Perhaps a gathering of the main cast, with the people important to them? Rhazii, Julan, and the like.
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While I could imagine plenty more epilogue scenes we could do, this was really the last one I had in mind. There are plenty of smaller threads, like with speaking with Lunise, or Fendros' father, or resolving their business with Hal-Neesa. It's up to you if you think they are something that you wouldn't want to end it without doing. Aside from that, I think it is just a matter of deciding what we want that final, send-off scene to be.
Kareet of Arcaeda
Kareet reacted little to Itxaro’s initial panic. It seemed that she had figured out what was happening, so the problem was solved, as far as Kareet was concerned. She did seem to be curious about the particulars of shapeshifting, and though not a Life mage herself, Kareet was still more than knowledgeable enough to give an answer. “Shapeshifting can be disorienting at first, but a reasonable amount of practice can awaken a creature’s muscle memory. It depends on how similar it is to what you already understand. Moving around on two legs, you should be able to do right away. For me, moving as a Glen took a few hours. Something as complex as flight? It took me regular practice over the course of a week or two. Not too much of an investment, for something so useful.”
Ultimately, the horn that sounded out across the area signaled what would likely be a complete interruption of this little meeting. Kareet supposed she was glad to have learned what she had, though that would not stop her from being annoyed. She watched the approach of the tall creatures with considerably less concern as the Humans around her. Her attitude was practically nonchalant, in comparison. “Those are Zarseaks. They are native to the marshlands between here and Lake Núr. They naturally carry their young in their mouths, so they can be trained to do the same for passengers. They don’t navigate the mountains too well, but the Glen use them widely for transport in the marshes and plains. I imagine some of Silbermine’s reinforcements have arrived.”
General Kvarr
“I believe it would be beneficial for me to speak to the Humans, less formally. I would like to get an impression of…”
The horn interrupted Kvarr, though he merely tilted his head and listened for the moment. It was not long before someone new arrived in the tent. Briefly, Kvarr seemed noticeably more interested in Shirik than the arrival of the Mythadian forces. An Iriad, by appearance, still alive while seemingly burning from within from flame. He did not know of Kareet’s original purpose out here, but the stories of someone like Shirik were not unknown to him. Still, he did not choose to comment for the moment. Rather, he put his focus on the arrival of the Warden.
Nellara’s response was not unexpected, though by Kvarr’s reaction, perhaps still slightly disappointing. “I feel no need to meet posturing with posturing. Regardless, if I know the Warden like I think I do, I doubt that is her intention here. I would suggest instead that you accompany me to the Mythadian camp. We can speak with Warden Esedel, and we may finally make some progress here.”
Upon initial inspection opening the book, it seemed like it may have been a draft of a biography. There were notes in places, and it was uncertain if it had been published widely. The author was anonymous, and most strangely, the date it was claimed to have been written was still many years in the future. For Fendros, though, the story it told was anything but unfamiliar: it was his. It began explaining his background and history in Cheydinhal, though only for a few pages and in quite general terms. It only grew more detailed once he met Meesei’s pack. It described his packmates, though in terms of their personalities, they did seem more like what they were now, rather than what they were back then. As the story moved through the major events of the pack’s journeys and the progress of the war, it appeared that the author was not someone who had firsthand knowledge, but perhaps had known someone who did.
