#The Book of Ysmir

[tallmatcha]

[cables-and-wires]

i think the arcturian heresy is probably some bethesda employee's insane fanfiction

[nientedenada]

Five Skyrim Lore Facts You May Not Know!

And unlike some of the clickbait videos on Youtube, these ones are absolutely true. Let me address some of the most common lore confusions I regularly see. As a Listicle, because why not? (It's easier than writing out long lore posts.)

The Blades never served the Mede Empire. Martin was the last Emperor they served. They then devoted themselves to looking for a new Dragonborn and working against the Thalmor. Titus Mede I created a new organization called the Penitus Oculatus, which handled all intelligence and security for the Mede Dynasty. The Penitus Oculatus has been the official Imperial organization for more than 175 years, while the Blades have been an independent force. It makes the Mede decision to outlaw the Blades a lot easier to understand if you know they weren't their employees at all. The Blades were loose cannons they couldn't control.

Ysgramor didn't destroy the snow elves. The stories about Ysgramor say he and his 500 Companions showed up in Skyrim, killed or sent the snow elves into exile, took all of Skyrim, and then wandered over to pick fights with the neighbours. In reality, the Falmer weren't completely driven from Skyrim till the reign of King Harald, thirteen generations after Ysgramor. In the interim, there was a whole Dragon cult and war, culminating with Alduin being flung through the time wound. It's a long period. The real Ysgramor definitely clashed with his snow-elf neighbours but he's accumulated the stories of hundreds of years around his mythic name.

The Companions haven't been a Nord-only organization for a very long time. You might think that a bunch of warriors venerating the legacy of Ysgramor and his Companion would be Nord only, and that was probably true way back in the First Era. But by the end of the First Era, the Companions had boasted both a Redguard and Elf (Altmer or Bosmer) Harbinger. Cirroc and Henantier are some of the most famous Harbingers in the history of the Companions. We're in the Fourth Era now, so if you're playing a non-Nord, you're following in a long tradition by joining the companions. (As is Athis.)

The Imperial Legion didn't win back most of Cyrodiil in the Great War. People often ask why Titus Mede II agreed to the harsh peace of the White-Gold Concordat after his army had destroyed the Dominion army in Cyrodiil and taken back the Imperial City. But that's not what really happened. The Legion destroyed "the main army". Other Aldmeri armies are mentioned in Cyrodiil. After Red Ring, the Dominion still occupied Anvil, Skingrad, Bravil, and Leyawiin. "The Great War" doesn't say that any of these cities were liberated. Put those territories together and you'll realize the Empire never got back its coastline or the Niben river. Titus Mede made his deal while the Dominion still occupied half of Cyrodiil. Maybe he could have won if he'd pushed on, but his decision is a lot easier to understand with this context.

The Bretons Don't Worship Talos. This is one of my favourite lore bits to explain. Talos is not a god in TES II, Daggerfall, though he is a historical figure, Tiber Septim. He's only introduced as a god in Morrowind. So, a lot of people assume that he's been retconned into the Breton religion, like he was into the Nord/Imperial religions. This is not true. In both Morrowind and Skyrim, the book Varieties of Faith in the Empire does not list Talos/Ysmir as part of the Breton pantheon. They worship the Eight (and sometimes Y'ffre, Magnus, and Phynaster), as they always have. Tiber Septim is an important historical figure whom some Bretons regard as one of their own, but he isn't an official god. I love this tidbit because it makes the White-Gold Concordat absolutely brilliant. One remaining province, Skyrim, gets all upset while High Rock wouldn't care. Cyrodiil is presumably somewhere in the middle. It's a perfect way to drive a wedge among the provinces. (Hammerfell's left the Empire, but for the record, they don't worship Talos either.)

[chrismien]

Talos in Greek mythology originated as the formidable creation of Hephaestus, a colossal brass automaton commissioned by Zeus and bestowed upon Minos to safeguard Europa and the shores of Crete from pirates and invaders. It is said that Talos circles the island three times a day.

In the Elder Scrolls universe, the name Talos takes on a different story. He was also called Emperor Tiber Septim, Ysmir, and Dragon of the North. Within the lore, Talos is said to have harnessed the might of the Numidium, an imposing construct crafted by dwarves and fueled by a giant soul gem called Mantella. This enabled him to found the Third Empire and conquer all of Tamriel.

It's interesting that the two Talos' almost parallel each other. One commanded an automaton while the other was an automaton.

Below is a diagram depicting the Numidium from the in-game book Divine Metaphysics.

[illumiera]

Thehehe

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

from the fanfic writer director's cut asks—feel free to send one in or reblog so I can ask you!

thank you so much, anon!! 💖

⭐the opening lines of i fear no fate—"Laat Dovahkiin wears flowers in her hair. This is the thing that throws Miraak, above all."—were the first lines I ever wrote for this story. I had this very clear image of how Apocrypha might as well be a realm of the dead, an Underworld populated with those who've long since forgotten their mortal lives, and then Miraak is absolutely taken aback by the sudden appearance of Elentari who, by contrast, is riotously, colourfully alive.

⭐ speaking of Elentari and her flowers... this is where my long-lasting love of all things Persephone jumps out. in myth, Persephone has a dual nature as both goddess of spring and Queen of the Underworld so feared and so respected that in many texts, she's referred to only by epithet. I borrowed a little from that with Ellie, who speaks softly and gently, wears flowers in her hair, and excels at Restoration magic—but as her mastery in Destruction will tell you, she's capable of being downright devastating when she wants to be, too.

(it's also not all that often she's called by name, in-universe. it is known around Skyrim, but as Miraak notices, it isn't included in any of the books written about her. those familiar with her will call her "Elentari", or "Ellie" if they're Lucien, but most address her as "Dragonborn", "Dragonslayer", "Flameheart", "Arch-Mage", or "Ysmir".)

⭐but that's not to say that the flowers don't have a lot of symbolism in-universe, too! I like to imagine that Ellie would have started wearing them a while after her resurrection, after she emerged from a months-long haze of grief: a symbol of her new life.

her choice to wear blue mountain flowers in her hair was also very pointed, I think. I've long since envisioned her going to Sovngarde wearing those same flowers, so I like to think that whatever meaning they actually have, she was using them to say something like, "hey, Miraak, whoever you are, I beat the World-Eater, and I'll beat you, too."

(cue Luke Skywalker voice saying, "This is not going to go the way you think...")

⭐ I'm a big fan of sprinkling references to fairy tales and mythology about (in case the entire paragraph I just spent rambling about Persephone didn't already tip you off...), and I intended a certain part of the fourth chapter to be something of a callback to Orpheus and Eurydice. my idea this time was, “what if Orpheus didn’t fail? what if the answer is to walk through the dark, clutching your beloved’s hand, and turn to them and see all that they are and only that way will you be able to bring them back?”

