"There are Dunmer here because they are interested in this matter. Dunmer are taught to ponder the deeds of gods. These people have good insight. I understand your concerns, if I may call them that, and yes, the Dunmer are welcome here. I have no reason to believe otherwise."

"I agree with the Telvanni, regarding gods. Gods can only be forced into aiding mortals, unless them gods were once mortal, too. No point in talking about the Tribunal right now, anyway. What I am saying is that the Aedra have no reason to help mortals and this world. They are passive forces, and they ask for nothing...and need nothig. Akatosh was made to come and banish Dagon. Somehow. "

"It's good that you brought Camoran up. I cannot understand his motives. That Altmer... he was delusional. I'm not sure about the consequences of creating another plane of Oblivion... "

She looks confused, and sightly worried.

"Has his plane been destroyed? Nothing good could have come out of it. It was another of Mehrunes Dagon's realms...might have been."

She stops for a few seconds just to contemplate.

"In any case, try not to feel sorry for Mankar Camoran's followers. They chose to follow him and expected good things out of that. That is how Deadra worshippers end up, wasting their lives away...but they pay for their mistakes."

The Wild-looking woman in the habit of a Priestess of Kynareth looks at Theya sharply

Only fools allow themselves to be manipulated by Daedra as Mankar's Dagonites did. There are proper and decent courtesies and precautions to be taken into account while communing with the Princes of Oblivion. Camoran fancied himself a Valkynaz, and paid the price. Reverence is one thing, communion and pact-making another. But to sell oneself whole-Heartedly to such an unruly and Mundus-jealous Prince as Mehrunes Dagon.... naivety without peer.

Feona Barrowhart looks about shiftily, leaning in and rapping her fingers on the table

Whispers where, or should I say bird-songs where, that once Dagon had smashed the Ruby Throne, Mankar Camoran was first to be gobbled up. The Prince used to make quite the boasts of it, or so the birds sang.

I agree. Who worships Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal and all the other crueler Daedra when they could worship the Divines or at the very least relatively benign ones like Hermaeus Mora or Azura? The madmen that Sheogorath doesn't accept is my guess.

Martin was not Talos reborn. Can you imagine Talos sacrificing himself for the sake of a city? Or anything else?

Martin was Martin. Which is, however, no small thing, as those of us still standing should be the first to admit. Martin made his choice, he was no one's puppet. And he was educated enough to know that the reenactment of the battle would itself give him the power he needed to finish the job. That's the nature of a sacrament. He picked his ground and split it open.

The strange woman giggled like a girl at the word "benign", slightly too loudly

Oh my sweet dear! all of the Princes Daedric are most wonderfully dangerous, in their way. Azura lays down curses on whole peoples like they are morning prayers. And goodly Meridia, well, I've seen more slain under her name than any other God in existence. Quite odd that, don't you think? Hermaeus Mora, ah

The woman sighs, getting rather nolstalgic

He's the most dangerous of all. What's that old saying, about the the weapon of Padomey? Very fashionable in the Star-Wounded East, or so I recall...

I said relatively. They may not be angels, but they don't actively seek to enslave and/or destroy all of Mundus.

(Drenim interjects)
None of them do of course.
It is not in their best interest.
They arent saltrice flies hovering over guar dung, or are they now?
No, they have mind and reason and can plan ahead.
Why do you think they stayed? Why did they not choose to leave with Magic?
They discovered that one does not have to build something to reap its rewards, that one does not have to diminish himself in order to attain greatness.
So maybe they are like saltrice flies, after all. (Drenim chuckles.)

When it comes to the Camoran paradise, the Archbishop of Arkay could tell you what happened, if he had deigned to grace us with his presence. The representative of Fyr could tell you, if he was so inclined.
But it falls to me. I remind you all of the Imperial Battlespire and what happened when that lost it anchors.
Mankar was the anchor of his paradise. By his will, and the Mysterium Xarxes, he shaped it and allowed it to house his followers.
But not out of the kindness of his heart. In this paradise his followers continuously suffered, died and came back to life, like a lesser daedra might when his Prince takes up a 'fondness' for him. It was this, hah, water on the prayer wheel that was paradise that kept it stable and open. With Mankar his connection to his realm severed by your Champion, his followers found the true death. There was nothing to moor the artificial oblivion to the Aurbis, and nothing to keep its borders from unravelling.
It has dissolved wholly by now.
Mankar was not the only one with the knowledge (nor the power, no) to perform such a feat, but surely he was alone in his hubris to lift it from theory into actuality.

When it comes to the last Septim, I have told you all before, earlier.
Symmetry.

(Allerleirauh inclines her head in acknowledgement of Drenim.)
I believe you are correct in the matter of symmetry. In which case we should be asking, not what happened a few years ago in the Imperial City, but what happened long ago, to Perrif.

The creation of private realms such as Mankar's is not difficult. It is, however, difficult to persuade others to enter them.

