#'Look Vivec I can write important things too'

[trickstarbrave]

Vivec reveals essentially that after becoming a god he left the original mortal universe he was originally born in behind and a new reality+timeline formed where he was always a god

Now I’m considering a 4th timeline where Nerevar was always a god and what it would mean for everyone. All the saints (ALMSIVI+voryn) also had magical auspicious births. I can’t imagine Voryn as being born anywhere but house Dagoth

He is born on a holiday. Wise women from the four tribes come to convene at Kogoruhn to call him the holy child of red mountain. The priests hear things whispered in their ears they can’t make sense of. Morvani Dagoth was told of a prophecy from their first matriarch that a child will be born, favorite of Lorkhan. A hawk is nesting outside her window, despite not normally being in this part of Vvardenfell. The eggs hatch while she’s in labor, and her son is born with feathers.

Morvani is shocked. The midwife fainted, from seeing a baby with feathers. Any other house they would call the boy cursed. But perhaps everyone in House Dagoth knew instinctively. The wise women of four tribes sing songs of blessings. The livestock grow restless until Voryn gives his first cry.

He grows up favorite of house Dagoth, laughing and playing despite how different he looked. He is happy and loved, yet he sometimes looks sad and quiet. Morvani asked him what was wrong. He said he didn’t know, but he felt incomplete and hollow sometimes. Her needs something, but doesn’t know what. His mother told him she would not let him want for anything and his birth was a blessing, and that when he knew what he wanted she would give him anything.

Them one night, Mephala comes to him and tells him the thing he seeks is in red mountain. He is a child of the mountain. He will not be complete until he learns what that means. Voryn rushes to his mother, and tells her what he was told. She sighed, for red mountain was dangerous, and Voryn was still young.

She instructs Voryn to go with his seven brothers, for they are the most powerful of house Dagoth and the only ones worth to guard a holy child like Voryn. But on the trail of the mountain each brother perished to save Voryn’s life. It is when they are deep in a cave in red mountain, gilvoth is the last brother to give his life for Voryn (I’m sure each death would be explained but I’m too lazy and tired to make them all up. Maybe later). Voryn is in tears and wonders if it’s worth it to find out what he has been missing. But he knows Mephala would only ask this of him if it were truly important. His brothers did not die in vain, and he will honor them until his final breaths for their sacrifice

Deep within the heart of red mountain he hears a drum that fills him with fear, but more importantly makes him sob. He’s uncontrollably sobbing by the time he comes to a great piece of what appears to be solid ebony through blurry eyes. But he can feel a soft beating under his hands.

(On one hand I kinda wanna make egg Nerevar and have him be carried around by vivec a la a reversal of the 36 sermons of vivec but I also wanna write it so Voryn is who finds Nerevar. So)

Then, red mountain shakes, lava bubbling up. But Voryn can’t bring himself to leave. He can’t leave this heart. This is what he has been missing. His duty has always been to guard this. The reason his house was founded was for this reason. Even if he was to die here, he must give his life. The lava doesn’t even feel hot, not when he’s focused on the peace he feels now that he’s finally whole.

Sure enough, the lava rises, but Voryn isn’t burned. He cries, and his tears become obsidian. Finally, the lava receeds, and Voryn is unharmed.

Then, the heart cracks. Voryn panics, thinking he had failed to protect it, when a golden hand grips the edge, and an elf pulls himself out. There is black on his hands like Mephala, and streaks of molten ebony running down his body like blood. Voryn can’t breathe, overwhelmed by his beauty. He’s heard tales of Lorkhan, killed for the crime of creating Mundus, and he knows in his soul this is Lorkhan. Voryn must be dead his soul come to join him.

The elf kneels down, and runs his fingers through Voryn’s hair.

“Dagoth Ur, you have come well to find me.” He smiles, and Voryn’s heart briefly stops.

“My beloved, I have dreamed of you as I walked the planes of oblivion. You are far more beautiful than my mind could imagine though, yet you haunted me.”

“Who are you?” Voryn asked.

“In the endless eternal void, Mephala named me “Nerevar”, gave me the ghartoki padhome, and sent me afloat on a river of pure night, this is my first blessing. I washed ashore on Moonshadow, and I was fed and raised by the lady of twilight, this is my second blessing. Then, when demons hungered for my flesh, so they may become divine, it was Boethiah who taught me to kill and eat them myself, this is my third blessing.

“Then, as I wandered, I heard a faint voice. I entered into a cave, and saw the birth and death of Mundus there times over. My father, Lorkhan, told me of my true fate and the nature of the world, this is my fourth blessing.

“I am Nerevar, son of Lorkhan. And you are the keeper of my heart, chief priest of my first temple. And today, I make you my husband before the heart of my father before me, what led me here to you.”

And Nerevar kissed him, his lips and tongue tasting of blood. When liquid ebony touched his tongue, Voryn Dagoth had become changed forever, becoming Dagoth Ur as he always was meant to be. Their wedding night, red mountain trembled, harsh waves crashing the Telvanni towers. Those of house Dagoth feared its eruption the most, knowing it would mean certain death for the young lords, the future of their house.

When it was finished, Voryn made them a pair of robes from lava, and Nerevar fashioned them wedding gifts of ebony. The two left the cave, and on their way out, lord Gilvoth, who had been encased in lava, cracked through the hardened stone and began to walk and follow the pair, now garbed in lava red robes and ebony armor.. Every brother the passed did the same, joining the procession, garbed similarly. They carried the wedding gifts down, all the way to Kogoruhn. Everyone rejoiced, and the brothers were known as ash saints within House Dagoth.

Nerevar presented Morvani Dagoth with the wedding gifts, saying Voryn was destined to be his husband, so they had to wed that very night, but he wanted to ask for her blessing. Morvani laughed, and then she cried joyous tears. They held a wedding within Kogoruhn as well, in honor of the Sixth House of Resdayn.

Aw fuck I just remembered Apache tears and now I feel kinda shit about including obsidian tears. I don’t know maybe I’m just overthinking

[trickstarbrave]

for visual design: all of the swords in skyrim look like paddles. i just really thing they look kinda silly and also hit like paddles for basically every melee weapon. idk if this is controversial or not i dont see anyone else saying it and i see a lot of ppl enjoying the designs but i keep thinking theyre ridiculous

for writing i like the 36 sermons unironically and dont think vivec is a liar because of them specifically (hes def sketchy and has lied though. i just dont like ppl using the 36 sermons as 'proof he's a liar'). i dont get people thinking theyre impossible to read to the point they don't belong in a TES game like ive heard some people say. they are a slog to get through at times but they are heavily inspired by the irl work of aleister crowley and any familiarity with his work will make them much easier to read. you could argue in fact they're a little too inspired by crowley actually. in some circles people treat the 36 sermons with such contempt of being "historical revisionism and pure nonsense" i didn't wanna read them. but then i did and went "this is JUST an occult text. why is everyone bitching about them" and now i wanna talk about them 24/7

and for world building: we need more holy wars and religious schisms. everything in the setting is about racism, but the gods are literally real with real tangible benefits to worshiping them so bethesda just acts like religion should basically be standardized and no one fights over it ever. or if they do fight about it its actually about racism. give me some good old fashioned culture clashes and holy wars. not EVERYTHING can be just about racism and its actually getting weird that is the go-to method of conflict. yes racism is pervasive irl but we also have intersecting modes of oppression like classism, religious conflicts, homophobia and transphobia, misogny etc. instead the major conflicts given any importance are elves vs men. hell i'd also take class conflicts, fighting misogny, and more. i think ESO does some of these in side quests but the assumption is always the preservation of the status quo/other forms of bigotry are mostly just ignorance or a few bad apples. or in the case of racism usually justified somehow. which Isn't Great.

Post your *genuinely* controversial TES design opinion. Can be about game design, world design, writing etc.

I am well aware that just because I don't like something it doesn't mean it's objectively bad. Art is subjective after all!

---

I'll start. I cannot stomach the look and design of Glass armor and weapons in any of the TES games. They all look awful to me. Mountain Dew or 7up coloring just makes me 🤢

Every iteration I've seen is the ugliest weapon and armor set I come across.

The only glass armor designs I've liked are fan designs. IDK why but none of the official designs of glass weapons or armors are appealing to me. I've seen people often say that the glass armors are their favorite and it makes me feel genuinely alienated from the rest of the fandom at times lol.

---

What's your controversial TES design opinion?

[maybemanyskeletonhats]

Hey, could you write about the elves running away with their partner from their every day responsibilities and just enjoying the day off? Like enjoying a picnic, or a trip through the mountains together (the type of activity is up to you to decide based on their personalities) if you do, thank you! I want to indulge myself with some soft sweet peaceful stuff rn ;w;

Sotha Sil surprisingly actually does go along with them rather quickly. They take him someplace quiet and look up as the sky turns from shades of orange and crimson to a deep blue as the stars come out from the inky abyss...yes, he's counting...hmm? Oh. It's Nothing important. Just...reminiscing.

Vivec gladly slinks off with them. They take him to a beach where he can sink his toes into the sand. He hasn't had much leisure time in awhile so he's grateful. Is reminded when he, Ayem, Seht and Nerevar went to a beach together...yes he body slammed Sil into the water.

Almalexia may never be convinced sadly. She's so very busy tending to her people it would take ages to get her to agree. If she does, they take her to a garden where she can think freely and relax for once. She breathes in the fragrance of flowers softly...she tells them later that she wouldn't mind doing this again.

Voryn Dagoth doesn't need as much convincing surprisingly. Just take him outside. Anywhere he can get fresh air and he'll be perfectly content. He's genuinely flattered that someone cares so much to begin with. With all the stressful parts melted away. He's very affectionate.

Mannimarco scoffs. They want to take him to a flower field? What does he look like, someone who can waste ti - where are they going? He'll come along with. He grumbles the whole time but still sits down with them. If they brought food with them he grumpily eat the little sandwiches they brought along. He's so mean, and he complains a lot but if it's time wasted for them it's worthy enough.

Neloth has to be physically pulled out of the tower. He's pulled into the humid heat of Vvardenfell and immediately complains. Take him somewhere they have good things to eat. Preferably indoors. What? He's hot. They drug him out might as well try to have a good time.

Divayth Fyr loves a good expedition and is getting antsy cooped up in his tower. Probably helped pick out the activity in the first place. Danger they said? Bah he will handle it. They'll hear him whistling as he walks down a derelict dwemeri hallway. Ignore the crashing and cursing he's okay. He's pretty fun when he gets out.

Teldryn Sero follows them already so he doesn't need much convincing. Tells them he wouldn't mind trying different drinks across skyrim...so that's what they do. Plus the dragonborn has time to let loose...so they do. Though it's them staying mostly sober so they can drag the hooting and hollering Sero out the nearest tavern. When he wants too...he goes wild.

[leftenant-sinani]

3,7,21 for Trildyn for the oc ask

(Sorry it took me so long to write a response) The Lord raises brow, surprised to hear such questions towards him. He stares at you for a while with his blood red eyes, thinking of a response. He taps his chin as he proceeds to just smile, rendering his white teeth visible. "Well then, my dear friend," He says in soft tone. "You want answers about me? You shall have them."

