Incarnadine

Hear now the battle drums! The Star in the West calls his sons and daughters to the harshest work of life! Neigh the horses and chant the Men, the sovereign calls to war! In Legions mighty with thunderous tread, the Dragon Tribe is come at last. Traitors flinch and foemen weep, the Fist of God is coming.

The war for me must wait, my purpose now is plain. Violence and world-ending is my lot, the rite prepares me. Under the Red Dome I sit, my comrades and I. We wait to wage the crusade. Are not all wars divine? The priest is ringing his bell, bone claps against silver, Brother Arius still has the voice of a saint.

We sit Arkay-wise round the crimson pool, our robes are hot about our flesh, the stinging incense bites our eyes. He speaks, "Cyrod-born you brave men are, His blood it flows in you. Give back now a birthright portion, mingle yourself with the Father. Be as one."

We draw our purpose-knives, edges whet with pride. In veins plunge deep the purpose-knives, the strands they split and crack, Great God Tiber! we moan and spill our life into the pool. All rivers return to the ocean, all blood back to God. Blood calls to blood, Talos hears us and replies through priestly mouth. The cups are dipped, red fills the hollows.

"Drink of my blood, Cyrod sons, for it is my gift to you."

We take our fill, the iron bites our tongues, warm life trickles down our throats.

Then, ah! The ecstasy!

Like vampires we delight in the red nectar.

Incarnadine!

Thou art it and thou art I!

His blood fills me and I am empty without it. His limbs art my limbs, His art is my heart. He speaks in my voice and these are His commandments:

Thou shalt walk in my steps.

Thou shalt kill. In killing my enemies, you worship me.

Thou shalt make of Nirn my paradise.

Thou shalt not pity. Pity weakens thine heart and they hands and these art not thine heart and thine hands, but mine.

Thou shalt go forth in terror. By fear they will know I am among them again. In remembering, they shall die a second time.

Thou shalt know that the Heart of Nirn is my heart and Akatosh is my father. Though my father hath murdered his son, the Blood of Nirn, that is, the Blood of Man, flows in eternal rivers and empties into me.

So spoken, so obeyed.

The Tiber Spirit goes forth as limbs and swords.

I hear Cuhlecain in my ear, "be as an arrow loosed! Sink into they enemy's breast!"

I am launched from His bow, we are a swarm of points, angles flashing in lethal geometry.

This is what it is to be a god. This is the Law of Slaying. Bound by this Law I am thus unbound. My hand is Talos!

My blade is Arkay but Tiber Septim wields both.

Red Dome! Red Hand! Red Blood! Red God! Red Ruby! Red Heart! Red Banner! Red Tribe! Red Templars are we!

The battlefield is my temple, my war cry my sermon, my slaughter a sacrament!

Caput Mundi! Cyrodiil! Debellatio! Ad Majoram Talos Gloriam!

There art one Father-God of Cyrod and I art He! The holy books are fire write upon bone and bound is red flesh. To read them is to know war.
A legion of imps doth oppose me, grinning, gabbling elf heads!
I rip the ears from their heads.

I heap their skulls at Alessia's altar.

Bloody Whitestrake, saint and hero!

Eight-million-six-hundred-and-ten was not enough!
With your terrible love you would have crushed Aldmeris and strangled Auri-El in his cradle.
Behold! I am Hrol from beyond Twil! I plunge my sword into the sacred hill! Now I am Reman Come! Ordained Vessel, Chim el-Adabal in my skull! Who prized it loose?
Here I am! Talos Stormcrown! The Men cannot stop me, the elves cannot stop me, the beasts cannot stop me. They feared my Dragon Voice but could not staunch my life. What fools these mortals be! I break them apart like toys, like dolls they are broken!

MY RAGE IS THE RAGE OF NIRN.

I WILL NOT BE CONTAINED.

WHERE I WALK IS CYROD.

We are blessed, we are holy, they who oppose me are dead and damned! Walking corpses stinking of fear!
It is over.

The war is done.

The priest speaks his soothing words.
I art I again.

Talos leaves me and I am weeping.

To the Red Dome I return and dream of thee, sweet Incarnadine.