#Silus Vesuius

[arimabari]

Finally finished my six characters! Thanks again to everyone for your suggestions.

In order:

Dar-Ma - Oblivion

Jiub - Morrowind

Harold (and Bob) - Fallout 2

Moira - Fallout 3

Silus Vesuius - Skyrim

The Final Pam - Fallout 4/Monster Factory

[2by19]

💜

[mukuuji]

A little while ago...

[omgkalyppso]

[mazurga]

Silus Vesuius's House

[dragonbreaks]

fehn getting mehrunes’ razor snippet

“You don’t understand,” Fehn snapped, shaking her head. Who could possibly understand?

She looked over her shoulder and met Gore’s eyes with more intensity than she intended, as she watched how he grew unsteady under her gaze. She must look ravenous to him, she thought with a hollow ache… She was.

“I am owed this dagger,” Fehn continued adamantly, unwavering in her conviction. It felt right, it felt just, to take a tool away from the entity that caused her family so much suffering and to wield it as her own. She wanted this, she deserved this.

The idea of weaponizing Dagon in a way that her fathers had never dreamed of set her heart aflame. It was vindictive, perhaps, indicative of the smoldering resentment that slept within her, but, because of that, it was righteous. Something that they could not do. Something that was uniquely hers.

Fehn turned her attention back to the altar that was painted with thin streaks of Silus Vesuius’ blood. Clenching her jaw, she put her hands upon its cold surface, parallel to the glittering, fragmented pieces of the hilt, pommel, and blade that she had collected and brought to the shrine.

In a venomous hiss, Fehn spat, “Show me the Razor.”

A dark chuckle echoed in her head.

[scribeofskyrim]

Loredas, 18th of Heartsfire, 4E 201

Divines, I need to focus.

We’re on the road south of Dawnstar, on our way to Windhelm, in a half-ruined fort called Fort Fellhammer and the mines it guards.

I realized that I don’t like to work on the house too long. I get a bit bored going back and forth between the anvil and the supply chests and the workbenches, and I keep running out of lumber, too.

I took one look at the spot where there used to be lumber, and said, “Let’s go look for my fiance/e.”

The others were surprised, and asked why I decided to stop work on the house. Truth be told, part of it was because I didn’t feel like running back and forth to the mill again. But also… It’s been in the back of my mind since I woke up at the Winking Skeever with that mystery makeup smudge on my face. It was distracting, and that Sam guy still owes me a staff.

Besides, I need to set the record straight with whoever I got engaged to. I know I’d feel terrible if someone proposed to me and forgot about it!

So we geared up, filled our waterskins and set off for Morvunskar to try and find Sam Guevenne.

The most direct route is towards Dawnstar, down through the mountains, then over towards Windhelm. We had a quiet trip to Dawnstar, unless you count the couple headed towards Solitude for Vittoria’s wedding. We heard their bickering before we saw them! I felt so bad for the Imperial guard they had escorting them.

We stopped in Dawnstar to warm up (is it ever not bitterly cold in Dawnstar???) and so that Erandur could see how the people were doing.

A week of actual sleep has really improved the town’s mood! We checked in with Jarl Skald, and he was arguing with his housecarl about giving more troops to the rebellion. He’s convinced that Talos is on their side, and that throwing bodies at the fight is the answer.

I don’t know if I agree with that, but Erandur just nodded and said that he would offer some prayers.

For who, he didn’t say.

On the way out of the hall a courier walked up. He had an invite for us from Silus Vesuius about a museum opening in Dawnstar centered on the Order of the Mythic Dawn. Erandur rolled his eyes and scoffed. Another dead cult – Just what Dawnstar needs.

I might give it a look when we get back.

We walked down to the docks to the big boat moored there. I know some can be hired, so I asked Captain Wayfinder - he looks younger than me!- if he was going to Windhelm. He said he can’t go anywhere until he gets the order of fine-cut void salts that his drunken crew misplaced. He said he’d pay me well if I retrieved them, and marked the location of the cave where they’d been lost on the map.

Lucky for us, it’s on the way to Windhelm!

We stopped at the inn to warm up and resupply, but on the way out the same little boy that had nearly been eaten by the dragon burst in and slammed into me!

He apologized, but stepped back when he recognized me. He looked a bit scared, but relaxed when Erandur greeted him by name.

His name is Alesan, and he makes money by running food and supplies back and forth to the miners. I asked after his parents, and he sadly explained that he didn’t have any. His father had been a sailor. Alesan went with him on his last trip, but the man got sick, so the other sailors dropped the two off in Dawnstar and left. Before I could say anything else, he was called to the bar to pick up another bundle of goods for the mines.