What is your favourite childhood memory? A small glint appears in his eye, making it look like a shiny ruby. He sighed as he's starting to track down his memories. "I admit, I do not remember much from the times when I was a child," He replies sincerely. "But there is one in particular I could call my favourite memory, I remember it to this very day. It was that one time, when me, my siblings and parents visited Vivec City for the first time. I could be about 10 back then..." He stops for a second, thinking about how old he could be at that time. "Yes, I must have been 10, but I digress. So our family was visiting Vivec City and it was very amazing to me as a child. The way the city was built, how it looked. I remember Amiaris being only interested in seeing the local arena there and Anedran wanted to take a look into the Hall of Wisdom for the books they had there." He stops again, looking to the ceiling for few seconds, most probably getting lost in his thoughts. "But the best thing about it all? That was when our whole family got to that temple building of some sort, and that's where I saw him for the first time. Vivec himself, floating in the middle of stairs, looking like some icon he was. He saw us, and I could see his smile from such distance, I didn't knew at the time that our family had any connection to him, but that's where I got to know." His eyes started to look a bit glassy as he remembers. "We were slowly getting closer and closer to him, I was so nervous back then and it was getting worse by each step. We eventually got to see him up close, I was shaking on a place. My parents kneeled for a second but me and my siblings remained standing. I think my siblings were quite nervous as well, because who gets to meet someone like Vivec in person, right? I remember how his eyes got caught with mine, he could see how nervous I was and he smiled at me. For this once, he actually got on his feet and knelt just to give us three a kiss on forehead with words 'You three are meant to do great things', then he crossed legs and started floating again." Trildyn closes his eyes momentarily as the memory kicked in, then he opened them again. "I could say that my nervousness went all away. I still can feel the kiss on the forehead to this very moment. Sadly, the rest of the memory is a blur, but it remains my favourite for some reason. It eventually made me realise that our family was always a bit special in a way." He then clears his throat. "Either way, forgive me for talking too much about this one. It's just the nostalgia about those time when I was still in living back in Morrowind, I presume." Who do you look up to? He looks into the distance, deep in thoughts while he inhales through his nose. "Who do I look up to? Hm... Well, this will sound like a cliché, but I was always looking up to my parents as important figures, just like every child." A small smile appears on his lips. "My mother was most probably the most kind and patient person I have ever known. She teached us all to be generous and good towards people. And my father? While he was a bit strict, he teached me and my siblings a lot about life and fighting. It only deepened once we got to know about all his deeds in the West. He was a hero for us, and that is how it will stay to this day." Valnin then sighed. "I just hope my parents are okay, same goes to my siblings. Been a while since I saw them all.... I wonder if my mother is still making those sweetrolls she used to bake a lot." Describe your ideal partner. Trildyn visibly freezes for a second. "My ideal partner...?" He asks back with uncertainty in his voice. "That's... A good question." He then proceeds to think a bit about his response for a bit. It takes him a while, but he eventually comes up with an answer. "Well... I cannot give you straight answer, as I do not know it myself," He admits. "But I can give you this much; I think that ideal partner can be basically anyone to you as long as you love them the way they are and they love you in the same way. Sure, you can make up some traits your ideal partner will have, but what are the odds for them to be present? You see, you cannot be very picky about love. As long as it works and the love is in place, then you have ideal partner, I suppose." He shrugs a bit. "Apologies if it is not exactly what did you want to hear, but this is all I got, I'm afraid." "Nevertheless, I thank you for the questions, my friend. It has been an honour answering them." He gives you a sincere smile. "Please, do not hesitate to ask more if you feel like it." But seriously, thank you for asking about Trildyn on his behalf as well. It means really a lot, because I love my fancy blueberry boy. It took me a while to think about it, but I hope the answers were satisfying enough. Much love, my dear friend. 💙

[foulserpent]

(tw for abuse) i dont understand what vivec is conveying in the sermons wrt the monsters and molag bal. he becomes divine so does he mean that stuff literally happened? or someone mortal did that to him and hes recontextualizing it? or is it like a metaphor for something more abstract about violence? the wedding stuff really confuses me. ive only gotten a little into morrowind lore

(putting under cut cw sexual abuse)

um like the thing with that is theres . a couple levels that entire narrative functions on, and it depends entirely on which  of two ways the spear “muatra” is interpreted

like the most obvious level and one that was absolutely intended is that muatra is a phallic symbol which is pretty explanatory when you see how its used. characterizes vivec as someone sexually violent. its really disgusting lol. this WAS intentional and mk gave a (non-)apology/explanation about that whole thing which was him being really fucked up at that point in his life and dealing with addiction and mental health issues which like . if it was just that then maybe id be like “ok whatever” but hes done a lot of other shit too.

but the other level, which is the level in which that whole narrative isnt terrible, is. “muatra” is an anagram of the word “trauma”. thats not accidental. and when you read that whole narrative through that perspective, it makes a LOT more sense bc the story becomes a recounting of a traumatic incident. the “wedding” and everything within is a recontextualization of something that happened to vivec that is being turned into a narrative aspect of their godhood journey instead

like the basic story is: vivec experiences abuse, and recontextualizes this as a “wedding”. creates a narrative where this very event is what taught him to grasp CHIM, indicating a life changing significance to this. this ahuse begets “monsters” that vivec gives birth to, which functions both as a confirmation on what this abuse is and a externalization of the results- the monstrous children are sort of like the twisted and disgusting results of what happened to them. if you chose to think of it as 100% symbolic, the monsters would be symbolism for the results of trauma and how trauma changes You. what that trauma bore

vivec gains the spear “muatra” from this encounter, which again is an anagram of trauma and pretty much every usage of the word can be read as trauma. in turning their trauma into a spear, its kind of like. an attempt to reclaim strength and autonomy after trauma. its reshaping what happened into a weapon and killing the “children” the abuse bore with it so one can become a new normal again. its a sort of cruel healing where you carry whats with you as something that makes you strong but like is violent and painful

i think all of the above is intentional, but the rest im going to say would give michael kirkbride too much credit. if it was written by a better human being who was writing from experience of how trauma affects you, id say the dual symbolism of: muatra as a sexual object used to inflict violence, and “trauma” made into a weapon, would be intentional. the more overt narrative of vivec being sexually violent with it would be representative of like a fear of having been sullied, disgust with oneself, disgust with ones body, fear of continuing the cycle, fear that youll become like those who hurt you, lashing out with a destructive coping mechanism. 

like it could function on that level but i think it was just MK being awful and putting shit in for shock value. also its just one example of  MK being shitty about vivec being intersex. placing a lot of like fetishistic emphasis on their genitalia. theres a lot going on there and almost all of it is bad

anyway as far as how literal it is. the sermons CANNOT be interpreted 100% literally. they partially exist to shape temple doctrine and maybe partially exist to instruct the nerevarine, so at the very least you have to assume SOME of it is untrue. like a lot of TES lore stuff is pretty damn literal but this is one case where i think its more interesting and valuable for it to be interpreted first and foremost as vivec rewriting their own history into a narrative fitting of what they want to be. 

but that doesnt mean NONE of it happened like, some of it might be real. some of it might have been retroactively made real. etc. it could be that the abuse narrative is 100% mundane with no daedra involved, it could be that they did actually grapple with molag bal (i think they did in some capacity but this isnt what its actually about). 

i think people with more developed Thoughts on this part of lore could say better but i think its less important to worry about the exact facts of it and more important to look into whats being said 

[talldarkandroguesome]

5th of Frostfall, Tirdas

Finally we came to place where Seryn looked about. Perhaps it was the towering stones that marked the way for her, but we turned sharply and began our way along the Foyada, taking one of the branches just a ways beyond.

I do not wish to disclose any further details, that is already too much to identify the secret, sacred path. I shall say no more of it.

Our journey was slowed significantly by the increase in volcanic activity under our feet. It was bad enough that we had to stop and watch for falling stones. At one point Seryn actually made a shield, protecting us from a bolder that rolled down the side of the mountain. It was clear that the activity was increasing. It was as Tel and the others had warned. It was clear that most animals had sensed the increase themselves, for there was little animal life to be found anywhere near our path, save for the occasional shadow of a passing cliff strider.

I must say, Seryn has a keen ability to avoid cliff striders , something I asked her about as the light began to fade around us. She laughed and told me that perhaps it was that they were drawn to my scent of my incessant talking. I gasped, surprised at such words, but she quickly dissolved into a giggle and I found myself caught completely unexpected in her jest. I laughed myself, so surprised by the turn and I was glad for the break in what had been a lull in conversation as we walked.

After that, she was more jovial. At least until our upward climb drew near to where there appeared to be a cave.

Above, we could hear the wise woman shouting for someone to stay back.

We ran to find her fending off some skafin, of all fetching things! We defeated them with little issue and ran to the wise woman’s side, checking that she was alright.

She told us she was, that Azura had protected her until we arrived, just as predicted. I looked at Seryn, but she just smiled at me. I do not know if she was aware of the secret or if she simply was glad that we were where we were supposed to be.

Then the wise woman stopped, as though hearing something, so Seryn and I kept silent. Then she spoke, as if someone else were there and said she understood. I realized then who she was talking to as soon as she said, my Lady.

When she turned to me and said I should follow her, I felt my face flush in anticipation, my heart racing. As we headed towards the mouth of the cavern, the wise woman told me that the Queen of the Night Sky asked that I help the wise woman in coming to the correct decision regarding a claim. I could hardly believe my ears.

I asked, trying to contain my excitement, if it was regarding Chodala’s claim to be the Nerevarine. She told me I was correct and that clearly my insight as a diplomat would be needed. Although the Red Exiles had been convinced of Chodala’s claim, the wise woman said she was far more uncertain. But there was more she had to consider, for she feared that if she opposed him there would come retribution from the Red Exiles that could well harm all the Velothi in Ald’ruhn, and possibly beyond as well. 

As we entered the cave, I was struck by the fact that this was a far more ornate shrine. Instead of the usual statue of Azura, stood with Her arms spread wide and the moon and star sitting upon each palm, this statue had Her seated, Her hands together, palms up, held downward. She appeared more to be offering than Her usual show of radiance. Her face appeared serene and kind. Besides Her were two statues of moon and star. At Her one knee, was a small pond, besides which was an altar covered with offerings.

I pulled myself from the awe that overcame me, I had a duty. A sacred one at that. So I asked the wise woman about her options. We spoke of different outcomes that could come from her decision. Finally, we agreed upon an option that would be the most beneficial, it would stop Chodala while allowing the wise woman to remain impartial. It might have consequences for me, but I assured her that I would be far happier having violence directed towards one House mer, than to risk harm coming to her people.

So she explained that if I could find from the spirits of the failed incarnates what brought about their failure, then those flaws could be compared to Chodala’s ambitions. It would be enough to prove that he was headed towards his own doom. His failure. Then she would be allowed to refute him.

I was thrilled and a bit overwhelmed by everything happening around me. Azura had spoken of me. I was in a sacred shrine, the likes of which I had never seen or heard of. I was going to be asked to speak with the failed incarnations of Nerevar, something I only knew a little about. I was going to be present to dispute an Ashkhan’s claim at Nerevarine. There was so much! It was unreal. I was in this pivotal moment in history. Only, instead of simply trying to help the hero of the story to reach the final stage to defeat evil, here I was actually a player in the outcome of history!

Despite Naryu’s jabs about my being hero, I have never felt that was a role designed for me. Yet, here I was, stepping into a place where likely no one outside of the wise women who maintained the shrine, ever entered. And Azura had asked me to do so.

Surreal is the only word I can think of that begins to describe the feeling.

The wise woman showed me how to summon the spirits and then bade me return to Ald’ruhn when I was done, for she needed to be there when Chodala returned from his meditations. Then she left me to do as I was told.

Making sure to carefully follow every instruction, I summoned the spirits of those thought to be Lord Nerevar’s reincarnations. Then, one by one, I saw the ethereal images of each of those great Velothi heroes who had claimed to be the Nerevarine before, rise up from where they had been laid to rest around Azura’s statue.

I took up ink, quill, and parchment, and I wrote down all that they said. Their stories, in their own words. I made sure to spare no details, writing as fast as I could, even when my hand cramped and my finger tips grew numb. This was far too important to let discomfort stop me.

