#Gaiar Alata

[ego-osbourne]

elder scrolls for: bivvy

I don’t have art to post so have some dumb screenshots and other things that have been accumulating

Praise be…

the twins

thank you @orioncorium for this one

@mellowscrolls and I had complaints

yeah I’m sure

Iren silly

[countbars-mainblog]

The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion ↳ aesthetic: Gaiar Alata

[the-dwemereths-numidium]

Why did Bethesda have to make Ayleid ruins so pretty. I wish we could see ones that are still in good condition like Gaiar Alata. The cold lighting and minimalistic, curved, architecture contrasting with the organic motifs in the doors and dividers is fantastic. Changed my brain chemistry as a kid. Don’t mind my health bar the Nether Liches cast a Reflect Spell and I nearly one shot myself

[dankar-camoran]

After Paradise and Prelude to the Dragonfires

Scipio remembers landing a killing blow on Mankar Camoran, after a chaotic melee that by all rights should have killed him, and Mankar's spasms as he died. He remembers seeing Mankar's two children mirror those spasms, with Ruma dropping a dagger at his feet, and it's only now that he realizes that she had been a hair's breadth away from opening his throat when he killed her father.

He remembers looking for Eldamil, and catching sight of him just as he slumped to the ground at the same time as the Camorans did, and panicking as the palace started to shake, wondering if something had gone horribly wrong. He thought he had made a mistake somewhere, or that Mankar had planned for this, and that there would be no escape from Gaiar Alata as it collapsed. He would join Mankar and the souls of the Mythic Dawn as the realm fell forever into the Void, dead and more than dead.

And the very last thing he remembers is reaching for the Amulet of Kings, tearing it from Mankar's neck, and looking for a way out of Carac Agaialor, because he hadn't forgotten why he'd come here. If he did end up falling outside of Reality, he'd find his way back, because he told Martin he'd bring the Amulet back. If he did end up falling below everything that ever was, he would simply roll as he landed, and start climbing back towards Tamriel, Cloud Ruler Temple, and Martin.

But Scipio doesn't have to fall, roll, or climb. He's standing in the great hall of the temple, and he's surrounded by all of the Blades, each looking at him with unbridled awe, but he doesn't register their expressions at first. He's too focused on standing as still as possible, afraid that the slightest movement will suddenly cause this place to collapse the way Mankar's Paradise did.

"Blades! Do homage to Martin's Champion!"

Jauffre's voice causes him to release the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Simultaneously, the Blades around him draw their swords, and something in him screams danger and he makes to do the same, before realizing his blade is already unsheathed, in his left hand, still sanguine and dripping from the battle that had ended less than a minute ago.

The awed faces become a mixture of confusion, concern, and wariness, but the Blades do not deter from Jauffre's order, and they kneel around him, swords pointed to the ground, silently hailing him. He manages to make eye contact with Baurus, who, though visibly worried, is smiling at him, and it's only then that he starts to feel safe.

He takes a step forward, only for pain to shoot from his legs, arms, sides, back, everywhere, and he cries out and falls to his hands and knees, dropping his sword. The warriors leap to his aid, beginning the process of removing his armor. He hadn't kept track of all the wounds he accrued while in Mankar's Paradise. He was no fool and knew how even the smallest cuts could kill if left untreated, but he refused to treat them with anything more than minor spells and sips of potion. So long as he lasted long enough to get the Amulet back to Martin, he could handle any and all afflictions. He refused to let them kill him until he had done what he set out to do.

Some of his oldest injuries weren't even from any battles in Gaiar Alata, but from before his venture into Mankar's demesne: the trek through the Great Gate, into the depths of the Deadlands, or from the great battle that preceded that point. Although he'd been advised to give himself more time to recuperate, he insisted that he go to Gaiar Alata as soon as Martin was able to open the way there. He was sure it wouldn't take the Mythic Dawn long to start opening more Gates and launch an all-out assault on the Temple in a last mad effort to kill Martin. He would let his wounds close only with the jaws of Oblivion.

So, as he feels his cuirass and greaves and boots pulled from him, and the first tingles of spells on his body, Scipio lifts his head and asks in an exhausted yet firm tone, "where is Martin?"

Jauffre's hands remove his helmet, allowing drenched hair to fall over his face, "Martin is alright," he says, and Scipio allows his head to dip, realizing how much it aches to hold it up, "he's been preparing for the coronation, and thanks to you, we have everything we need for that process. He, ah! He's here now!"

