Though the provinces took care of their own for the most part, Martin's role can not be diminished.

Some theorize he appeared due to the fall of the Crystal Tower, which further weakened the already thin barriers between Mundus and Oblivion to the point where Daedric Princes could walk the earth of their own volition.

The Telvanni sorceror straightens his robes and his hair after the sudden apperance of the newcomer, yet despite the recent flurry of parlence, still maintains his look of studied distance. He finishes his flask of shein and empties the pipe into his hand, which vanishes into a puff of fragrant airs.


"No, I couldn't imagine Talos doing that. Because Talos is dead, and has been for a very long time. The shadow of this MAN however, still casts itself over all of the Empire. This shade is but a remnant, a veritable void of meaning and metagency that has caused Man to slump into their wretched laxity. This is why we are here! Does anyone truly beleive the Dagonites would have ever achieved anything if the faith of man had ever faultered? To deny it is to prove it, otherwise the faith had indeed failed. The Dragon rescued you, not the vaguery that is Talos. I neither condemn or condone any Imperial truths here, but history is what is it is, and some truths have been poignantly proven to be lacking. Look to the Dunmer, and see, first hand how faith is the true blade of history."

"Yes, we have heard what those at the very centre saw that day. We've all heard their accounts told and retold, subject to a myriad interpretations and possible reinterpretations. How many times I have had to endure dim yet ambitous theologians, wasting my precious time with their half baked, Monomythed presumptions. Vomiting their metaphysics on empty parchments, emptier still when they are finished! The prime nature of the sacrament is, first of all, willingness. But Martin is gone, and all that remains is a piece of rock. The reenactment of the battle did provide that one mythic possiblity, which he, with no real offence, wasted. Lesser men have risen to greater stations with lesser sacrifice. That he was instrumental in the Dragon's victory is impossible to refute, so is the fact that he was just that, an instrument."

"I speak as a Telvanni. A specious kind of Mer, not prone to delusion, but akin and particular to the deeper solemnity and iconoclasm that the handicapping fervours of other races allows themselves to forget. I knew not Martin, and I've never seen a dragon, and gained no favours from any Imperial Shrine. So, I am an observer, and at heart, a dissident. A logomach and a pedant, the true eristic against any divinity that may proclaim itself. My salience is heresy, and it wouldn't be if it wasn't. If my words raise offence, then we are both right."

"Master Fyr instructed me to survey the council before I spoke anything of any cadence. The Parliament simply wants to know, they have no bearing on what I say. My report is all they desire, muthseraas."

The barmaid's brows furrowed at the Telvanni's speech. When Fyr's representative finished, she spoke, gripping the edge of the table with whitening knuckles.

"Serjo," the Nordic lass asked, "do you recall how Talos took the throne of the Empire? What price he paid to be Emperor and not, say, an Underking? If Martin had the chance you say he had, then he made something greater by refusing that choice, than he ever could have made by taking it ."

===

Loranna

It is not a Telvanni's way to see the honor in restraint. Or to care, for that matter. That is not the lesson the Triune gave to them.

Yggrid's eyes flash like thunderbolts. Her voice is like thunder "Talos Lives! Talos is Imperator Nu-Manifest, by his will and majesty the navelcord of heaven succors our splendor with Aetherregia! Thus I will hear no more putrid blasphemies in this hall, Ashgnome! STRUN KAAL UNAHZAAL! " and she births a tongue of varliance that burns nonachromatic.

The Telvanni seems to be meeting it's match with this servant girl. Please barmaiden. Do not take Taela's words as a means to belittle yours. You speak with such fire in your heart. It is...refreshing, especially from someone who does not dabble with obscure texts for a living, such as most of us.

Daughter of Kyne, peace. Eardrums are delicate fixes for even the greatest of Restorers, and I am but a Redoran battle-healer.

"What's this? Another Ashgnome who would sully Mannish council with his witchery? Are we doing godly work here Olodiil, or are we opening social club for Eastern-devils?"

Olodiil burries his head so deep in his hands that he seems to be trying to escape into the sleeves of his surplice. "Y'Augustness, pleeeease..." he groans.

