Paarthurnax (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wayofvoice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thebastion2014-06-05 08:07 pm
wayofvoice) wrote in thebastion2014-06-05 08:07 pm
Entry tags:
Day 196 // Open
Who: Paarthurnax and folks
Open: Open
When: 196, in the evening
Where: By the river
What: Amongst the things from a land of mountains and frost: a pair of gloves meant for more than thieves. A creation of metal and steam and other things from a race that didn't need the Calamity to do themselves in. Glowing plants that chime.
Format: any
Warnings: Grampadragon is harmless (usually). No guarantees for the rest of the losers in the Bastion.
In the absence of the group that head to Sky Haven Temple, the Bastion has brought something to fruition for Paarthurnax. In the evening as the dragon returns, he circles about before landing by the riverside to inspect his new prizes.
The most notable is an enormous construct which shines in the light of the dimming sun. It almost seems to breathe in and out, but that's just the puff of steam which exit from it- a sign it's active if nothing else although it doesn't seem to move. Draped across one of its arms are a set of gloves, a dark contrast against the brilliant metal.
The last of his acquisitions would be the plants which now are growing along the river's edge and amongst the shore of the lake. It's harder to tell in the daytime, but as it grows darker, one can see the pale green glow they give off. It's one constant, however, is the faint chiming noise that becomes readily apparent to any who are near to it.
Paarthurnax seems pleased with it all, inspecting the Centurion carefully and brushing his nose against the plants.
Open: Open
When: 196, in the evening
Where: By the river
What: Amongst the things from a land of mountains and frost: a pair of gloves meant for more than thieves. A creation of metal and steam and other things from a race that didn't need the Calamity to do themselves in. Glowing plants that chime.
Format: any
Warnings: Grampadragon is harmless (usually). No guarantees for the rest of the losers in the Bastion.
In the absence of the group that head to Sky Haven Temple, the Bastion has brought something to fruition for Paarthurnax. In the evening as the dragon returns, he circles about before landing by the riverside to inspect his new prizes.
The most notable is an enormous construct which shines in the light of the dimming sun. It almost seems to breathe in and out, but that's just the puff of steam which exit from it- a sign it's active if nothing else although it doesn't seem to move. Draped across one of its arms are a set of gloves, a dark contrast against the brilliant metal.
The last of his acquisitions would be the plants which now are growing along the river's edge and amongst the shore of the lake. It's harder to tell in the daytime, but as it grows darker, one can see the pale green glow they give off. It's one constant, however, is the faint chiming noise that becomes readily apparent to any who are near to it.
Paarthurnax seems pleased with it all, inspecting the Centurion carefully and brushing his nose against the plants.
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[He pauses when Tobias starts to move, a little familiar with the movements considering they are very much like his own when he must write. As Tobias moves to the side, Paarthurnax gives an approving nod.]
Very good. You have been watching the lesson I have been giving the others, then?
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[He hasn't really sat down to draw in a while, but this is kind of like art he can do without having to morph.]
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I am always pleased to have more to teach. You are welcome to come closer during them, if you wish. I am sure the others would welcome you as well.
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[Not for a while, though. Too much to do. Too many missions to plan. And too many painful memories. Better to stay away.]
<Though... talking about lost culture... there was a race of people I knew. They kind of looked like... a little like you, if you stood on two legs and kept your horns but not your scales. They were invaded by the same aliens that we were fighting. Another race tried to stop them by killing off most of their species. It didn't work. But we found two that escaped being infested on our world, and led them to a safe place. I wonder what they'd think of somewhere like this.>
[... They would probably be upset at the lack of trees, to be honest.]
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There was a race with scales and small horns in my world. Siigonis- called Argonians by others and Saxhleel by themselves. They were an unappreciated race by many... But unique in that they were not descendents of mer and men.
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<Yeah. Humans were the only - well. They weren't the only sentient species on my planet, but they were the only ones that really made civilizations. At least, at the point when I was living there.>
[He's not going to even get into the aliens that landed on Earth and introduced broccoli. He is not going to think about crab-broccoli aliens again because then he has to talk about how they didn't blow up the meteor on his suggestion and is kind of responsible for destroying two alien species and all the dinosaurs, all of them.]
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I see. It was much different in Skyrim. There were many races, all with their own civilizations and ideals... Which of course brought conflict.
I could tell you about them, if you wished.
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[It's not like they have a library here or anything.]
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[Paarthurnax settles down then. There are many races, after all, many lands. He starts with what he knows best.]
The land I dwelt in was to the north- Skyrim. A place of cold and rock, and home to the first of Men, the Nords. To their west, Morrowind, the home of Dunmer, the Dark Elves. To their east, High Rock, where the children of Men and Mer lived, the Bretons.