Scipio's head snaps right back up to where it was, and he makes to stand, despite the agony it causes him. It's easier now that his armor has been removed, but he still struggles and shakes as he carefully plants his feet and rises. There, in front of him, is Martin Septim, and something in his eyes is bringing tears to Scipio's.

"You found a way back!" He says in a gasp filled with relief that feels as if it mixes with the lingering restorative magic of the Blades and amplifies it. "Does this mean..."

Jauffre and the rest of the Blades try to pull Scipio back down, but he resists, and they relent, not wanting to cause more agony. His gaze never leaves Martin's face, though he has noticed the magnificent robes he's wearing and the way his hair is done. He looks regal, and dignified, and utterly petrified, and Scipio's immediate instinct is to ask him what's wrong, before remembering how he himself must look: caked in a mixture of sweat and blood not entirely his own, wearing only a thin shirt and short britches, and smelling like an offering to Namira.

But there he is, the man who will save the world, with all the accouterments of an Emperor, save one. Scipio takes a small step towards him, careful not to stumble. Martin makes to assist him, but he holds up a hand to stop him, let him know that there's nothing to worry about.

He finally answers Martin, finding some strength for his voice at last as he says "Mankar Camoran is dead."

Martin looks as though he's not sure how to react to that. His face shifts from astonishment and relief to what may be some satisfaction, but that fades quickly. Scipio wonders if, despite everything Camoran has done, all the people he's responsible for killing, despite his destroying of Martin's own home and forcing him on this path, the man who is to become Emperor is still a priest first, and refuses to take even the smallest pleasure from the death of another, no matter how monstrous. So he simply says, "You did it. You defeated him." It sounds to Scipio's ears as if it's meant to comfort him, as if Martin is saying,"You're done. You're safe. I won't ask anything more of you. You've done so much, too much for me already." His legs are trembling, and his face is beginning to feel hot, but Scipio stands resolute, knowing the truth: he's not done yet.

It's something Martin is aware of too, all the moreso. He's had months to prepare for this: the journey to the palace, the coronation, and the lighting of the Dragonfires, as he begins his life as Martin Septim the First, Emperor of Tamriel rather than Brother Martin the Priest of Akatosh from Kvatch. He seemed like he had made peace with it during the last few conversations he and Scipio had had before the battle for Bruma, but even if he had, it surely must feel different now that it's so very near. This destiny that looms so large even at a distance must be unfathomably colossal now that it's so close.

And so when Martin asks "Then you have it?...You have the Amulet of Kings?" the trepidation in his voice does not betray the fear that Scipio may not have the Amulet, but that he does indeed have it.

Scipio lifts his right hand, realizing that his knuckles are white and his nails are digging into his palm from his grip on the Amulet. He had forgotten he was holding it, had been holding it since he seized it from Mankar's fresh corpse. His grip loosens slowly, achingly, as he looks at it, checking it for anything that may mar Martin's fine clothes. Once he's satisfied that it will not, he presents it to the heir, and can't help but to smile as he says "This belongs to you."

He immediately regrets the smile and quip when Martin does not take the Amulet, and instead looks at it as though it were a venomous snake, and reaching for it would cause it to strike him. "Belongs to me?" He begins, so quietly it's as if he doesn't realize he's speaking aloud. "So you and Jauffre have said. If it is true, if the Emperor really was my father, then I should be able to wear it." He slowly lifts a trembling hand to grab the Amulet, his birthright, his destiny, his curse. "Only those of the Septim blood can wear the Amulet of Kings."

The agony Scipio had felt before, is still feeling, pales in comparison to what it feels like to watch this. Martin looks like a man sentenced to die, his voice is haunted, and his fine robes suddenly look ill-fitting and wrong on him. He's not an Emperor, he doesn't want to be an Emperor, and yet he and Scipio have spent the past several months doing everything they could to get the Amulet back and make him Emperor despite what he wants. But now that the Amulet is here in front of him, it is abundantly clear that Martin, although relieved the Amulet is out of Mankar's clutches, still does not want to put it on, if he's even physically capable of doing so.

Scipio doesn't want him to either, and so, as Martin finally grasps the chain of the Amulet, he gently places his left hand atop Martin's to stop him. There's an infinitesimally small look of relief that comes with the surprise on Martin's face, and it lets Scipio know that this is the right decision. "I can...may I put it on you?"