I'm not sure that symmetry goes far enough, however. And I may have an answer for Master Fyr, as well. This from the Temple Zero Society:

Finally, the magical beings of Mythic Aurbis told the ultimate story -- that of their own death. For some this was an artistic transfiguration into the concrete, non-magical substance of the world.

In a reenactment of the creation of the earthbones, Martin made himself into a stone to seal up the door. The stone is symbol, as a statue, but also symbol, in that stone is not alive as mortal flesh is alive.

(Tralen contemplates what is said)

"Martin was truly a great man, but I interject that maybe the Champion formed another physical seal too Oblivion."

"Shezzarines power have always been enigmatic for lack of a better term, my thoughts that the two beings of Martin and the Champion sealed it together in physical and spiritual form together."

"I also wonder how Mehrunes went about contacting Mankar, and how he persuaded him too becoming the heretic that almost destroyed the world."

Olodiil clears his throat audibly as a means of interjection. " If I may, Presbyters- "

The words "TAAL AAH PUURHT" rip into the chamber like a whirlwind, quenching braziers and torches, rocking thuribles on their chains, sending pricless silks vaultward like dandelion snow, and causing serious upset to hair and clothing.

When the general shock has abided, Olodiil addresses the eight-foot-tall Nord woman with raven hair and eyes-like-steel arrayed in an amulet-red cassock that now stands on the central dais. "Ah, y'Augustness. So pleased you could join us. Though your method of conveyance, I must confess is....a tad overly dramatic?"

She narrows her eyes at Olodiil, who smiles politely in response. Then she turns to face the assembly, takes a deep breath, and booms "Brothers and Sisters under Eight-and-One," she pauses here as her eyes coldly study the collection of non-Mannish faces present in the council hemicycle "and honored guests, I am Yggrid Spear-Shanks, Archbishop of Talos The Stormcrown, Matriarch of His Fortitude-Temple. I have come, in all good haste, to hear and give righteous testimony on the miracle at Oneth Temple, on the godnature of Marteen Urielsun, and most of all, vith all the zeal of my station, to hand down Divine Retribution On Heresy-Most-Foul!" her words still echoing, she takes to her throne underneath the sigil of Talos.

"The Champion, forming part of the seal?" the Nordic lass began, frowning thoughtfully in Tralen's direction. "An interesting idea but methinks it seems a bit off. If sweet Martin and the Champion had such a mythic tie together, wouldn't it surely have been akin to the En-"

Yggrid's sudden - and dramatic - arrival, however, sent the barmaid's skirts and flowing hair flapping wildly; with a wild cry she braced herself, turning her body to shield the tray of drinks. When the wind died down, she looked for all the world like she was wrapped in swaddling gold.

"B'vehk and 'Bellaswat!" she grumbled, whirling herself around to unwind herself from her hair, a small silver comb flashing in her hands. "Ye'll have ta wait a mite ere ye can have a tankard, Your Grace, unless ye be liking your mead mixed in with your mazte!" Under her breath, as she brought her hair back to a more proper place and smoothed down her skirts, she mumbled something about arranging for Dibella to get Kyne really drunk one of these days.

"Dear me, what be me saying before?" the Nordic lass absently asked. "Oh, good, the drinks be unspilt ..."

===

Loranna

(Tralen un-ruffles his cloak and armor after the entrance of Yggrid)

*mutters too self* "Nords and their lack of respect."

(stands too adress the new comer)

"Esteemed Yggrid Spear-Shanks Archbishop of the One, what is your opinion on the current discussion?"

(Edit: Never mind)

An Altmer clad in the dull yellow and blue research robes of Skyrim's College of Winterhold enters the room. His face was golden, angular, and beautiful, as one might expect an Altmer's to be, but reminded one of an old stag, partially because of his brown, slicked-back hair and beard worn in a single, thick knot and partially because of the trail of scars that trickled across his gilded cheek like footprints. Despite the tortured mask he wore on his visage, the wild amber eyes that probed from under the shade of his hood betrayed a livelier spirit. Fingertips, stained nearly black by the mixing of elixirs and the grinding of plants and minerals, were held up in a wave of apology.

"Pardon my intrusion, Shorlings, Mer, Saxhleel, and Kittens of Azura. The College of Winterhold's talented and knowledgable Archmage has sent me in his stead to represent the collective thoughts of the College as well as record whatever proceedings in this meeting there are left to be made. I am Gagarin, Alchemist, and Historian and Documenter of the College of Winterhold. I am only just arriving from Morrowind - if you cannot tell by the ash that adorns my boots and robe hem - sent on the errant rumors of some sordid affair between that province's god-king and a subterranean insect. I was thankful to receive orders to move directly from my post in Sadrith Mora to...well, here. But, more to the point,".