I thanked each of them for their wisdom. I felt satisfied that I would be able to present these sacred stories, wisdom from those who had experienced it themselves, before the wise woman and Chodala. Perhaps Chodala would even see the folly of his ways and be convinced to continue on his great path in a way more befitting a unifier.

As I made to leave, a voice stopped me.

It was Azura, calling me to speak with Her.

I knelt before the great statue and kowtowed before it. I felt warmth and comfort from Her voice. The void where my soul once lay, instantly filled.

She offered me council before I went to refute Chodala’s claim. Offered me the wisdom in how best to present what I had learned and pressed upon me the importance of succeeding in this endeavor. Further, She told me that it was the staff that was making Chodala so bold and reckless and to prevent further destruction, he must be made to part with with. That he is not the Nerevarine.

That last part could leave no doubt. Chodala was clearly being led astray by the power in the staff. I had wondered by who or what, until I recalled the Skafin who attacked the wise woman. Clearly Chodala had made a deal with the Prince of Bargains. It was something to consider as we took our next steps. Perhaps he could be convinced that he should not try using Daedric pacts to fulfill his ambitions.

Before I left, Azura told me that I should assist her champion, which of course I agreed to. She named Seryn as that mer, a friend to all the Velothi people. I kowtowed again, pressing my forehead upon the cool ground. I swore that I would do so and that I would protect her, even should it cost me several lives.

I felt a pleased feeling all around me and my heart swelled with joy.

Then the radiating feeling began to dim and fade, until I was left alone in the cavern.

As I raised my head, the cavern was dimmer that before and I felt wetness streak my face. As I touched my cheeks, I felt tears. I felt the blessing that was given to me. And I knew my task.

I headed out of the cave and found Seryn waiting for me. She was deep in meditation, but looked up as I approached. She asked me if I had found what we needed. I said that I had and as the moons rose in the sky, I read the words of each of the three failed incarnates to her.

She thought in silence after I had finished. I remained beside her, content in knowing that I had a part to play. Seryn was going to succeed. She would convince her brother with evidence he could not deny. He would be forced to see reason. Then we could explain the gravity of consequence that came with his staff, a consequence that threatened the very people he wanted to unite. If Vivec’s power got too low, Red Mountain would certainly erupt, killing everyone that lived near, Velothi and Housemer alike.

Seryn spoke up and said she would need to sleep on everything and plan our next move. I told her I was hers to command, she only needed to say the word.

She laughed and told me that she was another diplomat, not the Ashkhan. I bowed and played her servant as we stood and gathered our things. I wonder if she understands how truly amazing she is? Does she know yet that she is Azura’s chosen?

It is not my place to say. If she does not know now, she will soon. I am sure of that.

We teleported back to Ald’ruhn and Seryn retired for the night. Normally I would go and sit with the rest of the tribe and drink and sing and enjoy the company, but I felt the weight of what was to come and decided that sleep would be a better use of time.

I only hope that we help Chodala to see wisdom.

[littlegalerion]

Drama Piece

I’ve been wanting to write an updated version of this for a while!

Featuring @foxyhearts ‘ bosmer Malika, whom in many an AU is basically Trechire’s adopted daughter. 

How does one break the news that you fell in love with a Tharn? 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Zamarak said you wanted to see me? Urgently?” Malika laughed, sitting down across from her at the dining table.

Trechire composed herself, folding her hands neatly on the table before her. A pitcher of the sweetest Summerset tea was to her right, a small bowl of sugar to her left. In the distance, Hughe was still munching down on his breakfast, the Senche mount having already expressed he didn’t want to watch this disaster go down. So many servants had been sent in that morning to even set up the furnishings of Trechire’s new Rimmen home, the Hall of the Lunar Champion, but no amount of home comfort could set her at ease right now. She gazed across at the small bosmer woman, seated and kicking her legs, long ginger hair messy and bickering with her antlers. How many years had it been since Wrothgar, where they had first met, and now Malika had been always just a few steps away, a persistent shadow…

No, a daughter.

“You look refreshed,” Trechire observed, smiling weakly.

“I um, helped congratulate the queen’s first night of rule,” Malika smirked, and clicked her heels together a few times.

“Oh,” Trechire murmured. “So you and Khamira too? How does Ayrenn-”

“She’s cool,” Malika purred, shrugging. “They get me, what can I say?”

“Well…” Trechire cleared her throat, and fidgeted with the ring on her finger. “I have some news about last night too-”

“Wait!” Malika squeaked, and almost jumped onto the table. She pointed at the ring. “Is that a wedding ring?”

“Um, well, yes,” Trechire mumbled, and absent mindedly took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her cup of tea, mixing it roughly.

“Who, in the green, did you marry?” Malika exclaimed, baffled. “You weren’t dating anyone- WERE you dating someone, and I didn’t know? Who? Who?!” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I hate it when you keep important stuff like this from me! As if I can’t keep a secret.”

“It isn’t that,” Trechire assured her. “But this marriage does need to be kept secret. We both wear our rings, but no one can know, save for a selective, secretive few. One of which is you, because yes, I do trust you with a secret. Of course I do.”

“So who is it?” Malika asked again, smile widening so that Trechire could see her sharpened canines.

Again, Trechire took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her tea, swirling it with an iron grip on the spoon.

“He should really be here to tell you himself,” Trechire went on, her tongue feeling dry. She really should have taken a sip of the tea, but she felt like if she stopped stirring it, her heart would stop completely. Maybe that was the better option, though? “He had to continue our dragon hunting further south, but he promised he’d portal back in tonight.” She found herself smiling for a moment, despite her nerves. “He never wants to sleep in a tent again, if he can help it, and he reasoned he may only be able to use his portals for who knows how much longer at his age-”

“Mum,” Malika blurted. Her eyebrows were raised, and a look of horror was creeping over her face. “...Who did you marry?”

Trechire cleared her throat once more, and stilled her hand as best as she could, but still the spoon gently rattled against the fragile cup. “I married Abnur,” she said, and now actually tried to drink some of the tea. This was a fortunate, because Malika slammed down her fists onto the table, shaking it so terribly that the pitcher of tea toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “Let me explain.”

“You had better!” Malika hissed, looking disgusted. “Just...just EW!”

“To you,” Trechire reasoned, not daring to place the cup back on the table. “But we had been...teasing, ever since the Hall of Colossus.”

Malika stiffened. “...What the hell happened those times you two split off in a different than me when we were tracking the information down?”

“We were tracking the information down,” Trechire huffed defensively. “You honestly think I’d get frisky in a dark and smelling dungeon? With Worm cultists nearby?”

“You married Abnur Tharn,” Malika laughed sarcastically, and beat a fist against the table again. “By that logic alone I wouldn’t be surprised if you got wild on a necromancer’s alter!”

“Alright, you’re overreacting far more than what I expected,” Trechire sighed, shaking her head while still holding up her tea. “Please, understand that this doesn’t need to be awkward...”

“After what he did to Ayrenn?” Malika argued. “How do you think she’ll react to all this?”

“I..was hoping you’d keep it a secret,” Trechire sniffed. “Like how you said you could keep secrets?”

“Sure, yeah, sure,” Malika cringed, throwing her hands up in the air as she now jumped from her seat and paced around in circles. “Sure, while I’m busy spending cuddle time with my big, golden honey, I will totally keep a clear head, and not think about how somewhere, all the way across the world, my Mum is busy doing the same, but with the guy who invented and perfected the definition of asshole.”

“He’s changed,” Trechire barked, scowling. “You should be glad for that! That, maybe, is one of the few things to come out of this war for the better!”

“Fine, then let him have his little redemption fit,” Malika seethed. “But not all over you!”

“This is pointless,” Trechire grumbled, and now sat down her cup. Malika huffed and ran back to rock the table, making the cup spin until it splashed all over Trechire, then rolling off the table and smashing to pieces. “Come on!” Trechire snapped, standing to try and pat the liquid off her. “Was that really a mature way to handle this?”

Malika climbed onto the table, eyes burning with fury. “I will spill cup after cup of tea on you. Whatever it takes until you divorce his ass!”

“No,” Trechire whispered back with a still, mocking tone. She rubbed her hands together, sparking some embers on her palms and then hoovering them over her robes to dry herself.

“You’re an altmer!” Malika cried, crawling closer. “Isn’t this a doomed marriage from the start? Just save yourself the pain!”

“I am an altmer,” Trechire replied, as if talking to a toddler. “Fantastic observation! This is why it remains a secret. What Nibenay doesn’t know won’t hurt them, nor his reputation, nor mine.”

“Some marriage that is!” Malika wheezed. “You’re both ashamed of each other!”

“Not ashamed,” Trechire corrected. “Protective. We had a long discussion about this last night when he surprised me with the rings. It’s rough for us on both ends- you think I’m telling my parents? Ayrenn? Ha, you think I’m even going to tell any of the other Companions, back from the days in Coldharbor, if we ever cross paths again? No way!” She shook the heat from her hands, having done the best she could to save her robes. “The only other people I planned on telling were Khamira, Vivec, and Val.”

“What about Tharn?” Malika persisted, kicking her toe tips against the table in an irritated rhythm. “Who’s he going to tell? Not his family, oh hell no. You do realize you won’t be in the will, nor even the documented records of his family tree?”

“Not at the moment,” Trechire hummed, now using magic to reassemble her cup, so as to clean the floor of any broken glass. “But we had documents written up last night with official Imperial regulations, eccentric, signed and stamped by Abnur and then signed by Calo-” Trechire held her head, the tea cup falling apart again as she broke focus. “Oh yes, he knows as well. We needed a witness, and I couldn’t find you, so we finally came to terms with hope he would remain a secret little mouse over all this. At any rate, our marriage is official, and legally binding. We stashed them back in my Vila on Artaeum.”

“And what exactly does that even mean?” Malika huffed. “Suddenly you’re a part of the family and entitled to all his stuff, if you flash them around? No one would believe that, as long as Abnur isn’t there to reinforce it.”

“We just wanted it official,” Trechire growled, mending the cup once more. “We never plan on showing those documents to anyone, even if children come about in our future.”

“Please…” Malika hiccuped, holding her stomach. “Let’s...let’s just not even discuss that. I know how you feel about vomiting, and as much as I wanna hit you with the broad side of my bow right now, I’m not that vengeful as to get sick… So just drop that before it’s out of my control.”

Trechire rolled her eyes. “I’m over two hundred and have never bore a child. It’s a possibility. I still have my fertility.”

“Seriously,” Malika coughed, holding her gut.

“Grow up,” Trechire snapped, and placed the cup on the table, now it being her turn to pace in irritation. “I knew you’d get upset, but I expected some sort of compromise, some sort of understanding. Some sort of maturity!”

“Well, I am being mature! Because this is messed up,” Malika argued, sitting back on the table, now tensed as she unleashed either the best reasoning ever or the worst possible thing to bring up to her. “Maybe your parents have a point. Maybe you’re just not right in the head anymore, and you really have gotten desperate!”

Growing still, Trechire turned back to her, eyes wide in shock. From the other side of the room, Hughe stopped chomping, and his eyes poked out from the shadows, glittering with unseen emotion as he watched.

“I...am not  losing my mind,” Trechire spat, not moving from her position. Her words were laced with venom now, shaking Malika a bit. She’d never seen the altmer this outraged. “Funny everyone keeps suggesting that, because honestly maybe that’s why I even noticed Abnur to begin with. From the get go, twenty years ago, he never sugar coated anything for me. No, he’s treated me like the Champion of Vivec, the Vestige, like a capable mage who’s successfully thwarted daedric scheme after daedric scheme, who’s earned the respect of such titles! Yes, I’ve lost...a few loves in my time, and many, many friends…” She was trembling. “But I’m not losing my mind.”

