Meditations On Akavir

O Cyrod, what you might see, if you could hear!

The shores of Akavir are untamed, wild like all the imagination of the West. The forests are thick and wet, and full of beasts. There are no trails, no outposts, at first the only sign a shipwrecked crew would have to give away the shores of their ill-fate is a single ruin: the death of the dragon.

That's what it is called by all of Akavir.

There is no civilization by the death of the dragon. There are no visitors. Our crew arrived there because it was all one could find other than land, sky, or sea. The statue itself was plain: a Tsaesci blade master plunging a sword downward into the heart of a defeated dragon. Later I learned that this was once a large settlement, full of warriors, smiths, cooks, and builders. There were ring roads, like half-moons, circling the center, buttressed agains the coast. It was a military camp, and its radius was many miles. At the center, standing before the many docks and thousands masts and sails, was the Marshall's tower. At the top of the tower was the statue. A thousand dragons dead, and more to be killed to the West.

But the crew of Eastern Jewel Rat arrived and it was all sunken or rot. Only the statue, massive as it was, was left.

My crew never survived the wilds. My memory of them is neither fond nor ill. I joined the Eastern trading channel because of war at home. The Arena they called it. I heard about Jagar Tharn and the simulacrum while at port in Telvanni waters. For once, the people were hopeful. I even recall hearing the name of Tiber Septim in the Eastern lands a time or two. I had a second floor flat in Leyawiin, there was a young Argonian maid. But… ah! A storm took us. That truly is a story worthy of Imperial Halfseptim novels. Suffice it to say that after a few weeks, having faced the maelstrom and having beat it, the crew beached a few skiffs on a foreign shore.

It took us another few months, 3 out of ten dead, until we reached the statue. We stayed there for a year, having nowhere else to go. There were expeditions inland, more died, but eventually we learned how to survive off the wilds. Soon, we didn't venture inland any more. We began to despair, trapped in a dangerous land, an unknowable land.

That is until the storms, massive storms. More than just rain and thunder, the land itself shook. The earth bled. It was as if all the universe was dying the most painful death. We prayed to Talos, we knew this must be the Dragon Land, and we prayed to return to Tamriel.

In the middle of the night the winds calmed, the rain fell softer like remnant tears. As I was to say a prayer to Talos, my will left me. I could hear the earth sobbing. It was a cry of relief, of joy. No, I would not need Talos. The sense of joy, of newness coming from the wild nature outside my shelter was so perfect and pure I would thank Akatosh himself. Yet, that was not enough, the joy was greater and bigger. It was not my circumstances for which I was thankful. It was the hope in my heart. We would venture inland again, further and farther than ever. There had to be more to this place. I would find it. It was a hunger, an anti-hunger really. I longed for what lay in store, but in my longing I felt fulfilled. I drifted to sleep.

When I woke, the crew was gone. I had no idea where they were, but all signs of them: fires, tents, shelter, it was all gone. The statue remained, but it seemed like the storm had washed away part of the tower underneath. At the time I had no idea that there was more to the statue. I figured my poor crew had been washed to sea. As I left, I took what I sensed would be my last look at the statue. Somehow, it looked less worn than it had.

I walked only a few hundred yards and found a chest half submerged in the earth. We had searched and dug and never found a thing, but here was a sign of civilization in plain sight. I opened it and found an armor and sword. They were Akaviri, just like the Emperor's guards. I had fewer doubts about where I was than ever. I donned the armor and took the sword and travelled inland.

After only four days, and an encounter with Bubble Beast - as we called them - female I think, less aggressive, I found a grouping of hills we'd never encountered. They were small hills, covered in greens, with steep narrow canyons snaking through them. It was almost one large formation cut across by rivers and creeks. I found nothing of use there, except that the highest point peeked above the tree canopy. I climbed up top to survey the land.

When I reached the top of the rise what I saw amazed me. The forest was more vast than I had ever imagined, and beyond it was a mountain range to match the Jerallii. Halfway to the base of the mountain was something which caused me dread! Dragon smoke! Coming from the forest, moving at a furious pace, was a plume of the darkest smoke rising up to fill the sky.

I hid immediately in a cave. For days I'd wait, see the smoke, then hide again. There was a regularity to the smoke. It was strange and unlike what I have heard of dragons. But I had never seen one, so I dared not venture from my place of safety. Until a dragon found me.

I was up top, watching as always, and out of nowhere the serpent eyes rose to met mine. A green, grinning, bold face. Its head was twice the size of my body, and was attached to a lanky but muscular neck snaking into one of the canyons. I ran. A foot blocked my way. I ran the other way, a wing stopped me. I turned to face the beast and drew my sword. It laughed.

It rose out of its crevice and I saw that its body snaked all the way round the hill, in and out of valleys. It was a serpent of immeasurable length, with four feet and six wings, and one grinning face. We spoke, it told me not to fear. It said that this was its hill, but it had stayed away for days in order to observe me. It wanted its home back. It said I should go seek the smoke plume, I would find my kind there, and no dragons. Its laugh echoed as I ventured back into the forest.

When I arrived at the place of the smoke, weeks later, I found nothing but a clearing - one that stretched in each direction. I waited there until the sun reached that point when I knew the smoke would appear. What I eventually discovered was nothing like what I expected.