"I can see," said Gagarin, while taking his seat, "that the illustrious Thalmor have their own representative within these chambers. Be wary, colleagues. No doubt you have been told by my kinsman of the Thalmor's heroic defense of Summerset Isle, or perhaps, Auri-El forbid, all of Tamriel. Well, I can say as someone who was present when Crystal-Like-Law shattered under the jagged, black boot of Dagon, that the Thalmor were absent from the Great Anguish. On the subject that we were all brought to discuss..." he stopped short, however, looking around at the various scholars, priests, and emissaries straightened their vestments and mopped spilled brews. Gagarin could not place where the tremendous gust of wind could have blown in from.

(By reading the OP, you received an invite. Gondopharès goofed bigtime on the BCC)

Yggrid makes a very tall steeple out of her prodigious fingers. "I have just only arrived, Prester...whoever you are. I will hear more before I deliver my oaths and curses."

(Right, I was told the same thing via PM by someone else)

Kai looks around it see if anyone saw him stumble over his chair upon hearing the Thu'um. After catching his breath for several seconds he begins to speak. "Yes... well, who else do we need here until we get this really started? All this waiting is getting tiresome." Waving for the barmaid, Kai glances around the room. "Well, I haven't seen the Archbishop of Stendarr anywhere. Is he here yet?"

*Julius falls over due to the Archbishop of Talos's stormy entrance*
Um, good to see you, Yggrid. Could you please cut down on the shouting? The Thu'um is a very great gift, I know, but it tends to cause, well, collateral damage. Also, I'm a little sensitive of hearing.
*Julius picks himself up and reseats himself*

Yggrid gives a curt nod in Julius' direction. If nothing else, and indeed there wasn't much else, she at least respected her colleague as a man of action.

"To be honest, my good lay-fellow," Olodiil explains to Kai in simple Cyrodilic "we're not made to have all the Archbishops present. By canon law...that is to the say laws governing religious matters, in case you are not familiar, an Ecumundrial Council only requires the bodily presence of two Archbishops. Though you are right to comment on the absence of His Bespoken Righteousness, seeing as this is his Cathedral."

"Maybe he is too busy helping form that new Daedra hunting group," Kai responds. "What where they planning on calling 'em again?" Kai looks over to Tralen Emerich. "Or he is scared the Ebonarm worshiper will attack him."

You insult my very existence, Lorkhanite anti-mer. I was there myself! I witness the unholy antithesis! The Meric Aurbical collapse, with MY OWN EYES! I risked sleeve-imprisonment against the hordes of Oblivion, I was there with my fellow Dragon Paladins.

The Thalmor were the only in Alinor to close the tower gaps! Your very suggestion of disaffection insults Aka himself.

The Vigil. Never got that. It is an organisation of punishment, better suited to other gods than the god who forgoes punishment and endorses redemption.

"Mayhap the good mer would be so kind as to give his very own account of the collapse?" the Nordic lass suggested while sashaying to Kai with her tray of drinks. Locking eyes with Thalnor, the barmaid inclined her head ever-so-slightly toward Yggrid, as if to suggest he speak if only to satisfy her doubtless forceful curiosity.

===

Loranna

?The suspiciously wild-looking, red-haired woman dressed as a Priestess of Kynareth cackled, rocking back and forth on her chair as the chaos broke out again.

It seems just everyone here helped shut the jaws of Oblivion. Maybe the Thalmor is right, maybe we didn't need Martin at all. Though I suppose we'd still have the problem of the Daedric Prince swinging off White Gold Tower and batting off Sunbirds, if it hadn't been for that business with the drake-avatar...

"The memories of the assault bring me to trembling, so I will be brief. I was one of the lucky few who sought refuge in the Crystal Tower as Dagon's filth spilled out of the obsidian jaws like putrid vomit. When the Daedric Lord's armies made the final push that took the city, our hope was rekindled by the actions of heroic Mer. Heroes like Rynandor the Bold. Whatever the catalyst for the dissolution of Dagon's attack, Mer like Rynandor should have been proclaimed a savior of our race, and sung for all time henceforth. That is not the case. Mer like good Rynandor, dissidents against your political faction, Mer like ME, were branded enemies. My time, immediately after the Anguish, was spent in a dank Thalmor cell. The golden canvas of my face bears those marks, and if I were to disrobe, my body too. I know not what part you could have played in this or whether you are knowledgeable of Rynandor the Bold's ostracization or disappearance, dear emissary of the Thalmor Fanfare, but your arrogance in espousing the claims of the Ruby Throne, your readiness in dismissing the validity of the Martin rumor, is suspect. I know of the Thalmor only as vultures. Haven't you any carrion to pick at?"

Kai nods in thanks to the barmaid, choosing a bottle of mead. He then looks to the priestess and says "Martin wasn't needed? I doubt it, at least by that point. Dagon had already entered the mortal realm by that point." Kai thinks for a moment, "but that brings up another question. What was keeping him? Drama?"

(Edited Ylbert away as Kyne's priestess' name)