A Prayer for Hope

Post-Landfall, entry 2

The Hist arrival has stunned us all. Some mages are in awe, yet others begin to gather flames in one hand, and frost in another. Many of the Dragoons step between the mages and Hist, and take deep breaths, preparing to unleash the most fierce of Nords arts upon the invaders, if a wrong move is made. The music of the moment is a cacaphony of steel gliding from sheaths and bowstrings tensioning. The Hist Speaks:

WEAPONS STAY. Hope lives.

We are awestruck. We knew the Hist were powerful, but this spoke through us, straight into our souls. We have agreed that the meeting should take place with all present, including the Dov. So we wait for all scouts to return.

In the meantime, I will transcribe what we have learned from the Dovah. One messenger has reported to Odahviing after a fly over of Summerset. The Crystal tower, which has been restored, I can only assume by Aka being broken worse than ever, or the Elves rebuilt it for some reason. This tower was enveloped in a cocoon of Magika, with Numidium contained within. It appeared to crack, and then a massive blast of light. Our Dovah was lucky to survive. He reported the bronze monster destroyed , but we were beset by it no sooner than he finished speaking. What in Shor’s name is going on?

All have returned. The Hist “sits” (for lack of better word) on the table, surrounded by us, in a large inner chamer accompanied by the Dovah. This room seems to have housed something important, as there is strange Magika-sensitive achitecture ringing a depression in the floor, but that is neither here nor there.

The Argonians speak for the Hist, as we have discovered the Hist-speak has a negative effect on all of our heads. We are told that the Hist are unaffected by Time, so the Numidium didn’t have an immediate toll, but the destruction wrought upon Nirn afterward did. The Hist fear for themselves and the marsh, and have agreed to help us. Then, the Hist speaks to us again.

APOCRYPHA. ADAMANTIA. NUMANTIA. SOUL IS KEY.

Then the Hist is picked up and leaves as mysteriously as it arrived. Immediately on its departure, a portal opens in the depression in the room, a green light emanating from the darkness. A figure emerges. Some claim to see a large Nord, which is what I saw, wielding Nordic weapons. Others have seen everything from Khajiit to Argonians to Altmer. Most, however, swear they saw a dragon. My Nord figure immediately approaches Odahviing. He and the other Dov incline their scaly necks.

DREM YOL LOK, ODAHVIING.

The Thu’um shocks us. It is far more potent than what our Dragoons can produce, and more powerful than even the Dov around us. As soon as I can hear properly, I approach and ask who he is.

“You may call me Dovahkiin”

Jrir Time-Wounded

Former Chronomage, College of Winterhold