⭐ here's an eyebrow-raising one for you, or for me, at least: in the third chapter, Ellie finds herself dreaming of Labyrinthian, then Bromjunaar, which was ruled by Morokei at the time. since by intervening there, she's rewriting time so that whatever she did was always going to happen, I wonder if Morokei ever felt anything of her while he was alive? magic leaves an echo, after all.

I like to think some part of him—whatever remained behind in his lich—recognised something in the Ellie who came to Labyrinthian shortly before becoming to Arch-Mage, even though the events of i fear no fate hadn't yet started. that's why he defaulted to Dovahzul, expecting an answer, only to switch to Tamrielic when he received no response.

one thing's for sure, she'll soon be very glad she re-killed him...

[3xm-draconic]

Bloodline of the Last Dragon.

Season 1/Episode 3: Whiterun.

The Riverwood Trader looked like it had been robbed…and from the argument between the store owner Lucan and his sister Camilla it sounded like they had been.

Despite Lucan’s misfortune he still had some things left to sell, some traveling rations, a torch or two and even better a spell book.

Last night Mattilda had read and memorized the tome she had taken from the skeleton mage in the cage back in Helgen, it was a tome of oakflesh, a spell of magical armor, a very useful spell to have since she couldn’t wear physical armor as a mage, it would be too cumbersome.

Amongst the tomes she could buy there were only 2, both were in bad condition but still legible, an illusion tome of clairvoyance and rather unique one a conjuration tome of conjure fire atronach.

That was a very rare and supposed to be a very expensive tome, why he was selling it for only 70 gold was beyond her, perhaps it was because he had it in such poor condition?

The atronach spell was also a little advanced for her, but she would never master it if she never tried it.

After picking some things up from the trader, she stopped by Alvor to buy a few whetstones off him. She knew the wisdom in keeping a knife on hand in case she ran out of magicka to use in a fight, nobody expects to get shanked by a wizard.

Hadvar wished her luck and again thanked her for helping him escape “you should go to Solitude and join the Empire, you can help us put the land back together and fight back against the Thalmor” he told her as the headed to the bridge out of Riverwood “and I hope you make it into the college, you’d make a fine battle mage” he smiled.

The road to Whiterun was beautiful, the tundra stretched out for miles in large flowery meadows and rocky scrub brush, the scent of tundra cotton and lavender in bloom was strong on the wind, butterflies dancing in the air as she saw the magnificent City of Whiterun com into view.

She passed the roaring river full of jumping salmon, a meadery that smelled divinely of honey and lavender, “ooh this must be this Honningbrew place, mmm I might stop by and get myself another bottle of that stuff” she hummed.

She passed by a few farms when suddenly the ground shook like an earthquake...

Up ahead Mattilda saw a sight to behold, a group of warriors fighting a Giant!

Mattilda saw them go at the creature ferociously, the giant swinging its great bone club left and right.

But then it switched its attention to the poor farmers who were trying to escape from the battle, Mattilda felt a rush of adrenaline and fear take hold as she charged forward and shoved the farmer out of the way of the giant’s rampage.

It came around again and swung at her, nearly tossing her into a stone, she retaliated and shot a jet of flames right at its face blinding it, Mattilda then got behind it and slashed at the tendons in its heels causing it to topple over. The final blow came not from her but from an arrow loosed by a tall auburn haired woman that shot it’s way past Matti’s shoulder and into the giant’s brian.

“You are pretty strong, you should come to Jorrvaskr and be a Companion” a strong warrior with dark hair said to Mattilda as he helped her up “a companion?”, “we are a group of warriors who honorably protect Skyrim,” the red haired woman said “and it would be nice to have a mage around, magic is as much a useful skill as a blade is” she turned to Mattilda “name’s Aela the Huntress”.

“It’s nice to meet you Aela, I’am Mattilda Viddarson” she waved “hey if you don’t mind me asking have you seen a Khajiit caravan with an elf man pass by here?”, Aela paused “yes I have, sadly they just left, why do you know them?”, “I know the man they brought with them, he’s my father” Mattilda answered.

Passing by the sables Matti heard a strange conversation, “by Ysmir it’s true, a jester funny suit and all, the fool had a coffin in a cart with a broken wheel, I’d like to see him laugh his way out of that one! Hahahaha”.

“A jester in Skyrim? There hasn't been a merryman here in over 100 years” Mattilda thought to herself as she approached the gate “still if he’s in trouble maybe I should help him out after I find my father, poor fellow must be having a rough time in skyrim”.

A guard approached Mattilda with his sword drawn “city’s closed with the dragons about, official business only”, “I’a, from Helgen and Riverwood seeks aid”, “Riverwood is in danger too? Come on in then but we’ll be keeping an eye on you” he grumbled.

The city of Whiterun was bustling and very open, the way the city flowed and was constructed felt like the grassy plains outside the walls, breezy open and free.

Mattilda hurriedly looked for Dragonsreach but also for the temple of Kynareth.

“Do you get to the cloud district very often, oh what am I saying of course you don’t” a rather snooty man scoffed at Mattilda as he asked around for directions, she glared at him as he walked away “jackass” she quietly mumbled.

She wandered around and found a courtyard area with a wilting dead tree in the middle. She looked around and up the grand steps was Dragonsreach…but just aways to her left was…

“THE TEMPLE!” she excitedly cried, she rushed forward but was stopped by a priest.

“Visiting hours are closed, you must come back tomorrow” he sighed, “wait, please, just tell me if a man by the name of Markus Viddarson is in there” Mattilda pleadingly looked at the priest, he looked at her “Viddarson? You wouldn’t happen to be Mattilda would you?” the priest pondered, “yes, yesI am!” she squeaked, “your father is alright but in serious condition, he will need a lot of time to heal and a lot of rest, don’t worry he is in good hands” the priest nodded.

Matilda sighed and felt a wave of relief wash over her, her father was safe…but for how long? And healing would be expensive, she would need to start doing work in order to pay for his treatments.

But there were other matters to attend to now, she needed to help Gurder and Alvor now by warning Balgruf.

Inside the esteemed halls of Dragonsreach Mattilda saw hanging above the Jarl’s throne was the skull of a massive dragon, as she approached the Jarl a dunmer woman took out her swords and threatened her. “What is the meaning of this interruption?”, “I’am a survivor of Helgen and I have come from Riverwood, they seek the Jarl’s aid, they are defenseless against a dragon, “your a survivor? Well that explains how you got in, come on then the Jarl will want to speak to you personally”.

Mattilda spoke with Jarl Balgruf and the man was horrified by her story and he immediately sent out a troop of soldiers to Riverwood, “but there is a more personal matter I could use your help with, come let’s meet Farengar my court wizard, he’s been looking into these accounts of dragon sightings”.