Regardless, over the course of a few chapters, the book told of much of what he had been through over the years. Many private details were omitted, like Ahnasha’s turn to necromancy, or his rocky reunion with his father. Still, from their terrible defeat in Elsweyr, to their struggles against the soul-tearing gas in the years after, to eventually turning the tide with the assistance of Ariel’s cure, the major points of the story were all there. There was, of course, an entire chapter dedicated to the final battle in the Fields of Regret. It told of the battle from multiple perspectives, including ones Fendros had not yet had time to hear from anyone else. There were pages of what seemed like a firsthand account of one of the soldiers that had been fighting down in the valley, one that might have even been hard to believe had Fendros not been there himself. Alongside the rank-and-file soldiers, there were lycan spirits from the Hunting Grounds, Dwemer automatons and tamed Chaurus, and packs of transformed lycanthropes acting almost as cavalry. He particularly expressed disgust at the undead brought by an Argonian vampire, yet could not help but to appreciate the irony that, later in the battle, the powerful magic of that same vampire protected him from a fireball that surely would have incinerated him. And despite all of that, what the soldier was perhaps most surprised by was how Imperial and Dominion troops had, by the circumstances of the war, been forced to join and fight together. He had clearly felt reservations going into the battle, but he noted how quickly all of those worries had vanished when it came time to face down the Daedric hordes. Against such a foe, it seemed that those political divisions had been as far away as Mundus itself.
Though there was plenty to say about the battle itself, the story did soon focus back onto its conclusion. The author’s source placed great emphasis on the importance of the former Champion’s sacrifice, to use the power of the Staff of Magnus to create an explosion of magical power that could sweep away the Daedra threatening to overwhelm them. There was also, as the author noted, a particular insistence from the source to describe sacrifice of Do’rhajul at the apex of the tower during the final confrontation: the former servant of Vile who redeemed himself by ensuring the Godhunter could reach his prey. Out of all of it, though, out of the arrogance and power of Clavicus Vile, and the clashing of gods between him and Hircine. Out of the cleverness of using Barbas to weaken his other half, and the final, desperate push through an army of summoned Daedra, the author seemed to take the greatest pride in focusing on the Godhunter himself. There were multiple paragraphs dedicated to describing every detail of his final charge to cleave his axe into Vile’s being, from his appearance, to even guesses at what thoughts must have been going through his mind. Not all were accurate, but it set the scene effectively all the same. A mortal, a Champion, leading the charge to bring about the defeat of a god.
There was nothing more in the book after the defeat of Clavicus Vile, yet curiously, it definitely seemed like there should have been. The story cut off abruptly after their return from Oblivion, and upon closer inspection, it looked as if every page afterwards had been ripped out of the book. In its place, there was a folded up parchment: a short note that, unlike the rest of the book, was written in Meesei’s handwriting.
I thought you might prefer to write the rest yourself.
Regardless, over the course of a few chapters, the book told of much of what he had been through over the years. Many private details were omitted, like Ahnasha’s turn to necromancy, or his rocky reunion with his father. Still, from their terrible defeat in Elsweyr, to their struggles against the soul-tearing gas in the years after, to eventually turning the tide with the assistance of Ariel’s cure, the major points of the story were all there. There was, of course, an entire chapter dedicated to the final battle in the Fields of Regret. It told of the battle from multiple perspectives, including ones Fendros had not yet had time to hear from anyone else. There were pages of what seemed like a firsthand account of one of the soldiers that had been fighting down in the valley, one that might have even been hard to believe had Fendros not been there himself. Alongside the rank-and-file soldiers, there were lycan spirits from the Hunting Grounds, Dwemer automatons and tamed Chaurus, and packs of transformed lycanthropes acting almost as cavalry. He particularly expressed disgust at the undead brought by an Argonian vampire, yet could not help but to appreciate the irony that, later in the battle, the powerful magic of that same vampire protected him from a fireball that surely would have incinerated him. And despite all of that, what the soldier was perhaps most surprised by was how Imperial and Dominion troops had, by the circumstances of the war, been forced to join and fight together. He had clearly felt reservations going into the battle, but he noted how quickly all of those worries had vanished when it came time to face down the Daedric hordes. Against such a foe, it seemed that those political divisions had been as far away as Mundus itself.