Suddenly Malika felt a stab of guilt for even bringing it up. She remembered Vanus and Caafire’s lectures to their daughter, which they had ambushed her with for months, after the death of Laloriaran, and the final jab at Molag Bal. Not scolding, but the constant peppering and sweet talking of how “it’s alright to be sad” and “take all the time you need to grieve, nobody is judging you.” But then Malika recalled the stories Ayrenn had told her, about her time in custody within Cryodiil, under Abnur Tharn’s mercy.

“Fine,” Malika mumbled, and slowly slid off the table. “You’re not crazy, and neither am I, so I won’t tell Ayrenn.” She shrugged, looking at Trechire numbly. “But I’m not having any part of it. I won’t stop talking to you, you’re my Mum, but he’s nothing to me, and that’s how it is. Forever. Okay?”

“Okay,” Trechire replied in the same numb tone.

Malika threw a look at Hughe, and turned, walking towards the door. Neither mer called out to the other, and both shook as the door opened and slammed shut, leaving their minds to a cold, cruel silence.

[eldritchsurveys]

784.

Have you ever worn those Drunk Goggles? >> I vaguely remember seeing those as like a gag gift at Spencer’s or something, but I’ve never worn any. I’ve been drunk, though, so I think I’ve got the experience of wearing Drunk Goggles well covered.

Which decade before the 90s had the best makeup trends? >> I don’t know anything about makeup trends before the eighties, now that I think about it.

Can you agree to disagree, or usually get upset over conflicting views? >> I can be upset sometimes, especially if the thing being debated is something I have a particular personal investment in. But I have learned how to be upset by myself, and not make it anyone else’s problem. (Which leads to a lot of unresolved feelings, I’ve also learned, but hey.)

Does it bug you when long socks are constantly falling down? >> I don’t wear long socks, and that’s one reason why.

Rodeos – entertaining, or cruel? >> I don’t know anything about rodeos and therefore do not have an opinion.

Why can’t politicians debate politely? >> Because it’s assumed that the general public will not remain engaged unless there’s some sort of drama. ...Honestly, I can see where they get that impression, but it can also be alienating for those of us who aren’t looking for entertainment from our politicians.

Who is the best female rocker? Why? >> Floor Jansen is one of my favourites. So is Skin, from Skunk Anansie.

Can you even taste a difference between Cheez Its and Cheez Nips? >> I don’t know, I’ve not had both of them.

What about between Pepsi and Coke or Sprite and 7Up? >> Yeah, I’ve tasted differences between both of those and I have preferences.

Do you care what kind of toilet paper you use? >> Yes, I care. I don’t like either extreme (too rough or too soft).

What color of roses do you find the prettiest? >> I’ve never given it any consideration.

Which celebrity has the cutest butt? >> I don’t know. But Sarah Snook, who plays Siobhan Roy on Succession, has a pretty eye-catching booty.

Do you still have any decent arcades nearby? >> Not to my knowledge.

After a holiday, do you go to the store to get candy on sale? >> No, but I might get some for Sparrow.

Did Marilyn Monroe look better before or after cosmetic surgery? >> ---

Bullfighters who get gored kind of had it coming, right? >> I mean, yeah.

If you make surveys, do you care what people rate them? >> I don’t make them, but if I did, that wouldn’t be a concern of mine. The only time I’m tempted to make a survey is because there are questions that it surprises me that no one ever asks, and that I’d love to answer myself. So I’d be making it for my benefit, primarily, and if anyone else enjoys it then that’s just icing on an already-good cake.

Have you ever accidentally found porn when looking for something else? >> Yeah, but it doesn’t happen much nowadays.

Ever run into those ‘celebrity lookalike porn’ blogs? >> Long time ago, yeah. You know, before tumblr changed its policy.

If you’re not religious, is the Bible basically just an old collection of short stories? >> My understanding of the Bible is that it’s a collection of laws and writings -- stories, poetry, letters, op-ed pieces (lol). The New Testament in particular seems to be just a bunch of letters appended to four different accounts of one dude’s birth and early life and concluded with a really dramatic callout post for the Roman Empire. I am very fond of this giant mishmosh of opinions and dramatically-recounted stories, tbh, it’s really interesting from both a historical and mythological perspective.

Do you think religious leaders just like to manipulate people? >> Of course.

Why do so many fans with OTP’s insist that their ship is real? Even when the writers (or real people that they ship) tell them it isn’t? >> I don’t know. I’ve never really delved into why that’s so important to a lot of fans, although it does intrigue me. I think it might have something to do with the varieties of ways in which people interact with and understand stories, but I’m not able to articulate exactly what I mean right now, I don’t have the words all organised in my brain and ready to go.

Do you draw fanart of anything? >> No, I don’t draw. I write fan fiction.

Do annoying city kids ever loiter outside your library and harass people? >> I’ve never witnessed any harassment outside of a library around here. That seems more likely to have happened in NYC, though.

Do you like to hang out at your local library? >> Occasionally. I used to basically live at the library when I was in the City, because I was homeless. I think I don’t go to the library as often anymore because of that -- it’s registered in my mind as “the place you go and sit in all day because you can’t go anywhere else” and it disorients me if I do it now.

On that subject, do you like the smell of books? >> Some books.

What’s on your Reading List, so-to-speak, right now? >> I’m between books right now. I’m still debating whether I want to try to finish The Denial of Death or whether I want to give it up for now, and the fact that I’ve been debating that for like a week most likely means that I should give it up. I can always pick it up again at a later date.

Read any great non-fiction books lately? >> Sure.

What do you like on your burger? >> Lettuce, onion, bacon, mustard or bbq sauce, some kind of cheese (preferably pepper jack). Jalapeño peppers can be good too.

What do you NOT like on your burger? >> Mayo, sometimes tomato (I go back and forth, it just depends on the day).

Do you like ‘loose meat’ sandwiches? >> I’m not sure what that is, but the name isn’t too enticing, let me tell you.

Have you ever heard of the restaurant Maid Rite? >> No.

What is the best thing to put in a grilled cheese (other than cheese)? >> I don’t even remember what things I like in a grilled cheese, I haven’t had one in ages. Oh! HopCat sells one that has honey and apple in it and that’s pretty good. I do like “weird” grilled cheeses.

Homemade tomato soup, or just out of a can? >> Not out of a can, that’s for sure. There are some premade ones that I do like, but they’re never canned (usually they’ll come in cartons).

Favorite thing to see in museums? >> I like sci-tech museums, so, that stuff.

Have you ever seen an unwrapped mummy in person? >> No.

What things have people shamed you for? >> The kind of music I like, the kind of people I think are pretty, the way I look, the way I behave/my idiosyncrasies, my emotional responses, my needs... I mean, basically almost anything you can think of.

Do you always reply to private messages? (On any website) >> I usually do.

What device do you seem to always be buying batteries for? >> I don’t think anything I currently use takes disposable batteries.

What’s worse – snow, or all the mud after it melts? >> Definitely the latter.

Are there any 'adult stores’ in your area? >> Probably. Not in this city proper, but like... around. Somewhere.

Have you been inside of them/shopped there before? >> I’ve been to a lot of them in NYC.

Do you watch The Masked Singer? Any theories? >> No.

Favorite Alfred Hitchcock film? >> I don’t have one.

Do you like Funko Pop figurines? >> Meh. The novelty wears off pretty quickly.

If so, do you have any? Which ones would you like to have? >> Yeah, having a few is how I know the novelty wears off pretty quickly, hah. I have two Marvel!Heimdalls (from two different movies), a Roland and a Walter from the Dark Tower movie, Jesse and Cassidy from the Preacher TV show, Lucio and Reaper from Overwatch, and Vivec from The Elder Scrolls. I actually had to go looking in the living room because I’d forgotten I had that many. That’s another few items for the donation / giveaway bin...

Which ones do you think they should make (but haven’t yet)? >> At this point, I think they should stop, lmao. There are so fucking many.

[ansu-gurleht]

sermon ten, annotated

ok, i’m skipping some sermons. at some point, i’ll cover every sermon, including the ones i skipped, and i’ll have a masterpost for them. as for now, let’s talk about sermon ten.

You have discovered the tenth Sermon of Vivec, which was hidden in the words that came in the aftermath to the Hortator.

the lessons often have related series of sermons sprinkled throughout. this series, began in sermon six, takes the form of vivec advising nerevar.

The evoker shall raise his left hand empty and open, to indicate he needs no weapons of his own.

to evoke is to call forward, or summon - so the evoker summons forth his friends and foes. the evoker may also be one who seeks power, usually divine.

it’s very worth noting the inspiration that [writer-of-these-sermons-who-is-not-to-be-named] draws upon for a lot of the symbolism throughout is based on western occult practices of the 19th and 20th centuries. most notably, the ideas are heavily influenced by practices such as thelema. 

simply put, in these kinds of magical practices, the right hand is associated with positive qualities, whereas the left hand is associated with negative ones. the right hand is creation, purity; the left hand is destruction, chaos. 

in the context of this sermon being advice given by vivec to nerevar, it stands to reason the “evoker” refers to the hortator. with his “left hand empty and open” he shows “he needs no weapon of his own.” note, however, that in sermon seven, the egg vivec wrote GHARTOK PADHOME, the hand that wields change like a weapon, on both of his hands. hortator needs no weapon because his hands are his weapon; his hands are change, and that is enough.

The coming forth is always hidden, so the evoker is always invisible or, better, in the skin of his enemies.

the evoker calls forward, so “the coming forth” is done by those he summons. they will be hidden, but so will the evoker, either “invisible, or, better, in the skin of his enemies.” the latter is a reference to the legend of boethiah wearing trinimac’s skin to denounce the old ways and encourage the velothi movement.

'The eyelid of the kingdom shall fill thiry [sic] and six folios, but the eye shall read the world.'

the thirty and six folios are these lessons, of course. as for the eyelid and the eye, we will return to this later in this sermon.

By this the Hortator needs me to understand. The sword is an impatient signature. Write no contacts on the dead. Vivec says unto the Hortator remember the words of Boet-hi-ah:

the previous quote (’The eyelid of the kingdom....’) is what the hortator needs vivec in order to understand. another instance of vivec downplaying nerevar’s intelligence and agency.

the sword being “an impatient signature” means that violence can show your hand too quickly. have patience before making yourself known, and signing your signature upon the deeds. come forth with empty hands.

uesp usually adds [sic] when there’s a typo. as for the “contacts on the dead” line, i think there is also a typo. the only evidence i have for this is that “contracts on the dead” fits better with what i’m saying.

anyways, the point is that you put your signature on a contract. violence is an impatient signature, one that shows your hand too soon, so it’s likewise unwise to try to force the dead to comply with your demands. did i say unwise? i meant impossible, unless you’re a necromancer. 

if you’re patient, and hide your sword behind open hands, you may end up getting a better deal than defeating your enemies. maybe you find a way to “hold your friends close, enemies closer.” case in point, the chimer-dwemer alliance against the nords.

anyways, we’re primed for the next paragraph, which is “the words of Boet-hi-ah:”

We pledge ourselves to you, the Frame-maker, the Scarab: a world for us to love you in, a cloak of dirth [sic] to cherish.  

the “Frame-maker” and “Scarab” is lorkhan, who boethiah has always had a major crush on. boe claims that the true purpose of the mundus project was to elevate lorkhan via recursive reflection, worship that comes around on itself and self-amplifies. it’s not without its struggles, though: it’s “a cloak of dirt” after all.

Betrayed by your ancestors when you were not even looking. Hoary Magnus and his ventured opinions cannot sway the understated, a trick worthy of the always satisfied.

and those struggles ultimately derive from the other et’ada losing faith in him and his project. their lost faith became bitterness which became betrayal. when lorkhan was on the cusp of his greatest victory, “when [he was] not even looking,” he was turned upon viciously.