Farengar looked Mattilda up and down “ah a fellow mage, yes you could help me, I need someone to go into Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieve the dragonstone”, Mattilda tilted her head “dragonstone what’s that?”, “yes the dragonstone, it’s a map of dragon burial grounds, now off with you!” Farengar huffed.

Mattilda saw that it was getting dark so she headed over to the tavern, The Bannered Mare, she wanted a nice warm bed…but that would cost money.

Matti instead made her way back to the area with the dead tree and slept on the benches there…she needed to save every septim for her father.

.

.

[profanetools]

I'm really enjoying a playthrough with Lucien right now and I love him to bits but I have to imagine him and Adiya are just off adventuring away from the main plot simply because he's read too many lore books and if he ever encountered the Bthem + Ysmir/Zurin + LDB playthrough he would just lose his fucking dwemeriboo mind honestly.

[evil-is-relative]

May I ask you about your characterization of Miraak in Dragon Kin. I’ve been reading a lot of Miraak fics lately and theme I’ve come to realize is very plausible is the ptsd from books and libraries, because of Mora and being trapped for so long.

So my question is does your Miraak still like books after all that time, and then ending up the new Prince of knowledge, would he prefer to not be surrounded by books? Or does he still like them and is still hungry for more knowledge?

I hope this isn’t rude comparing others characterizations of Miraak, the question is coming from a place of wanting to understand, and how I might improve my own characterization of him, because he is a fascinating character I’d really like to write to the best of my ability. Thanks for indulging me even if I am being rude. Hope your week went well.

You most certainly can! I also have been reading a lot of Miraak fics (there were only about three when I started Dragon Kin, or I might not have started it at all), and the more Miraak the better!

I figure after so long surrounded by books, Miraak wouldn’t jump around them. Mine is fine with them, because the books in Apocrypha go through the same metamorphosis the people taken there do. Seeing the bright covers and actual words on the pages is reassuring, actually, because it means they’ve never been through the leeching effects of Mora’s realm. 

Miraak isn’t really hungry for knowledge, he’s hungry for change. He’s read history repeating itself over and over, and would really like that to stop, thanks. It’s FRUSTRATING to him, which is why his current goals are so antithetical to Mora’s (well, that and plain old spite, really). If people knew the things he knew, saw the results of their current path played over and over throughout time, would they do better? He actually thinks no, so guidance is needed. That’s his dragon ego coming out, really, but his name does mean Allegiance Guide.

My Miraak is, primarily, a teacher, but he hasn’t realized it. He finds other ways to explain his behavior, when he even thinks of it at all, but when he interacts with others, he generally ends up sharing knowledge. Ysmir realized this very quickly, but she has no idea that he’s so unaware of this part of his nature. He was teaching Darva by their second meeting, he willingly gave Ysmir his knowledge of a Word she’d just read off a Word Wall before she even had a chance to unlock it with a soul, and his first meeting with Blaise ended with him being so appalled by the boy’s spelling he gave the kid homework. Honestly, spending most of his adolescence as Paarthurnax’s pupil had more of an effect on him than he realized! 

And so Apocrypha is shifting with this mindset. It very well may go back to being the forest library it was when Miraak first met Mora, full of books that can actually be read and mysterious glades, with the hushed sense of wonder and timelessness all deep forests have. Hircine will be annoyed.

Thank you so much for asking! I LOVE talking about Miraak, and comparing people’s headcannons and portrayals of him is a big part of that! 

[juniper-tree]

wip wednesday

no I don’t care what day it really is and neither should you. thank you for the tags @impossible-rat-babies​ and @bitchesofostwick​ <3 I managed some Skyrim pre-smut, for a change of pace.

“I only want a candle. To see you.” His back thudded against the door. This was his room and had been for ages. He knew every corner and edge of it by feel, and the dark was no barrier to his movement even after the cure—when he was alone. Fearnhe presented a new object around which to navigate, to envision his lonely bed and piles of books and half-drunk scribblings and loose whetstones upon the floor. To place her among them. Her willow-strong grey body standing there. Her soul, which had no form, but sparked hot and ate the air around her like fire. She left him breathless. It was, by Ysmir, not the first time he had imagined her in his bedroom. He would not hope, not now, that it would be the last.

The age-worn door swung backward. Light spilled onto their feet, and Vilkas turned to face the alcove. He fumbled for the lantern, for the hooked handle, among the jumble of knives and tankards upon the table there. He burned his fingertips on its flame-lit glass and cursed. A clumsy fool, he was. It was no help that all his thoughts, all his humors, were focused upon one point, below his stomach. Before he shut the door, he took one last look around the alcove corners, through the hall which seemed emptied entirely, and silent. The lantern painted everything in warm light. In such shaded softness that all his collected mess, the evidence of his solitary life, did not look so paltry. The light stroked Fearnhe, too, with a fireglow. It could not dull her sharp silver. It only heightened the shadows he longed to plumb—behind her ears, between her breasts, every secreted spot shielded by that flimsy silk. If he were not disciplined, indeed, he might make a ripped, wet mess of that gown. A fleeting fantasy of it flickered, then faded: she would ask him to do that, to stain and shred that gossamer blue nothing to pieces, then force him to buy another for her, so he could do it again. He shuddered a sigh. Tonight, perhaps, he would not. It was such a fine dress, so tempting against her skin. Yet, if she demanded it…

tagging: @mars-colony​ @biggreenfeet​ @whatsherfacewrites​ @ladyoriza​ @pedlimwen

[tallmatcha]

Happy Wednesday! I’m alive and kicking (and still not drawing). 

WIP it good: @hogsbando @gilgamish @paraparadigm @justafoxhound @thequeenofthewinter @mareenavee @elavoria @varlaisart @downontheupside

[skrimcats]

Paju

Dragonborn Ysmir, the Dragon of the North Champion of Meridia Champion of Azura Nightingale of Nocturnal Master of the Thieves Guild

They were born in Riften, Skyrim. Their father, Ri’yppy, is the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, and their mother, Daro’ruis, was a member of the Thieves Guild. She disappeared when Paju was a child and their father became distant.

Masser

Paju and their twin sister Pujo have always been very close. Their family occasionally refers to them as “twin moons”, Paju often associated with Masser and Pujo with Secunda

Amulet of Articulation

Paju loved and admired their mother and thus they joined the Thieves Guild in order to find out what had happened to her. Daro’ruis had devoted almost her entire life to the guild and following her footsteps, Paju restored the guild to its former glory and became both a Nightingale and the Guild Master.

Thu’um

Despite their parents’ magical abilities, Paju’s magicka reservoir is almost non-existent. The only form of magic they can use effortlessly are dragon shouts. Their favorite shouts to use are:

Animal Allegiance — Makes travelling through the Rift less time and energy consuming when the bears are your friends. They also use falcons to carry out messages: letters to the family while they are adventuring and orders to the guild while they are at home.