Martin nods his consent after a moment, and he bends forward slightly. There is still no small amount of apprehension on his face, but he has relaxed somewhat. This way it feels more like one of the many things he's asked Scipio to do in the past: unpleasant but necessary, and something he had no way of knowing how to do himself. It's more bearable this way, if only just.

With a deep breath to steady his hands, Scipio takes either end of the Amulet's chain and reaches them across Martin's neck, and as he leans in to fasten it, he takes care not to make any more contact than is necessary, given the contrast between how pristine and perfect Martin looks and how repugnant he himself looks. It may have been easier to go behind Martin to put the Amulet on him, but there is something too reminiscent of placing a noose around someone's neck in that, and he doesn't want this to be any harder than it has to be.

When at last, the Amulet is fastened, Scipio leans back and stares at the man in front of him to see if he looks more like an Emperor. Martin blinks twice and swallows, and there is a shift in his shoulders and stance as if he's simultaneously had one burden lifted from him and another set in its place. The Amulet stays fastened, and does not slip off. There is no spark, no proclamation from the heavens about Dragon's blood or the Covenant; there is only a man in extravagant robes wearing an extravagant amulet who is wondering what the rest of his life will be like, now that he's wearing it.

The two of them are startled by a shout of triumph from the Blades, as they kneel before Martin, and when Scipio looks back at this, he manages another smile and makes to kneel himself. But before his knee can touch the ground Martin suddenly grabs his shoulders, acting much more quickly than Scipio has ever seen him act outside of battle. When this grasp is met with a wince of pain, it softens, but still remains, as the two men lock eyes. The look on his face is so grim that it frightens Scipio, and his heart pounds as he sees the tears beginning to fall from Martin's eyes.

"Don't you dare," He pleads. He doesn't request. He doesn't command. He pleads. "Don't you dare."

A levee breaks somewhere inside, and his vision blurs and his lips tremble and his breathing quickens as he allows Martin to embrace him, and he returns it, no longer thinking about the fine clothes or his own filth. All he can do is bury his face in Martin's shoulder, finding sanctuary in his hair. All he can say is "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Scipio feels a hand on his head, smoothing out the mess of his hair and there's a familiar tingle of restorative magic through his body. He realizes what Martin is doing, and wants to tell him to stop, but the words don't come, just cries and coughs and more apologies. He lets Martin heal him, and holds onto him as if letting go would cause him to fall down below, past Oblivion and into the Void, and he's so much more terrified of that prospect than he was before, because now he's with Martin, where he's supposed to be. He doesn't want to fall, he doesn't want to leave Martin's arms. But Martin won't let him fall. Martin won't let him leave. Martin holds him, heals him, strokes his hair, and speaks with a voice that wavers less than Scipio's, and will echo in his mind for the rest of his life.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"You're alright."

"I'm sorry."

"I've got you."

"I'm sorry."

"I've got you."

[horseboned]

also may as well save the topics i wanna talk about en masse so i dont forget. dagon and meridia's relationship, their frenemyship (and by extension mankar and umaril's frenemyship) during the oblivion crisis, how mankar camoran was right and how as its champion he was intimately aware of how dagon operated, what was being accomplished in gaiar alata, why mankar still failed, and why lorkhan in the form of surie resisted tamriel being cleared out so as to be her daedric realm

[nu-mundelbright]

BEHOLD! Gaiar Alata, the Mankar's realm, the entrance is before you now.

I don't even know but I had to get this out before I forgot it.

Two Daedra, powerful ones, their hearts being used as energy source to open the portal to Gaiar Alata.

My head hurts now.

[ladygwyndolin]

LOOK NOW UPON MY PARADISE. GAIAR ALATA, IN THE OLD TONGUE. A VISION OF THE PAST...AND THE FUTURE. YOU DIDN'T THINK YOU COULD TAKE ME UNAWARES, HERE OF ALL PLACES? IN THE PARADISE THAT I CREATED? LIFT YOUR EYES TO CARAC AGAIALOR, MY SEAT AT THE PINNACLE OF PARADISE. I SHALL AWAIT YOU THERE.

