(Hello to the person reading this, this is Voryn Dagoth’s side to Ashen tears. Nerevar can either be killed by the tribunal, or he dies by combat. Minor misspells here and there I assume.)
It was the end, he realized. It was the end of his partnership with the hortator. He hadn’t meant to grow so obsessive. He felt the alluring pull of a formless god’s voice whisper into his ear of the unimaginable power he could have. It should have been ignored, cast aside like the entire focus was on something they barely understood. They should have left the Dwemer do what they wanted with the heart and left them to their own shallow graves. Perhaps all of this wouldn’t have happened. If they hadn’t come to this land, met gazes with the reclusive dwarves this war wouldn’t have happened. It’s funny what the idea of Power does to a mortal. It’s funny what a formless being takes sick pleasure in.
Formless, yet still in his glory, surrounded by the race he swore to destroy. The Dwemer, that is.
Through Hazy vision, Voryn gazed at Nerevar with maddened eyes.
“You don’t have to do this friend. Please, step away.” Voryn scoffed, matted black hair falling across his face in waves. “No, no you don’t understand! You could never understand!” He screamed, shouted, and cursed at the King with such anger that Nerevar had never seen before. “Stand down!” An angry Vivec shouted, irateness lacing his voice. Fingers clenched down upon a weapon he seemed way too eager to use.
‘Do It! Do It, do It do It!’ Came the hushed whisper in his ear, thousands of voices layered on top of each other deafened his senses. What little remains of his sanity pleaded with him desperately within the confines of a prison he’d never escape again. ‘That’s our king, that is our king, please stop. Stop it stop it!’ Alas it remained unheard in the field of unending streams of laughter being produced from somewhere. Someplace. Here. All around. The heart. Oh that cursed heart was all the problems.
It seemed the Elf wasn’t even in control of his own form, watching through the heavy haze as he and an old friend engaged in a long battle. Every blow he struck to Nerevar sent white hot pain to his heart for what little part of his body that could consciously remember him.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Oh make it stop unholy Trickster god.
“End this madness! Please!” Nerevar sounded desperate, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. The laughing ringing between his ears got louder and louder.
Mayhaps, the Elf was no longer Voryn at all, but someone else. Someone who had not had form for some time, it wasn’t permanent, not forever, just for a mere moment for one last time. To feel the pain again, to feel the anguish, the fear, the Desperation.
Suddenly came the feeling of something sharp piercing his stomach. With eyes tinted red he gazed at true flame, the sword now lodged in his gullet. Head lolling to meet the gaze of a panting Nerevar, he smiled amidst the burning pain in his abdomen. Lips parting to say something, anything, yet nothing came out except the dark life essence of his body.
Lips pulling into an eerie grin, the sounds ringing in his ears filtered down until it became nothing but a low giggle. He had dealt a blow to the king as well.
It stopped. The sounds quieting and all Voryn could hear was the dull beating of the heart. His heart. He could hear Vivec’s sharp intake of breath, the low shuffle of Sil tensing his shoulders, Almalexia’s muffled Whimpers behind her hands. Nerevar’s pants as fingers relaxed around the sword, stumbling back till he fell on his back, motionless. Nothing but the small puffs of air being released was the only stable reminder that he still lived and breathed.
Voryn stumbled backwards, keeping a wide eyed gaze centered upon the three behind the king, who still lay motionless. Almalexia looked like she wanted to rush to her husband’s aid, though was held back by Vivec, who had pursed his lips with shoulders shaking slightly.
Sotha Sil’s expression was unreadable, skin a shade paler than it usually was, silently watching as the maddened Councillor weaved his way into the darkness of the hot underbelly of the Volcano.
Voryn Dagoth eventually stumbled into the heart chamber, eyes wildly scanning the chamber for the perpetrator involved with his Insanity. Fool he is, Fool he was.
“Show yourself! Show….yourself! You…ungodly being…repulsive…” He trailed off, voice becoming slurred as he fell to the ash. Images flashed behind his eyes as events he had no recollection of took place in front of him. The Adamantine tower, an elf carrying a glowing sword of light, then, a rocky creature with foul black horns grinning as he approached.
