The Myth of the Missing Thirteenth

• Posted by Amornar August 24, 2017 - Filed in TSC: CB Story - #'TSC Book and Terminal Event'  - 1,569 views

  (A second entry from me for a Skyrim based book for the TSC Book and Terminal Event and a....preview myth/prophecy for a potential build and blog-based story I might be doing in the future. Enjoy!)

   

  The Myth of the Missing Thirteenth

   

  Dark stone walls soared to the cosmos, disappearing into the heavens. Around the cavernous chamber, infinitely large, the roar of battle washed across the expanse and back out into the void. Battle not of blood and steel but a war of words. Around the council table twelve did fight, the thirteenth missing. The hawk, free and wild, spoke of grave concern and together with the she-wolf at her side they demanded thoughtful action as mothers do. The bear, brother whale, and the spider, majestic and calculating, rose in a clamor, shaking their blades to the heavens. To their side, the sabre cat, strong and proud, joined in with their racious call for war, quick and fierce.

   

  The moth, beautiful and serene, together with the owl, old and wise, preached a tempered hand and plead for those around them not to take such rash action. Opposite the empty seat the snake, another often of a mind for war, rose tall to silence those before him but his voice, grown soft and low over the years, could not be heard over the division. Even when the raven, the cunning and swift, the youngest of their number, joined in with the snake, they, two, could not be the one.

   

  The only ones who did not speak, wiley fox, always plotting and scheming, sat as silent and unmoving as the grave. Last was the wandering stag, likely one of the strongest among them, his massive antlers tipped in a hundred points. For his part he said nothing, as it was not his place to direct nor order the others.

   

  Only when the sound in the room became nigh unbearable, when words alone looked to fall to something easier and sharper did a shadow fall upon the empty throne. From that shadow, darker than the void itself, crawled something ancient and terrible. At once the room feel quiet, all eyes upon the terrible form. Massive, jet black wings pulled the beast fourth as the twisted dragon joined the fray, itself thirteenth and yet not. With nought even a word it roared with primal rage and took to the heavens belching fire and death upon the rest.

   

  Below, as destruction rained down upon the twelve, the empty throne stood vacant once more, it's true heir and master still missing. Around the vacant setting the heavens burned, turned to nothing but ash and cinders. The end had come as the twelve, bereft of the thirteenth, had failed from their own inaction and divination. From loving wolf to wise owl, even cunning fox, all looked their last upon the empty throne and fled into the void, wishing, praying, that the thirteen might still find his place once more among them.