Elemental Fury — While their magicka is low, their stamina is endless. They are always running around and they are fast at their feet, fast at shooting, fast wielding the blade, and fast at thinking. And almost unstoppable when they call wind to carry their attacks even more effortlessly.

Ice Form — They are almost always cold and so ice shouts come more naturally to them. Ice Form allows others to experience their cold hands while also allowing Paju a few precious seconds to escape.

Slow Time — They freeze the flesh, they freeze the time. Slow Time gives them extra time to aim their arrow and lessens their enemy’s time to avoid it.

Clear Skies — While the night hides them, they also love the sun and it’s warmth.

Vampirism

Paju has been a vampire twice. The first time they turned from Alva’s attack in Morthal. The second time Serana turned them so they could survive the Soul Cairn. They loathed themselves as a vampire and even after that because the cure required a black soul. Still, with Serana, they decided that life would be better for them and Paju’s family if they were mortals. Together, they sought the cure. After that, Paju offered her a new community from the Thieves Guild.

While Paju has been able to process some of the traumas and memories caused by the vampirism, they still avoid eating red meat and blood.

Chidna Mine: Paju was thrown into the jail of Markarth after unfortunate events as a vampire. They don’t really talk about that time, but it left them with a Skooma addiction (that their sister Pujo helped them to overcome) and a fear of tight underground spaces. They still keep the shiv they used to break out alone in their office’s locked coffer.

Dawnbreaker

Paju found Meridia’s Beacon from a small and remote cave when they were unknowingly becoming a vampire and weren’t feeling well either mentally or physically. As they picked up the beacon, a ray of light shone to their face through a crack in the ceiling and Paju felt like there was someone watching over them.

A day after they had returned the beacon, they became a vampire. They had already sworn to be the wielder of Meridia’s cleansing light and thus their own undeadness caused an identity crisis. They continued to use Dawnbreaker even though it burned their skin as well and they refused to drink blood, starving themself. Eventually, they no longer trusted their self control around human settlements and the pain started to become unbearable as they withered away. They had to seek a cure, even when it required sacrificing someone’s soul.

Despite the rather traumatizing events, Paju continues to believe that Meridia guards them, and Dawnbreaker lights their steps in dark and tight caverns they nowadays fear.

Letters From a Friend

Paju also believes that Meridia is the one behind the mysterious “letters from a friend” as the “friend” always seems to witness their deeds and the first one of such letters pointed them to Mount Kilkreath.

Nightingale Bow

Their mother’s old bow that Paju inherited. Daro’ruis was a legendary sniper whose every arrow was said to hit its target. Paju wanted to be like their mother in this too, but no bow seemed to fit in their hand — before this. Still, they cannot help feeling that they are unworthy of it.

Auriel’s Bow

During the years they spent seeking their mother, Paju also hoped to find their mother’s most treasured artifact: a circlet that seemed to give its wearer a magically accurate aim. They dreamed that it would aid them reach their mother’s level in archery. While searching it, Paju trained every day, completed Angi’s archery trials, and found and earned — not inherited — Auriel’s Bow. They never found the circlet, but although they do not fully realize it, they are more skilled than their mother ever was.

Nightingale Blade

Paju has one bow and one blade for dawn and day, and another ones for dusk and darkness. Through them they honor all their princes. The weapons also visualize Paju’s desire to not live contained within one of the opposites, but rather in both, neither, and in between.

Invisibility

Paju avoids killing people because of their personal morals and the convenience of leaving little as possible traces behind. That is why they have perfected the arts of stepping lightly and blending into shadows. More than that, they often literally disappear into thin air. While Paju is usually terrible with magic, at best they could switch between visible and invisible almost indefinitely. (with Shadowcloak of Nocturnal, the Shadow stone, Embrace of Shadows, and potions.

Jaska

A tame gray horse Paju found roaming Skyrim alone. He was a loyal friend until bandits killed him. The two were reunited when Paju found him again from Soul Cairn.

Tea

or infusions. After Chidna Mine and Skooma, Paju doesn’t really want to touch any addictives — including alcohol. Unfortunately, there aren’t many drinks in Skyrim that do not have alcohol in them. Fortunately, they are resourceful and after reading about the teas of Morrowind, they decided to try to brew their own.

I may write another post where I introduce more of their fave recipes because honestly they were fun to make, but their absolutely favorite is canis root and elves ear tea that is flavored with juniper berries.

Books

Paju’s library is one of the biggest in Skyrim and there is a copy of almost every book available in Skyrim. Collecting books is their passion and they are fortunate enough that their spouse, Nauris, is enthusiastic to help (even though she doesn’t really pay attention what books she brings and whether Paju already owns two of them). Paju’s career choice has also helped them to acquire rarer books that actually weren’t on sale.

More than collecting books, they enjoy reading books while relaxing at home or taking a break with them while travelling. Their favorite books are:

A Dance in Fire series

A Game at Dinner

Advances in Lockpicking

Beggar, Thief, Warrior, King series

Chance’s Folly

The Firmament

Herbalist’s Guide to Skyrim

Incident at Necrom

The Locked Room

Mystery of Talara series

Purloined Shadows

Three Thieves

Vernaccus and Bourlor

Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi

2920 series

Solstheim

After Alduin was defeated, they decided with their wife Nauris and their sister Pujo and her wife Lydia, to leave the Windstad manor they had built in Morthal and move to Raven Rock. Some born in Skyrim and other in Solstheim, with them also came the children of Paju and Nauris — Lydia (II), Jone, Jode, Ruis, Ulfric (‘Lilfrick’) — and the adopted son of Pujo and Lydia, Briar. The twins had also reconnected with their father, who retired and came with them. Together the two couples (occasionally with the help of Ri’yppy) can hopefully live in peace and rise their six children to a happier home than the twins had.

After the world was saved and the twins had found their mother, Paju felt a moment of emptiness with no pressing responsibilities. They continue to run the Thieves Guild with the help of messenger falcons and occasionally travelling to the mainland themselves. They have also started to write a biography of Daro’ruis with the help of their father, and an autobiography of the twins.

Trivia

Their name means ‘willow’

I omitted the “the last” from their Dragonborn title because in this universe they weren’t the only dragonborn. Their wife Nauris, their friend Lydia, and Pujo were all the last dragonborns simultaneously.

I tried to avoid Paju’s death while playing and while I did not succeed 100% I got relatively far. I gave them their scar after the first death (they were ambushed by bandits between Morthal and Dawnstar)

Their eyes are actually so narrow that whenever they are in combat and they squint slightly, their eyes just seem closed. They are just… so mad at mudcrabs…… they don’t want to even see them...

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 15: Not of This World (Part 2)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 15: Not of This World (Part 2) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 15/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

More information is revealed between Tim and Lucien as they rest for the night after escaping Bleak Falls Barrow.

-------------------------

Tim had been feeling uneasy since he asked Lucien if he had a copy of a world map. While listening to the scholar's story and history, he became curious about this land called Cyrodiil. From what he could gather, it was somewhere beyond Skyrim, but the further Lucien went into his stories, the more frustrated he became.