Feeling pressure on his back, his legs, his arms, his head. The sound of ash sand being crushed as he was forced further and further into the dirt. Let the scum filth become one with the thing he dared not meddle with.
Awakening in the stifling heat, his skin a darkened ash, view obstructed by…something. Reaching up he placed his palm on top of the surface. It was a mask. As he thought. But where did it come from? He thought he was dead. This made no sense…who was he? ‘Dagoth Ur. Nerevar called me Dagoth Ur.’
Getting to his feet he first noticed how long and gnarled his nails were. These should hurt, yet they don’t. Why is that? Crunching of dirt snapped him from his thoughts. An ash vampire approached him. Abnormal chitter and chattering coming from it’s…lips.
“What do you want?” He snapped. It stared at him for a moment, regarding him. He should have felt afraid yet he didn’t. This is how it started.
When time came and went, and the generals returned, they were different. Having stolen power, power that belonged to him. And him alone. He would use this, only HE could use the heart to build the new Numidium. Only HE could purge the mongrel races from Tamriel.
“Voryn?” Was the breathless question upon Sotha Sil’s lips as he gazed at the man he long thought dead. His sane side whispered to him, wondering how God was able to tell it was even him after all this time. But he wasn’t Voryn Dagoth anymore. He was dagoth ur, from now until the end of time.
He left out a demonic hiss, much to the surprise of Almalexia and Vivec.
“Why did you come here? Why did you return here?” He screeched.
He felt them before he saw them. He felt the presence as soon as they arrived in the Mountain.
Ur put his hands behind his back, eyes cast to the door which he knew they would come from.
“Come, Nerevar. Friend or traitor, come. Come and look upon the Heart, and Akulakhan. And bring Wraithguard… I have need of it.” He said emotionlessly. He could hear the magic being used, even through the noise of rolling lava.
Footsteps approached and he soon gazed at an old friend. Who’s eyes though indiscernible in color, still blazed with unimaginable fury. They didn’t look different, he could almost say they looked like Nerevar. Lips pursed, and eyebrows pinched, they stood in front of him hesitantly, hands still on the hilt of their sword.
“It began here. It will end here. Have you any parting words? Or would you prefer to skip the speeches, and get to our business. You are the challenger here, after all. So to you goes the courtesy of the first blow.” Ur’s lips twitched, not that the Nerevarine would see it. The hero’s eyes softened with a certain sadness. “I have final questions…” They murmured. Ur nodded gently.
“My first question is: Are you really nerevar Reborn?” They stilled for but a moment. Before responding.
“By the grace of gods and fate, I am Nerevar Reborn.”
“That is bitter. The gods and fates are cruel. I served you faithfully once, Lord Nerevar, and you repaid me with death. I hope this time it will be you who pays for your faithlessness.” He couldn’t help but hiss icily, seeing them flinch, hands almost darting to grip their sword.
“My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?” He asked curiously, the Nerevarine’s fingers clenched, Ur almost smiled, almost.
“I have my own, secret plan for the heart.” They insisted, breaking eye contact with him to briefly favor the ground.
Dagoth chuckled loudly, snapping them to attention.
“Well. Perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet. Or perhaps you obscure your plans on principle. Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter.” He dismissed, waving a hand through the air.
“My final question is: If I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?” He couldn’t help but ask this one, after all, what would their response be? Would they say yes? Would they say no? The Nerevarine’s eyes filled with salty tears and for a second, he felt like Voryn again, standing in front of a friend who’s heart was breaking into thousands of pieces.
“No, I would never surrender the tools.”
“An interesting response. You might have been willing to join me, but never to surrender the tools. Very interesting. I’m glad I didn’t try to bargain with you. And now, if you have any questions, ask them. Otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow.” The Nerevarine ducked their head sullenly.
“What are your questions?” He asked.
They swallowed thickly before asking him with shaky lips. “How do you justify your crimes?”
