on his own.

“Thanks, uh, for the fur and food. You’ve been real kind to me, and I wanna repay you but...” Alfred fiddled with his torn clothing. “I wanted to ask of you could help me out one last time.”

Arthur set down the rock, not even looking at Alfred as he answered. “No.”

“B-But I didn't even tell you what it was!”

“I don't care. I said no.”

“Please? My only family lives on the other side of Skyrim, and I have no way to get to him! Not alone!” Alfred wanted to kneel and beg, but he tried bargaining instead. “I could get you a new bow! Or, um... I could give you my inheritance!”

Arthur didn't even spare him a glance. “I live just fine out here, I don't need your money. However...”

That word had Alfred perking up, some hope rising in his chest. Was there something he could give Arthur? He would do almost anything!

“A new bow does sound tempting... if you could get a Daedric bow.” The smirk on Arthur's lips made it seem like he was teasing Alfred for fun.

“Deal.”

It was worth it already, just to see that smirk vanish in favor of surprise. Alfred knew he could afford it, though finding one on the market was the real challenge. Maybe his brother would know where to find one. In any case, he was willing to buy it from the damn thieves guild if it meant he would have an escort.

Arthur eyed Alfred suspiciously, most likely wondering if he was lying, and to be fair, that was one hell of a promised payment.

“You're serious?” Arthur stood and held the dagger in Alfred's face as a threat. “If I take you to your family, you will get me one?”

“I swear it to Talos.” Alfred replied easily, a smile growing on his face. “I'll get you one soon after you take me to Winterhold.”

“Winterhold..? Bloody hell, that really is the other side of the map... and full of mages.” Alfred watched Arthur debate with himself.

“Hey, they aren't so bad over there... at least they have rules. I think.” He wasn't entirely sure, but Matthew would definitely make some if there weren't many.

Eventually, Alfred heard a resigned sigh leave Arthur's lips, and he knew he had won the man over. Hopefully things would keep looking up like this for him. He needed some good luck, especially after he'd felt abandoned by the very gods he believed in.

“Alright, you're just lucky I need to travel to that end of Skyrim anyway. I'll take you. That bow had better be in my hands fast, too.” Arthur stomped out of the cavern. “Gather whatever you feel you may need, we leave at dawn tomorrow.”

With that, Arthur vanished into the woods, likely going to hunt for their dinner. Alfred was left at the cave, though he felt fairly safe in the area. Taking that advice to heart, he strayed outside just a but to look for ingredients that would help them on their journey.

Hopefully his troubles were over for now.

Index of lore

Daedric: Something made by/belonging to Daedra.

Daedra: The malevolent opposites of the Gods, there are 17 Daedric Princes, genderless beings that reside in the realm of Oblivion. (they can take on either a male, female, animal, demonic, or even a mix of all forms when they show themselves to mortals) The Princes rule over the hoards of lesser Daedra and enjoy meddling in the affairs of mortals for their amusement.

[koko-poco-blog]

Who We Are Chapter One: Execution

If you see any errors or mistakes, please let me know!

Enjoy!! :)

-Koko

If you like the story, don’t forget to like and reblog!

Title: Who We Are

Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Crossover FanFiction: Hetalia x Skyrim

Rating: SFW ( Note: some material may be NSFW and will tagged as such)

Synopsis: “Sometimes life puts you in difficult circumstances you didn’t choose. But being happy or unhappy is a choice you make, and I’ve chosen to make the best of things that I can.”

Ludwig had just been arrested in an ambush, almost executed, and escaped a dragon attack through a collapsing tunnel-way.  Now he’s been told that he’s the legendary Dragonborn and must stop an ancient dragon from devouring the world. Feliciano is an enchanter, mage, and an apprentice in the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun who wishes to find what he’s missing in his life. After a chance meeting, together these two will begin their long journey to save the world and find the answers that they’ve sought, though they may end up gaining more questions than they do clarity. A GerIta twist to the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim game.

Trigger Warnings Here.

Story Below the Cut.

Ludwig was silent as the soldier looked back down to the list, his brows furrowing deeper. He turned to the commanding officer.

“Captain. What should we do? He’s not on the list.”

She held a look of indifference. “Forget the list. He goes to the block,” she stated curtly. The soldier gave her a look of uncertainty, but did not remark on her decision.

“By your orders, Captain. Follow the Captain, prisoner.” Ludwig felt the lump return as he moved forward. The soldier put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him as he leaned in and quietly spoke in his ear.

“You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman. I’m sorry. At least you’ll die here, in your homeland.” The soldier released Ludwig’s shoulder and moved away.

He didn’t know how to respond to that.

He continued following the commanding officer the rest of the way to the small group, and watched as General Tullius approached Ulfric.