In the heart of this land... Cyrodiil. The empire of the Imperials was vast once. I had heard of kin of mine being there ages past. To their northwest is Hammerfell. That was the land of the Redguards, as hot and dry as Skyrim is cold. Both these lands the land of short lived mortals, not mer.
To the east, bordering Cyrodiil and Morrowind, Blackmarsh. They are an insular people. The Argonians have scales such as I, and called beast-folk by the other races. Across the bay from them lies Elsweyr, the home of the other beast-folk, Khajiit. Deserts and hot jungles are where they make their homes. While Argonians are scaled, the Khajiit are furred like cats.. and come in many shapes.
Further west past the lands of the Khajiit was the land of the Bosmer, the Wood Elves. Such a land was thick with forests, and their homes were made in trees which moved. An impressive people for their connection with nature.
Finally, past them in the midst of the sea and separated from all the rest... The Summerset Isles. Home of the Altmer. High Elves. A race proud of their magical skill... But pride often breeds arrogance. I have seen it happen many times.
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<I'm guessing the people from the hotter climates didn't make it into Skyrim that much?>
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So many people... To mingle is inevitable, save for perhaps Blackmarsh.
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[If he even knows. While he's a dragon and pretty awesome, it's not like he can be expected to know everything.]
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I have told you it is a land of swaps, have I not? What land there is cannot be traversed easily, ships cannot fit through the rivers after a point... And they are beings of the water above all else. It is not unusual for some of their homes to be beneath its surface. Any who would attempt to follow them would learn quickly that to fight them in their home territory- to fight creatures of sharp teeth and claw and who have spent their whole lives with water- would be a foolish decision.
As far as I had heard, none yet had ever been able to make it to their capital city in the heart of Blackmarsh. There has simply never been a way for those not of their kind.
And besides... [Paarthurnax gives a shake of his head.] The other races view them as less than. They once took them from slaves- especially the Dunmer of Morrowind. Even in Windhelm of Skyrim, the dockworkers there were treated poorly I had heard. So it is not surprising that that they distrust the other lands.
Such foolishness... After the crisis of Oblivion, one would think they would have received more respect.
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<Some people just don't understand how to treat others as equals. But... what's the 'crisis of Oblivion'?>
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Oblivion... It is- was a realm connected to that of the physical plane, that where those such as Nords and Argonians inhabit. Its inhabitants were known as the Daedra, supernatural beings with much power who could be summoned into Mundus. Some, worshipped. Others, feared. They are immortal creatures. There is no true death or destruction in regards to them. When vanquished, their souls simply return to Oblivion. Eventually, their body is created once more there.
The most powerful of these Daedra were known as Daedric Princes, each with their own plane on Oblivion. There are sixteen... Allow me a moment to remember.
[A huff of air. Paarthurnax has never much cared for dealing with the Daedra. It's often something to regret, he's found.]
Azura, Mehrunes Dagon, Hermaeus Mora, Peryite, Hircine, Sanguine, Sheogorath, Boethiah, Clavicus Vile, Meridia, Malacath, Vaermina, Mephala, Molag Bal, Namira, and Nocturnal.
Yet a world where death, where destruction has no meaning... For the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon whose very being had that as its foundation, would such a thing not be torment? So he had his worshipers on the plane of Mundus work until Oblivion Gates could be forged- portals between Mundus and Oblivion. With that, Mehrunes Dagon could invade and destroy as he pleased. These gates opened all over Tamriel, mainly in the Imperials' own land of Cyrodiil. Panic was wrought all across the various lands of men and mer...
Save for Blackmarsh. If what I heard was truth, than it was the Argonians who turned the tides on their invaders... The Argonians alone who forced the Daedra to close the very gate they had opened.
[The low rumbling sound Paarthurnax makes can be identified as a laugh.]
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<They sound like a brave people. I'm sorry.>
[He's not totally sure what he's sorry for - that their homes are gone, that people are gone... he's still having trouble dealing with it himself. He wants to just fly away and leave everything behind, but where would he go? This isn't his world. There's nowhere for him.]
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There were many brave people lost. Yet... Grik los lein. Tiid bo amativ.
[Just curious to see how well you've paid attention to the verbal portions of the lessons he's been giving, Tobias.]
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<Vahzen. Ful nii los.>
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Pruzah. You are a good learner.
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[He can't help it. He laughs a little in thought-speech.]
<I have a lot of free time here, now that I'm not scouting for missions.>
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[In more ways than one.]
That is true... Only so much time can be spent on the Skyway. One must find other tasks to keep their minds preoccupied and their bodies busy. I prefer simple meditation.
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[He thinks about that for a moment, turning an idea over in his head.]
<Actually... I wonder about that. Since you're not from the same universe - I think - I don't know if I could turn into you.>
[Do dragons have DNA? ... More thoughts he never thought he'd think.]
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That is indeed something to ponder. I would not be opposed to it- but we would have to take much care.
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