“If, by my crimes, you mean the inevitable suffering and destruction caused by war, then I accept the burden of leadership. The Sixth House cannot be restored without war. Enlightenment cannot grow back without the risk of upsetting the tradition-bound and complacent herd. And the Mongrel armies of the Empire cannot be expelled from Morrowind without bloodshed. As I have charity and compassion, I grieve. But our mission is just and noble.” He talked about the empire with venom and disgust, clenching his fist. Missing the way the Nerevarine winced as his nails scraped together.
Ur took in a deep breath, composing himself as he regarded the nerevarine once more. Salty tears rolled down their face as they nodded softly. “I’m finished talking, Defend yourself, Voryn Dagoth.” Ur stilled, the sharp intake of breath being the only indication that he had any reaction.
“Very well. If you are impatient to begin. Go ahead. You are the challenger. To you goes the first blow.”
He said, shoulders tense. So began a long battle. The Nerevarine swung at him with every weapon they had, only for the god to laugh at them. Eyes scanning around, they turned unexpectedly and began running up the slope leading to the heart.
“What are you doing?” he snapped at the nerevarine. They had struck the heart for the second time. This time he noticed it. Anger coursed through his veins, why were they acting like a fool? Did they not realize how important the heart was to a good cause? He wished things could have been different. Maybe then they could have worked alongside one another as allies, alas they were a guaranteed
enemy. The nerevarine croaked out something, both a mixture of fear and sadness as they did it yet again.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” he shouted enraged, the hero left out a strangled gasp as they heard his rapid footsteps coming toward them. A third hit. “FOOL! STOP!” every bit of damage they did to the heart he could feel in his being, to his core, his bones. He couldn’t understand how someone could throw away this chance to exterminate the empire from Nirn. They were cowards. Cowards who were nothing without their emperor. They hid behind the fact they were soldiers, that they had the White-Gold-Tower. Pointless prattle he would never stand for if he got what he wanted.
When the mountain surrounding him and the hero began to rumble. He knew it was over. As they narrowly dodged his attack and ran past him.
“This the end, the bitter, bitter end…” Dagoth Ur uttered underneath his breath. It was clear now that it was over. Had he realized It would end this way, he wouldn’t have left a dead god endlessly drive him into a pit of insanity.
Voryn dagoth turned, facing the nerevarine at the other side of the bridge. Their eyes filled with tears. Came the dull snapping of rope. Soon the lava came rushing to meet him. What a bitter end for someone so powerful. The blurry visage fell away and he was sane again. He could hear the voice for the final time.
“This Heart is the heart of the world, for one was made to satisfy the other. “
ubiquitous light~victoria pettella
ghosts wander~victoria pettella
I wasn’t gonna post this originally but I’m too happy with it to not post it because I really really like how this ref turned out
I spent like 4-5 hours on it which usually doesn’t happen but I was really really indecisive on markings okay
Anyways play Your Turn to Die if you can handle the subject matter within it, the characters are really really good
(Also, please don’t make any backhanded or negative comments about the character he’s based off of!
I know he’s not everyone’s favorite but I really like him and he’s been a big comfort for me lately, so please respect that!)
Kolle is a stray that presented for traumatic dog bit wounds to his face and neck. He is the sweetest of the sweet and it’s been quite a pleasure watching him heal.
I didn’t ever see myself as being a small animal veterinarian but the more I work in the field the more I enjoy it.
I am currently on my outpatients rotation which entails alot of emergency care. We have had a horrid bout of organophosphate and rodenticide poisonings, most of which were malicious. Desparate people and the increasing crime rate means dogs are being bumped off to make it easier for intruders.
Arrive alive, don’t text n drive
welcome to the sexiest day of the year.
“Because self love does not come first, or second, or even ever”
This killed me.
the deepest~ victoria pettella
Opening wounds from the past still hurts especially when it traumatized you more than you can imagine.
I used to wait for someone to come and heal my wounds, until realized that I’m the healer itself!
Sun, The Soul Garden
dark moon~victoria pettella
Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds, its like adrenalin, the pain is such a sudden rush for me. -Eminem, Stan