Erandur sighed as the boy rushed back out of the inn. He explained that Alesan’s been fending for himself ever since his father died. Erandur had been called in to try and heal the man, but by the time he got there, it was time to perform last rites. He’d offered to set Alesan up with a proper bed at the shrine in Nightcaller Temple, but the boy had refused. He was determined to take care of himself, and found himself a job almost right away.

Erandur said he helps Alesan whenever he can, but the boy refuses charity, for the most part. He gestured to a small blanket, neatly folded by the fire. “That’s where the boy sleeps,” he said. He looked sadder than he did in Nightcaller Temple, surrounded by the bodies of people he'd once called friends, and Valdimar put a hand on his shoulder.

I noticed that the blanket was the same warm yellow as Erandur’s priest robes.

We all looked at each other, and I slipped a few Septims into the folds of the blanket before we left.

I can’t get the thought of that poor kid out of my head. I mean, good for him taking care of himself, but that’s hard enough to do in a bustling city like the Capitol, with lots of food stalls to swipe from and rich people wanting to make themselves look good by throwing coins at beggars. He’s out here in the middle of nowhere, in the cold and ice!

They really do grow them different here in Skyrim.

We set off through the mountain pass, and it wasn’t long before we started to freeze again. Erandur said he knew of a small, abandoned keep nearby that once guarded a mine: Fort Fellhammer. The plan was to stop in quickly just to warm up, so we veered off the main road and walked through the gate.

Erandur apologized immediately. The fort was abandoned last he knew. It was quiet when we first walked in, but the bandits that used to be on guard duty outside popped out when they heard us.

It wasn’t a hard fight, and there were two doors to choose from. One went down into the mine, and the other into the keep.

I figured there would be less people in the mine, so I picked the lock and we went in. Valdimar commented on that, actually. He’d seen how badly my hands were shaking, and was surprised that it only took me three tries to open it.

Lydia came in last, and shut the door behind us. I heard her whisper to Valdimar, “That’s a tough lock.”

I don’t think she realizes how much louder her helmet makes her voice.

So down we went, and took out about half a dozen bandits in the tunnels below. It was hard fighting in such close quarters, but we did get a fair amount of loot off of them, and I took the time to mine all the iron I could!

After all, I still have a house to finish.

We left the mine and warmed up by the smelter before going up top to the other door. I was expecting even more bandits, but there were only two rooms and their leader up there.

Even though it’s not very late, the weather has gotten worse, so we’re going to stay here for the night.

I don’t know if any more bandits are going to show up, so we’re going to do a watch rotation. Besides, there’s only three beds.

-----

First watch is mine, as usual, and I can’t help but think of Alesan. The storm is terrible, and I know it’s even colder in Dawnstar, what with the sea wind coming right into town like it does. He should be safe and warm enough at the inn at this hour, and that blanket is thick, but it won’t do much against the stone floor.

I know I left him enough to get some food, at least.

Damn it. I need to make some space for him at one of the houses once I get this whole fiance/e thing cleared up. Who knows? Maybe I���ll actually like the person when I’m sober and they can take care of him?

That’s a plan. Maybe not a good plan, but it’s something.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

one of my skyrim OCs is actually my HoK but she got reincarnated (long story) so the uh. The mythic Dawn Museum guy. He does not get to keep his stupid museum very long or his life

(anyway I'm glad to know I'm not the only one that hates him and his stupid quest)

I'd love to hear it, though, if you ever wanted to share! 😄✨

We've discovered a movement of Silus Vesuius haters. I like it!

[endawn]

not only that, but he had no frame of reference for how long he had actually been in a deep slumber ( something something a form of uthenera something something ) as cyrodiil had its own calendar. 9:30 dragon? cool, has no idea what that means in relation to 4e5 akatosh — the year of his death. he tried to ask the local birds but they only knew 9:30 dragon from overhearing people. none of them had been across the sea to cyrodiil. after his possession is discovered and he’s allowed to stay, he will ask the warden for a favor. if they could accompany him to the hovel he woke up in. this home belonged to silus vesuius, an imperial scholar and fanatic of the mythic dawn cult that nearly ended the cyrodilic empire. silus had been proud of his family’s involvement in the cult and collected any memorabilia he possibly could before fleeing as his activities were no longer tolerated when it turned to grave robbing. though, no one quite realized whose body silus had stolen as the champion of cyrodiil was believed to be resting in a mausoleum situated by the white-gold tower in the imperial city. as it turned out, he had turned to spirits in the fade and they revealed the true location of pax’s body. the mystery surrounding. pax’s corpse needed to be studied as the last notes the cult had in regards to the ritual and revenge towards the famed hero were incomplete and incomprehensible. if the warden agrees, they’ll sift through the remains and what books were not destroyed by darkspawn. there, pax will eventually find a recently dated diary entry and the revelation is … a bit much. two hundred years had passed since his death.

could you imagine how confused and betrayed pax felt when he first woke up in ferelden? ocato promised him when his slumber was broken, he’d be free of hunger.

