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Our story begins at the Throat of the World.

With all of the Dovahkiin's enemies hopelessly outclassed, they decided to band together. With a literal sea of enemies scaling the mountain sides, avoiding the occasional dragon corpse that fell down, they had the Dovahkiin surrounded. Dragons flew through the air, covering the pale sky as they swooped in. They could no longer stand the Dovahkiin being the alpha Dov, as a mortal could not truly command the Dov.

Alone the Dovahkiin stood, shouting down dragons from the sky. A single swing from one of it’s blades obliterated droves of creatures. A single punch blew away scores off the mountain, Thousands were shot down before battle even started, their arrow filled body contained all the arrows the Dovahkiin ever collected.

Alone and unafraid of what comes next. Reminiscing the past lives that were lived as the Dovahkiin fought on through the waves. Shortly after it’s fourth incarnation, the Dovahkiin realised what the world was. It’s sixth incarnation it mastered more spells and magic than what was thought possible. It’s current and final incarnation was having it’s last bits of fun before the gods took the soul that inhabited the Dovahkiin’s body. With multiple incarnations, and thousands of dragon souls for it to feed on. The Dovahkiins soul was hundreds of times stronger than a regular mortal. The only thing that could possibly hold the Dovahkiin’s soul was the Black Star. The Dovahkiin smiled at the thought as another dragon was felled by the blade. Although the Black star is powerful, the Dovahkiin chose to keep it as it was intended.

Five days later, and sea of enemies was still on the attack. The ground on the throat of the world was stained red, bodies of the fallen were being raised to fight on both sides. Hundreds of times, specters of sovngarde helped the Dovahkiin, and hundreds of times they were killed, over run by the seemingly never ending tide. It seemed that the stalemate would last forever, when Seven men stepped through portals. Each one held an elder scroll. Each one wearing a long grey robe. Each one with worn out faces.

“Dragonborn, by the order of the gods themselves, we demand that you lower your weapons, and surrender yourself to our custody.”

“I already said this, and I will say it again.You’ll never take me alive!”

“Then you leave us no choice.”

The Dovahkiin’s sword swung once more, only to be blocked by a poweful barrier, which cracked under the pressure of the weapon, only to be enhanced by six more similarly powerful barriers. Each barrier enhancing the other

The men on by one open the scrolls, the power in the air building

“By the will of the gods.” The man on the furthest right said as he opened his scroll, the Redguard was clearly ready to finish it

“By the will of men” The Imperial accent was clearly and cleanly heard as the scroll unraveled open

“By the will of the Sun” The Dark Elf's eyes reflected the light from the occasional lighting strike as he opened his scroll

“By the will of the Moon” The cunning voice of the Kajit cut threw the air as the fourth scroll opened

“By the will of Oblivion” The voice of the orc was rough and brave as contents of the scroll was revealed

“By the will of Tamriel” The Nordic voice of courage was heard as the next scroll opened

“And by the will of the Dragons” the man in the center said, opening the last of the present 7 Elder Scrolls

“””””””WE BANISH THEE FROM THIS PLACE, WE BANISH THEE FROM TIME, WE BANISH FROM SPACE, WE BANISH THEE FROM THIS WORLD, WE BANISH THEE AS ONE!!!”””””””

The scrolls power erupted, if just one scroll could fling the World Eater thousands of years in the future, the power of seven could easily obliterate a mortal from existence.

The Dovahkiin looked into the sky as the spell powered up, there would be no escaping the 7 Scroll's power. The sky was covered with dark clouds, summoned by the storm call shout.

“None of us wanted it to come to this Dragonborn, but you left us no choice.” The Man in the middle said.

The Dovahkiin's armored head looked towards the man, the helmet blocking the face from view

“Can you open the barrier towards the sky…”

The Dovahkiin’s voice was hoarse from all the shouting.

The man hesitated, then nodded towards the others and said, "open it. she can not run...no does she have the will to."

The Dovahkiin looked back towards the sky, took off the full head helmet, revealing the female face within. The face was like an otherworldly beauty, crimson red war paint covered both of her eyes, trailing off the sides down to her neck. Her skin was a healthy bronze and her one eye was a stunning green. Her left eye was a milky white, an old scar ran across the eye vertically.

“She’s a Breton!?” The Nord exclaimed.

“She’s younger than I thought.” the Kajit said, clearly stunned

The Breton took a breath and shouted towards the sky

“LOK VAH KOOR!”

The Clear Skies shout raced towards the clouded sky for the final time as the spell entered it’s final stages.

The Breton’s Emerald eyes gazed on the night sky for the final time, the Aurora lights shining above as the moon’s glory shone down on the world. She took out the Aetherial crown and placed it on her head. With her arms resting loosely by her sides, she continued her gaze.

It was at that moment, her quest was finally over.

The spell started to whip up the snow and blood forming a transparent cylinder around her.

The lead man sighed one more time.

“I am sorry… my wife… I failed you in your time of need.” the man’s voice, although it was softly spoken, the words were heard clear as the current night sky.

“Do not apologize” the hoarse voice replied to him “There was little left to keep me here. I would have tried to transcend in a couple years… I would have failed.”

The Breton held up her armored hand, the armor beaten and worn, was still in pristine condition showing the skill of the smith who made it. She looked down upon it like it was a child, and an enemy. Something valuable, yet hateful.

“This armor makes me near invincible, my swords render all opponents, my shield guards from sure-kills. But without them, I am still just an common Breton woman, who is a descendant of the dragons and awakened her power by chance.”

The spell shined showing that it was seconds away from activating. It's power creating a magic circle around the Breton, layer upon layer of circles appeared, lighting the surroundings in a white light.

“I Leave behind no regrets though. I lived my life the way I wanted to live it. When you tuck your children into bed, remember to tell my tale. The tale of the greatest warrior in existence, and the plight she faced. Tell them to be wary of power, because one day it might make the world turn upon you. I leave behind this world and this adventure for the next. Remember my name. Remember the tale of the Dragonborn!”

The Bretons words echoed down the mountain side as the spell finally activated, banishing the mighty Dragonborn from the world. The story of the final fight of the dragonborn resounded through Tamriel.

A painting of the Dragonborn's moment of star gazing for the final time was painted. Her Bronze skin in the moonlight, the stars and the Aurora overhead. Her green eye's reflected the lonelyness and longing to be with the stars. her black hair freely flowing down her armored back as the Aetherium crowm reflected the moonlight. Her sword and shield held by her sides in acceptance of defeat. although her armor was covered with the blood of her enemies, not a drop could be seen on her face. The skellitons of dragons and the corpses of men covered the mountain. A goddess of battle gazing, longing for the peace of the sky, and yet was stuck in the chaos of the mortal world.

The Tale was told, creating a legend. The Legend faded, becoming a myth.

From truth to legend to myth. From Era to Era. The Legend of the FInal Dragonborn was heard until the World Eater returned to fulfill his purpose.

A perfect ending for one of the greatest warrior who ever lived.

But the story doesn't end there...