Having no frame of reference for any of the locations was bothering him.

Knowing so little in general about this world he was trapped in made him feel extremely uneasy.

So... He asked, "Do you have a map of the world?"

The map Lucien spread out across that stone floor was a functional work of art. As Tim studied the map of Tamriel, a part of him was awed that someone had created such a beautiful detailed thing by hand with just pen and ink on parchment. He felt similarly about the parchment map of Skyrim he had sitting folded neatly in his own bag.

It was beautiful.

But it wasn't a map of any country on Earth. 

A part of Tim had been harboring a small hope that perhaps he was dealing with some sort of Multiverse-shenanigans. Perhaps he was on an alternate Earth where sword and sorcery were king instead of science and technology? Or maybe there was time travel high jinks in play? This world was clearly set on some sort of medieval timeline. Magic and dragons loomed large in old legends in Europe, so perhaps there was a kernel of truth to the fairy tales?

But as Tim studied the map, trying to find any familiar shape among the coastlines, lakes, and mountain ranges, he felt his heart sink.

His face must have been reflecting the encroaching despair that had been chasing him ever since Helgen as Lucien's voice disturbed the silence. "Does nothing on that map look familiar to you?" Then, a bit later, Lucien asked "Then... Where on Nirn do you come from, if not from Tamriel?"

In that moment, Tim decided to take a chance. He looked at Lucien and asked, genuinely, "Nirn? Is that another continent, or is that the name of the entire world?"

As Lucien stared at him in disbelieve, jaw working to form a response but no words escaping him, Tim felt a wave of regret wash over him. He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. "Shit. Shouldn't have opened my big mouth. You probably think I'm crazy or stupid."

Finally Lucien found his voice. "No. Of course not!"

Tim gave him a deadpan, "don't try and bullshit me" stare.

Lucien sighed. "Well... Perhaps a touch of madness is on the table as a possibility, but certainly not stupidity! The expression of your intelligence in the Barrows was quite indisputable." The scholar took a measured breath and tee-peed his fingers in front of his face, tapping his lips with the apex of his joined fingertips. "Honestly, I was leaning more heavily towards some type of memory loss triggered by the trauma you experienced at Helgen." He looked at Tim over his fingertips.

Tim smiled wearily. "That might make a nice plausible cover-story later on, if anyone asks about my past," he mused. 

"But that's not it..."

"No. That's not it." Tim looked over Lucien appraisingly, trying to mentally gauge how much he should and shouldn't tell the scholar. Then he got an idea. He pulled out his own journal as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. Then he set to work carefully sketching the basic forms of all the known continents of his Earth from memory. Once the shapes of the large land masses were set, he added more details, such as borders between major countries and the locations of major cities along with their names. Lucien watched him work with great curiosity. 

Once he was done, Tim took a steadying breath before he offered Lucien the drawing. "This is a map of the continents of the place I come from," he admitted solemnly. Tim pointed to the dot on the North American continent he had labeled "Gotham City". "And this city is my home." He looked to Lucien. "In your studies, have you ever seen any land masses or maps that are similar to any of these places?"

Carefully, Lucien took the journal and held it a little closer to the light from the campfire. As he studied the rough drawing, his brow furrowed and absent-mindedly he stroked his mustache and goatee as his expression became more thoughtful and inward. After a few quiet moments, the scholar shook his head slight. "I'm sorry. I have studied a fair number of historic maps over the years, but I've never seen any that resemble the land masses displayed here." Lucien set the open journal down next to his own map of Tamriel, so he could look at both at the same time, arms crossed across his chest as he still let his eyes wander from one map to the other.

The silence between the two of them was agonizing to Tim. He could feel a coil of anxiety tightening in his chest, though he tried to keep it suppressed and his expression neutral. "What are you thinking Lucien?" He finally worked up the nerve to ask.

Lucien closed his eyes. "I... don't know yet," he admitted. "I don't have enough information." He finally looked up at Tim. "If you are comfortable with it, can I ask you a few questions?"

Tim nodded, even as he drew his cloak a little closer around himself, as if he was cold even despite the roaring fire in front of him, looking more guarded than forthcoming.

Lucien pulled out his own journal and flipped to a clean page. Then he began to voice a few questions, keeping them with a simple yes/no format. 

"I'm going to give you a list of names. Let me know if any of them are familiar to you. Yes or no answers will suffice."

Tim nodded. 

"Azura?" 

"No."

"Boethia?" 

"No."

"Clavicus Vile?" '

Tim tilted his head. "I know the word 'vile".

Lucien paused in his notes. "But as the name of a being?" 

Tim shook his head.

"Hm... " Lucien murmured thoughtfully. He went down the rest of the list of Tamriel's known Daedric Princes.

Hermaeus Mora. 

Hircine. 

Malacath.

Mehrunes Dagon. 

Mephala.

Meridia. 

Molag Bal. 

Namira. 

Nocturnal. 

Peryite. 

Sanguine. 

Sheogorath. 

Varemina.

To each name, aside from recognizing "nocturnal" and "sanguine" as common words, but not necessarily proper nouns, Tim responded in the negative. He clearly had no knowledge of the Daedra Lords of Oblivion. 

Lucien then moved on. He offered Tim another list of names. It was going to be shorter this time, just the list of the Eight Divines.

"Let's start off with Akatosh--"

"Akatosh..." Tim echoed as memory shards darted through his mind. 

                  ... an ancient temple?                                           ... "A-ka-tosh?"                                                             ..."Dude?! You can read that?"                                                ... "Detective?! What are you--"                                 "DOVAHKIIN!!!"...                                             ... "MEYZ NU YSMIR, DOVAHSEBROM!...                                                                                  ..."ROB!"...                                                                            ... "TIM!!!"                                                                                     ... FALLING!!!..

"Timothy?! Timothy can you hear me?!"

Tim felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him... Until he realized he was the one trembling, and Lucien's hands were trying to hold him steady. Lucien's eyes were wide with concern.

"Lucien?" 

The scholar breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. You went catatonic the moment I mentioned Akatosh. Are you alright?"

Tim buried his face in his hands. The shaking was settling, but not completely gone. "I... don't know," he admitted. "That name... it's familiar, but my memories." He groaned as he felt the spike of a migraine building behind his eyes the harder he tried to remember. "I can't sort them out. Like they've been ripped to pieces. Hurts..."

Lucien pressed a hand to Tim's forehead and noticed he seemed to be far warmer than normal. He frowned. "Here now. I think that's enough for tonight. You are still injured and you need to rest." He helped to lay out Tim's bedroll, despite the weak protests from the younger man. "We'll start off in the morning to Whiterun and as soon as we finish dropping off that Dragonstone with the Jarl's wizard, you're going straight to the temple for proper healing. I think your luck's run out regarding that burn not becoming infected."

