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Old January 2nd, 2012 (2:17 AM). Edited April 14th, 2012 by Phantom.
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Phantom Phantom is offline
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Join Date: Aug 2011
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The Pantheon of the Nine Divines

Even as a god his armor was still uncomfortable. Talos shifted in his seat, very aware of the silence of the pantheon; it was unnerving. In his time among the Divines he never had seen them at a loss for words. Usually they would be arguing amongst each other, though now they had nothing to say.

The Nine were seated in a semicircle surrounding Lord Akatosh, who, as usual, assumed his form of the great golden dragon; ironic, seeing as how it was the dragons that were the problem today. Each god assumed a different form for the pantheon; Akatosh the golden dragon; Arkay a grim Imperial in black robes; Juliannos a Breton dressed in fine blue mage's robes; Stendaar, a High Elf dressed in green finery; Mara a beautiful Imperial woman in a red dress; Dibella a beautiful Breton dressed in deep violet; and Zenithar a Khajiit dressed in deep blue noble's clothes. Then of course there was Talos; a Nord in his late forties with short, light hair, and midnight blue eyes, wearing his Imperial Dragon Armor, the same that he'd worn at Sancre Tor when he was mortal. Of course their forms differed on any given day, but a each had a few favorites that they preferred, like Akatosh's dragon form.

All of them seemed to be more interested in their feet that the topic of interest. Talos felt the eyes of the dragon on him, burrowing into his soul. As lord of the gods Akatosh had that effect on the other eight. Talos watched as Akatosh shifted his weight to his right rear leg, and then started to hum in the way dragons do when they are thinking of what to say. Finally Akatosh spoke to the entire Pantheon, "The first of my children has returned; the others will follow," he said. His voice was deep and rich, yet somehow it still sounded like a mouth full of teeth, "Alduin has returned and, yet, we, the Nine, grow silent?"

Silence, then, "Lord Akatosh," Juliannos said, turning toward the great dragon, "if it truly is Alduin, of which I have no doubt, than there is nothing to speak of. He is the harbinger of the end times. If he has returned than the time has come. You created him yourself. You know that better than anyone."

Smoke trailed from the dragon's snout, "Mey," Akatosh said in a half roar, "Fool! Then why griind? Why would we meet as such? If it were hopeless than we would stand aside and watch from above as daar joor meys dir hevno ann dinoks?" he growled as he slipped back and forth from the language of the dovah and Common.

Arkay spoke so softly he could hardly be heard, "Perhaps it is time Lord Akatosh. They are doomed to death, and Alduin's appearance-"

"Is a mistake!" interuppted Stendar. "The Nords of old manipulated time! If anything this timeline wasn't supposed to have happened. It should have ended thousands of years ago, but now the whole timeline is different!"

"Vahzah," Akatosh said dipping his horned head, "time has been... ripped, torn apart."
Mara stood, "They deserve a chance. Have you not heard their prayers? If the land of Skyrim is overtaken by dragons now they will have less than a chance, especially with this civil war being waged! Talos?" she said eyeing him from where she stood.

Talos shook his head, "I do not see an end to this war any time soon," his voice was quiet and shy. "The Nords, these 'Stormcloaks' fight for the honor of their race; their ancestors. They will not give in easily," he paused, considering the fact that they fought for him as well, "or at all."

It was Arkay who spoke again. This time he seemed to have found his voice, "They are sent to their ancestors, whether it be by the hand of other men or by the maw of Alduin!"

"And what sort of fate is that?" piped in Dibella who until now hadn't uttered a word. Her voice was a squeak, "Killed and sent to Sovngarde only to be consumed by Alduin?"

"Their fates are sealed!" Juliannos said as he rose from his chair. His face was growing red with anger, "They destroyed the last of the dragonborn!" He pointed at Talos, "Your own kin! The Septim line was the only chance of the Dragonborn returning. They did this to themselves! The Septims were murdered by the hands of mortals! Their fates were sealed two hundred years ago, and they are lucky to have had this long at all!"

Zenithar stood as well, "He speaks sense," he looked at Juliannos, "as usual. The Dragonborn are dead, both their line and their kind are gone."

Are they? thought Talos as the others continue debating over whether or not they could do anything. The other Dragonborn were killed long after Talos had ascended; they were in Sovngarde now, and even Talos wouldn't step foot there now, not with Alduin lurking in the mists surrounding the Shor's Hall. Not like Arkay would grant them to live again anyways. That's last thing the world needed, undead Dragonborn running around. Then an idea hit him. His heart jumped in his chest. There was one Dragonborn left alive! One who had never died, one who was never defeated, one who was so renown and powerful he became a living god. A living, breathing, Dragonborn, god, he thought with a smile.

The others were still at each other's throats as Talos stood and walked into the middle of the pantheon, his armor clinking with each movement like war drums proclaiming a march. None seemed to notice him save for Akatosh who nodded, and then with a great roar the dragon god sent a stream of golden flame into the air, silencing the warring gods. They stared at him as he started to speak, "The dov, Alduin, was, is, my creation," he began, his voice heavy with emotion, "Prodah, it is foretold. As I create, he destroys. Evenaar, the mortals have cause the end, as they always do," he stopped, and looked at each god in turn, "Alduin heyv. It is Alduin's duty. This what he was created for, though this is not the time, and this is no longer the world he was created to destroy. Only a Dovahkiin can prevent Alduin from exerting his wrath on the mortal realm and the realms beyond. They bought themselves time, selfishly, though now there is no more Dovahkiin to save them. No way to stop the end."

All were silent, then there the sound of heavy armored footfalls as Talos approached Akatosh, "Niid Drog Akatosh," he said, adopting the dragon tongue, "there remains one Dovahkiin alive." The others stared at him, "I am not one of the original Eight, in fact I was a man, a warrior, a Dragonborn. I never died." Talos continued, "I am Dragonborn, the first, and the last," Talos said watching the others closely.

The Eight watched him with wild eyes as the god of men continued, "As you all know the Empire has banned my worship. My own creation, my blood, tears, and life force into that Empire, and they throw me away like I was nothing." Talos' eyes grew fierce, "Return me to Skyrim. They removed my god hood, so then let me earn it from them again. Let me show you that I still deserve to serve among you as a Divine."

Akatosh lowered his head to look into Talos' eyes, "Dovahkiin, indeed? If this is done when you arrive in Skyrim you will lose all of who you are. You will need to find yourself again."

Talos nodded, "Yes, I did it once, dovah, I can do it again."

Akatosh snorted then raised his head above the crowd, "Do any object the Dragonborn's request?"


Akatosh faced Talos again, "Good luck, Zeymah, I hope to see you in Sovngarde when you have succeeded." Then the great dragon breathed upon Talos.

And the world was consumed in darkness.