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[Thrumming voice guesses at the inscription]

Keep out because you are crunchy and go well with chili garlic sauce?

Edited (typo) 2012-12-30 06:12 (UTC)

[The old dragon stills, head lifting toward the unfamiliar voice.]

Hmm, no. Vahrukiv ko golz. It is merely a commemoration of deeds long past.

[Wings are resettled on the dark purple scaled back and a deceptively lazy turquoise eye blinks.]

A reminder to yourself then? Or to others after you turn to stone?

[She definitely a she, in her prime no less.]

[Not one of his kin, this, though neither daedric nor - apparently - ill-intentioned. Paarthurnax shifts his heavy-muscled frame, clambering up and onto the rocky ledge above the half-carved word wall. All the better to hold conversation once he's settled on his wings.]

Stone? [Curious.] I do not intend to join with the mountain stone. But... qethsegol dahmaan, I would have them remember. This place has been too long forgotten. Unmarked. Spirits linger that should not be silenced.

[To her eyes, being a drake, old, and large, becoming stone is the next step in the male aging process, as drakes do not last as long as their female counterparts.]

What what would you have the Quick Children remember? They tend to forget much rather quickly.

Those who fought and fell in their name. There was a cruel battle here, in the ancient war between joorre and dov.

[Which he rather assumes she has knowledge of, close kindred or no.]

But who asks? Who are you, vomindok?

A...dragon. [He swallowed hard. Holy shit.]

Edited 2013-01-05 22:24 (UTC)

[He hears the voice and coils his head over one ragged wing, peering at the stranger who's come upon him.]

Drem Yol Lok, wunduniik. Greetings to you.

This one is Mythal and this form is Song. We are one. We fought against Elgar'nan and his form Sun when they rose and called themselves a god.

Who are you, Lethallin?

[Greetings? What in Durin's name was going on? He wasn't....attacking?]

You are a fire drake, are you not?

[It is always intriguing to meet new beings, however old one becomes. Such unfamiliar names - and yet, perhaps they have a familiar story to tell. He rumbles thoughtfully.]

I am Paarthurnax. Drem Yol Lok... greetings to you. I have not had the pleasure of tinvaak with one of your kind before. Will you tell me of them?

[Why attack when you can talk ~~someone to death~~?]

Hmmm. [One cannot answer to a name if one isn't sure of the meaning.] I am a dovah. I speak of fire when I have need, that is true. But gein rotte ni geinmaar... one word does not define my nature.

[The thrumming voice is slow, as if remembering events from a very long time ago.]

The blood of the dragons is the blood of the world, or so it is said. Dragons were becoming mindless beings. Those who were called the Creators saw this decline and to save them, Joined with the strongest Queens. The Creators could already change their shapes, so losing their original forms was not worrisome. They had changed create the Quick Children, the Elvhen, the Durgen’len...dwarves, even the creatures of the land, sea, and air. Every form was experienced and made good. Everyone is a child of the Creators, but the Creators themselves were made by the the dragons, it was only right to save what gave them breath, else how could the others be depended upon to do the same for them?

[His stillness proves his great interest as he listens. Absorbing the tale of a people's shaping. And what a bizarre tale - there was a time he would have reacted with scorn rather than hear such things.]

Onikaan. It is wise to give as you would hope to be repaid.

[His remark is quietly agreeing. Encouraging her to speak further.]

[The humming thrum is the voice of Song, lending support to Mythal's tale, confirming that what is said is true.]

"They were thought to be wise actions, carefully considered, but the Joining brought about a change in some of the Creators. One of the first to Join was Elgar'nan, always a proud being. When he Joined with Sun, it was not equal, not a partnership. He seized control, muted her voice, and made her a prisoner in her own form. Her desires were not met except where his own also lay. And so Elgar'nan thought if he could master a dragon, the very beings that had created him, then he could be his own creation's god. So he began to gather worshipers and make war on those who would not honor him thusly, even his fellow Creators, those Joined and unJoined. I, his mate, gathered those who did not wish to call him god and protected them from the armies that descended upon their cities, eager to murder and subjugate."

[Song is sorrowful, even if Mythal's voice is steady and unimpassioned in her telling.]

[Talk? Durin's beard no....]

A dovah? I have not heard of such a creature. May you be strong and a fine creature, yet my heart still bares ill will towards you, dragon. I have not yet experienced kindness from a dragon until now.

For that, I thank you.

[Paarthurnax rumbles deep and darkly, the calm sternness of his reaction masking the deeper rage. For once, he is in agreement with his instincts: to quash such a Voice is a foul deed. And for it to be the work of their own creation...]

Vulom evenaar ziie. It is the darkest path to silence the Voices of others. And what of your kin? Did they serve him out of fear? Or did they share his, hmm, shaan wah rel... his aspiration to godhood.

[He crawls wing over wing onto the ledge above the new Word Wall, settling his grey bulk upon the rock and peering down.]