“hoary magnus” refers to the god of magic, who is also the sun. despite the betrayal of the vast majority of the et’ada, led by magnus and auri-el, magnus’s “ventured opinions cannot sway the understated,” meaning his mutiny didn’t convince the few who still clung fast to lorkhan’s vision. for those faithful, it was the best “trick” he could try to cast doubt on the mundus project - nothing short of such manipulation could have possibly swayed “the always satisfied,” those who are so sure of their ambitions that nothing could discourage them.

A short season of towers, a rundown absolution, and what is this, what is this but fire under your eyelid?

“a short season of towers” refers to the history of nirn. the towers are physical spires with metaphysical implications, things that hold up reality and its tenets (or those imposed by their architects and rulers) like tentpoles. 

absolution means forgiveness, but a “rundown absolution” is a forgiveness in a sad state, of very poor quality. lorkhan forgives his kin for their betrayal, but it is bitter forgiveness, for only lorkhan truly understands the scope of what was lost. “a short season of towers” could have been something much, much greater.

and, in case we didn’t already understand how boethiah feels about lorkhan, she tells us that even the majesty of what has been created is “but fire under your eyelid?”

but there’s more to this eyelid thing. remember that line i skipped over earlier?

'The eyelid of the kingdom shall fill thiry [sic] and six folios, but the eye shall read the world.'

the eyelid is what you see when your eyes are closed, when you are asleep. the sleeping may read these sermons, but they’re nothing “but fire under your eyelid” - to be awake, with your eyes open, you can read the world itself. note the sleeping/awake dichotomy, which should be familiar if you’ve played the main quest of morrowind, and discovered the sleeping, dreaming house dagoth.

Shift ye in your skin, I say to the Trinimac-eaters. Pitch your voices into the color of bruise. 

the “Trinimac-eaters” of course refers to boethiah and her faithful. the dunmer have not only distinct skin from their altmer cousins, but distinct accents as well (except in oblivion, but ... yeah). in morrowind they have the classic chain-smoker voice, and skyrim gives them sort of a scottish(?) accent. (i don’t know what eso does, forgive me.) “the color of bruise” refers to the blue-grey skin of the dunmer, so they “pitch [their] voices” into the same shade.

Divide ye like your enemies, in Houses, and lay your laws in set sequence from the center, again like the enemy Corners of the house of Troubles, and see yourself thence as timber, or mud-slats, or sheets of resin. Then do not divide, for yet is the stride of SITHISIT quicker than the rush of enemies, and He will sunder the whole for the sake of a shingle.

to become stronger, the chimer must divide into Houses, each a unique facet of velothi culture, each an important cog in the machine. they may be divided “like your enemies,” but these smaller units strengthen the whole, which vivec (or boethiah i guess) likens to the materials you build a house with. a house is built with timber and mud-slats, just as a House is built of its members; and because of these smaller strengths, chimer society as a whole is made stronger - the Houses become the timbers of a people.

SITHISIT, another name for padomay, primordial chaos and entropy, will ruin the strongest societies, and leave them vulnerable. so instead, cut up your society into manageable chunks, as Houses. the Houses are in conflict with one another, which strengthens them - and their collective strength becomes the strength of the nation. so at the cost of a unified culture, you “sunder the whole for the sake of a shingle.”

For we go different, and in thunder. SITHISIT is the start of all true Houses, built against statis [sic] and lazy slaves. Turn from your predilections, broken like false maps. Move and move like this. Quicken against false fathers, mothers left in corners weeping for glass and rain. Stasis asks merely for nothing, for itself, which is nothing, as you were in the eight everlasting imperfections.

through SITHISIT, the chimer are made different from the altmer. the Houses of the chimer are stronger than the clans of altmer, whose anuic bent prefers stasis, the absence of change - they are “lazy slaves” in deference to auri-el and his ilk. the chimer abandon these anuic “predilections, broken like false maps” - this adherence to stasis is a road leading to nowhere.

“move and move like this,” like fa-nuit-hen, the demiprince who taught the egg vivec in sermon one. the daedra are the ones who know the true path. the aedra are “false fathers,” parents who neglect their duty to allow their children to grow. the “mothers left in corners” might refer to the anticipations, who are almost always depicted as female (with a few occasional exceptions in boethiah). as for why they weep “for glass and rain,” i’m not sure.

stasis asks for nothing and itself, which boethiah says are the same. after all, stasis only holds as much value as it can be compared to. if all were static, nothing who hold any value at all. thus, it is empty. “the eight everlasting imperfections” are the eight divines (talos didn’t exist yet), who are the embodiments of stasis.

Vivec says unto the Hortator remember the words of Vivec.

okay, there’s a verse here where every other line is this line. so i’ll just quote the verse with all those cut out.

UNDERSTAND THAT SITHISIT STILL TRAVELS IN A PHOSPHORESCENT MIRROR OF THE SKY DROWNED AND SMILING  INTERMITTENT HOPES ENOUGH TO ANSWER ALL THE THINGS NOT YET QUERIED

“SITHISIT STILL TRAVELS,” a reminder that it is fleeting and always shifting. the “PHOSPHORESCENT MIRROR OF THE SKY” is the mundus, which was meant to reflect lorkhan over and over again until he surpassed the entirety of the aurbis. although, betrayed, “DROWNED,” lorkhan (who is the purest avatar of SITHISIT) is also “SMILING,” for despite his failure, there is yet enough hope that everything will be alright.

as always,

The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.

[naernon]

How about 4-9 for the salty asks?

thank you! these were fun, as with all the other ones ^ ^. sorry if my responses are a bit clumsy or anything, today’s an off-day for me and so i’ve been SO slow to answer these

____

4.) Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

i dont know if this counts as popular but i HATE when people (even in jest) ship vivec/molag bal. have never read the sermons or anything nor do i plan to but from the snippets i HAVE read, i just dont know how you read it and… think to ship it? more than a little messed up.

i wont get into it further but even outside of typical shipping spaces, it’s just. fucked. i normally don’t insult people’s interpretation of lore and things as a whole but when you get to shit like the sermons and the tribunal lore (particularly anything kirkbride had a say in or wrote himself) i really feel like… people have a shortage of common sense and reading comprehension and interpretation– although it gets to a point where you can blame not only the reader but the quality of the writing in itself. which… isn’t great, so it’s just a mess all around (as my lethargic middle-of-the-night brain aptly says as an example, you can’t write a quality thesis out of shit sources)

____

5.) Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

not particularly, no! except, maybe….

the weirdness around cicero’s uhh… fandom put me off of his character (plus i just grew to like… hm. different types of characters) and therefore put me off of LDB/cicero in any sort of way, which is something i unfortunately used to ship.

there’s also the fact that i read this one fanfiction of the LDB/cicero that i did kind of enjoy until i reached this crossdressing fetish part and…. boy, was my view changed that day. pretty sure there were weirder parts of it that i have forgotten. maybe for the best

____

6.) Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

i dont think so! none that come to mind at the moment. when i hate pairings, i tend to hate them for like– moral reasons, you know, in that it’d be abusive or otherwise toxic/unhealthy in some way; i guess i’m stubborn like that. any other pairings that im not into tend to just be that i never got into them but i still am tolerant of them. that being said, again, none really come to mind esp. for TES which is series where i don’t have a lot of ships gufdhguhgf.

____

7.) Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?

answered here!

____

8.) Have you received anon hate? What about?

as i said in one of my other answers, every time i used to joke about darren guitar/whatever his name is (the DC razum-dar/naryu equivalent) i would get like.. a defensive ask– not too rude yet, just “why do you not like darren guitar”, and then later a “if you read more about him he does have a backstory and development”, that sort of stuff.

i dont think i was too rude in response, but i was kind of sharp, i guess; in a “i know you’re trying to change my viewpoint on this character and opinions are opinions, you can like the characters you like (and besides, most of my posts are purely jokes, im not trying to insult anyone who does like him), but im really set in how i feel about him and i hope to give the implication that nothing you’re sending forth to defend his character is working on me” sort of way

im really bloating this story to the point where the resolution isn’t exciting to hear at all but anyways eventually they send “hot-take: darren guitar has more personality than prince naemon in-game” and i got pissed and told them to fuck off; rightfully so, if you ask me. i said repeatedly i had no problem with this rando liking darrien goddamn guitar and then they came in with that rude shit about a character that’s clearly grown to be very important to me like… please. man. why. if it upsets you unfollowing is fine. or maybe closing the tab? or even asking me, “hey, i know this may sound silly but can you tag your darrien guitar hate? i really like him and his character’s important to me” in which i would oblige!!!

and i know exactly who they are, too, lmao. this is going to sound petty in how i found out but basically, on this site, when someone has blocked you, they will not appear in the notes of a post, no matter if they liked, reblogged, replied, etc. BUT, the number of notes still say the same. so if a post has one note due to someone liking it, and that someone has you blocked, if you were to look in the notes themselves to see who it is, their name will not pop up. does that make sense?

im rambling again but through that and switching to my main (where they didn’t bother to block me) i found out who it is because they’re someone i had never heard of before and they actively liked darren guitar. put two and two together, you know? but it’s just baffling. because they had the nerve to block ME for telling them to fuck off for THEM saying that rude shit????? maybe i sound delusional but…. ridiculous.

____

9.) Most disliked character(s)? Why?

answered here!

____ 

salty fandom (elder scrolls) opinions

[lucienladamned]

Memories

This is a short story I wrote for my character, Alois. In this writing he looks upon his keepsakes and reminisces about the good... and the bad of his past

~♡~

 It was the first Middas of the new year. Alois had his head buried in his hands, blinking back tears. If only he hadn't forced Qadir to leave early… Maybe he would still be alive then…

A knock came upon the door and a second later quickly opened. “Listener,” cooed the jester, “Must you really sit in here all day? Let's kill someone!” He hopped inside the door and gingerly closed it behind him, approaching the desk of the Sanctuaries leader. “You're looking a bit down, Listener,” he soon observed, “Shall I tell a joke?”

Alois raised his head and shook it. “No, Cicero, please just grab me something to eat. I must keep waiting for the night mother to speak to me once more.” The old elf’s eyebrows scrunched together tightly, his eyes goaded Cicero into leaving him be.

 “Ah, maybe some other time then, Listener! I do know you used to love slaughtering those milk maidens,” Cicero said as he left the Listener to his own thoughts by quickly leaving the room.

Alois pushed his chair out and stood up, then brushing off his robes from the charcoal shavings. Making his way towards his personal chest, he looked around his living quarters. How had it even come to this? Living alone, bitter, and in the freezing stones of Dawnstar… He knelt down in front of his chest and carefully opened it, looking down at the assortment of random objects and nic-naks inside.

Reaching down he brought out a beaded necklace. Big, blue and black beads hanging on a fraying string… some of their colors were even fading. Damn, he could remember when he got this like yesterday.

         ~◇~

“Papa, papa,” mused the young dark elf, “You're back!” He ran up and jumped up into his father's arms along with his two brothers as his mother watched. “What did you bring us? Did you bring us some sweet rolls?” The young boy, around ten to be exact, seemed to be brimming with joy at the sight of his father.

The old man smiled back down at his boys. “No,” he said, “but I have got you boys some taffy.” He reached into his knapsack and brought out a long candy and handed it to the boys. “Now you three share now. Go and play, Papa is tired.”

 The three brothers ran off to go play. “Wait, Alois? Come outside after dinner. It's important,” the old man croaked, taking off his hat and scratching his balding head.

“Yes, Papa,” replied the oldest, his back turned to him and fixated on the candy. He was paying no attention to his pops… which wasn't out of the ordinary for the three boys.

After dinner the old man went out and sat down on the porch steps, drinking out of his mead bottle little by little. He was looking out on the setting Ashland sun, silently sending a prayer to Azura… Then his oldest child bounded outside.