Though there was plenty to say about the battle itself, the story did soon focus back onto its conclusion. The author’s source placed great emphasis on the importance of the former Champion’s sacrifice, to use the power of the Staff of Magnus to create an explosion of magical power that could sweep away the Daedra threatening to overwhelm them. There was also, as the author noted, a particular insistence from the source to describe sacrifice of Do’rhajul at the apex of the tower during the final confrontation: the former servant of Vile who redeemed himself by ensuring the Godhunter could reach his prey. Out of all of it, though, out of the arrogance and power of Clavicus Vile, and the clashing of gods between him and Hircine. Out of the cleverness of using Barbas to weaken his other half, and the final, desperate push through an army of summoned Daedra, the author seemed to take the greatest pride in focusing on the Godhunter himself. There were multiple paragraphs dedicated to describing every detail of his final charge to cleave his axe into Vile’s being, from his appearance, to even guesses at what thoughts must have been going through his mind. Not all were accurate, but it set the scene effectively all the same. A mortal, a Champion, leading the charge to bring about the defeat of a god.
There was nothing more in the book after the defeat of Clavicus Vile, yet curiously, it definitely seemed like there should have been. The story cut off abruptly after their return from Oblivion, and upon closer inspection, it looked as if every page afterwards had been ripped out of the book. In its place, there was a folded up parchment: a short note that, unlike the rest of the book, was written in Meesei’s handwriting.
I thought you might prefer to write the rest yourself.
Kareet of Arcaeda
Kareet, on her part, cocked her head to the side as she looked over Itxaro. “You…want me to scratch you?” She asked, somewhat misunderstanding Itxaro’s wording. “I can understand wanting to test the capabilities of Life magic for yourself, though with the size of my talons, I think they would deliver a fair bit more than just a ‘scratch.’”
Kareet looked down at her fresh hand, curling her fingers inward to look at her new talons. “I think I have sufficiently demonstrated my confidence in the reliability of Life magic. It has been a great boon to our world, and that can be shared with you. Just keep in mind that Kerchak, or any other Life mage, will need to study the Human body before they can give you this sort of healing. Though…Kerchak could allow you to experience shapeshifting right now, if you wanted. A Life mage can always transform someone into the previous form they held, even without knowing it themselves.”
Kareet of Arcaeda
For a moment, Kareet rotated her wrist and articulated her fingers through their full range of motion. Now that feeling was returning to her arm, it felt like nothing at all had changed. Vigdis’ reaction had been predictable, so Kareet did not hesitate in replying. “Trust me, even without the pain, it is not a pleasant thing to see happen to yourself…but that is the point. Kerchak can shapeshift, so I know he can handle healing. I would not have done this if I were not completely confident in Life magic.”
As for Vigdis’ request, Kareet had little difficulty in complying. Being able to speak directly about the differences in their notation made it much easier to translate between their number systems. The first thing Kareet had done when copying the examples Vigdis had written was to create a key comparing the Human symbols to their own. Even between people, between worlds, the mathematics themselves were identical. She tore out a blank page and wrote out the same equations and expressions in S’toric notation using small, but neat, handwriting.
Once finished, Kareet slid the page across the table to Vigdis, though her gaze lingered for a moment on the severed, bloody hand still laying on it. There was a brief, somewhat awkward silence before Kareet gestured to it. “You can keep that too, if you need proof for your captain.”
Kareet of Arcaeda
Kareet seemed to pay little mind to Kerchak’s objections. They needed to show their healing capabilities, and she felt this was the most expedient method of providing a clear demonstration. Regardless, Kerchak did as she had asked, so once she was appropriately numb, she reached out her other hand towards her bag and magnetized her knife into it. It had a weighty blade, and from a Human perspective, looked to be more like a machete.
While Kareet’s intentions were likely plain at this point, she did not give much time for objections. She laid her hand flat on the table, then delivered a single, heavy chop straight to her own wrist. She aimed well, and the cut was clean to sever the hand from her arm. Kareet looked up from the table at Vigdis, maintaining eye contact with a calm, collected expression. She had felt no pain, nor any other sensation from the act, and while there was blood, the bleeding was not nearly so severe as it should have been for such an injury. Without that, there was a fairly clear view of the torn muscles, bones, and severed tendons within her wrist, if one could stand to look for long enough.
