‘So the secret masters of the Aurbis channeled its power and the staff of their lord appeared before them. They danced upon it until it split unto eight and the laws of arcanature fell away like dry heat. With fire in their eyes and a tremble in their hearts, they spoke the secret word and brought revolution to the stars.’
“See how the Aurbis answers our dance? See how it bends to the way we Move Like This?”
Eleven there were when Dawn’s light again shined upon the Mundus. An inelegant number, in semblance of the rapture of their righteousness, the endowment of their lord’s staff. Eleven became One, One became Eight, Eight became Seventeen. Thrown to reach Heaven By Violence. The fate of the staff is always thus.
‘After its lords sundering, the staff fell in division of eight, becoming as stars or rain, falling on newborn earth, which soaked in it’s radiance until they were as one. Forever after, while one was whole, the other was broken. One becomes Eight becomes One. Aad semblio calcio impera.’
So it has been through the Eras; the hubris of the Dwemer, the Tharnatos and the Thriced-Face-Demon of the Star-Wounded East, the Underking and the fall of the Serpent Crown that saw submerged void reclaim all in a phosphorescent mirror in the sky.
‘And so the greatest tool of SITHISIT was taken under Great Darkness, to await its masters call, when the dream of so many before will at last be prepared for. The drum begins its beating once again.’
One becomes Eight becomes One. Nothing but woe for NRN. Your hell is broken. Come slow and speak the secret ur-word.