“Papa, what going on?” The child say down next down to his father, his feet swinging back and forth slightly. “Is everything alright?”

 His father sighed and wrenched his eyes away from the sun. “Yes, Alois. Everything is okay,” he said softly, looking over at his son. His eyes were tired and worn out, almost like old leather. “I just wanted to talk to you.” Pulling a long, beaded necklace out of his pocket, he held it up to the purple sun. “You see here, boy? This is precious. Was your grandfather's, and his father's before him,” he started, the worn out necklace twisting and dancing in front of the pair. “It ain't worth much, Alois, but it's precious. And it's yours, sunny boy. I hope you understand.”

Everything had gone through one ear and out the other. He had just nodded along through the whole thing. He wasn't much more than an oblivious child after all. “Yes, Papa. I understand,” he said bluntly as the beads were handed to him and lay in his hands. “I'll take good care of it.” The young boy didn't know it now, but this necklace will come to mean the world to him in a few years.

                                ~◇~

 Alois shook his head to shoo the memory away. No. It was too hard to think about it… about his family. He sighed and carefully placed the necklace back into its place, searching for something new to bring out. He pulled out his… lute.

           ~◇~

The young adult of an elf was standing on the street corner in Vivec City, playing desperately on his lute and sang a traditional Dunmer tune. The man just barely had enough to eat… nothing to rest his head in an tonight, however. Damn it… These damned entitled Dunmer … He just wanted to rest well for one night, for Boethiah’s sake! He shook his head and finished his last chord before sinking against the wall and resting his life in his lap, defeated.

From a block away, a young red guard caravan leader heard the beautiful playing of a lute. “Say, who do you reckon is playing that,” he said, amazed.

“Don't pay any attention to it. It's just that poor sod, Alois. Doesn't know when to stop his damned playing. Quite an annoyance if you ask me.”

Qadir had heard enough and was already walking away to find this ‘Alois.’ Sounded like a damned good player to him. He had just turned the corner when the Dunmer had sunken down. Pushing his dreads behind his ear and quickly putting them up, he made a quick game plan.

Qadir took a deep breath and approached the down right poor elf with his chest puffed out. “Ah, was that you playing,” he tried to say as smooth as possible. It worked for most of the persons he was up against anyways. That's why he was a merchant after all! Yet, his words came out a little lighter than usual. “I thought it was absolutely beautiful. I'm Qadir. Pronounced KUH-deer. Nice to meet you. Want to go for drinks tonight? All on me.” He flashed the elf a wide grin and held out his hand.

 This was just for a night, right? Turns out that Qadir stayed much longer than anticipated…

    ~◇~

The old man snapped back to reality and wiped his eyes. Damn that red guard… making him fall in love like that. He shook his head and placed the instrument back down, instead pulling out a small wedding band.

          ~◇~

“Come on! Come with me,” the dark elf urged, tightly grasping the other mans hands in his. “Leave the market place, we can start our own stand, Qadir!”

 It was pouring rain out in the dark of the Morrowind city. They were both just 40 years old at the time of course. Both confused. Both soaking wet from the horrid weather.

 “Come with me! We'll start our own farm! We'll be happy,” he urged, slipping his hands out of the others. “Q-Qadir look, please,” he begged, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a plain, gold band. “Qadir I love you.”

 Qadir stood there in complete shock. Leave the city? Start their own farm? It was absurd. Impossible even. “W-Wait, Alois think about this! A farm, a farm?” His eyes laid down upon the band in the others hand and opened his mouth to speak once more before closing it. Had he really saved up… for a farm? For him? “L...Let us do this. We'll Leave tomorrow afternoon.”

 Alois nearly cried out in relief as he slid the ring onto his man’s ring finger. “We'll elope, my darling! Mara will love us either way!”

           ~◇~

The old man wiped the tears streaming down his face. Was that really the last time he was… happy? God he missed it, he missed Qadir so fucking much. He yelled out in frustration and threw the ring to the bottom of his chest. He was fucking angry. Angry at the tribunal! Angry at those fucking bandits! Angry… angry with himself. He took a shaky breath before bringing out one last thing… Qadir’s head garb.

            ~◇~

“I'll see you soon, honey,” cooed Qadir, leaning down and kissing his husband on their doorstep. “I'll be safe. I promise,” was his last words to Alois before waving and departing for the road with their weekly goods.

Alois had anxiously waited for his husbands return, constantly staying out to tend their farm much too late into the night and nearly never sleeping. It had been about a week… Qadir should be coming home soon! By the eight! He couldn't wait…

 There was a quiet knock on the door. Alois quickly sprung from his chair to answer it. “Qadir, baby you're finally home-!” But it wasn't his love.

“I, er, I've got something to deliver. A notice of… death. Of your housemate Qadir.” The courier handed the elf the thick envelope. “Oh, and sorry for your loss.”

 Alois was left in shock as he just nodded, closing the door in front of him. Dead? He couldn't be. He was completely fazed as he sat down and tore open the letter.

 It truly was a death certificate… and a small note of condolences.. and somehow, the only thing that was left on Qadir was his headscarf… and it was in the envelope with it.

He threw the papers at his feet and clutched the scarf in his hands, staring down at it in complete shock. He was alone… again. He broke out into tears and sobbed into the scarf. Damn the eight! Damn their fucking plans!

  ~◇~

Alois hadn't realised he was sobbing into his sleeve in reality, crumpled in a pitiful position, the last thing of his husbands clutched in his hands. By Sithis he missed him so much.

“Listener? Perhaps now you need a jest? Or a story?”

[mazurah]

Journal of a Buoyant Armiger in Valenwood

First - Previous - Next

9th of Sun’s Height

Well then. Today has been eventful. And exasperating. And a bit embarrassing.

I’d been feeling progressively more guilty because of Fayrl’s reaction to me prying into his private affairs, so when I didn’t see him around the Den this afternoon, I went to find him. He was in his room, writing something, which he burned as soon as I came in, which only made me curious, but I know how poorly my last attempt to ask him about himself went, so I let it be.

I decided to just apologize for my behavior and get it over with, but he acted as though it was nothing at all. Perhaps I was wrong about it bothering him? Maybe he has something else going on that has been weighing on him and that’s why he’s been in his room so much? I’d thought he might be avoiding me, but perhaps not.

In any case, I invited him to play a strategy game with me, and asked him to choose the game. First he accused me of apologizing just to get him to play with me again, and then, in typical Fayrl fashion, he went and retrieved a sex game, complete with leather restraints. Now I wasn't born yesterday. I know a sex game when I see it. I’ve played a fair few in my time, and seen many more, so I shut that line of inquiry down right quick. He looked disappointed though, so I told him I might play it with him eventually, just not now.

We ended up settling on one of the games I learned in the Armigers, Gahmerdoohn’m Sorilk. As a side note, the Den’s selection of board games is absolutely amazing. I've never seen so many games in one place before, much less ones of such high quality. The board we ended up playing on was made of ivory, or possibly bone, and inlaid with mother of pearl. It was the kind of board that ends up getting gifted to Lord Vivec as an offering by some rich f’lah hoping to get the attention of a living god.

Fayrl played decently, but I've had enough practice playing against the other Armigers that it would probably take a lot better than decent to beat me. During the game, the conversation turned to the rules I have regarding casual sex. By the end of the game, I was fed up, so I told him to follow me so we could talk to Qau-dar and get this thing settled once and for all.

I found Qau-dar watching Lillandril’s children along with Ma’Riahni. I asked him if he could step out into the hall for a moment. He didn’t want to, but I wasn’t about to have that kind of a conversation right in front of children. The conversation went something like this:

I said something along the lines of “Hey, so Fayrl says that you don't mind him having sex with whoever he chooses, but I didn't want to make any assumptions or get in the way of your relationship, especially since we'll be travelling together, so I wanted to get your permission first.”

Qau-dar said… nothing, so I kept going, worried that I had brought the subject up too soon and now Qau-dar was just going to refuse. I said something like, "I mean, I'm not planning on getting in the way of your relationship in any way, it's just casual sex. I just wanted to make sure it was alright with you so we don't have any jealousy issues down the line. I've had that happen before and I'd rather not have that happen with my only friends on this side of Tamriel."

Fayrl was hiding his mouth behind his hand and he looked like he was about to cry--probably from laughing at me, the fetcher.

Qau-dar asked if this was the reason that we had taken him away from his warm tea, and asked if we were in such a hurry that we couldn’t wait.

I was really nervous, but I tried to reassure him. “Well, I know it probably sounds silly especially with such an established relationship like yours, but I've had enough issues in the past that I think it is important.”

Qau-dar turned to Fayrl and asked why I was asking him.

Fayrl said he’d tried to tell me but that I wouldn’t believe him. It’s not that I didn’t believe him--actually, me believing him was probably part of the problem--it’s that I’d rather establish a good relationship with my partners’ partners beforehand rather than risk a miscommunication. It’s just good policy!

Qau-dar asked Fayrl why I thought I needed permission from Qau-dar, and what kinds of things he’d been telling me.

Fayrl responded that he’d told me about their marriage in Skyrim, but that he’d also told me that this business was just between him and me.

Then Qau-dar asked if I was even old enough to be having sex at all. At least, I think that was what he said. I didn’t ask him to translate for me this time. Fayrl thought this was hilariously funny and burst out laughing. I was indignant and told Qau-dar I’d been old enough for intercourse for almost a hundred years now.

Qau-dar said, yes, mer live a long time, but is it old enough for mer? Fayrl assured him it was, and Qau-dar huffed and asked why I was asking him at all.

I said something like “Well you mentioned that Fayrl had already asked you, but I wanted to make sure there weren't any miscommunications. I don't want to get in the way of your marriage.”

Qau-dar turned to Fayrl, gave him a look, and asked what he’d been telling me.

Fayrl started recounting how he’d told me about his wife and about the two of them getting married in Skyrim and such.

I felt like I was missing some crucial context, so I asked if there was a problem.

There was. It turns out they’re not actually married in any sort of a relationship sense, just in a legal sense, and that neither of them actually view the marriage as legitimate. Qau-dar is happy with his three spouses and his children, and Fayrl isn’t interested in romantic relationships anymore (which would be a relief to learn if I didn’t have to go through so much embarrassment to learn it.)

Of course, learning that Fayrl had been misrepresenting himself this entire time was… frustrating to say the least. I should have known. Fayrl has a problem with compulsive lying. I know this. And I still believed him. I’m just not certain how I could have avoided it. I can’t very well go around doubting every word he says, and double checking the truth of everything he tells me would just be rude, assuming he caught me at it. Besides, he told me he was married to Qau-dar before he made the promise to try to be more honest with me. I should have known to doubt it. I mean, he is apparently married, but only being married in a legal sense is no marriage at all, and misrepresentation is as good as a lie when it leads to the same results. The results being me horrendously embarrassed apparently.

I apologized to Qau-dar, and Fayrl told me he hadn’t meant to deceive me; that he’d tried to tell me that everything was just between him and me.

I told him I’d heard that before from the mouth of someone trying to cheat on their partner and I wasn’t about to accept that kind of an answer when they clearly were in a relationship of some kind.

He gave me a half-arsed apology for not being clear, but I wasn’t about to try to deal with that then, and in a last ditch effort to salvage the conversation without completely wasting Qau-dar’s time, I asked Qau-dar if he wanted to join me and Fayrl if we ever managed to work out our miscommunication, assuming his spouses were alright with that.

He looked me up and down and said I wasn’t to his taste, but he was honored anyway.

That was the most embarrassment I could handle at one time so I told him fair enough and made a hasty retreat.

I went back to my room and started painting to try to recover my composure. Fayrl knocked on my door a few minutes later.

