Stimme Iron-Clad's Sword-Meeting with Raveren Lun-Sol

[This account of a battle is lost to history. T'was deciphered from a single page from an unknown dark text, whose words slithered and crawled, never remaining still. T'is blasphemous and shall remain in the dark. Azura guide me.]

The freshly split blood of Kyne's children stain the elven blades of the Dunmer warlord when he realizes that someone is looking upon him. "STRUN BAH QO" a Nord spoke unto the world, commanding it that a lightning storm was now raging in the skies above. Ravaren's ash caked bonemold armor looked pristine in comparison to the approaching Nord's armor, as the The silent and invading chieftain's dark figure grew larger as he drew nearer and nearer he came into Ravaren's sight. The Dunmer was able to discern a horned iron helm, great Nordic plate, and a black fur cloak.

The two looked each other in the eye, the atmosphere was electrified with the tension of the coming battle. The onlookers, Masser, Secunda, Kyne, and Azura attempted to pierce through the veil of the storm. "Hi los fahliil wo lost krii dii muz?" Stimme demanded as cold as Snow-Throat as the two Padomaics circled one another. Raveren readied his Ash Magicks, "I won't allow your Storm-Men into Resdayn, N'wah! Why is it that your kind must always conquer?" the Dark Elf yelled with rage. The Hearty Nord's weapon remained sheathed as Ravaren drew one of his blades, taking a traditional Ashlander martial stance. "You'd best not attempt to battle me with mere words, konahrik," Stimme said, broodingly, "I'll do as I please," Lun-Sol retorted with gravelly words, and with that he fired a gray-brown ashen cloud unto the Nordic chieftain and lunged into it with his Elven blade extended, prepared to drive it through Stimme.

"FEIM ZII GRON!" The Dragon asserted to the Dream and faded into the void while Ravaren slid through the cloud, to his feet and spun around. "Joore hi togaat wah krii zu'u?!" Ysmir's words seemed to surround the Dunmer but he remained calm, darting his eyes in anticipation of the Tongue's next move, "that damned devil's wind in his lungs will be an issue," the Dunmer thought to himself, trying to think his way out of an early death by Dragon-Speak. The Wandering Ghost materialized before Azura's Champion, slamming a steel gauntlet into his jaw before he could guard from the strike, but not hard enough to push Lun-Sol off balance. Azura's Champion channeled magicka into his twin blades and unleashed a barrage of strikes, prompting Ysmir to finally lift his Nordic Blade to defend himself.

"Couldn't save your High King, could you, worm?!" Ravaren spat, wickedly kicking his Hatred's lifted shield and sending the the Dragon of The North backwards where he slammed into a tree. This time the Elf's voice "N'wah!" the Dunmer cursed, attempting to slice the Dragon's head off, only for Stimme to weave under and around the blades. As Ravaren's blades felled the tree, Stimme bashed the Dunmer's Bonemold cuirass with his shield and swung his blade at the grounded Mer, who blocked it and levitated to his feet. The two exchanged malachite and quicksilver in a blinding contest. Sparks flew off of one another's weapons, occasionally landing a glancing blow on one another. Raveren aimed for Stimme's Throat but sliced his jaw instead. Raveren had left himself open and Stimme launched a mighty cleave of his blade with all of his strength and it met it's mark too, digging into Raveren's ribs. The Bonemold began cracking and bloodied shards fell to the dirt.

The fires of Ravaren's temper flared at the sight of his split blood and he delivered his elbow to the Doom-Drum's sternum. His iron shield clattered to the ground. The vigorous Nord had to catch the devil-wind knocked out of his lungs as the Warlord broke into a run towards the Nord, snatching an ebony dagger from his belt and slinging it and aiming for a target between the Nord's eyes. As the ebony dagger whirled towards Space-Time, his gaze raised to meet the Mer.

"FUS RO DAH!" the Dragon spoke and convinced the universe that the Hortator was hurdling across the land, skidding and rolling over the rocks and ashen hills. A mountain top sliding diagonally from the heavens in the distance awoke Raveren, who realized he was still alive and rose once more, he remembered why Stimme was so dangerous, seeing his unending and echoing powers in his mind's eye. Shor's Tongue slowly approached Raveren, reveling in his power. "Don't bother with trying to grapple my Roars." Stimme said in a haughty tone, boasting of his mighty Voice, he smirked as blood trickled into his beard. "Azura, give me strength, guide me to victory." Raveren whispered to the Queen of Dawn, as he raised an arm of arcane energy to conceal himself. Ysmir's glare sharpened as the Dunmer vanished.

"Hi nis vonun." Stimme said in a tone sharper than steel in Dovahzul to his foe. Raveren sprinted towards the Nord with his blades to the left of his body while unseeable in a last ditch effort to edge out the Dragon. His crimson mohawk flowed and whipped with the winds of his speed, his elven legs crossed the distance between the two great warriors, and carried Raveren into the air. The leaping Mer began to slice the unsuspecting Man in half, but before the twin blades could delve into the Nord's chest, he turned and locked eyes with the invisible Elf for a terrible eternal moment. The Dunmer, in a split-second fit of desperation reached to grab the Dragon's Power Throat.

"MUL QAH DIIV" the Dovah spoke once more and the malachite blades shattered against his ethereal fiery blue-orange scales with a bright flash of light. The Incarnate bounced off of The Dragon of The North, who now glowed with a powerful draconic aura. "Give up. You are no world-breaker," Stimme spoke condescendingly "and you're no Living God," Ravaren breathed and tried to rise once more, but collapsed, admitting defeat to his shattered body. "I wish no harm upon your land. Join with the Ashlands for now, for I am confident you may return in time, along with your other, should he choose to do so." The Dunmer's red eyes and gray skin glowed with the rage of his ancestors as he raised his sight to look upon the Dragon's mien.

"Yol Toor Shul" the Dragon spoke once more, somberly, and the world trembled in agreement, breathing a blaze of draconic fire from his beard which engulfed and smothered the Dunmer. When the dragon flames cleared, Raveren Lun-Sol was reduced to ashes and was lifted by the wind to join his beloved land as the Dragon had commanded him. Azura shuddered at the ashen remains of her beloved.

For one silent moment the Dovah stood tall in the dissipating storm, admiring his opponent's skill and thanking the Divines for such a battle, before Calling for one of his kin. A crimson-scaled dragon descended from the Heavens and the greater dragon mounted him, speaking a silent prayer to Kyne as he flew back to the Fatherland.