Tim tried to protest, but he felt so physically, mentally, and emotionally wrung out. Gingerly, he laid himself down and drew his cloak around himself to stay warm. "Lucien?" 

"Yes?" Lucien had taken a length of linen wrap from Tim's bag and soaked it with water from the rain still falling outside their shelter. He knelt beside Tim and placed the cool compress on his forehead.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

The scholar gave him a reassuring smile. "I think... I don't believe you're crazy, but I do think you have experienced something that neither of us can quite explain. Don't worry... Once we've completed your task and once you are healed, I will help you find your truth."

That seemed to reassure Tim enough that he finally relaxed to a point where he could let exhaustion drag him under into unconsciousness.

***

Once Lucien was assured that Timothy was fast asleep, he went back to the maps on the ground, and also to both their journals. After a quick glance to make sure his companion was still resting, Lucien picked up Tim's journal and flipped back to the start of the book and read over the few earlier entries that existed. His brow furrowed at some of the contents he read.

"January 23, 20XX... 24 hour days? Is he's on a different measure of time?"

"Gotham... That's name of his home city, but where is that from? His map of his world is so strange? Could it be a land from a plane of Oblivion? But which one, and how? Could it be there's an active Oblivion Gate somewhere in Skyrim? Terrifying thought...."

"Also... Is it possible he is from Nirn, but crossed paths with a Daedric Lord and just didn't realize it? Sheogorath's touch perhaps? But those who are touched by the mad god are usually completely manic or violently insane. Timothy, by comparison, seems quite in control of his mental faculties, if a bit confused at most."

"Medieval? What does that word mean?"

"Oy... no wonder he bristled at the mention of the Imperial Legion... Better be careful when we make our way back to Solitude. He might react poorly if we're approached by anyone that looks like a soldier."

"Clearly no understanding of potions or magic. Maybe they don't exist where he comes from? Hm... Seems the same way regarding Septims as well. Likely different monetary units in his homeland."

After reading the only four entries in the book, Lucien felt marginally guilty about reading Tim's private thoughts, but now he had a little bit more information about his travelling companion.

Too bad he ended up with more questions than answers.

"Who is this young man, and where is his homeland located?"

"How did he get to Skyrim, and for what reason was he brought?"

"Why did he react so unusually to the mention of Akatosh?"

"Is it possible a Divine or a Daedric Lord is involved somehow?"

"How can we get him home?"

Timothy Drake-Wayne was certainly an intriguing puzzle he really, really wanted to solve.

-------------------------

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2: Dragon Tongue Translations: - DOVAHKIIN - Dragonborn - MEYZ NU YSMIR, DOVAHSEBROM - Come now Ysmir, Dragon of the North ***** So ends the evening of rest before making their way back to Whiterun.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[boethiah]

I read that Shor was apparently present at the Battle of Red Mountain and he came close to reclaiming his Heart, only to be foiled by Nerevar, who tore his Heart back out and defeated him. Do you think there's any truth to this? No one ever mentions Shor outright, and the information only comes from a book. :/

this is from the five songs of king wulfharth! and i take it as... somewhat true?

honestly i take the five songs of king wulfharth as canon because it’s the account that actually helped resolve in my head what house dagoth was actually doing during the battle of red mountain-- which is to say, it helped me realize that red mountain was a three faction war between the chimer, the dwemer, and a horrid dagoth + nord faction dual-championed by voryn and ysmir

as for shor himself being at red mountain, there’s a false aspect and a true aspect. the false aspect is that i don’t think he was literally there, but this lore does indicate that the nords were aware that the heart lay within red mountain (allegedly because voryn told them) and they do see the heart as its own entity. the nords are skalds with a strong storytelling tradition and a flair for the dramatic, and introducing shor to the narrative was their way of resolving the very, very murky events that occurred within the heart chamber. if they must write about the nords being defeated again, best make it poetic. the true aspect is, of course, that wulfharth, a shezzarine, was there, and it very well could’ve been lorkhan himself who resurrected wulfharth to fight in that battle.

[actuallykiwi]

Inner Dragon Chapter 2: The Calm Before

The one thing they never tell you about experiencing some sort of trauma: how strange it is to find another place so calm. 

Riverwood was only a few miles from Helgen, so for Annie to walk into the town with Hadvar and see how at peace it was, she felt almost out-of-place. Helgen was just burned to the ground by a dragon, just down the road, and here they were, living another unchanging day. The only way she knew she didn’t dream it was an elderly lady yelling about seeing a dragon fly overhead. It left a pit in her stomach. 

She and Hadvar approached the blacksmith where his uncle was working. She let him take the lead in telling his uncle about what happened, but stopped him before they went inside to discuss it further. “Um, Alvor... has anyone else passed through here? Particularly a young man that kinda looks like me? But dressed in Imperial armor?” Alvor shook his head. “No, my dear. You and Hadvar are the first.” 

“Oh...” she glanced back at the road, hoping that maybe Alec was just right behind them. “You both were the first, but maybe not the last.” He assured her. “Come inside, you can tell me what happened and maybe he’ll come around later.” 

She nodded and followed him into his house. They all sat around the table while Alvor’s wife Sigrid poured them a mug of ale. Hadvar filled his uncle in on the ambush, the execution that almost happened, and then the dragon attack. “A dragon? That’s ridiculous. You just had some ale, you aren’t drunk already, boy?” Hadvar chuckled. “Honestly, I wish I was. But a dragon destroyed Helgen. Flew in out of nowhere and just... wrecked the place. Mass confusion. I’m not sure how many people made it out, but I know I wouldn’t have if not for my friend here.” He gestured at Annie, who was nibbling on a sweet roll that Sigrid passed her. She cleared her throat and covered her mouth, blushing. “Oh, you’ve got it backwards! You saved me, Hadvar.” 

Alvor smiled. “Well, whoever was the hero here, I’m glad you both made it out.” Hadvar nodded. “Agreed. But I need to get back to Solitude and report what’s happened. I was hoping you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay...” 

“Of course! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, I’m glad to help however I can! But I need your help. We need your help.” He looked at Annie. “What do you need?” She asked. “The Jarl needs to know if there’s a dragon on the loose. Riverwood’s defenseless... We need to get Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you do this for me, I’ll be in your debt.” 

Annie stood and shook her head. “You won’t owe me a thing. We saw how strong that dragon was, the Jarl needs to know. The only thing I will ask for in return is for you to keep an eye out for my brother, Alec. He was there, too, but we got separated.” “Is that the man you mentioned before? I’ll be sure to watch for him. Thank you for this.” Alvor smiled at her, and she returned it. 

Hadvar’s family loaded them with supplies for their trip, and bid them farewell. “I can take you to Whiterun, but from there I’ll have to leave for Solitude.” Hadvar explained. Annie agreed, and they set off for the city. 

