[Statistical | Fan-Based] The Elder Scrolls: War of the Ancients

[video=youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXarimlq2hU[/video]​

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Ambience​

“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zis los vahriin, wah dein, vokul, mafaer aak ahst vaal! Ahrk fin norok paal graan, fod nust hos zindro zaan! Dovahkiin, fah hin, kogaan mu draal!”​

Translation:​

(Dragonborn, Dragonborn, why his honor is sworn, to keep evil forever at bay, even the fiercest foes rout, when they hear triumphs shout! Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!)​

13th Frostfall, 5E 010​

The dragons of Skyrim are extinct. After the defeat of Alduin and his followers at the hands of the last 2 Dragonborn, the Nirn had seen almost thirty years of peace. However, in the darkness comes and even greater threat. Silly mortals, you should have known... you cannot stop the end of the world, you can merely delay it...​

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Throat of the World – High Hrothgar Monastery​

The Monastery was cold and damp as the two Dragonborn walked into the debate hall. They hadn't done such a desperate meeting since they were forced to make a momentary ceasefire during Skyrim's civil war. Sitting at the far end of the stone table was Arngeir, a short, wise old man with a long gray beard tied to a firm knot in the middle. He wore old tattered robes, thick and warm as he took a sip of spiced tea. “Dragonborn, you two came too late I'm afraid, it has already begun...”​

The 1[sup]st[/sup] Dragonborn was the first to answer. “Too late? Whatis this one talking about?” The Khajiit's tail whipped sideways, in both eagerness and a forced temperament she gave herself when in the monastery.​

“As I said before, you are too late. The end of the world continues, sometimes it is just meant to end...” Argneir said mournfully as he looked into his cup.​

The 2[sup]nd[/sup] Dragonborn was an Argonian, tall and adorned with copious amounts of red warpaint, a single scar underneath her left eye. Her scales were black; opposite of her Khajiit partner – white as snow. “Xhuth! Cut it with the cryptic dust old man! Tell us what's the matter, and tell us how to fix it!”​

Arngeir looked up from his cup, his expression was of disappointment. “Dragonborn, you've not learned temperament... It is of no use what little information you can get out of me, you have little hope of quelling an onslaught of the gods. Aedra and Daedra wage war – Evgir Unslaad. 'Season unending' – war without pause...”​

The Argonian stepped forward, placing her scaled hands onto the table. “If this is the end of the world, you may want to speed this up a bit – I'd like to get saving you already.”​

The Khajiit sighed, making a slow pace forward over to Arngeir. “I... am actually inclined to agree with 'Flames' here, she makes a good point. In a situation such as this, time is of the essence.”​

*****​

The room stood silent for a moment, the Argonian seeming to lose patience with every second that passed, while the old man simply shook his head in a mixture of frustration and understanding of the need to survive whatever could be coming next. “Very well. Though it goes without saying that the two remaining dragonborn cannot end this disaster. There are thousands of enemies, and the two of you can no longer gain power...”​

The Argonian shifted, and the Khajiit knew the woman's expression even though it was hidden by a dark hood. A look of annoyance with an upraised brow – one she commonly wore. “Power? What in oblivion are you talking about?!”​

The Khajiit lifted her head, eyes showed a fear and sudden realization – like a hopeless man sees his one fatal mistake. “The last dragon...” she uttered, barely a whisper through her parted lips.​

*****​

“Only Parthunaax remains, and much like us he chooses not to intervene in the chain of events that continue to unfold. If the world is meant to end – so be it...” He said as he slowly stood from his chair, making his way to the main hall.​

The Argonian hissed, balling her scaled hands into a fist, and driving it into the table. “Xhuth! You're only saying that because you're old – probably going to die anyway... I've got a wife and kids I have to worry about – does family mean nothing to you?! I'm not going to let them die just because of some rat-defeatist like you!” The Argonian's voice was filled with rage, and a passion to fight for what she believed in.​

*****​

The Khajiit turned around, facing the Argonian, but couldn't find words to say. She could neither encourage or discourage the Argonian. Was it so wrong to wish to defend your family from harm? Do whatever it takes to see that they are safe? Clearly manners and civility were a thing of the past, such is a sign of the apocalypse. “True, isn't it a little early to give up Arngeir? I haven't seen any indication of a worldwide threat since the return of the dragons.”​

Arngeir knelt down in the center of the floor, lighting a small candle absently as he spoke. “It is a possibility that you may still have time yet, but let us not forget that the return of the dragons was not expected. This however, is sure to herald the end of days.”​

“So what?! We're doomed – is that it?!” The Argonian yelled from the table, stomping heavily into the main hall.​

*****​

Arngeir gave in, knowing full well that the pair would not leave until they heard something positive. “Akatosh did not gift enough mortalkind with the dragonblood for it to quell the invasion.”​

The Khajiit's ears perked up as she came to another realization. “But, all the dragons are dead, the only thing our dragonblood gives us now is the ability to shout.”​

“So,what all this is telling me.” The Argonian started, her voice held a bit of positivity. “Is that, if we teach enough people to use the voice – we'll save the world – again...”​

“It is possible. But do understand that the gods themselves wage war, it is impossible for you to defeat the gods themselves.” He said simply. ​

The Khajiit raised a brow. “I'm the Dragonborn! However, I share the blood of Molag Bal... would the divines still assist me?”​

Arngeir shook his head, smiling on account of the pair's interrogation of him. “It is possible that both sides would see you as and ally and an enemy, who will know what the gods will do?”​

The Argonian scowled making her way out the door. “Bottom line, find more people to train in the use of the voice, and save the world... how fun...”​

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Has anyone ever wondered how our characters in the world of The Elder Scrolls truly live, breathe and think? What keeps them on their paths of world-saving? Why they remain steadfast in their actions? In War of the Ancients, you have the chance to answer these questions as well as many, many more. Plunge yourselves into the Elder Scrolls universe – the world of Nirn – as your characters and use the full array of roleplaying tactics to fully explore the characters you have created. Define how they act and what makes them tick in greater detail than in the real Elder Scrolls games, all while travelling the vast lands of Tamriel and beyond. Explore all sorts of locales, from the ruined cities of the mysterious Dwemer to the ancient burial sites of the First-Era Nords and everything in between. Play as any race from the Elder Scrolls games, and even some strictly mentioned in the lore[sup]*[/sup]. Hosted by a collaborative effort between Dark and Spaughtyena, The Elder Scrolls: War of the Ancients sees players travel with the Dragonborn across the land and attempt to quell the growing threat to the world of Nirn. Which one will you choose?


[sub]* Only includes lorebound races whose fates were written in a vague fashion. See lore articles on the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages for more information.[/sub]​