#Vedam dren

[igorlevchenko-blog]

Morrowind: Portraits of Vedam Dren, Duke of Vvardenfell

[atypicalacademic]

Silk 🧵🪡 (or maybe 🕷️???) pls and thank you u3u

Could be both really, Silk is about the circumstances surrounding Alsal's parents, and therefore the normalest most healthiest family in the world

“A favour, not a partnership. And that can be withdrawn if you break your agreement and overstep your bounds. I can’t let you override our interests on the matter. The Council would never--”

“Vedam.”

His brother was pacing now, his golden robes lashing against the floor. Tall, handsome Vedam, who spoke Aldmeri and Cyrodilic, more personable and charming than Orvas could ever harbour hope of becoming. Not that he did. Orvas was not in the business of envy. He could rub two sides of a coin without bleeding his thumb dry.

“From here on, I would ask you to consult me before--”

“Velanda Omani. Nevena Ules.”

He stopped. Orvas read the dawning dread behind his eyes. Not both of them. It said. No.

Little brother, the light of his life. His nix-hound on a golden leash. Orvas smiled freely now. “I can make you Grandmaster.”

[the-real-nerevar]

*the average day in the hlaalu council manor*

Orvas: I HATE YOU.

Dram: OH? WELL NEXT TIME DON’T STEAL MY MONOPOLY.

Vedam: Dram, give Orvas his 200$, you landed on his property.

Dram: NO. HES IN JAIL. I’m not gonna give money to a CRIMINAL.

Orvas: THATS NOT HOW YOU PLAY!!!

Crassius: Vedam, why is Orvas screaming.

Vedam: Shut up, Crassius, you’re not gonna talk after stealing my LAST RAILROAD.

Orvas: I WISH I WAS NEVER BORN

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Duke Vedam Dren

Art for The Elder Scrolls: Legends

Art by Maksim Marenkov

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Finally catching up with Tumblr for the week - for the WIP Game, I'd like to ask about Shadow of Fire!

Hii!!

Shadow of Fire is my very much Dead Dove fic. It centres around Molag'shaln (Josh's Twin Lamps persona) taking on the Camonna Tong's kingpin and temporarily collapsing the slave trade on Vvaredenfell in the process.

It's set during the Hlaalu Hortator questline where Josh is expected to make nice with the very person who hurt him so much in the first place and what makes it worse is that the bastard doesn't even seen to recognise his face (Orvas Dren does, he's just that awful). Josh can't really preform as well for the Hlaalu Councillors as he did for the Redoran because of the way they do things, and he starts getting back into doing Twin Lamps work as a bit of catharsis so that things don't weigh so heavily on his soul.

So Molag'shaln attacks pick back up in the Ascadian Isles. Orvas Dren cracks down even more as a result and all of a sudden, Josh gets a letter from Duke Vedam Dren requesting a meeting with Molag'shaln. Josh is nervous about the no. 1 Imperial puppet and older brother of his worst enemy connecting him with the vigilante that's burnt down half of House Hlaalu's plantations. Dren offers him a deal, he'll fast track Joshi's request for Hortator and pardon his crimes if he "handles" the Orvas Dren issue.

Now Josh has an excuse to tear the mer's heart out with his bare hands and he does just that.

The fic opens as Josh and Erra start their massacre of the Dren Plantation. It's meant to cover Josh's emotional turmoil at finally getting closure for all the abuse he'd suffered at the hand of Orvas Dren and his inner circle. Only he finds that he feels hollow in the end, it's over, the pain is meant over too, but it's still heavily scared. He can't forget what happened, he was just a kid after all and deserving of none of it. I intended to really lay out what happened to Josh during his time in the Camonna Tong and a little about what happened in prison, but it's...hard, not because I don't know how someone would react to that trauma but the opposite. I've accidentally triggered myself a few times trying to write it, so it's shelved for now until I'm a bit more stable. I did do a drawing of Josh drinking himself stupid afterwards.

[turtlemagnum]

last night, while watching the election results with my mom, i was playing morrowind on a character i had basically grown bored of just due to how i got him to max level in every skill, and decided to just do the last little bit of the main quest through the back path. of course i then killed crassius curio and vedam dren, freed his slaves and whatnot. it was a bit weird going through dagoth ur without hearing voryn whisper sweet nothings into my ear the entire time. now i realize, the first time i ever did the back path on morrowind was that fucking night. god. i hope that memory turns retroactively better

[spoonmagister]

The Supposed Murder of the Supposed Ralen Hlaalo

8 Rain’s Hand

To Nileno Dorvayn, Hlaalu Council Manor — resident thief and Hlaalu representative,

I have received your correspondence thanking me for delivering justice in the matter of “Ralen Hlaalo’s” untimely demise. I write this to you under appreciable mental strain, as it has become clear to me that my warnings thus far have gone unheeded.

