_\ l /_
Prolouge
The skies of Solstheim burned with green fire as we reached the summit.
In the open-air temple before us, the Tree Stone hummed with natural magic as it was forced to rape it from the land, the black stone structure encircling it pulsing with the corrupted power of its master.
Behind it, along the jagged stone teeth at the edges of the temple, three dragons snarled and leered as we approached the Stone. A boom, from above and behind us, drew their attention unanimously; they'd find their claws more than full with Durnehviir, whose strength and power were only surpassed by Alduin himself. Regardless, I paid them little heed.
My eyes, narrowed in rage, were only for our foe.
"And so," HE turned away from the Tree stone to face us, robes gleaming with fey-fire, twisted golden mask seeming to undulate in the unnatural light about us, "we meet at last, here in my temple…Champions of Auri-El." The last couldn't be more mocking if he was a Thalmor.
Next to me, Drevas was still; the black claymore in his hands audibly sizzling and, though I dared not look, I knew his face would be carved into hate, my mentor's red eyes burning with righteous fury.
"Only three, then?" on my left, Farkas swung Chrysamere in a careless arc, keeping his body loose for what was to come, "What's wrong, milk-drinker? Still don't think you should take us seriously?"
"Now, Farkas," Serana's sickly sweet voice cut the air, bringing with it a coppery scent that was too familiar at this point, "I'm sure the coward wanted to give us a proper welcome to his…home… Too bad all his followers are busy decorating the mountainside." She ended with a dark chuckle.
"A minor setback, I assure you," HE dismissed, "Such weaklings are easily replaced; and I shall, once you have all fallen, and your powers pass to me."
"The only one who'll be falling today," my voice was, as usual, distorted by Morokei's mask; yet it did nothing to hide the rage in my tone, "is YOU, Miraak."
HE chuckled darkly, tapping the staff in HIS grip once against the temple floor.
Four summoning spheres appeared on either side of the Tree Stone, disgorging-'Nine help us'-that many masked Dragon Priests. Because, of course, it couldn't be that easy; not after fighting our way through an army of Lurkers, Seekers, cultists and the corrupted denizens of this forsaken land.
"We seem to have a difference of opinion," Miraak simpered, as though speaking to a child, the fetcher, "my dear Sorceress."
'I'm going to kill you, monster,' I thought, magic singing through my veins, "and go home…to Harry."
A beat of silence, seeming to last an age.
All at once, Oblivion broke loose.
The Priest's staves flared with unholy light.
A Wolf roared with lust for the coming battle.
Blood-scented magic tore through the air, tinting my vision red.
Three draconic roars of challenge were drowned out by a cry of raw despair mixed with the lamentations of damned souls and the bitter scream of genocide, the sky blotted out by fell wings.
Amidst it all, three Voices, Speaking in unison:
"MUL QAH DIIV!"
. . . . . .
_\ l /_
B.O.F.S. presents:
The Length and Breadth of Skyrim
…
A Witch's Tale
. . . . .
Shouts:
-Mul Qah Diiv- (Strength-Armor-Wyrm) Dragon Aspect