“Ulfric Stormcloak,” he began. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”

Ulfric merely replied with a muffled grunt.

“You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos,” he continued, “and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”

As one of the Stormcloaks was directed to the executioner’s block, a distant roar-like noise cut across the silence, gaining the attention of the crowd. Ludwig wasn’t sure why, but it made him uneasy, and he shifted uncomfortably as his heart pounded restlessly in his ears. He noticed Ulfric watching him, and could feel the intensity of his stare.

He didn’t dare meet eyes with him.

The soldier whom had read off the lists looked up to the sky, searching for a sign of the bellow’s source. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing,” Tullius said curtly, seemingly annoyed. “Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius,” the commanding officer said dutifully, then turned to a nearby priestess. “Give them their last rites.”

Ulfric looked back to the front.

The priestess walked up to the front of the block and raised her arms, beginning her prayers for the prisoners. “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for are the salt of Nirn, our beloved-“

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with,” one of the Stormcloaks growled and made his way to the block.

She shot him an irritated glare. “As you wish,” she said crossly, and stepped back.

“Come on,” the Stormcloak snapped at the executioner, “I haven’t got all morning.” The commanding officer put a hand on the Stormcloak’s back and shoved him to his knees, then used the heel of her foot to force him to the ground, his neck pressed to the block.

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials,” he said. “Can you say the same?” The executioner raised the heavy axe over his head, and swung it down. There was a collective sharp intake of breath as his head fell into a wooden crate, and the commanding officer kicked his dead body aside. Ludwig felt his blood run cold.

“You Imperial bastards!” a female Sormcloak cried in fury. Ludwig pitied them, having to watch the heads of their brothers and sisters in arms roll in such a crude manner.

A few of the villagers cheered.

“Death to the stormcloaks!” a woman hollered, and Ludwig could see Ralof look to the ground from the corner of his eye, his jaw set and Adam’s apple bobbing a couple times. Ludwig looked the other way.

“As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof said quietly.

“Next, the Nord in rags!” the commanding officer ordered, and Ludwig felt his heart leap to his throat.

Another roar howled again, closer this time. The soldier with the list seemed even more unsettled, and Ludwig felt his stomach twist.

“There it is again. Did you hear that?” the soldier asked, but the commanding officer ignored him.

“I said, next prisoner!”

It was his turn, now.

Why was he here? How did it come to this, he wondered. For what crime was he to be executed for? All he wished was to find his brother, nothing more.

His brother, whom had left home and disappeared; whom he swore to his father he would find before he left home himself.

He could not die here, not like this. Not when he was so close.

His brother was waiting.

Please, he prayed to all Eight Divines, not now. I can’t die yet.

“To the block, prisoner,” the soldier said to him sympathetically. “Nice and easy.”

He was led over by an Imperial’s grip on his forearm. He could feel his knees turning to jelly as he knelt in front of the stone block, the dead Stormcloak’s body not even having been bothered to be moved. The force of a shoving foot was applied to his back, and he felt the freezing stone against his neck, a strange contrast to the still hot blood staining it. He was face to face with the decapitated head in the crate, the stench of death already wafting to his nose.

The soldier’s eyes were still open.

Ludwig turned his head away.

He saw the executioner, his face hidden by a black leather mask. He saw something move in in the sky in his peripheral vision, momentarily assuming it to be a large bird or falcon as the headsman began to raise the axe over his head.

Just as he began to swing it down, and Ludwig was going to shut his eyes tight, he heard Tullius shout in fear as a giant figure dropped heavily atop the tower behind the headsman.

“What in Oblivion is that?!”

“Sentries!” the commanding officer called, “What do you see?!”

“It’s in the clouds!” Ludwig could hear someone shout, but he stared at the figure in disbelief as the headsman fell forward with an unheard grunt.

This wasn’t happening. This was impossible, a thing only ever mentions in fairytales and myths.

Someone screamed.

“Dragon!”

[just-tom-things]

Foos Row Dah

WHAT IN THE FUCKEN 

By the nine divines! What did you just say about me, you little skeeverbutt? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the College of Winterhold, and I’ve been know to cast one hell of a fireball, and I have over 300 confirmed summons. I am trained in daedric warfare and I’m the swords master of the entire Imperial forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will make you beg to Akatosh as I bend you over like a common whelp, mark my words, on my oath as the Dovakin. You think you can come into my mind though this magic device and insult me? Think again,scum. As we speak I have every assassin and thief across all of Tamriel looking for your initial position so you better prepare for the storm atronach,you drauger. The storm atronach that wipes out the pathetic little husk you call your life. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my dragon shouts! Not only am I extensively trained in archery and horseback riding, but I have access to the entire congregation of the thieves guild, dark brotherhood, Mages college, and untold hordes of deadric warriors, and I will use every one of them to banish you to the plane of oblivion.. If only you could have had the clairvoyance to see what divine retribution your little “clever” runes were about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your tongue you dark skin. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will become the embodiment of Mehrunes Dagon, and open a portal to oblivion the likes of which you have never seen. You’re fucking dead, milk-drinker