Oh, for the love of Zenithar, can't you stop that? This is a council, not a battlefield! I think you could hear that one from Gideon. If this meeting took place at night, I believe you would've awoken half the population of the city at the very least. There is no need to use the Thu'um in a civil debate, unless you are a Dragon or Greybeard. And last time I checked, this temple isn't one of the Chantry's groves or High Hrothgar. Didn't the Greybeards themselves teach you that one should use the Voice only in True Need?



And enough with the racism. There may be an assortment of non-humans here, but they have their opinions too. Khajiit, Elf, Man, we are still all cousin Ehlnofey. Except for Argonians, I'm not sure about them. Nobody is.

I knew this council's run of civil Nords would end soon. A shame, I was enjoying the idea of peace with an ancestral enemy.

Kai makes no comment on the number of dark elves, but does appear to be getting irritable.

(There should be a list of who is playing whom, I have a little trouble keeping track).

(On my end we have:

Belharzslav Olodiil - Colovian and Arbiter

Yggrid Spear-Shanks - Nord, Talosian Archbishop, Maniac.)

The Nordic lass smiles to Taela, relaxing her grip on the table. "Ye honor me, Unofficial Officer; may ye always walk on warm sands,with sugar never far from your hand."


The Nordic lass took a long, deep breath, fixing Olodiil with her bright blue eyes. "Honored Under-Secretary, away with such talk! Ye be the one to whom all here be obliged to show honor and respect, by the customs of civil discourse and the laws of hospitality. But ye must show yeself in possession of your authority for it to matter."

"Your Grace, countrywoman, I be asking ye for peace," the barmaid continued, turning now to Yggrid with a swish of her golden hair. "In times past, when Nords faced the unlogic of knavish mer, we rightly answered lies with laughter, wetted the ground with false testimony drawn by words, not blades nor god-gifted breaths. When the time was right we showed our hands as armed to the teeth as our words, and we won honor for our wisdom in knowing when to wield which. So now, I pray ye, show these assembled worthies the quickness of your wit, ever the match for the quickness of your breath. By this way will you win honor, and draw tribute from your foes."


"Worry not muthsera; some of us enjoy word war still, though a love of dealing hard knocks is no crime for the lusty," the barmaid smiled. "But we are measured by the worth of our enemies, are we not? Still, these be matters close to the heart of many a man and mer; one does not easily forget hard knocks given that one never got to answer in full measure."

Holding up her tray, the Nordic lass asked "But knocks can wait for another time, aye? What say ye all to another round of drinks, wet our throats for some more merry word war?"

===

OOC: I am playing a Nordic woman who claims to represent the Bishop of Barmaids. I'm a bit over six feet tall, with long golden tresses reaching down to my ankles, worn free like a golden mantle, and my blue eyes are usually crinkled with mirth above my full, smiling lips. I'm dressed like a bar maid - albeit in old-fashioned Cyrodiilic style - and bear a large tray of drinks and finger foods, balanced casually on one hand.

Loranna

OOC incoming!

Haute
Belharzslav Olodiil - Colovian and Arbiter
Yggrid Spear-Shanks - Nord, Talosian Archbishop, Maniac.

Tamriel Terror
Taela, Khajiit, acting representative of Mara

Muertos1130
Sufjan Sarethi, Dunmer, Redoran Healer

Shadowblood
Tralen Emerich, (breton?) priest of Ebonarm

Mehrunes-Dagon
Elbero Not-so-tall, priest of the Mythic dawn

Merari
Jalmar Drenim, (Dunmer?) , Priest of the Worm

War_Psyence
Theya Liore, Breton, Tribunal priest

Allerleirauh
as Herself, Nord, adventurer, God-tryer

qrscomplex
Xarlys, Bosmer(?), Archbishop of Dibella

sithisLorkhan
Archbishop Julius, Cyrodiil(?), archbishop of Zenithar

Vincent McCool
Ylbert Yeomcroft, archbishop of Kynareth Feona Barrowhart, Reach Witch pretending to be Ylbert Yeomcroft