I will be blunt — the murder of Ralen Hlaalo has NOT been resolved, as Ralen Hlaalo is not a life-form of this realm TO be murdered. Ralen Hlaalo is a void entity not of this world or even this Reality. While it presents as a dunmer, this is only a facade. What lurks underneath is an infinite cavern which slowly and endlessly attracts and consumes matter as we know it. Do you not find it strange, that despite his apparent disappearance and various inquiries into his safety, that no attempt was ever made to enter Hlaalo Manor until my own, independent and unrelated investigation brought me there? It does not WANT to be found, but rather to continue its mysterious work unimpeded.

I have also attempted to communicate my concerns to Relen Hlaalu in the Ebonheart Grand Council Chamber. His casual disinterest in this being which appears to have been a poorly executed doppelganger of himself is suspicious, to say the least.

My own work will continue, but please do not delude yourself into thinking the danger has passed. Something terrible came to the walls and roof of that Manor, and something terrible — though I know not in what proportion — still remains.

SpoonMagister Terra,

CHIME Inquisitor

Tel Uvirith

*****

10 Second Seed

To Duke Vedam Dren, Great House Hlaalu Grandmaster

As you know, several disturbances have been reported in the Grand Council Chamber regarding the Telvanni Magister from Tel Uvirith.

Respectfully, are you absolutely certain it was wise to grant this spoon-addled ticking magickal time bomb a stronghold construction contract? I and my assistants have received countless unsolicited visits and letters from her with claims of varying insanity — that I am being copied by a void entity, that I am purposely attempting to clone myself in an attempt to mimic the Tel Fyr house of horrors, that I am contracting otherworldly beings to create a black hole with which to collect gold and treasures, and the list goes on.

It is known that the Magister has violated and modified the terms of the contract. Her stronghold has ceased to be a tower and is instead a small town. She staffs well over 10 retainers. The population continues to grow. She appears to be collecting and employing altmer from across the province for who-knows-what terrifying and embarrassing purpose. To make matters worse, the Tel Uvirith dungeon is reportedly filled to capacity.

It is, of course, left to your discretion. I urge you to consider what I’ve said.

Respectfully,

Relen Hlaalu, Hlaalu Representative to the Grand Council

Ebonheart

*****

1 Midyear

To Edd “Fast Eddie” Theman, Mouth for SpoonMagister Terra

Telvanni Council House — Sadrith Mora,

Once upon a time, there was an innocent dunmer noble who did not make any waves, but found himself capsized regardless. A bad person did a bad thing to him and no one knew why. The good people of the town had a good long think about it, but couldn’t understand what had happened or who had done it.

All of a sudden, a rogue element intervened. The murderer was caught, seemingly at random. It wasn’t clear whether his killer was exacting justice or just doing a bit of their own independent killing. The good officer who enforces the law did not care much one way or the other — the crime was solved, his prayer answered.

But the rogue element couldn’t leave well-enough alone. It kept chiming in with its own theories and opinions. It interfered with a crime scene. It magickally sealed off the Manor where the murder happened, preventing any from extracting and properly dealing with the corpse. The servant of the dunmer noble went missing. The good officer started to think that maybe the rogue element did not solve the crime, so much as it used it as a platform to do more creative and confusing crimes.

The good officer, willing to let bygones be bygones, only wished for the rogue element to cease its corrupt investigative techniques and vacate the premises. He made another special little prayer, as they had been successfully answered in the past. Maybe this one would be as well.

Larrius Varro, Legion Champion

Moonmoth Legion Fort

[amberthefantasy]

'Neath Moon and Star

Chapter 19: Magic

The Duke of Vvardenfell was in his receiving hall when Naris and Ryna arrived in Ebonheart just past midday. “I had heard that there was a new Archmaster,” Duke Dren said once Naris had come before him in the hall. “I remember you, I gave you a land permit.”

“You did, my lord,” Naris nodded. “And I thank you for it.”

“But now you have another request of me?” The Duke phrased it as a question but his tone suggested it was not.

“More a sharing of information, my lord,” Naris said. The Duke raised a brow. “All members of the council have named me Hortator of House Hlaalu, you are the sole outlying vote.”