[blueclock3000]

Caretakers of the Emperor

By Sicilian Oravarian

[In 3E 389 the wicked mage, Jagar Tharn, ensnared Uriel Septim VII’s form onto his own and sent the Emperor to Oblivion. While the prison was of Jagar Tharn’s design, it was vulnerable yet to the influence of Princes who dominated the realm. This text documents the meeting of the unholy royalty and their concerns of what to do to their new guest.]

“Give me his asshole.” Molag Bal grabbed one of his servants and sent their head into pieces against his table. “There is much to do with a Septim but a little reminder of the forces he has mingled and barter with is in order first.”

LET’S KILL HIM! It’d be so easy just bash Bash BASH his skull in! COME ON! Just do it!

Mehrunes Dagon was never raised properly and thus didn’t know how to quote his words. Peryite’s many claws rapped against the chair his serpentine form curled around. The chaos and cacophony of these meetings always riled him up and it came to be expected that every few meetings he would explode into insanity much like his kin.

“Order, I say, order!” He chimed. Peryite rested his head as his temper fumed.

“Give me that royal ass! Aren’t you sickened by the violating hands of mortals slithering into our realm and taking our servants? I say we violate them back.” The Prince who said this needs no identification. He turned over to the woman quietly scrying far across the table. “And what are you up to, Azura? You secretive bitch!”

Hermaeus Mora slithered by, his casual negligence of his tentacles and their proximity to bodies giving Molag Bal a much arousing shiver.

“Vivec?” He cried out in desperate want.

Azura burst into laughter.

“Your lover is still struggling to maintain power in his faux temples. Don’t worry, I’m quite certain you and him shall see each other again.”

“I’ll rape you! I’ll rape all of you!”

“Order! Nothing gets done if everyone is just shouting what they want!”

“You’re shouting you want order.” Azura said as her second self spoke whispers upon dying sun rays to her servants far away.

“Yes, but what I want is best for all.” Peryite hissed.

“Azura.” Groaned out Mora. “Perhaps you and I shall discuss Morrowind. I have schedules with a certain part of it, if all works out accordingly. Shall we see if there’s any conflicts….or rather,” His voice dragged into a malevolent growl. “How far you intend to influence it.”

The sudden stink of wet swine and carcass invaded the room and all but Malacath quivered at the intense rancid mist only a Prince of dying animals could marinate and concoct.

“Morrowind, we speak? What business have any of you with it?” Hircine said.

“Far more than a mere hunt.” Mora replied.

“Technically you want Solstheim, idiot.” Azura said. “Keep that filthy isle. It’ll make a great dumping ground for your hogs and dogs. So please tell them to stop defecating on the meeting floor!”

Malacath rose out his seat and slammed his hand against the table.

“Stop oppressing his personality!!”

Sanguine’s mind found its way through the intoxicated fog.

“We should think of how to care for the Emperor. Uriel knows the pleasures of life and beyond, let’s at least be gracious hosts for a while.”

“If it’s sustenance he needs…” Namira gracefully but with quick purpose uncurtained her left breast, revealing a mushroom infested rot lump quivering with the release of new age pus, “…let’s give him a taste. They say in strife a man may find his star.”

Sanguine’s cheeks ballooned with a torrent of vomit, only withdrawn with hesitation and reminders of his drinks the night before.

Throw my lands into CHAOS! THE EMPIRE IS DESTINED TO FALL AS ARE ALL THINGS! I refuse to rest until we usurp the throne and GIVE ME WHAT IS MINE!!

A xivali risked it and whispered into the ear of his lord, reminding him of their meddlings in Nirn and the long term benefits. Suddenly the disappearance of Uriel Septim VII seemed to work just perfectly.

I WITHDRAW MY DEMANDS. PROCEED AS YOU WISH. I AM PLEASED.

The moving flow of stars left Azura’s eyes as she snapped to Dagon.

“What does that mean? What are you scheming?”

NOTHING. STATEMENTS WITHDRAWN FROM I. ONLY APATHY TOWARDS THIS MADNESS.

“Bullshit!” Azura screamed. “You monkey-looking maniac, what are your plans? Give them to me!”

Molag folded his arms and chuckled heartily.

“You plot too? I’ve got my eyes and servants on your vampiric hordes!”

“I’ll have my vampiric hordes on your servants as well.”