Mal dun. We are not kind by nature. But it is a small courtesy to greet a fellow traveller, is it not? [There's a soft rumble of amusement in his chest.] I have been away from the world for a very long time, but I have not forgotten that.

[Leathery wings shifted, tracking the weak sunlight.]

Some, those who were swayed with promises of power fought alongside. Most were disinterested thinking themselves outside of the conflict, until it arrived at their lair. Both sides raised clutches, and others, knowing the cost, were Joined, my twin boys, Falon'din and Dirthamen being among them. Friend and Secret Joined with them.

[Fondness from both voices was heard at the naming of the four children]

Neither side won. It is a battle being played out even today, one where the Quick Children, believers and unbelievers alike, do not know where it all began or what they could be enslaved by. Deep in the heart of a country rich in magic, all of the Joined are called the Old Gods, a title which most of us would scorn, if they were awake to hear it.

[Thorin couldn't help but step back. His deep rooted fear of dragons showing through.]

Indeed. I am just unfamiliar with you, Paarthurnax.

A pity. Your people slumber, then, even as mine have. Koqoth uv saraan? Were they entombed by their enemies? Or do they merely await?

[He lowers his head at that, pale eyes bright, tail curling upward with curiosity. He's been in these mountains for a little time now, so it's not strange that the nearby mortals know of his presence. Perhaps every inn along the road is warning travellers about him. It is still rather pleasing to be known, once more.]

Onik fah faas. You are wise to be wary. [If Thorin knew more, he might be warier still. Or angry.] Yet here you remain. And I know still less of you. Who are you, kril joor? Was it chance that brought you here, or did you seek me in this place?

What buisiness do you have here, dragon? Is it you who keeps slaughtering my people and causing unrest in Skyrim?

[A bare, curious moment before he abandons his work and climbs to a better perch, eyes gleaming.]

Not I alone, kendov.

[A very long time since he held all of Skyrim in fear. And then, not in his own right. The most infamous lieutenant is wise to remember his place.]

And I have harmed none of your people. Though my presence may cause them discomfort enough. Faasnu. I do not intend to linger.

Both and neither. The older they are, the longer one rests. Some enemies have found them buried in their lairs, twisting our brethren into monsters, worse than what the Creators attempted to prevent. The rampages are terrible. There are many deaths of worshipers and non-worshipers alike...no thoughts in their minds both the Creator and Dragon wild with the poison of Taint.

[This again causes Song tune to turn both angry and sad. It is impossible to fully rest with these lurking dangers.]

Does your kind sleep for reasons such as these?

Another dragon then? Which dragon is responsible for the massacre at Helgen?

I am Thorin, son of Thror, son of Thrain. King Under the Mountain soon to reclaim that title. [He eyed the dragon but did not falter.]

[A dark rumble in sympathy. It is difficult to touch an entombed dovah, more so than any other time. The flesh is vulnerable; stripped of it they are reduced to their unyielding soul. And there is but one foe who can truly take that...]

Nid. My zeymahhe lie in the mounds where their bones were buried. Slain by mortal enemies many centuries ago. Nu pogaan vokrii. Now the time has come for them to reawaken.

Helgen. Hmm.

[He has to think about that.]

The small village in the southern mountains, yes? Krosis. I may know the one you speak of. What do you know of this dovah, this dragon?

A lordly title, golzjun. I do not know of your name, nor your kingdom. But I would gladly hear of it.

Dragons of the Fade?

[Finding other words]

Ghosts? Skeletons?

Or rebirth?

Hmmm. One might call it rebirth. But to be reborn one must first pass through dinok - death, yes? Mu los unslaad. We are immortal. When a dovah falls in battle, his flesh may fail. His spirit merely waits to be called back.

Yes, this is true, just as we provide new forms for our Vessels and Warders.

[Pauses, considering the difficulties]

Although this...rebirth would take much longer to accomplish. I may find another form readily, but Song... she would seek another egg.

You follow a cycle, then? A kalpa of your own?

[He lifts his head, curiosity clearly aroused. For those who don't experience such things, even that much 'mortality' is intriguing. But perhaps not so mortal as to be incomprehensible to him.]

Is your nature much changed, between one birth and the next?

[Song and Mythal's voices are confused and they return to the beginning where they believed an error occurred.]

Vessels and Warders are long lived mortals with cycles of birth and death. Depending on the effort put into a Vessel, they could experience life without aging as this can be halted.

Creators and Queens were forever. If one were to fall, the soul of the Creator would merely land in another nearby form, pushing that soul out, and changing that body to suit themselves.

Dragons return to the Fade and reenter the world through another egg. Creator and Dragon may be reunited as there is still a connection...a thread between them.

[Song is again sorrowful, while Mythal hints of an exception, one that upsets her form.]

This Taint, terrible twisting it is, can lead to the death of the Dragon, no rebirth, no joining, only separation.

[This has happened to others, in their sleep they were taken and Song nearly roars with the loss.]