It was a mechanical device that produced the smoke! Black rocks were heated by a fire magic, which made steam that pushed rods to turn wheels. The device would cruise down metal tracks and cover great distances. It carried peoples and wares of a like I've never imagined. On this conveyance I met my mentor and teacher for the first time. The whole compartment full of people chuckled when the conveyance's master gestured for me to enter there. A man eventually gestured that I sit by him. He smiled at me, then grappled my neck. I resisted, and he firmly tapped my neck, an arm, he put pressure on my chest. I couldn't move. He then put a finger on my forehead, and pressed hard. He whispered, the whispers grew louder, and finally I heard him speak to me. He told me to be calm, that it was only a spell of hearing so that we could speak. He tapped my neck on the side and my body was no longer paralyzed. For hours we spoke.

I told him of the shipping corridor, the Morrowind coast. He politely listened, clearly unaware of any of these places. I mentioned the coasts of Black Marsh, the scent of the Hist spore. He chuckled. Aka-Tosha? He asked. I told him, yes, Akatosh, first of all divines. He chuckled again, and told me that he knew of where I was from. I asked excitedly if he knew of a port where I might get a ship to return. He chuckled again, shaking his head.

I learned that my armor represented an old fashion, one that people remembered but no longer favored. I looked like I belonged in a theatre show they would say. He said he had a garment in his baggage that would suit fashion sense better. I refused to give up my armor, telling him of the danger of the wilds. He chuckled again, the wilds were no danger to the trains guards and that when we arrived at the city we'd be far from such dangers. I took his word for it, the armor was rusting and I my back ached from wearing it all these weeks.

And we spoke of the wilds, of dragons, of Tamriel especially for hours. It was night when we arrived in town. I was guided to an inn, and slept in what was unnatural comfort for me at the time.

When I awoke, it was to further amazement. The city wasn't large, but had wonders that rivaled the Imperial seat. Fashions were extravagant and smart. Merchants sold all manner of devices and mechanics. Fruits were exotic and bizarre. The prince's palace in the Eastern district was made of glass. I thought these people might have elves' magic, but the glass was held in place with massive quantities for shaped iron. Part of the palace was being renovated, and I saw wise men take iron rods, cranes, and glass. They whispered to the glass, then hit it, in order to cause the glass to meet the shape of the iron.

My sponsor, after showing me the city's wonders, asked what I planned to do. I said go home to Leyawiin. He said I could not, and asked if I would mind traveling with him. He saw my amazement at the whispering engineers, and asked if I would like to learn the voice. I had little other option but to accept.

We left town on a dirt trail. I asked why not travel by the mechanical conveyance? He said it did not go where we were going. And so we took to trail.

One night, storms gathered. My fear grew and grew, and at the crack of a thunder I shook. The man looked at me and told me not to fear. He said to hear the voice of Tosh Raka in the thunder, and it would calm my fear. For an hour I trembled and listened and heard nothing. I said I could not do it. He smiled and said that he knew I could because I had before, and Tosh Raka whispered that I would again. I thought on this, not knowing of this Tosh Raka, but I imagined I someday might. At this moment, hope again filled my heart. The storm calmed.

In the morning, the forest was no longer there. It was all ash. My sponsor saw new fear in my eyes, and again said not to worry. This was the ashland, and there were no 'red mountains' to erupt. I didn't understand, but our journey continued. I saw many more strange things. Every so often another storm would pass. Over time, they became less severe. I began to hear voices in the thunder. I couldn't understand them.

One day, our journey ended. We arrived at a gated village at the top of a mountain in a misty range. My sponsor said this was his home. It was a humble village, but orderly and beautiful. Everything centered around a square with rows of seats for spectators and a bare floor in the middle. In the back of the village was gate which led into a cave with some sort of religious significance.

I met the man's family, and indeed this man was a village elder. The next day he introduced me to the village on the village floor. He explained that I came from the land of twilight's dreams, that I had drank from the waters of Akatosh, but had heard the voice of Tosh Raka.

I had thought the curiosity over a genuine Tamrielic had been the reason for my welcome, but later I learned that I had a connection to this land that was rare even for those born there. My sponsor had brought me to learn the way of the voice. The voice of Tosh Raka.

The day after I arrived there was a duel in the town square. A distant warlord had been proclaiming that blue was the most subtle of colors. None had accepted this, so he sent fighters to argue it to the villages. Was this a debate? No, there was to be a fight. I did not understand.

The king's man and a village warrior began to fight in a way that was more of a dance than a contest. It was hypnotic. After some time, I thought it was two snakes I saw fighting. My sponsor whispered into my ear: listen. He spoke as if to my soul, and suddenly I heard. The warriors were no longer entangled serpents, but I heard the voice of the earth calling back and forth. In a moment there was another voice, the voice from the thunder. Tosh Raka. At that moment, the illusion dissipated. The king's man was a corpse. The village warrior bowed, knelt, than whispered to the corpse. A thousand moths sprung from the man's body, and his body was no more. After they fled, he looked at me.

Over time I learned to fight in the way of the voice. I met many dragons. I almost fell victim to a soul parasite in my ear. I visited many lands. I even learned the fate of many Elder Scrolls. In the end, I met a God.

In case my brethren meet this land as I have, for the sake of the old times, I write the whispers in a form the people of Tamriel might understand.

The whispers are what the those training in the way of the voice hear during their training. It is a hit to the ribs, a touch to the head, and a whisper to the souls. Not to the soul present, but back to the soul young. The rebuilding of a man from his beginning.

I record these whispers, for Tamriel. I write these meditations, so that you would know of the whispers.