[psychotrope777]

longpost abt daedra kathutet is a kinda interesting character to me. for one he's unique in the sense that in a game full of dremora (TESIV) he's the only one you can have anything resembling a conversation with. it's also shown that even though he places heavy emphasis on the virtues of loyalty and honor, as many dremora do, he's kind of a lazy dickhead and prefers to have others do his work for him (there is little indication that he had any intention of freeing anaxes before the HoK appeared, and his attitude towards the siege of kvatch raises some questions regarding his integrity as a soldier). and though this kind of depends on how you perceive it (and even though he looks down on the ascended immortals for their cowardice), he seems less inclined than other dremora to battle given his decision not to kill the HoK on sight. he does mention that the HoK's response to the siege of kvatch won them some respect among the dremora (for... some reason), though the opportunity to kill the hero is evidently not something many dremora will pass down. his connection to the aforementioned virtues of loyalty and honor is also somewhat questionable-- even though he does honor his deal with the HoK, he fails to mention that you can't take the bands off, or why exactly no one is able to escape the forbidden grotto (which leads me to believe he assumed they would get killed there anyway). something else interesting: the vast majority of the named daedra in paradise were also soldiers of molag bal during the planemeld, and can be encountered at dark anchors in ESO. kathutet in particular even held what seemed to be a rather prestigious rank in molag bal's army, and was quite liked by molag bal himself-- so why did he leave?

the rest of this post is basically just a fan theory lol but i want to point out something that felt important to me. the book on the xivkyn (ESO) mentions that the xivkyn hate dremora in particular because of their defection from mehrunes dagon. i had been kind of believing that a lot of the sapient daedra had more or less "protean" allegiances and served the prince of their choice at will. and though it's mentioned in some older in-game texts, this heavily implies that dremora do owe their "original" allegiance to mehrunes dagon somehow, which means that all of the dremora (with the exception of orthe, who doesn't appear in ESO as of this writing) left the service of mehrunes dagon and then returned (which may be part of the reason dagon rewarded them with shitty positions in gaiar alata)

so ESO introduces the xivkyn, who in short are a New Special Kind of daedra created by molag bal to be his personal guard. the xivkyn detest both dremora and xivilai but are especially abusive to dremora, even by daedric standards. many positions of power in coldharbour's society are quickly usurped by xivkyn, and ambient dialogue from molag bal's dremora soldiers suggests that they are more than a little anxious about being replaced. even though dremora may seem from an outside perspective as being insanely authority-horny (mehrunes dagon set valkyn skoria on fire for eternity and it did not seem to greatly affect his loyalty), there are a wide range of tasks and postings (typically anything that doesn't involve fighting and/or killing something) that they seem to universally hate and which inspire doubt in the wisdom of even the most respected daedric masters (of course, broad generalizations do not help in understanding anything, but it also seems that across the board the most hated infraction of all is not recognizing the innate martial brilliance of an individual). i feel like it's possible that the rise of the xivkyn may have inspired many of the daedra in molag bal's service to defect (especially those belonging to a race of beings in which the most common recurring theme seems to be a weird pathological need to be respected and praised)

i kinda wonder how coldharbour looks these days? of course, xivkyn didn't appear in any of the core series games (they weren't introduced until ESO) but i can imagine they probably haven't gone anywhere. we know that as of the events of TESV that daedra worship tanked after the events of the oblivion crisis, with molag bal, arguably the least likeable daedric prince, facing possibly the worst deficit of worshippers-- to such an extent that his influence over nirn seems to have been greatly reduced. additionally, if there was in fact some sort of mass defection from his infantry, coldharbour probably looks a lot different nowadays lol

[morihaus]

i know i have a semi-annoyingly popular post about this but dagoth ur really hogged all the lines for elder scrolls villains. i mean mankar camoran has his moment in gaiar alata but DAGON doesnt get to say anything. the true victim of all of this. alduin never explains himself but at least he says anything at all.

[brightereyes]

okay here it is sorry scroll if u want

——————

By the end of his life, Taryn Carius had built a collection of private moments, moments of which he quietly promised himself never to speak to another soul. One of these such moments was his voyage through Mankar Camoran’s Paradise. The second the Amulet of Kings slipped from his hand to Martin’s, he knew that nobody else would ever hear of the horrors he had seen at Gaiar Alata; nobody, furthermore, would ever hear the name of Eldamil.

In the crimson depths of the Forbidden Grotto, Taryn had said, “Let me heal you,” before he allowed Eldamil to follow him into battle. He had lifted the stained Mythic Dawn robes and laid his hands upon scarred skin. The man’s regretful eyes had fluttered shut, and his face had softened from its mask of grief, just a crack in the stony set of his lips. Taryn realized that Eldamil had not felt a soft touch for an eternity, since before his death at the hands of the feral, cornered survivors of Kvatch. Since, perhaps, long before that.