The trip up to Whiterun was rather uneventful, aside from some wolves, a reveling trio, and out on the farms, a merry band taking down a giant, which Annie was thoroughly entertained to watch. Hadvar walked her to the outer walls of the city, by the stables, and bought a horse for the rest of his journey. “You sure you’ll be alright on your own? Do you want me to wait on you?” He asked her. “No, you’ve done enough. Thank you for getting me this far, but I don’t want to keep you from your duty. Just keep an eye out for Alec for me, okay?” 

He nodded and mounted his horse. “Absolutely. Stay safe, Annie. Gods guide you.” “You too, Hadvar.” She smiled at him as he rode off, then sighed as she turned to enter the city. As she approached the gate, a guard stood blocked her from coming in. “Halt! City’s closed with dragons about, official business only.” 

“Please, Riverwood calls for the Jarl’s aid.” The guard seemed surprised. “Riverwood’s in danger too? You’d better go on in. You’ll find the jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill.” She thanked him as he opened the gate for her. 

It was strange, entering an entirely new place on her own. She was used to a parent or Alec being with her because she got sort of lonely pretty quick. The world felt suddenly much bigger to her as she strode through the city. It was much more lively than Riverwood, but not nearly as bustling as the cities back home in Cyrodiil. Right away at the city gate, an Imperial armored man argued with the blacksmith. In the market, a snooty noble was bragging to a young woman. Perhaps the most interesting thing she witnessed though was a priest preaching about Talos in the square with a large, dying tree in the middle. He made her exceedingly nervous, considering that worship of Talos was now prohibited by the Thalmor. She wondered if they would come for him. Certainly not by her word. 

Eventually, Annie found her way to the stairs leading up to the palace at the top of the hill. At the top, she turned and looked out over the city. She loved heights, as they offered the best views. She took a deep breath, and allowed herself a moment to catch her breath and calm her nerves before she entered. “What is it, Imperial?” A guard approached her. “Oh, I-I’m here to speak to the jarl. Sorry, I just wanted to admire the view for a moment.” She smiled at the guard and crossed the bridge into Dragonsreach. 

The jarl’s voice was echoing across the large chamber, deep in conversation with his steward. Annie nervously eyed the maids sweeping around the entrance, hoping to get some reassurance. They paid her no mind. So she took another deep breath and followed the staircase up to the large, ceremonious table in front of the throne. She almost froze to the spot as the jarl’s housecarl drew her weapon and approached her with extreme caution. “What’s the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.” 

Annie gulped and carefully put her hands up, trying to keep her voice steady. “I have news from Helgen, about the dragon attack.” The housecarl eyed her closely, then sheathed her weapon and allowed Annie to pass. “Well, that explains why the guards let you in. Come on, then, the jarl will want to speak to you personally.” 

The jarl’s eyes trained on her as she slowly approached the throne. Now that she could see him, she could tell that, underneath his stern gaze, slightly concerned expression, and firm grip of the arm of the throne, he was tired. But the way his gaze had focused on her, he wasn’t about to show it. When he spoke, his voice was booming, but in a lighter tone than Ulfric’s had been. 

“So. You were at Helgen. And you saw this dragon with your own eyes?” Annie nodded. “Yes, I was there. It completely destroyed Helgen, and it flew off in this direction.” The jarl gripped his throne tighter. “By Ysmir, Irileth was right!” He muttered. He looked over at his steward. “What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?”

His housecarl chimed in, “My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It’s in the most immediate danger, and if that dragon is still lurking in the mountains somewhere-” “The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He’ll assume we’re preparing to join Ulfric’s side and attack him!” The steward shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “We should not-” 

“ENOUGH!” Balgruuf slammed his fist down, causing everyone near him to jump. “I’ll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!” Proventus seemed to shrink into himself, and Balgruuf sighed, turning back to his housecarl. “Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwod at once.” She gave a small bow and salute, “Yes, my jarl,” then turned and walked to do his bidding. Proventus nervously cleared his throat and bowed as well. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my duties...” The jarl almost seemed to sneer at him. “That would be best.” 

Annie now stood at full attention as Jarl Balgruuf stood from his throne and approached her. “Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You’ve done Whiterun a service, and I won’t forget it.” He gave her a respectful smile and held his hand out to her. She smiled back and shook it. She could feel the rough calluses on his fingers, and the firmness of his grip convinced her that he was trying to keep it together. “Of course, sir. I’m only here to help.” Now his smile was sincere. “Glad to hear it. There is another thing you could do for me, if you’re interested. Come, let’s go find Farengar, my court wizard. He’s been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons.” He lead her past the dining hall of the grand chamber into a smaller room to the side, where a man covered in dark robes was pouring over a book. Judging by the mess of parchment, quills, maps and scribbled notes all over the table he was leaning over, she assumed he had been working at this for a while.

“Farengar, I think I’ve found someone who can help you with your dragon project.” A solid few seconds passed before the wizard’s head popped up from what he was reading. The bags under his eyes confirmed her suspicion. “Hmm? So the jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh yes, he must be referring to my research on the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me-Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there.” The entire time he spoke, it was as if he was falling asleep and waking back up again. His words would blur together, and then speed up, and by the end of his last sentence he had lost his breath. Annie tried to process what he said. “Uh, alright... where would I be going and what would I be fetching?” Farengar seemed to catch his breath. “Straight to the point, eh? No need for tedious how’s and why’s? I like that.” Annie looked back at the jarl. He just smirked and shook his head. “I, uh, learned of an ancient stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow- a “Dragonstone”, said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet-no doubt interred in the main chamber, and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.” Annie tried not to laugh. Right, simple. Balgruuf stepped forward between them. “This is a priority now. Anything we can use to fight a dragon, we need it, quickly. Before it’s too late.” 

Balgruuf began to walk back toward his throne and Farengar went back to his notes. “Uh, wait, Jarl Balgruuf?” She called for him. He turned to regard her. “I’m looking for someone... he was at Helgen with me. His name is Alec, an Imperial soldier. I was wondering if maybe you had heard anything about any other survivors? Surely some wind of what happened has passed through here...” The jarl thought for a moment. “Hmm... I haven’t heard any names, I’m sorry... But I have heard from scouts from the eastern watchtower that they witnessed a young man being taken by the Thalmor, up toward the northeast. They didn’t describe any armor, but there may be a chance...” 

Annie paused. Why would the Thalmor be taking Alec? Sure, they were a highly suspicious bunch, but he was doing his duty as a soldier. Maybe the scouts misread what was happening? Either way, if there was even a chance, she wasn’t about to pass it up. “I’ll... look into it. Thank you, my lord.” She gave a small bow. “Be careful out there, if you go after him. The ruins will be dangerous, but so are the Thalmor. Watch yourself.” He strode back to his throne. 