I’ll admit I wasn’t exactly in the most communicative mood at first. I may have made some sarcastic jabs at him.

He said something like, “I suppose you must have some questions?” to which I responded “What? No, you were so clear before!”

He said he felt like, perhaps the things he had thought were obvious might not have been so, to which I could only respond “You think?”

He protested that he was not used to this. I asked, “Not used to someone calling you on your guarshit?”

He said that wasn’t fair, that nothing he’d said was actually a lie.

I told him it didn’t matter, the result was the same. I still ended up horribly embarrassed in front of someone I was trying to befriend, and I had no idea how I was going to show my face to Qau-dar.

He tried to tell me that if I’d told him what I was trying to do he could have stopped me from embarrassing myself, and besides Qau-dar had treated me gently and kindly throughout the whole thing.

Sure he might have treated me gently and kindly, but it’s probably because he thinks I’m an idiot. He might not be too far off either.

Fayrl said he thinks most people are idiots, including Fayrl, but that wasn’t a deterrent to their friendship.

That doesn’t even make any sense to me. I wish I was back on Vvardenfell with people who actually make sense. I wish I didn’t have to deal with losing my soul and with the constant worry that the gem in which my soul is trapped might be used to power some enchantment somewhere, slowly killing me. I was doing well for myself before this whole mess started.

Fayrl was sympathetic, and tried to assure me that neither he nor Qau-dar nor any of Fayrl’s servants were trying to cause me distress; that he wasn’t trying to hurt me.

I told him I knew that, and that’s what makes this whole situation so difficult. Despite his compulsive lying, Fayrl isn’t acting maliciously, and I shouldn’t treat him like he is. He told me that telling the truth has endangered his life in the past, as well as the lives of people he cares about, and that he is just used to obscuring the truth in order to protect himself. Knowing what I know about House politics, I can believe that. There’s a reason I try to avoid getting involved with any of the Houses.

Fayrl told me he doesn’t always remember how his manner of obscuring the truth affects other people. I told him congratulations, he’d sure affected me by giving me a headache.

He offered me a potion or some brandy. I said an apology might work better.

And he apologized. He told me he was sorry for putting me in an awkward situation.

That actually made me feel a bit better despite myself, so when he asked if there was anything he could do for me, I just asked if he could explain why he was not actually married despite all evidence to the contrary.

Apparently Fayrl and Qau-dar got married on Hearts Day in order to get a week of free meals and a room. And Qau-dar just likes communal sleeping arrangements. I feel like an idiot.

Fayrl tried to reassure me that the situation wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought, but I was still far too embarrassed to be able to see it from his perspective just then. I said I wouldn’t be surprised if Qau-dar told me to leave him alone from now on. He told me that Qau-dar wouldn't do something like that, but I’ll have to find out for myself in the morning before I believe it. Fayrl suggested that I do something nice for him, or offer to help him with chores. Perhaps I’ll do that.

Oh, also, it turns out that Fayrl isn’t paying for the rooms like I had thought. Lillandril and Rialas just own the place and are letting us stay for free. Fayrl said he’d been helping out and providing entertainment when he could to try to pay them back. That puts a new light on the Den employees asking me for help, and now I realize I’ve inadvertently been an arse and a poor guest again. I’m never going to be able to show my face to anyone ever. I’m just going to have to avoid painting at the Den so I don’t have to abandon paintings half-finished and ruin my brushes by jumping to assist everyone that requests my aid. Despite how it sounds, I’m not actually bitter. I’m mostly just frustrated that nobody saw fit to tell me this pertinent information in the first place.

At least I got Fayrl to model for me. He wanted to model naked, but I wasn’t going to even attempt to deal with that today. That’s a problem for after I’ve dealt with some of the rest of the mess this day has already brought.

Fayrl’s Corresponding Entry Qau-dar’s Corresponding Entry

[ja-khajay]

1, 11, 21, 31, 41 + A, J for rezad, basile, rakkan and nad (hope its not too much im sorryy 🙈)

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Rezad : hours....he’ll just sit there somewhere looking at the clouds go by and making verses in his head

Basile : an hour at most - he’d need to have something to listen to or to fidget with. He’s not exactly a man of action, but he does hate being bored. Would probably tap his fingers around to break the silence and if nothing happens start a conversation with the nearest person

Rakkan : it depends on the context. If it’s something he does of his own free wil, like meditating or taking a nap, he’d last! But he wouldn’t be able to sit still if someone asked him to. He also tends to hate closed spaces, being indoors would make it even more difficult for him to chill

Nad : she’s got a will of steel, she’d last indefinitely

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Rezad : ask simple questions, then pray/meditate on it. He takes his time to understand things at his own pace.

Basile : having close to no patience he’d demand an explanation from the source of said confusion, if it’s extremely important and not stemming from any being able to answer a question he’d throw a quick fit before going to do whatever distracting thing to forget about it

Rakkan : Rakkan asks no questions unless he’s personally threathened by whatever is going on which very seldom happens. If a problem persists living around dunmer proved to him that an axe can solve a lot of things

Nad : pretends she understands what’s going on with a smile and crossing her fingers to staying undiscovered 

Why do they get up in the morning?

Rezad : he finds beauty in small things and likes being commited to a cause - should it be his duty as a vestige, or as an activist for whatever, he likes being part of a group to help, having a cause to wake up to

Basile : 1) sun in his face 2) bored 3) horny

Rakkan : he does a lot of things mechanically without thinking much about it and waking up is one of those things, it’s really insignificant to him. Sixth House nightmares and dark brotherhood assasins spice it up a tad but not enough for him to actively feel something about it

Nad : mechanical thing, just like Rakkan. She also takes whatever duties she’s currently doing very religiously so would wake up to finish an errand quest fast, or attend a meeting, etc

Who are they the most glad to have met?

Rezad : not quite exactly a meeting, but he found his faith in Vivec like a beacon of hope in dark times, and really loves and relate to hir. Trans warrior poets unite

Basile : I literally can’t find a single person I guess that says a lot about him

Rakkan : he hates to admit it, but dude really grew a soft spot for old Caius Cosades, to the point of feeling very depressed when he left - whether he admits it or not, Caius was his guide during the biggest turning point of his life, and one of the rare people he ever got along with

Nad : her adoptive parents! she loves them

How do they feel about children?

Rezad : he loves their creativity and is pretty good at taking care of kids despite being a single child, but he isn’t specially fond of them either, pretty neutral tbh

Basile : generally dislikes kids, especially caring about them, but enjoys playing with kids on rare occassions. He admires their brutal honesty. Savage little bastards

Rakkan : oh boy does he hate them

Nad : Nad would DIE for kids caring for children is one of her favorite things in the world

A) Why are you excited about this character?

I’m excited by my characters because I think I can imagine them with complex and very different personalities! I do truely love my characters, and my elder scrolls characters also shine because I’m able to make them live in a setting I fit them for. Now for individual characters : 

Rezad : superficial I know but I just love how he looks. Each time I play ESO I’m just like Oh Him

Basile : I’m amazed by my abilities to write him despite being a character I’d immediatly want to strangle if I were to meet him irl

Rakkan : I invented his story along the way and it fits so goddamn well...one day I’ll have to write it all down in a long Tale Of Rakkan. I’m so hyped to discover what will happen along his little way

Nad : im gay

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

Not really....? They’re all canon protagonists and I play by the rules. I don’t really go much beyond adding minor stuff to their story - most I do is making them enter relationships, but again it’s always plausible ones. I think the further I went was for Nad, since she isn’t originally an elder scrolls character I adapted her story to fit in Tamriel and it started up with me forgetting there were 300 years between the Red Year and Skyrim but I corrected it by inventing my own little pocket of escaped dunmer culture she’d have crawled out of

[chameleonspell]

198: sunder

Iriel ran his hand along the bookshelf, fingers gathering dust as they jumped from spine to spine, specks of atrophied leather flaking away. Mzuleft had been far more well preserved than this ruin. But then, Mzuleft had been sealed. Not used as a workshop-slash-drinks-cabinet by an ash vampire for centuries. An ash vampire currently lying out in the hall, its bulbous yet withered ash yam of a head caved in.