Eldamil opened his eyes, then, and looked up at Taryn while the blue light of restoration skimmed along his body. He seemed bashful, like a child. Their eyes met. Taryn could have put his soft hands on Eldamil’s body and healed his scars, traced his sharp elven cheekbones, run his fingertips along his emaciated ribs. He could have felt compassion, empathy. Instead, Taryn fought back a twitch of revulsion.

All he felt was pity.

Eldamil would give his life to end Paradise. This Taryn knew as well as Eldamil himself did. Earning his redemption by that act was, perhaps, more than he deserved. Certainly a tender touch was too much. Taryn lifted his hands, and Eldamil looked as though he was tamping down disappointment which he knew was unwarranted, a selfish longing for something he had chosen to forsake long ago. The two went into battle without a word.

[luckydxy]

Mankar Camoran :  So, the cat's-paw of the Septims arrives at last. You didn't think you could take me unawares, here of all places? In the Paradise that I created? Look now, upon my Paradise, Gaiar Alata, in the old tongue. A vision of the past... and the future.Behold the Savage Garden, where my disciples are tempered for a higher destiny: to rule over Tamriel Reborn. If you are truly the hero of destiny, as I hope, the Garden will not hold you for long. Lift your eyes to Carac Agaialor, my seat at the pinnacle of Paradise. I shall await you there.

How little you understand! You cannot stop Lord Dagon. The Principalities have sparkled as gems in the black reaches of Oblivion since the First Morning. Many are their names and the names of their masters: the Coldharbour of Meridia, Peryite's Quagmire, the ten Moonshadows of Mephala, and... and Dawn's Beauty, the Princedom of Lorkhan... misnamed 'Tamriel' by deluded mortals.Yes, you understand now. Tamriel is just one more Daedric realm of Oblivion, long since lost to its Prince when he was betrayed by those that served him. Lord Dagon cannot invade Tamriel, his birthright! He comes to liberate the Occupied Lands!

Ask yourself! How is it that mighty gods die, yet the Daedra stand incorruptible? How is it that the Daedra forthrightly proclaim themselves to man, while the gods cower behind statues and the faithless words of traitor-priests? It is simple... they are not gods at all. The truth has been in front of you since you first were born: the Daedra are the true gods of this universe. Julianos, Dibella and Stendarr are all Lorkhan's betrayers, posing as divinities in a principality that has lost its guiding light. What are Scholarship, Love and Mercy when compared to Fate, Night and Destruction? The gods you worship are trifling shadows of First Causes. They have tricked you for Ages.Why do you think your world has always been contested ground, the arena of powers and immortals? It is Tamriel, the realm of Change, brother to Madness, sister to Deceit. Your false gods could not entirely rewrite history. Thus you remember tales of Lorkhan, vilified, a dead trickster, whose heart came to Tamriel. But if a god can die, how does his heart survive? He is daedroth! TAMRIEL AE DAEDROTH! "This Heart is the heart of the world, for one was made to satisfy the other." You all remember this. It is in every legend. Daedra cannot die, so your so-called gods cannot erase him from your minds completely.

Well done, champion! Your progress is swift and sure. Perhaps you will reach me after all. You think I mock you? Not at all. In your coming, I hear the footsteps of Fate. You are the last defender of decadent Tamriel. I am the midwife of the Mythic Dawn, Tamriel Reborn. I welcome you, if you truly are the agent of Fate. I tire of the self-styled heroes who set themselves in my path, only to prove unworthy in the event.

I have waited a long time for you, Champion of Old Tamriel. You are the last gasp of a dying age. You breathe the stale air of false hope. How little you understand! You cannot stop Lord Dagon. The walls between our worlds are crumbling. The Mythic Dawn grows nearer with every rift in the firmament. Soon, very soon, the lines now blurred will be erased. Tamriel and Oblivion rejoined! The Mythic Age reborn! Lord Dagon shall walk Tamriel again. The world shall be remade. The new age shall rise from the ashes of the old. My vision shall be realized. Weakness will be purged from the world, and mortal and immortal alike purified in the refiner's fire. My long duel with the Septims is over, and I have the mastery. The Emperor is dead. The Amulet of Kings is mine. And the last defender of the last ragged Septim stands before me, in the heart of my power. Let us see who at last has proved the stronger!

