Haste Makes Waste

Elsewhere in High Hrothgar :

"Focus, Dragonborn. You must harness your spirit, your knowledge, your will, and exert it within your voice..." Arngeir says as he stands over a meditating Surtr.

"I don't understand. You keep saying 'harness your spirit', but what does that even mean? It feels like you're asking me to work a muscle I don't have!" Surtr exclaims, getting frustrated by his lack of progress...

He'd come here to learn what being the 'Dragonborn' entailed, but all he'd learned thus far had been proper meditation stance, a few breathing techniques, and that's about it. These monks had been trying to indoctrinate him into their 'Way of the Voice', but as far as he was concerned, his voice was his to use however he pleased... Why should he limit himself to their weak and cowardly ideas? Ulfric didn't, and he wouldn't either... Not that he'd speak on his opinion yet, he still had much to learn from them, damned ideals or not.

"We aren't teaching you how to mindlessly destroy, Dragonborn, we are teaching you to harness your birth-given talents and find balance. The Thu'um and everything it entails will come later, once you have mastered the basics." Arngeir says with his hands folded in his sleeves.

...

"Alduin's return. I am fated to fight him. Do you not wish to survive? Because meditating doesn't help me! Nor does it help the countless innocents that have been burned so far! I cannot continue at this pace, unlike you and the other Greybeards!"

...

"You are right in that, I suppose. Hmm..." Arngeir sighs, "Fine, let us expedite the process, you may learn the intricacies of the Way of the Voice later in your studies, once the world is safe." he says, stepping to the side and speaking a powerful word at the floor, causing it to be engraved as a glowing rune.

"This, is part of my knowledge of the word, Ro, meaning balance. Explaining it to you is pointless, as you will learn as I did once you acquire it. This, combined with the word you already know, Fus, will empower your shout... The Thu'um is the language of the world, you speak and it is so. However, combining words without fully understanding the implications can produce chaotic and sometimes self-destructive effects. For now, I advise you to stay within the preapproved words, to save you from turning yourself inside out, or accidentally destroying a city... As Dragonborn, you need to be far more careful than we did when we were learning." Arngeir explains.

Surtr nods, getting to his feet and looking down at the glowing rune, his eyes glazing over as Arngeir's memories and understanding of 'Balance' was etched into his mind. To be honest, this was far easier on him than absorbing the dragon soul, primarily because the source was fundamentally mortal. He could understand Arngeir's point of view far better than that of the immortal dragons.

With this new knowledge, he could see why Arngeir was fearful of increasing the rate of his learning too quickly. Balance is required in all things, otherwise you risk harming yourself or others in pursuit of what you lack... Despite this however, Surtr's own newfound arrogance and self-assurance trumped the wisdom of Arngeir.

There was also his own mortal wants to acknowledge... The flower that'd bloomed in his chest for the purple-haired Sword-Singer that'd been swept up by his saviour, Michael Tahlin. He was conflicted, angry, irritated... Envious.

Thus, he would seek power, gain what he lacked, and eventually match and surpass his saviour. Maybe once he'd accomplished that, he wouldn't be so easily dismissed by her. After all, it was the heroes who got the women, everyone else would have to make way...

"Now, channel your will and shout. Use what you've learned to speak the Unrelenting Force shout, one that will part your enemies and clear a pathway forwards." Arngeir says, placing a hand on Surtr's shoulder and turning him to look down the hall.

"FUS RO!" he shouts and a shockwave is released from his mouth, it strikes against the floor, doing no damage, but with the way dust dropped from the roof, it was certainly powerful enough.

The Dragonborn grins, "Good. What's next?"

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Michael soon left Kunkka's world after a long and rather informative chat. He and the Admiral got on quite well, despite Kunkka's attempts to hide his depression. He may act all cheery, but the man was halfway to sticking a musket in his mouth and pulling the trigger.

He blamed himself for what happened to his fleet, his regrets combined with his ancestral magic actually being the thing that birthed his ability to use the Ghost Ship. While Michael couldn't solve the man's problems, he reassured him the best he could. With the added promise of sailing the seas again in the future.

The Thalmor fleet coming from the Summerset Isles would be Kunkka's debut, and Michael was looking forward to showing everyone who was the real power in Tamriel. There was also the fact that both he and Kunkka could summon an independent Ghost Ship for themselves, meaning they'd be able to use two Ghost Ships at once if they planned it correctly.

Michael stands from where he was sitting on cliff's edge, taking the empty bottle of Mount Gay Rum that'd he'd acquired from the zombie world. "It's been nice talking to you, Admiral. Sometimes it feels like I've either got everything on my plate, or nothing at all... There's no real in-between nowadays, especially when compared to years ago..." he says, remembering his troubles when he first appeared in Halkeginia.

"Aye, and thanks for the rum, queer name it might have, but the warmth in the belly argue for it! I'll be waiting here to set sail, let those 'Thalmor' get what's coming!" the man cheerfully says.

Michael nods, tossing the man another bottle of rum as a parting gift, "To jolly cooperation, Admiral." he grins before leaving, leaving the chuckling Admiral on the cliffside.

Kunkka looks to the ocean before him, "Looks like we're back in action lads! Let's see if you've lost your touch over the years!" he says with only a gentle breeze replying to him.