Once, the discovery of so many Dwemer texts would have sent Ire into paroxysms of academic glee. Now, his first reaction was exhaustion at the mere thought of coercing his soap-bubble attention-span through so much information. Next came muted sorrow that he'd never succeed, quickly subverted by guilty relief he didn't have to try. At least it took the pressure off. At random, he pulled out an ancient volume, and opened it across the rusted iron desk. Dwemeris script, angular and precise. "Can you read it?" Julan asked. His voice echoed strangely among the brass pipes and valves, backed by the dim vibrato of restless machinery, deeper in the ruin. Suppressing a smile at Julan's optimism, Ire shook his head. "Not any more. But it's in the same handwriting as the others, and the blueprints on the wall. Diagrams and formulas... these are the notes of someone recording their experiments. Over a very long time, judging by the number of volumes." "Kagrenac?" "I think so." "What was he doing?" "I have no idea. I'd have to take them to Baladas." "You used to have lots of ideas." Julan scrutinised him, as if he thought furrowing his brows hard enough might let him see into Iriel's brain. "You've really forgotten everything you learned about the Dwemer? You're sure it's not just... locked up in your head, somewhere, waiting to be found again?" "What does it matter? I should still take the books to Baladas. I was being selfish, before, trying to hoard my discoveries, when I knew he was the expert. What's important is that this knowledge is used to make the world a better place." Julan's eyes flickered to the far end of the table, where a brass hammer lay, perfect in its symmetry. Deceptively small. "I'm not sure it's that kind of knowledge," he said. Iriel shrugged. "It's just a tool. To build or break. Both are sometimes necessary." "You sound so... Altmer." Julan, sitting on an iron keg, folded his arms on the table and narrowed his eyes at the hammer. Holding it, he claimed, made him feel huge and leaden, like a Steam Centurion. For all that it was impossibly heavy for its size, it was very difficult to put down. "Nothing I said was especially Altmeri," Iriel tutted, turning another page. "You only think that because you dislike what I said, and you want to assign the reason to something simple and unalterable, such as race, so you can dismiss my point without considering it." Julan huffed and rolled his eyes, as Ire continued: "If anything, my words were more akin to something Sotha Sil might say. It was his idea to use the tools to tap the divinity of the Heart, you know." "Yeah, well. That'll be why I don't like it, then." Julan slumped lower, suspicion churning uneasily in every movement: arms, shoulders, jaw. "And I still don't trust Vivec." "You don't have to. You heard the announcement in Ghostgate - we're free agents, now. The Nerevarine, whoever that may be, is no longer persecuted, but a champion of the Tribunal, authorised to act in their stead." "And I don't get why he needs a champion, when he has an entire Temple army. Besides, even a weakened god has to be stronger than the two of us. He's up to something, but what? If he really doesn't expect us to return the tools to him... and he gave us Wraithguard... then what?" Julan’s nails drummed a hollow rhythm against the table. "Those dreams at Ghostgate... you don't think he wants us to use the tools on the Heart ourselves, do you?" "And become gods?" Ire snorted, sending a wave of dust from the brittle parchment. "No. He was warning us, teaching us. Showing us how to fail, so that we might not." He smoothed the ancient pages with a careful hand. "Baladas was wrong about something," he said. "Knowledge is worth nothing, in itself. Whatever we learn must be shared, used to further our collective understanding. To stop others making the same mistakes as the Tribunal, Dagoth Ur, and the Dwemer." "You said you didn't remember what the Dwemer did." "What?" Ire looked up, blinking. "I don't." "Then how do you know they made a mistake?" "I..." Iriel paused, fingers jerking, sending long shadows snaking across the table from the candle at his elbow. "I really don't remember what I wrote in my report, but... I do remember other things. Dreams, echoes. Dream-echoes. Something went horribly wrong, for the Dwemer. For the Tribunal... it went horribly right." "And for Dagoth Ur?" A shudder. "Just... horribly." "What else do you remember?" "How not to fail." His voice was dry and papery as the book before him. "How to sever the dead divinity of Lorkhan from this world, and stop people feeding off his corpse, like scavengers. I wasn't sure, until we found the other tools, but now... I can feel it." "How?" "It's an enchantment. Several of them, layered like notes in a chord around the Heart by Kagrenac, so he could channel and direct its power. Tonal enchantments... half magic, half music. Now that I know what I'm listening for, I can sense it, even from here." "And you're going to... what? Figure out how to trigger it, like that teleport glyph you opened?" "No. I'm going to do something far blunter than that. The magical brute-force overload to end all overloads. Unsophisticated, Helende would say. Breaking a lock, not picking it. In musical terms... oh gods, I don't know. Hurling your lyre through the Orchidite Window of the Alinor High Temple in the middle of the Mourning Solitaire?" He grimaced. "I don't know what will happen after that, but it's going to be messy." "I'll bet. You're sure this is what Vivec wants?" "I think so. What the Tribunal are doing with the Heart of Lorkhan... it may look prettier than what Dagoth Ur is doing, from the outside, but on the inside, it's not so different, and it needs to end. It's not a healthy relationship." "Then why not end it themselves? They chose this, and they kept on choosing it. Why didn't they destroy the Heart long ago, if they think it's such a great idea?" Ire looked up, candle-flames flickering in his steady eyes. "Because they're addicts, love. Vivec... he's self-aware enough to realise it, but... he's in withdrawal. He knows if he was near the Heart himself, he wouldn't be able to resist. He's a god, but his divinity is the source of his sickness, it's exactly the wrong sort of strength. That's why he needs a champion, that's why he's asking for help. From a neutral party, because it can't be anyone too close to him, whose faith might be tarnished by the knowledge. Soon, that faith will be all he has left." "And the others, Almalexia and Sotha Sil? Did they agree to this? Has Vivec even told them?!" Iriel gave an awkward shrug, bent over the book again. "Severance is always painful. That doesn't stop it from being necessary, sometimes. Slaves not being equipped to handle freedom isn't an argument against them having it, only for care in the cutting, support on the landing. And I have no idea what support an ex-god would need. It'll hurt. Worse than hurt, perhaps." "You mean... if we destroy the heart, it could kill them? And you still think this is what Vivec wants?" Ire turned pages for a while, too fast for reading. "I don't have the brain to appreciate them the way I used to," he said, "but from what I recall, Vivec's later writings have this ongoing preoccupation with... annihilation. With destroying and replacing things that have served their purpose, or were mistakes from the beginning. He seems... frustrated. Worried that the needs of the people will change, and he won't be able to meet them. That the Dunmer must learn to break free of the things that are holding them back. You begin to suspect he means himself. That, read a certain way, the Sermons are almost... his will. Or the longest suicide note ever, a writ of self-execution. There's certainly something terribly Mephalan about it all." "Maybe he can't live with himself any more. Maybe the guilt of murdering Nerevar weighs too heavily on him." Iriel gave him a searching look. "Are you really so certain they killed him?" "What? You don't buy into that Temple propaganda, do you?!" "All the sources, even the most anti-Tribunal ones based on Alandro Sul's words to the Ashlanders, record that Nerevar was mortally wounded when he was carried from Red Mountain. Sul was injured too, blinded, some say, and likely not even present when Nerevar consulted his queen and advisers. Of course he was devastated to hear that his shield-brother was dead, afterwards. Of course he was riddled with survivor's guilt, and wanted someone to blame, other than himself, for failing to protect his lord. But the Tribunal didn't need to kill Nerevar, he was already dying." "Tilde says there's a coded bit in Vivec's poetry, where he admits he did it." "Mm. She also says it's barely even a code, and a child could crack it. More importantly... an explicit confession, from someone like Vivec? You'd take that at face value?" "Why confess, if he didn't do it?" "Why confess at all?" Ire's finger idled against a page, tapping and spiralling. "Have you never... felt unable to contradict terrible lies someone told about you? Even... wanted people to hear them, because then you'd finally know what they really thought of you, find out what they were willing to believe? See who, if anyone, would defend your innocence?" "No. People always made their opinions about me pretty clear. What're you--?" "And... it's irrational, but... if you feel guilty about something... if there was someone who loved you, but you failed to live up to that love, whether through betrayal of an oath, or just... constantly falling below their hopes and expectations until you'd ruined everything... if it's too late for you to fix that mistake, perhaps there's a certain appeal, in being blamed for something worse. A warped form of atonement." "I think you're taking this too personally." "Perhaps. I just know that guilt is strange. Self-hatred is strange. I doubt that divinity makes it less so." A shrug, as he closed the book. "And then, of course, Vehk is a poet. Perhaps he thought making himself Nerevar's killer would be the perfect metaphor. But surely the real place he murdered Nerevar is in his writings, where he condemns him to history as a blundering dullard, stumbling after his teacher, misunderstanding his wisdom." "Uh huh. And how about selling us out to the Empire, and torturing dissidents? Was all that for poetic effect, too?" "I'm not defending everything he did. But I do find it hard to blame Vivec for making himself divine. For finding a way to sever himself forever from the person he used to be." "Pity he became a worse one, doing it." "Mhm." Ire shifted position, expression, nothing holding still long enough to give a firm guide to his opinion. "He sought godhood as a way to endure himself, but it didn't work. He wasn't a perfect god like the Aedra, how could he be? He was still mortal when he designed himself. His divinity was always a mixture of contradictions and flaws, however gloriously gilded, but once formed, he was static. He lost the ability to change, to grow. And stasis, as he tells us again and again in the Lessons, is nothing. It's addiction to the thing that holds you above the spikes, out of the pit, but it's an illusion, because you're already in the trap. Stuck there, unless you're willing to chew off a limb... or a heart. Or ask someone to cut you free. Either way, you might not survive the journey to freedom. You still might choose to risk it." Moving to the bookcase, Iriel replaced the journal carefully on the shelf. "The thing about survivors, Caius once told me, is that it's often best not to ask what they did, in order to survive. Vivec cut his mortality away. Now he needs to cut his divinity, away, too." He turned back to Julan, fingers interwoven. "Perhaps you're right, and I'm taking it too personally, but... I want to view it positively. A painful rebirth from his own simulacrum." He gave a wan smile, shrugged. "Or just letting go of a coping mechanism he doesn't need any more." "Sorry." Julan rubbed at his forehead with both hands, eyes closed. "I don't mean to argue with you, I'm just tired. There's little enough chance to sleep here, and when I do..." "The dreams. I know." Iriel crossed the floor to where Julan was sitting, and began stroking his temples, gently massaging his brow. "I don't know why he even bothers. He's hardly likely to convert us now, is he?" "Maybe he's scared." Julan dragged a weary smile from somewhere, settling his arm around Ire's hips. Silence for a while, then: "Want to know a secret? I used to wonder if Dagoth Ur was right, if maybe the Nerevarine was supposed to join him, not defeat him. Return the tools that were entrusted to him by Nerevar, and then stolen from him by the Tribunal. I mean, that makes sense, right? In a Bal Molagmer sort of way." His tone was light, but an increased tension beneath Ire's fingers betrayed the shame of the admission. "That's not why I thought it, though," he added, his voice dulling. "I was angry, bitter. I thought any change for Morrowind would be better than living under the Empire's thumb, beneath the mockery of false gods. Don't get me wrong, I still hate the whole pack of them, but my hatred's not that blind. I can see that the change the Sharmat wants is pure destruction. It's burning without having anything to plant in its ashes, breaking things apart without knowing how to build. He can't help my people, only use them. I'm no poet, but if I was trying to make it a metaphor, then the return of Nerevar has to mean something else." "What is required by the ever-changing mortal agenda, the will of critical harvest?" Ire was biting the inside of his cheek. "You keep saying Morrowind needs this story of the Nerevarine facing down evil against impossible odds," he said, "but what happens if we fail? What kind of story is that? I thought you hated tragedies." Julan ground his jaw for a while. "Maybe," he said, "it's one where the heroes prove themselves through the things they attempt, not the things they succeed at. And... that's comforting, right? Because you can't always succeed, but you can always try. Aagh! Not so hard on my neck!" Ire snatched back his hands. "Sorry!" he gasped, "I forgot. How is it doing, by the way?" "Still hurts if I turn it too far dusk, but it's mostly just stiffness. It was good what you were doing before, if you want to carry on." He grinned up at Ire. "You're getting a preview of what I'll be like as a fussy old man with bad joints, I'm afraid." His grin faded. "What'd I say? Listen, I'm not dying up here, and neither are you. I told you, I'm not letting that happen, so you don't have to... worry... about..." He trailed off, eyes widening. And Iriel suddenly regretted the many hours Julan had spent studying his face like an astrologer divining the future in the heavens, learning to read his mayfly moods in each frozen glance and twitching frown. Because now, Ire had nowhere to hide the fact it wasn't just anxious fear in his eyes. It was concealment and guilt, and Julan knew it was, and Ire knew that he knew, and Julan knew that Ire knew that-- Julan's voice struck the silence like a hammer: "What?" Iriel swallowed. "Sweetheart, there's... something we need to discuss." next: 199: keening previous: 197: fire beginning: 1: numb

[ansu-gurleht]

ok so a little bit of uh. redguard shit that i can think of now, before ive really done significant research/thinking. 

i remember writing some uh. frankly kirkbridish but in a good way? stuff about some shit. (ok, before i explain what i wrote, i need to explain what i mean by kirkbridish but in a good way, because that sounds like a contradiction in terms.

what i mean basically is, i took some of the like....cadence and poetic phrasing and almost-incomprehensible-but-if-you-really-think-about-it-almost-makes-sense quality of his writing. like, kirkbride without kirkbride. does that make sense? i hope so)

anyways, it was like, about a society (not redguards, but i think it was a definite influence) where combat in the form of duels is like, wicked important. like sometimes wars dont even get fought, bc the people who have a disagreement fight it out themselves. all about studying different forms and fighting styles, really studying the blade, and even making a philosophy out of it. i guess elaborating on the whole “cut yourself into better shapes” thing, except you’re also cutting your society into better shapes, except it’s not necessarily “better”, just a kinda “if you win, your ideas win” thing. which is kinda how wars work irl, but acknowledged directly.

i wonder if such a thing might apply to redguards. i mean, obviously they fight wars, what with the uh, crowns and the other guys? i forget the other faction’s name. 

then there’s navigating what sort of irl cultural influences to focus on. there’s a clear middle-eastern sort of arabic influence in the redguards, but there’s a similar influence in the khajiit, and also the redguards take elements from certain african cultures, i think. the khajiiti culture is honestly weird to me, b/c i dont know where to focus on there - is it supposed to be an arabic sort of inspiration? or something else? if it’s something else, i can’t think of it, and the arabic inspiration is a little thin, too. i’d almost say it’s a fairly unique culture, but then again, just about every society in tes borrows heavily from irl societies. i’d really have to think about that too, so i can make khajiiti and yokudan cultures distinct.

aside from the whole martial culture thing, there’s also things like sword-singing and the far shore, and in general their stark differences from the other races of men. but that’s stuff i really need to look into, so i won’t bother saying anything here. then there’s the question of if you can make any real.... decent use of that kirkbride story w/ vivec and cyrus. it’s a pretty problematic story, obviously.

might be a bit difficult since (shame on me) i havent played redguard and ive barely played eso (there’s so many fucking expansions man. like jfc). but....well, hopefully i can make some decent sense of it, come up with some ideas.