“Fucker dick! I’ll have a little surprise for your boyfriend.”

“Taking a male form are we?”

“Now why would I want to make you insecure?”

“God….damn…” Sanguine muttered through his pants. “The banter…”

Meridia hummed to herself as the outline of her form danced through many colors and lights. Peryite had used them to comfort his mind until he realize there was no pattern to them after spending half an hour thinking there was. It only swelled his stress. The maiden of lights just watched as others spoke, keeping note on Mehrunes Dagon and his sudden satisfaction.

Clavicus Vile had spent the whole meeting uttering conflicting information to pin the Princes against each other but none had cared to listen. Despite Sanguine’s invitation to a meeting afterparty, Vile proceeded back to his realm to listen to music and ponder if he had lost his touch.

“Why do you all fret so wearily?” Yawned out Mephala. “Is it not enough the Empire has been deceived by a falsehood, a falsehood that this Jagar Tharn will be unable to keep up? He’s a sneak with no knowledge of how to rule. With patience we shall see the Empire tear itself apart.”

“Death to evil!” Yelled out a paladin as he leapt upon the center of the table. “By the Nine I see all the vileness of all the worlds at conference! You fools! You merely line your heads for an execution!”

“ENOUGH!!!” Peryite shrieked as he slid onto the table, wrapped himself around the paladin and vomited cancerous surges down his throat. The paladin’s body erupted piece by piece into blood plops and infested meats.

“Whoa ho ho! Sick!” Molag Bal laughed as he pulled up to the edge of his seat.

For Sanguine this was hilarious but with the upset caused by Namira’s prior exhibition, it was the last straw. He later stood in a two foot hill of his own upheave.

“Boethiah doesn’t even bother showing up but she sends her pranks!” Peryite shouted. “ORDER I DECLARE! BAGAWK! ORDER!!” He span his head wildly in circles as Meridia slid over to talk to Dagon, as Namira began to produce lewd and putrid juices while darkness overwhelmed her among the vomit - which pile of vomit is up to you - while Nocturnal stood as she did since the beginning and waited for the ramblings and initial madness to exhaust itself to only incredibly irritating levels. She could exert her status and speak truths of the void but that cannot be withered in use. Namira knew of Nocturnal’s presence, which stirred her lewdness in the first place.

“Shut the fuck up!” Azura yelled as she hurled an ebony moon AND a star at the dragon. Peryite’s temporary fray into insanity had already expended itself in the taking of a life so he took the blunt damage as a reminder to maintain himself and returned to his seat. He left the tumor vomit corpse as punishment.

"What takes Nocturnal so long?" asked Azura.

Molag Bal whipped out his menacing rod and smiled as the narrative was now forced to use unpleasant innuendos.

“Yeah, where is she? I wouldn’t mind a threesome with you and her.”

Sheogorather blurred his form as his torso leaned in 45 degrees to the cloaked and despicably fragrant Prince of Nightmares. The blur was to hide or perhaps make notice of his legs remaining strictly upright. Lips popped in and out in a bubble fashion about Vaermina’s head, whispering plots. She took heed of each as she held her sharp chin in thought.

“Tell me your voices on this, Mad Prince. Nightmares for one long stayed in Oblivion will only seem like the anxieties of one in a crime ridden village. Horror awaits in memories of a world far kinder growing more distant away.”

Sheogorath nodded before jerking his neck abruptly and collapsing on the ground. A Sheogorath from within the corpse emerged, ripping through the carcass as if it were paper. The mouths around Vaermina’s head whispered in fear as they beheld the display. The new Sheogorath stepped out of his corpse like a man at last ready to attend the ball. He rolled the corpse into a paper ball and tossed it to the side. The mouths parted, allowing a silent one in the back to fly onto the featureless jaw of the Mad Prince, cracking a growing smile as it glided through the air.

“Old ideas scrapped, Vaermina!” His golden eyes sharpened. “This dream business has a lot more potential than what those deviled eggs over there are cooking up! I say, why torture the man any further? Give him pleasant sanity from these wonderful waters.”

“Help the Emperor? You’ve intrigued me before, I thought you’d be pleased with another Pelagius.”

“Bitch, please.” He chuckled. “Pelagius is more than one Pelagius as far as he and I are concerned. Besides, the Septim’s head is already a festival. The Divines speak to him, what’s another friendly voice? That Tharn lad has given us gold here. In the Septim’s time of need he will find new loyalty in wondrous dreams, loyalty that will carry over once he returns to Mundus.”

Vaermina’s brow jolted to join the wrinkles above.

“You speak of others but what are you concocting, Sheogorath?”

“A new kind of future for Tamriel. I say we proceed with Love, shall we?”