Ara : ahaha madness staff  ̷̐́gơ̴͇̜̪̾̇͐̓͛́̒̅ b̸̢̢̛̖̗͕̤͉̖̹̜͇͇̘̮̠͚̘̩̘̳̹̠͙͉̱̀̋̎̏̿̍̑͑̾̀̽͒̉͒̃͂͘͠͠ȑ̵͓͍̖̫̲̜̇̆́̈́̒̊̎̚͝r̸̡̢̧̳̱̭͔̥̥͚̰͎̩̪̝̘̐̀̎̈̀̓ṛ̴̗̻̗̾̀̇͒̈̒͝r̴͓̼̹͕̣̗̲̯̪̙̜̭̎̀

[dankar-camoran]

I like ya cut G

*smacks his head*

* he squeals as Carac Agaialor crumbles around him, his Paradise of Gaiar Alata dismantling from the pocket of Oblivion it had found itself in and folding in on itself over and over again until nothing is left but the Void*

*His wig is a Quest Item. You will bear it forever, first as a trophy, then as a curse*

Steals His Wig Slaps His Bald Head Three Times And Goes For The Kill

[dankar-camoran]

The Keys to Paradise

I am no lorebuff, but this is something I’ve thought about on and off for a while so, even if it doesn’t make much sense, hopefully people who have a better handle on the lore (and/or a better imagination than myself) can expand on this.

What is the connection between the Macguffins you need to reach Gaiar Alata and the relevant passage in the Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes?

“In his first arm, a storm.” The Blood of a Daedra This is probably the one I have the hardest time figuring out a decent explanation for. My immediate explanation is that storms, like Daedra, are associated with chaos; therefore, ‘storm’ is an apt metaphor for the essence of a Daedra. A bit too vague to really satisfy me, but it’s the best I’ve got.

“his second the rush of plagued rain.” The Blood of a Divine Another one I have trouble interpreting, but it’s got some interesting implications. “Plagued Rain” brings to mind Kynareth, since she’s associated with rain, which she first brought about when Lorkhan lost his Heart privileges. ‘Plagued,’ implies something is ill, tainted, or otherwise ‘corrupted’ somehow, which I think is a very abstract way for Mankar to describe how Dagon views the Aedra’s relationship to the Mundus: They may act as its Gods, but they are forever plagued by what they did to the true God of Mundus. It may even be that Mankar sees Kynareth creating rain as some kind of sign of guilt or remorse, if you think of rain as a symbol for sadness.

As for why the blood of Tiber Septim counts as Divine Essence, I think that, even if Talos wasn’t a God, it would still work, so long as he was a Dragonborn*, given that, since they’re marked by Akatosh, a little of the Dragon rubs off on them and counts as Divine.

“the third, all the tinder of Anu.” A Great Welkynd Stone Welkynd stones are said to fall from Aetherius. I’m not quite sure of any clear and explicit connections between Anu and Aetherius (if there even are any), but given that its the plane associated with the Aedra, who are often said to be more aligned with Anu, as well as the Magna-Ge who had second thoughts about making a big Change and thus, retreated back to the safety of Stasis, that’s enough of a link for me. the use of “tinder” to describe it is notable, given that “tinder” usually means something that’ll spark a fire. Since Welkynd Stones contain magicka and that’s their primary use, I wish I could find a better connection between Aetherius and Anu, because Anu being Magic is a neat idea that I have no idea what to do with.

“and the fourth, the very eyes of Padhome.” A Great Sigil Stone Liminal Bridges, in very loquacious terms, explains how sigil stones are anchors to create and maintain Gates to Oblivion. Given that Oblivion is where the Daedra are, and the Daedra are associated with Padhome/Padomay, the connection here is pretty self-apparent. Like tinder above, though, “eyes” is an interesting way of describing the stone. I’m of the mind that, since the stones are what allow the gates to exist, it’s more that the Gates are the “eyes” since they’re the connection between the Daedra/Padomaics and Mundus.

This is long and messy, but if you made it through all of it and have any thoughts, I’d love to hear them!

[yffresbeard]

“Shall I open the portal to Paradise? Are you ready?"

[dankar-camoran]

This is just how he greets his kids when they die and end up in Gaiar Alata because he's happy to see them and they've got plenty of quality time to spend together before the Hero of Kvatch arrives

Why is Mankar Camoran smiling like that?

[jauffre]

game typography challenge - flush the type to the left or right