She hesitated to process what she just agreed to. He wasn’t lying, ancient ruins are typically rather dangerous. But the Thalmor were not people you messed around with. Might as well start there. She left the palace wondering if she was severely in over her head.

Previous

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[bitchwhoreofastorm]

ON MORDRIN HANIN,

As requested. A compliation of what we know about the First Era Mehrunes Dagon cult-leader known as Mordrin Hanin, compiled from Vvardenfell myth, Elante's memoirs, Telvanni records and my own archeological inquests. Masha Gra-Nirgol, Mournhold.

HANIN Mordrin Hanin was a prominent and powerful follower of Mehrunes Dagon who achieved massive political power in Vvardenfell during the Nordic Occupation and Resdayn periods of the First Era. Most notably he was responsible for the wholesale destruction of House Sotha, the House of the living god Sotha Sil.

HISTORY Little is known about Hanin's origins or how he came to power. His diverse array of acquaintances and learned worldview are suggestive of previous travel, but this is speculation only.

CONQUEST In the First Era, Daedric cults operated with a similar structure and autonomy as the Ashlander Tribes and Minor Houses. These groups formed individual units which could come to possess territory and even be respected in their regional political landscapes. Mordrin Hanin upset this order by attempting to conquest Vvardenfell. By a combination of ruthless guerilla warfare and cunning political manouveuring, Hanin laid claim to great swathes of the subcontinent, and eventually succeeded in controlling large parts of it, though he could never reliably hold this territory.

EXTENT The West Gash was Hanin's central territory, but he held core bases across the continent. Maelkashisi (west), Ashalmawia (north-west) and Assurnabitashpi (north) were his strongholds. At the maximum extent of his influence, he also controlled Azura's Coast, ranging from Ald Daedroth in the north to Ald Sotha in the south, with major bases at Anudnabia and Tukushapal.

IDEOLOGY Mordrin Hanin preached that Vvardenfell was a blessed land, and that the mer who lived there were superior. He preached that Mehrunes Dagon represented the natural disasters and harsh climate of Vvardenfell, and that adverse weather events should be seen not as tragedies but as opportunities to strengthen the herd. He advocated a 'survival of the fittest' ideology and focused on cowardly 'Mainlanders' (non-Vvardenfell chimer) as the reason for the persisting Nordic occupation. It's believed that Mankar Camoran's works are derived from those of Hanin.

EBONY Hanin forged an alliance with the ingenious smiths of Anudnabia, Hilbongard Rolamus and Dorach Gusal. For most of the occupation the Nords had been unable to forge ebony weapons, but Hilbongard and Dorach developed a new method that Nordic blacksmiths could easily utilise. During his conquest years, Hanin was persecuted by the religious fanatic Ysmir Wulfharth, who then ruled Vvardenfell. Hanin approached Ysmir's ally Jurgen Wind-Caller and offered forth the secret for smithing ebony in exchange for amnesty. This bargain was accepted and the resulting boom in ebony weaponry is often used to explain the renewed vigour of the War of Succession, and the further division of the Morrowind Tongues during the latter years of the Nordic Empire.

GOD, INSPIRATION, TERROR Hilbongard and Dorach were also responsible for crafting the famous 'Daedric Faces'. The Daedric Face of Inspiration was gifted to Mordrin Hanin. The 'Daedric Face of God' was gifted to Olmgerd the Outlaw, a Nordic pirate and close confidant of Hanin. The Daedric face of Terror remained with Hilbongard and Dorach. What powers, or significance, are held by these masks is unknown. (n.b. some scholars have pointed out that Almalexia's war-mask bears a striking resemblance to the Daedric Faces, but this is probably more testament to the dominant fashions of the time rather than some conspiracy.)

ALD SOTHA How Ald Sotha, a remote fishing village near the tower Bal Fell, came to be involved with the cult of Mordrin Hanin, is known only to Sotha Sil.

DEATH There are no records for how Mordrin Hanin died. He was laid to rest in Assurnabitashpi, in an elaborate tomb with an array of treasures. The book 'Hanin's Wake' describes the human sacrifice ritual performed in his honour. Even in death he was ruthless, it seems.

[peacefiresky-archive]

The Fanged Stag

a certain stag belongs to @skyrimlesbian!

[a small book, detailing a local ghost story, written anonymously]

My name is -- well, my name doesn’t matter at this point. All you need to know about me is that I used to be a hunter.

It was an honest trade. I worked here and there, traveling Skyrim’s wilderness. I was born and raised the traditional Nord way, though my Ma was a Breton. Real good at magic. She said that the winter would be a tough one. My Da, well, he was real tough on me, saying that if I ever want to be the man of the house I’d have to start providing for my family. I didn’t really like hunting - I take more after my Ma, I think, I like to make things grow. My friend, a real big, tough guy named Helmar, loved it.

He loved it so much that he started making it hard for the rest of us to get meat.

He’s always been a bit touched by Uncle Sheo. Or maybe that Dagon one. Real violent, always getting into fights. He stuck around me for Divines-know-what. Real, real good with a bow and a big old hammer.

He’d invited me hunting with him, and I agreed just ‘cause it was the only way to get any good meat. I had just planned to follow along with him, getting what scraps I could and heading home. That’s when we saw it.

It was a biiiiig bastard. Biggest damn deer I’ve ever seen. Beautiful, too, with huge old antlers on its head, like Kyne had made them for it herself. Helmar went real quiet, and I started thinking about that old story about Herma-Mora and the White Stag. Ysmir Ysgramore had been hunting after a big bastard like this one, when Herma-Mora popped up and twisted his words and almost turned him into what he hated most! And I started thinking about the Daedra, like Hircine. Ma honors Hircine. I thought that maybe that big old stag was Hircine and that if Helmar killed it, we’d be in a world of hurt.

I told Helmar, and he called me a superstitious milk-drinker. He ran off ahead, and I sat real still and waited for him to come back. I heard noises in those woods. Evil, dark noises.

It turned dark soon, and it got cold, and I knew I’d have to head back without him. I started packing up my things when I noticed the stag. Watching me. Its eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Sharp teeth stained red, bared at me. Blood matted in its fur.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I thought I could reason with it.

“I’m just leavin’,” I said. “I ain’t here to hurt no one. I told Helmar - I told him not to, but he didn’t listen, so I’m goin’ home without him.”

The stag lifted its mighty head and stared me in the eye. Apparently satisfied, it huffed, and turned away from me. And I went on my way home.

But once I was a safe distance away, I looked back. It was a glorious thing, you know, and I had to see it one more time -

But there, illuminated in the moonlight, with skin the color of snow and hair like the bark on the trees, stood a man, naked as the day he was born and covered in blood. I turned and left and swore never to tell anybody and never to hunt anything I don’t need, lest that man come after me. But I can’t. Let this serve as a warning to all you bloodthirsty hunters who would seek to abuse Kyne’s gift -

Beware the Fanged Stag.