“Now, Kerchak, regrow my hand, if you please.” Kareet said with a brief glance to the Life mage.
General Kvarr
There was a brief, friendly smile from Kvarr. “Indeed so. I was confident you would understand. Keep courteous, keep polite, but do not give any ground. Figuratively speaking. We will make it clear that this land is ours to give without having to argue about it. I think your confidence and conviction shall be a boon here. When you speak what you know, beyond any doubt, to be right, then you will make it true by the force of that conviction.”
After a moment, the General shifted his focus. While he was not especially stern to begin with, he still seemed to loosen up measurably. “But I know plenty of our Glen neighbors. I would like to know more of these Humans. From everything I have heard, our unexpected guests arrived in quite dramatic fashion, but probably not of their own accord. At least, I would hope it would not be normal for them to travel inside a fireball. I want to know them better than just the superficial details, though. Is it possible for me to speak with them, outside of a…formal meeting? Or are they reclusive inside this flying machine of theirs?”
Kareet of Arcaeda
Vigis’ description of their medical capabilities was interesting in a few ways. Kareet had never known a world without Life magic, and the idea of spending weeks or months to recover from the injuries she described felt like an eternity. Yet, Kareet knew her history, and she had read what the world was like before magic. Shattered bones and joints, burns and deep cuts, they may be trivial for Life magic now, but such injuries used to be crippling. It was, in its own way, impressive that the Humans were able to recover in such short times, or even at all, without the aid of magic. Nevertheless, that did not devalue the power of their magic.
The measurements that Vigdis took the time to explain, Kareet dutifully copied into her notes. Mathematics and geometry were all something she worked with regularly, so she was well-positioned to try to understand all of these new units the Humans used. It would take some getting used to, without a doubt, but it would be necessary to understand the conversions if she wanted to learn what they could teach. With it written down, Kareet could study it on her own time, but the subject of Life magic was a bit more pressing.
“I think it would be helpful to show you firsthand what Life magic can do for you. It is true that I do not know Kerchak too well, but if anything, you should keep that in mind with what I would like to show you.” Kareet said before looking to Kerchak. “I’m sure you can heal a fellow Tekeri, yes? If so, I would like you to numb my hand and restrict blood flow to it, if you please.”
Meesei’s quarters had been untouched from the day they had first entered the Hunting Grounds. By appearances, it seemed she must have done some cleaning before they left, as there was little in the way of clutter. Meesei had not been a disorganized person by any means, but given how busy she could be, her belongings could sometimes end up being organized in ways that only made sense to her. At the moment, though, it was almost strangely neat and tidy. In fact, some of her belongings looked like they were already half way to being packed up to move. Her magic research notes, which she had asked in Fendros’ dream to be given to Sabine, were all stacked up together on her table. All of the records and notes she had written on their clans as Champion, she had even packed away into an open chest near her bed.
Given that Meesei had evidently already packed away some of its contents, her bookshelf was looking more bare than usual, but there were still some left on the shelves. Many were mundane, like books on history, foreign cultures, and even a few novels, though there were a few in one corner of decidedly different origin. Meesei had discarded the Black Book she had become so obsessed with years ago, and had never sought to find it again. However, there were some books she had brought back from Apocrypha that she had kept. Apart from their origin, there was nothing inherently magical or dangerous about any of them, but the title written on the spine of one stood out:
Godhunter
Given that Meesei had evidently already packed away some of its contents, her bookshelf was looking more bare than usual, but there were still some left on the shelves. Many were mundane, like books on history, foreign cultures, and even a few novels, though there were a few in one corner of decidedly different origin. Meesei had discarded the Black Book she had become so obsessed with years ago, and had never sought to find it again. However, there were some books she had brought back from Apocrypha that she had kept. Apart from their origin, there was nothing inherently magical or dangerous about any of them, but the title written on the spine of one stood out:
Godhunter
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