The Satakal's Wisdom

It was in the days when the Alik’r was watered by the blood of the Aldmer, when Ansei Aaban, then a second rank Ansei, traveled from the town of Ska’vyn, still marred by the scars of the Great War, to his childhood home of Verkarth. There he met with the Satakal priest, his robe sullied by decades of wandering the Alik’r and the exposed skin on his arms and face showing signs of ritual scarification, resembling the scales of a serpent. The priest was no man, but a desert creature born of the Serpent.

The Satakal priest had listened to Ansei Aaban’s fears, of the council’s decision that Hammerfell must rediscover the Shehai Shen She Ru, that the Redguards must make way for themselves once more. Ansei Aaban expressed to the Satakal priest his fear of what is to come, should the sword-singers be revived. He spoke of nightmares he was convinced were visions, or a great war, of sound and fury. He dropped to his knees and pleaded with the Satakal priest to show him the correct path for the future. The Satakal priest said nothing, only offering a hand to pull Ansei Aaban up. He then led the troubled sword-singer into the depths of the local temple, stopping at an ancient, scorched-looking strongbox, the faded engravings betraying its Yokudan origin. He carefully opened the strongbox and from it pulled what appeared to be a sphere of some sort, wrapped it a strange metallic foil. What appeared to be raw magical energy seemed to emit from where he had touched it to pull it from the strongbox.

The Satakal priest carefully handed it to Ansei Aaban and as soon as awaiting hands made contact with the sphere, he felt visions cloud his mind. Men in black robes brandishing blades of exquisite craftsmanship, Yoku chants spoken in such fluidity that would put the Crown nobles of Hegathe to shame and a dark tower, rivaling White-Gold in magnificence. One of the robed men lifted his arm and from his fingers erupted a sword ablaze with light. Shehai, brighter than any he had seen before.

Then he saw fire engulf the land, vast deserts turning to glass before his eyes. His vision shifted upwards towards the stars and he saw the Serpent dwarf Masser and Secunda in the newly-darkened but cloudless sky. The Serpent’s fangs fell upon the world and shattered the land, pulling it down under the waves. As the vision ended, Ansei Aaban almost dropped the sphere – the Memory Stone in shock.

“Wh-why did you show me th-that?” he asked, knowing full well why he did.

“What is this?”

The Satakal priest’s previously neutral expression twisted into a toothy grin, revealing his filed teeth. The Memory Stone seemed to glow in Ansei Aaban’s trembling hands as he gave his reply.

“It is the end.”