Quentillus
"Qorowen Culuaurelinwae Iantierandial Muurlanaro Aicantar Dithringoth of CLAN Quaradil
Archbishop of Draconated AKA, DRAGON Crusader of Holy Amplitude, Thalmor Wizard" (translation: Altmer, Thalmor representative)

Jara of the black Wind
Heedal, Warlock of mage's guild

Flannigus
Relvis Crannan, ippisimus of Razors

Dumbkid
Arynel, Breton

Loranna
As herself, Nord, barmaid

Lord Hyamentar
Indoranys Hyamentar, Dunmer, representative in Divayth Fyr's stead

Lady Nerevar
as herself, Breto-Nordic (?), Imperial librarian

SilentColossus
Kai Ocean-Mist, Nord

Thoughtcriminal
Gagarin, Altmer, representative of the College of Winterhold

I thiiiink that's everyone. I'm not 100% on everyone's race and profession, but this is fairly comprehensive.

(XARLYS, Dibella's high priestess, sits unnoticed for most of the meeting. The redguard seems flustered over her personal notes, so the others have not called attention to her, out of politeness or indifference, ... and out of notice for the sword at her belt.)

As the table shakes once more from dear Yggrid's thunder, a glass of sweetscented liqueur jostles; droplets of the mindnumbing nectar splatter here and there. The Archbishop of Dibella smiles; wasn't there a tournament several years back, when the Stormcrown vocalytes sent Her Beauty's brush-biters flying?

Xarlys attempts to speak, but yet again the cleric seems distracted. Her notes are a mess. Droplets of brown valenut-spirits mark her words here. And there. And here again. There is pattern. There is not a pattern. Her mind may or not be spinning.

She looks again. The notes began with the names of her most fanciful peers, followed by several oversimplified lines crossed-out and replaced with supercomplicated godwords, which were summarily subtitled with simplistic metaphors. Xarlys even made a few doodles and diagrams, to the politely quiet annoyance of her lefthand neighbor, whose inkwell she graciously borrowed for most of the meeting thus far. Granted, the words seemed to twist and curl and thin and break around every word of Towertalk. ... Now? Now the ink seemingly slips away, to some safe corner of her ledger, as if the stains threaten to overtake her papers.

Silly.
That's silly.
How silly. As if flying droplets of voice-empowered liqueur Would Eat er notes to nothing.

The priestess looks more concerned with Valenwood's Finest splotching over a paragraph on the Empire. Probably can't afford another bottle, not on that salary. Perhaps not with all the money spent on enchanted bodypaints for her diocese's fortunetelling classes.



[edit, grammartense
edit2, intro]

"One man's blasphemies, another man's footnote towards illumination." The Telvanni murmours, "I suppose I should say that I treasure blasphemy, as a faith of the highest order." The Dunmer maintains his distance, and allows his expression no betrayal of his emotions, though he keeps a studied eye on the Nordic woman.

"If I have caused offence, then I will not apologize. But I am mindful of it."

He smiles toward the Nord suddenly. "Yes, more libations, please."

Reinvigorated by Loranna's words and by the smokey barrel-aged richness of the fine vintage brandy she served him, Olodiil stands tall to the pulpit. "Alright, as Arbiter I'm instituting a new rule: No more voice-magic," at this Yggrid fumes, she stands to her full eight feet, ready to shout him on his ass before noticing Shurz and a good number of his men have moved into position around her throne. She retakes her seat without incident "or any other wacky cultural powers," Belharzslav continues "now, I ask you brothers and sisters, what happened at Oneth Temple? Give me your accounts! No need for restraint, speak! The moths can sort out your words!"

[NUMINIT] if I know what happened there.

(OOC: Allie's main claim to fame is her appointment, by Vivec, as one of the members of the Tribunal who presided over the Trial of Vivec. She is a Nord, tall - but somewhat less tall than the average of Nords - and slim, with silver hair, which she wears in a knot at the back of her neck. The weather in Chorrol is entirely too balmy for her, but despite the heat she is wearing a richly embroidered Cyrodiilic dress, and over it, a patchwork fur mantle, which she has thrown off, so that it rests on the bench beside her.)