Vedam Dren’s eyes widened and he leant back in shock. “Hortator…�� he repeated. “I am afraid I do not understand Archmaster.”

“Morrowind is in crisis,” Naris said. “We need a leader to unite us. Only a Hortator would hold enough power- and respect- to do that.”

“We have a king,” Duke Dren narrowed his eyes again.

“A king chosen by a foreign emperor,” Naris pointed out. “The people of Morrowind will never completely trust him or follow him of their own volition. A Hortator is chosen.”

“And you have been chosen?” Vedam pursed his lips.

“By House Redoran and the Hlaalu Council.”

“But not by me.”

Naris narrowed his eyes and walked forwards a few steps. “You were also given your office of Duke by the Emperor,” he said. “House Hlaalu may allow you power but the other houses will simply ignore it if you do not show that you place Vvardenfell and Morrowind’s people above allegiance to a foreign man.”

There was a long moment of tense silence. The Duke clicked his tongue. “Fine, I name you Hortator of House Hlaalu. The Belt of the Hortator is somewhere in our armoury. Find it.”

“Thank you my lord,” Naris bowed his head, grinning in triumph. “I will do right by your house.”

“I am sure,” Vedam sneered. “Now leave.”

---

“The easiest way to convince the councillors to support me would probably be to convince Fyr first,” Naris said. He and Ryna had teleported from Vivec to Sadrith Mora, deciding it would be easiest to find information on House Telvanni in their island capital. 

“But is that easy?” Ryna shifted the straps on her armour. “I mean… he did not seem very open to conversation while we were there.”

“He was a bit busy trying to cure corprus,” Naris said. “And once I tell him that Azura herself confirmed me as the Nerevarine… that if I manage to gather the houses and kill Dagoth Ur corprus will end…”

“He may be willing to help,” Ryna nodded. She glanced up at the sky then and winced. “We should probably hurry or it will be night before we can get back here after talking with him.”

Naris looked up and spotted that the sun was already moving towards the eastern horizon, “yes… we should hurry.”

Divayth Fyr was in his study, as he had been the last time the two companions had visited his home. “Ahh… you returned,” the old wizard said when he spotted Naris. “Is something wrong with the cure?”

“No,” Naris shook his head. “Everything is fine with the cure… well…” he paused to consider before rolling up his left sleeve to reveal the golden skin that now covered it. “This did happen.”

Divayth Fyr’s head cocked to the side and he took a few steps closer to get a better look at the arm. “Oh my… well that is unexpected,” he muttered. “I suppose… a curse may nullify another… yes… that could be.”

Naris blinked. “Layman's terms?” he asked.

“Of course,” Fyr’s voice was clinical when he stated. “The curse that changed us from Chimer to Dunmer is a powerful one, but to change dunmer into what they become under the effects of corprus is also a powerful curse. It seems that the curse placed by Dagoth is of similar power to the one placed by Azura and thus it cleansed the portions of your body where it took effect of the curse placed by the Daedric Prince.”

“Which meant that the skin returned to what it would have been without the curse,” Naris finished. “Gold.”

“Exactly,” Fyr nodded. “But you did not come here for this it seems, so what did bring you back to my tower, Naris Indarys?”

“I need your help,” Naris said, not finding any use in dancing around the topic with this mer. “To complete the quest of the Nerevarine and end corprus forever, I need to be named Hortator of Morrowind-”

“-And to do that you need the support of the Telvanni council,” Fyr finished. “I am not on the council.”

“I know,” Naris said. “But you hold sway over the Telvanni, if you showed support for me the councillors would agree to help.”

“Perhaps,” Fyr nodded. “But what would I gain from this?”

Of course… Divayth Fyr did not live this long and gain thus much knowledge by doing things that held no reward for him. “An end to corprus,” Naris declared. “Like I said, if I succeed in completing this prophecy Dagoth Ur will be dead and corprus will be no more. You would be able to spend time researching other things.”

Fyr considered this for a moment. “It had become a tedious thing,” he acquiesced. “Fine… I will call a meeting of the council.” Naris shared a received glance with Ryna. “On one condition,” Fyr continued before they could get too excited. 

“What condition?” Naris asked.

“Convince four of the councillors to support you without my help and I will convince the other five.”

“Four of them?” Naris said. “Which ones?”

“Any,” Fyr shrugged, which was a surprisingly casual gesture for the mer. “Return when you have succeeded.”

---

It was dusk by the time the two friends made their way back to the town and they took rooms in the inn for the night. The Hole in the Wall was a small inn, and there were no other patrons when they entered or left the next morning, but the beds were nice. “I found this book at the store down there,” Ryna said, pointing down the road. “It lists the councillors.”

