章 583: Dragonborn for this
"FUS RO DAH!"
Surtr shouts, causing the dragon to stumble and allowing him to run up and throw himself onto its back. He raises Wuuthrad over his head and chops downwards, cutting into the dragon's skull and instantly killing it.
He hops off of its rapidly decaying corpse and ignores the intense information dump as he absorbs the soul while looking over at the few remaining Forsworn.
Most of them had died by dragon fire, but Surtr had killed a good amount of them too, putting the fear of god into them. Before him were three Forsworn holding a tied-up Esbern and Delphine captive, attempting to use them as hostages to secure their safety.
Surtr squints his eyes as the last remnants of the dragon's soul are absorbed and folds his arms while addressing the group, "What did I say about following me, Delphine?"
"We weren't following you... Just in the area..." she bitterly responds.
"Shut up, traitor whore!" a Forsworn growls at her, "Let us go or we'll kill them both!"
Surtr shrugs, "Give me the old man and keep the girl." he states, causing Delphine to sputter in response.
"N-No! We'll keep the old man and give the girl!" one of the Forsworn exclaims, clearly realising how little he cared about Delphine.
Surtr lets out a sigh, "Insects. Mah Hokoron Gunaar!" he shouts, and the Forsworn all abruptly fold inwards on themselves, their bodies being crushed into the floor as if they were under an invisible hydraulic press...
With the duo freed, Surtr walks past them and towards the ruins, "Stop annoying me, Delphine. Or I'll crush you as well."
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Unfortunately, the duo don't get the message, following him through the ruins until he reaches an empty hall with a large face at the end of it, along with a strange indented circle on the floor in front of it.
Surtr sniffs and glances around the room, becoming stumped as he sees no indication of what he should do... Most ruins he'd come across made it blatantly obvious as to what he should do, sometimes even leaving written instructions... But here? Nothing...
"Ahm... Hmmm?" Esbern hums from behind him, the old man scouring the place with his eyes.
"Since you're here. Any ideas, old man?" Surtr inquires, ignoring Delhpine's existence entirely.
Esbern traces the face, then the circle in thought, "It's said that only the blood of Tiber Septim could access this place... This circle is also reminiscent of old Akavari ritual circles... Shed your blood, I suspect this is the key."
Surtr nods, not having any better ideas. He cuts his palm and bleeds on the circle, which flashes with light and causes the stone face to retract into the wall, revealing a large hall... Surtr steps through and is greeted by what he was looking for, Alduin's Wall.
"Facinating..." Esbern utters in awe at it.
Delphine, uncaring of this place's historical value just grabs the ancient Blade weapons and armour scattered around the place, kitting herself in it as if she already owned it... "A fitting place to rebuild the Blades."
Surtr holds back his retorts and walks beside Esbern, "What can you make out? To me it's just art." he remarks, not able to distinguish what meant something and what didn't.
"Almsot everything... It foretells of events from the ancient Dragon Wars to now, even depicting he Civil War... Amazing..."
While Surtr was interested, he did have a reason for being here. "I mean the method to defeat Alduin."
Esbern's eyes regain their focus as he nods, "A shout... They used a shout to defeat Alduin..."
"What was it?"
Esbern shakes his head, "It doesn't say... Perha-"
"Perhaps your hermit friends could tell you more, they're the masters of the Thu'um, right?" Delphine remarks from across the room.
"Finish your thought, old man." Surtr states.
"I was going to say to ask the Greybeards, it seems the rational choice..."
Surtr nods, "I'll be on my way then."
"W-wait! You're leaving so soon!? Don't you want any of this equipment!? Things the Blades of old used!" Delphine exclaims.
"No." Surtr growls as he leaves.
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"Master Arngeir." Surtr respectfully greets as he approaches the Greybeard.
"Dragonborn, have you need of something?"
He nods, "I need information. A shout capable of bringing down Alduin, like the heroes in the past had."
Arngeir frowns, "Where did you learn of this?"
Surtr crooks a brow, "So there is such a shout, and you didn't think to tell me? The man trying to stop the end of the world?" he grouses.
Arngeir shakes his head, "We Greybeards personally do not know it, and even if we had the opportunity, we wouldn't learn it... It is a shout created by man, made of hatred towards the dragons. Dragonrend."
"Then who knows it? Who else but you could know it!?"
...
"Follow me, I think it is time you met our master." Arngeir seriously states as he turns and leaves.
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Surtr is escorted to the peak of the Throat of the World, but falters mid-step as he lays eyes on three figures... Three dragons.
Two were absolutely huge, almost matching the size of Alduin. One looked old with grey scales and, somehow, had a wise aura...
The next had green, half-rotting scales with ragged wings.
And the last... Thin, with four limbs and two wings, blue scales and green eyes.
He positions Arngeir behind him and draws Wuuthrad from his back, "Dragons, I'll take all three of you!" he shouts.
Arngeir hurriedly grabs his shoulder at this, "Wait! They are friendly! This is Master Paarthurnax, leader of the Greybeards!"
...
Surtr lowers his battleaxe with a complicated expression, Paarthurnax... I've heard that name before...? I've seen you before..."
The old dragon nods his head, "As you should with how many memories you've taken from my kin."
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