I understand her grace the Archbishop of Talos's frustration. We are not children here - we understand the motive behind Thalmor lies and Dunmer posturing. Serjo Hyamentar - the Tribunal's audacity - how did that work out for you? As for the Archbishop of Akatosh - if Talos does not exist, why are you so afraid of him?

I will voice my account, based on what I have heard in this hall.

Martin Septim, champion in tow, arrives at the temple of one to light the dragonfires, fulfilling the covenant the Cyrodiils claim was forged between Alessia and Akatosh (the thalmor, of course, will dispute this point). He is intercepted by Mehrunes Dagon himself, violating this covenant in much the same manner as he violated the pact made with The Mystical ALMSIVI's Seht. Then, just as the Divine ALMSIVI were forced to drive out the Dagon in enforcement of their pact, so did the Divine Dragon appear, transforming the person of Martin Septim into an avatar of Aka, then banishing Dagon. Martin did not become a divine in his own right a la Talos (whose divinity is not the subject matter of this council and for the sake of goodwill I will not pass judgement on), but instead was absorbed into the essence of Aka. Whether this was the act of benevolence the Imperials claim or the unleashing of the chained Auri-el that our most esteemed Son of Anu would like to assert is not related to the actions of Martin Septim.

When the act was complete, Aka's avatar solidified into a statue of stone, marking either a fulfillment f the covenant of Alessia or a warning of the dragon-king's actions to come. Perhaps both. That is so often the case.

The future definately is uncertain, this one believes. But what of the Elder Scrolls? Surly these artifacts that are not for our eyes to bare witness to foretold this!? Is this event an isolated incedent? Or will it have long term repercussions? Is it a Harbinger?

OOC: Thanks for making that list with the players and their characters. Now I feel like the biggest troll. My character is actually a Breton raised in Morrowind and married to a Dunmer. I didn't mean to mislead you.

/OOC

"May I have drink, too?" asks Theya. "It would make me feels better. To think I haven't tasted some good wine for so long..."

(to the others) "You don't tolerate the Dunmer, do you? These people have done nothing but came to this council. You can't ask me to stay still and watch you complain they are here. I grew up among them."

"Anyway, Martin. Martin couldn't have been Talos. It would be unlikely that Talos, once Dragonborn, returns as Martin, who, too, had the soul of a dragon. It might be that he didn't, but that's another theory. I wonder if Talos truly is a god. I don't mean to upset anyone with that. I am merely judging...and I do take into consideration a lot of things, I must say."

She looks around, confused. She couldn't keep track of what everyone else was saying, or perhaps that's just what she was thinking.

"Why did Akatosh intervene? It was him, it couldn't have been anyone else, but Akatosh could have helped man..and mer, plenty of times before. At Battlespire, for exemple, or in Mourhold. He would have banished Dagon, perhaps faster than the Tribunes did. Yes, it is silly to believe he would have done that, but it's as much as it is odd that he banished Dagon here. I cannot understand why would a passive deity act. Furthermore, how could Akatosh...Time, channel his forces into doing this? Wait - forget my question. It's no mystery, he could easily do that. And did you say something about the Elder Scrolls? They are confusing, definitely. They deal more with history than they do with prophecy, I think. The future is uncerstain, you said it, the Elder Scrolls can't dictate what will happen. They can give us an idea of what might happen, merely that. Or do you strongly believe in prophecy? Akatosh's intervention, I doubt it was an act of benevolence. It just was. I fail to see Aedra having intentions. Was anyone here at the Temple of The One when Dagon was banished? I'm eager to hear such a story."

((Incorrect. Sorry if my first post was confusing. Ylbert Yeomcraft was just the name on the letter that informed the council of my character's arrival. The Archbishop was eaten by a Daedroth. My character is Feona Barrowhart, Reach Witch Priestess and Champion of Kynareth. She's totally not a witch. And she was nothing to do with whoever opened the gates of Evermore and let the Daedra into the City))