~Dagoth Ur's Prayer~

Bellowing beneath our cursed skin, a soul of new yearns to be found.
With the help of the Lord, everyone will indulgently sleep sound.

Between the crevasse and the moon, the night stars wonder.
Who is the one, the One to free the Dunmer?

As sanction runs low and time dwindles away.
Night must fall on this final day.

The Lord hath awoken, his voice not unheard or faded.
We wake to his name; no longer is he belated.

Ash fills the skies as a sign to his release with surprise.
He will squander the Three into their demise.

Four walls to withhold the sacrifice given to this land.
The time of our Lord, the One, is at hand.

Fire and red boil under his tongue, their sparks hold the truth.
His divine mask blends into our veins, marked as power to induce.

O withered trees, fallen souls, and rapacious Blight!
Watch the seas tremble, feeding his might!

While astral signs shift with his pulse and his thought.
The truth of his breath is a treasure always sought.

Within the Chamber, his children build with ancient art.
To imbue the vessel; to uphold the Heart.

Your stare can melt a mountain; your palms can kill a horde.
Soon you will rise to gain what is yours, Our Lord.

As your sleep fades off, the volcano stirs and spits.
It knows that its father is coming from its magma pits.

Raise the Counsel; call forth your Dark Priests.
Use your Magick to look into the Eye, use your golden word to call forth your Beasts.

All shall gather around the base of your mountain as the sun sets tight.
We will march forth to the Ghostgate to fight.

As the Armigers fall and the Temple men flee in tears.
We will bathe in their swollen blood, our eyes filling to leers.

Heed the words of the ancestors long past.
You must come to face the Nerevarine at last.

Put forth your foot and extend your mighty arm.
Take over this land with your knowledge and charm.

Commander and Chief, Father and Fallen One.
Release your power, as the battle for this world hath begun.

Let your litanies and tales come to us in your own dream.
What comes from your lungs is the solemn Serene.

From back before the time of the soldiers and the Serpent.
Make those who invaded fall and repent.

Adorn the Golden Truth onto your face of Life.
Strangle the fair-skinned and put them to strife.

Take the sun from its throne in the sky clothed in air.
Place it unto the glory of your Third glare.

Masquerade through the terrain, your legions at your whim.
As the red skies twist with your mind, knowing you as the only Him.

Repel the lies of the corrupt Temple and Tribunal.
You will be the bringer of their anchoretic funeral.

Let us now open the doors to your rocky tomb.
And aide you in the N’wah’s doom.

Long-gone souls will reap your victory that will draw much bloodshed.
Your statues in our minds will pierce our souls, their eyes ruby red.

All may run, but none can hide.
Their fate will be given for choosing the corrupt side.

Back the prosecutors into the wall of lies they’ve built, they’ve nothing to gain.
Scorch their bodes with your red righteous rain.

No Saint can stop you; the Trickster is on your side.
Replenish the Sixth House that to which all shall abide.

As the Ashlanders say in the prophecies written in vain.
Many fall, but one remains.

Time is short; the doors are closing, sealed tight.
Show them all your Magick, your beauty, your might.

All that there is left to be said before the flutes play their hymn.
Is to attain your state, show the way to your blood, your kin.

Now we will gather to you, waiting for your revival.
While we whisper in circles and burn the Tribunal’s Bible.