[harrypotterhousequotes]

SLYTHERIN: "I'll see everyone in Tamriel remember that for a moment, we held the fate of the world in our hands, for good or ill." –Emil Pagliarulo (Silus Vesuius: The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim)

[daggerfall]

Teth, upon entering Silus Vesuius' museum of the mythic dawn

[bingobongobingobongo]

THESE MOTHERFUCKERS HAVE THE SAME VOICE ACTOR I. HATE THIS INFORMATION

[what-even-is-thiss]

Skyrim guard: Who’d you have to kill to get a blade like that?

Me: Silus Vesuius. From Dawnstar.

Skyrim guard: Okay.

Skyrim npc: Pretty fancy robes. You a wizard or something?

Me: No, I stole these off a dead body after escaping from death row.

Skyrim npc: Okay.

[mukuuji]

a happy curator

[foreaft]

SEASONAL AESTHETICS : LUNA LOVEGOOD !

Repost, don’t reblog !

WINTER   —   a chill right down to the bones.  tobogganing.  teeth chattering.  sleeping all day.  sitting by the fireplace.  spending time with family.  layered clothing.  seeing another’s breath.  loving the cold.  a state of inactivity.  cold hands.  blistering winds shaking the closed windows.  a bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them.  cable knit socks.  a bitter remark.  a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.  hating the cold.  full length windows to peer out of.  pale skin.  deep conversations.  watching the snow fall.  sharp edges.  hot cocoa.  smelling every candle in the store.  a wild snow storm.  melancholy.  lighting candles around the bathtub.  snow globes.  expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words.  the softest of blankets.  liking, but not loving something or someone.

SPRING   —   the smell after it rains.  being in control of yourself.  a soft breeze blowing your hair.  lightning when it strikes.  cherry blossoms.  bright mornings.  the first sign of hope.  the relief of finding something you lost.  paris in the spring.  birds chirping.  the art of growing.  a kiss on the cheek.  the clap of thunder.  a tornado in the valley.  smiling at a stranger.  planning.  saccharine pinks.  making promises.  trying something new.  hugs when you need them most.  a bee sting.  sitting on the steps of the met.  coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm.  picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun.  that feeling you get when you put on a good dress.  a long hike.  rushing when you can take your time.  going to the gym / training at ungodly hours.  excitement for what’s coming.  becoming yourself.  rain boots.

SUMMER   —   lanterns lit around a campfire.  seeing the sunrise like it’s the first time again and again.  melting ice cream.  the warmth of sun rays upon skin.  fireworks.  the feeling of never wanting something to end.  beach days.  the lone blow up floaty left in the pool.  drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else.  music blasting at 3am.  loud and proud.  palms trees on sunset boulevard.  longer days and shorter nights.  wanderlust.  nights spent staring at the stars.  sand castles.  road trips.  blood orange sunsets.  leaving the laundry to hang outside.  flowers in bloom.  sneaking out of your room late at night.  pure contentment.  barefoot in the sand.  the street lights coming on.  the sound of the ocean in a seashell.  freshly squeezed lemonade.  loose clothing.  a cannonball into the pool.  sunflowers.  the hazy pink before dusk.  relaxation.

FALL   —   the leaves changing colors.  a heavy backpack.  the smell of old books.  eating until you’re stuffed.  deep, dark woods.  the silence in loudness ( the loudness in silence ).  abandoned houses.  ripped jeans.  crunching leaves beneath feet.  feeling like you’ve been somewhere before.  sitting at a bay window.  having endless amount of work.  charcoal drawings.  screaming into a pillow as loud as you can.  pumpkin patches.  creaky floorboards.  accepting that some things do have to change.  museums.  small talk.  being ignored.  procrastinating.  a door slamming shut.  going to bed early.  baking pies.  the fear of walking alone in the dark.  feeling completely and terribly lost.  a twig snapping.  crisp, cool days.  belly laughter after crying.  converse.  foggy mornings at the shoreline.  writing a daily entry in a journal.  a lonely day.

TAGGED BY : @talltalkr ! TAGGING : @undomael / @eadrg , @lonerebor , @simplywalks , @iaurhael + YOU !

[uesp]

Pictured: Mehrunes Dagon deliberating ignoring Silus Vesuius. You, however, are worthy of a conversation with Mehrunes Dagon...