@constantclockwork || sc. || Miraak
To tear through the fabric of time and space was no minor feat. The people of Solstheim and the ancient guardian stones have nourished him through the borders of Mundus and Apocrypha until he, finally, had grown powerful enough to rip apart the veil that kept him from returning home. Devouring the souls of the three dragons who’d stayed by his side the whole time, he broke through the barriers set up to keep him from leaving - and so he left one eerie, foreign realm to enter another. For a couple of minutes, Miraak did not dare moving, as though he feared Herma Mora would break through the nearest wall and devour him whole, dragging him back to Apocrypha, his prison of millennia. However, nothing of these sorts happened - and so, he finally rolled over and got up on his knees to take in his surroundings.
Was this... a dwemer city? No. It’s energy felt entirely different. Cautiously, the atmoran man finally got up on his feet and, after a moment of thought, he pulled back the hood his mask was attached to. Whatever it stood for... could no longer bind him. Cautiously, he proceeded forward, his hand remaining on the handle of his sword. Instead of starlight and fresh air or the familiar walls of his own temple, he found himself in a strange place entirely.
There was no telling of what expected him. “Laas nir,” he whispered, eyes gleaming up. This place.... seemed devoid of men and mer alike. His whisper of power could not detect a single dwemer in his vicinity. A true ghost town...
