Voice ♦ 001

[septim]

[ The feed sputters then stills, the soft rustling of fabric barely audible before a resonant, virile voice begins to speak. He sounds resigned to his fate, but not defeated. ] If I am to be trapped here, I would like to be useful. I've never been much of a passive spectator...

[ He snaps back into reality, chuckling once in embarrassment. ] Ah, forgive me. My name is Martin Septim, and I'm a healer. Although my means of healing might prove... [ A pause for thought. ] primitive if this device is any indication, I would still like to work tending wounds.

And if that's not possible, a library or bookshop would be fine. [ This time he laughs genuinely, though only once. ] It seems I'm not the only person who's arrived in this realm against their will, but I like finding out things on my own, so I won't bore any of you asking questions that have likely already been answered.

Thank you for your time. [ And the transmission ends. ]

Comments

[septim]

[ LANNISTER!!!oeoneoneonesomethingsomethingwinteriscoming*squint* ] Can't say I'm surprised. No one's heard of Tamriel or Cyrodiil in this city.

[heavyhanded]

Add another to your list.

[ ... is this more made up names. those are awful made up names, they don't even sound real.

sounding ever so taut: ] And what are they?

[septim]

Tamriel is a continent, Cyrodiil is a province, my home.

[heavyhanded]

[ new theory: being beheaded makes you crazy. ]

Tell me, does the name Westeros mean anything to you?

[septim]

[ So does turning into a flame-wreathed dragon but hey, the dragon statue was really pretty. ]

I'm afraid not.

[heavyhanded]

[ LONG PAUSE ]

You're meant to be dead.

1/2

[septim]

Wha—

[ Yes, Martin Septim, 22^nd Emperor of Tamriel, is supposed to be dead. Body spent by Akatosh in the battle against Mehrunes Dagon, he isn't sure why he didn't make it into the Immortal Plane, Aetherius.

But if this man doesn't know of Tamriel or Cyrodiil, how can he know he's supposed to be dead? ]

2/2

[septim]

[ Composed of posture, but not of tone. His voice drops into a hiss. ] Who are you and what do you want?

[heavyhanded]

Don't recognize me? [ An amused breath out. ] I'd wanted to slay you myself, but as that didn't happen, I'd settle for seeing dead men keep to their graves.

[septim]

You wanted to slay me? [ An agent of Dagon? No, that can't be, all of the prominent members of the Mythic Dawn were killed. ] What grave? [ A figure of speech? ] I wasn't buried. I turned into a dragon statue.

[heavyhanded]

[ uh what
another pause, because, just, what, ned ]

Have you lost your wits with your head, Stark?

[septim]

What!? [ First this man says he wanted to slay him, then calls him some strange surname? ] Is this some sort of joke? Because I didn't lose my head, I fought a daedric prince then lost my life! I was never beheaded!

[heavyhanded]

A daedric— no, you're wrong. Ilyn Payne took your head himself, with your own blade.

[septim]

No one took my head! [ He's nearly screaming. ] I mingled my blood and soul with the Amulet of Kings, I summoned Akatosh! That is why I died!

[heavyhanded]

[ wow that's
that's kinda un-Starklike, he's gotta admit
gratuitous made up facts aside, of course ]

I don't know if I should be naming you mad, or a liar. Show me your face, Stark.

[septim]

Name the time and place, and I will.

[heavyhanded]

Have you yet found the lodgings?

[septim]

[ Okay, inhale, exhale. ] Yes, I have.

[heavyhanded]

We meet in an hour, at the foot of its steps. We'll see how it is a dead man walks.

[septim]

I'll be there.

[ OOC: Action thread or log? ]