“And where exactly are they?” Naris sighed. “I’m willing to bet they are more spread out than the other house councillors, given their proclivity for solitude.”

“Most of them,” Ryna nodded. “But Master Neloth lives in that mushroom tower.” She nodded to the massive mushroom that covered most of the town in shadow. “Apparently, he also has a guest currently.”

“Really?” Naris asked, beginning to trek towards the tower.

“Mistress Faruna,” Ryna grinned. “According to the owner of the inn, she was visiting for some experiment when all travel into and out of Vvardenfell was banned. She’s been stuck here ever since and has been staying in Neloth’s tower.”

“So we kill two cliff racers with one arrow,” Naris smiled back. 

The tower was actually smaller than Naris had expected, especially compared to Divayth Fyr’s but he supposed that made sense, Fyr was older after all. There was no one in the entrance hall when they walked in but Naris could hear the sound of conversation coming from above. 

“Did you bring a levitation potion?” Ryna asked, once the two had found what must be the way up to wherever the voices were coming from. 

“Of course I did,” Naris said, digging around in his pack for it. “I am not stupid.” Ryna raised her hands in surrender at his defensive tone. Naris found the potion and pulled it out, taking a small sip at the same time that Ryna cast her spell. The two rose into the air and attempted to find where the people were.

They reached the top of the tower quickly and spotted two dunmer, one male and one female, having what seemed to be an argument. Both of the dunmer froze when Naris and Ryna came into sight and one of them, the female, stepped aside. “Who are you? What do you want?” the male, who must be Neloth, asked.

“I am here to ask for your vote on the council,” Naris said, stepping into the room as the potion faded. “I have a very long and convincing argument but I am sure you have important business to attend to so… simply put, I wish to be named Telvanni hortator.”

“Hortator? War leader of House Telvanni? Is that necessary? Why doesn't anyone tell me about these things?” Neloth muttered the last past, turning to share a look with the female. He shook his head. “So. You want the job.” He glanced at Naris’ Archmaster brooch. “You seem qualified. Good. Then go ahead. I don't care. Be the Hortator. Now go away.” Neloth waved his hand in dismissal.

Well… that was shockingly easy. “Now wait one moment,” the female interrupted just before Naris could thank the wizard and leave. “I am a councillor as well… and I would like to know more.” So this was Mistress Faruna then. Naris considered her, she was draped in expensive looking blue fabric with golden jewellery covering her arms. 

“What more would you like to know Mistress?” Naris asked.

Faruna locked eyes with him. “For one, what feats have you achieved that make you worthy of Hortator. I see you are the new Archmaster of Redoran, how did you achieve this?”

“I showed my loyalty to my house,” Naris said. Everything that he had done to become Archmaster was the least impressive set of things he had done on Vvardenfell. “I defeated the Sixth House bases at Ilunibi and Kogoruhn. I survived Corprus.” Naris took a breath, reached into his pocket and pulled out Moon-and-Star. He placed the ring gently on his hand and held it up. “And I retrieved the Moon-and-Star from the Cavern of the Incarnate and was named Incarnate by Lady Azura herself.”

Faruna’s eyes had slowly widened over the course of Naris’ listing. She licked her lips. “A great list of accomplishments.” Her eyes locked onto the ring. “May I?” Faruna held out a dark hand for it.

Naris narrowed his eyes. He slipped the ring off and placed it gently in her hand. “Careful… according to legend it-”

“-kill any who wear it if they do not have the soul of Nerevar,” Faruna finished. “I know.” She didn’t attempt to put the ring on, simply inspecting it for a long moment before she spoke again. “It is authentic.” She declared.

“I know,” Naris smiled. “Can I have it back?”

Faruma smirked. “Of course Nerevarine,” she handed the ring over. “Your story rings true. And I would very much like to return home as soon as possible,” she sighed. “Which will mean defeating Dagoth Ur. So you have my vote as well.”

“Great!” Neloth said very loudly, reminding Naris he was still there. “Now please. Leave.”

---

Master Aryon was the youngest Telvanni councillor, Naris knew. At only 243 years old he was incredibly young for a Master Wizard, which may be the reason he was said to be so open to outlanders. Naris hoped his reputation of liking outlanders was true, that would make the following conversation much easier.

Ryna was stood on the edge of an old imperial wall which was covered in small mushrooms. “This is his tower?” she asked, looking up at the mushroom that covered the top of the destroyed castle.

“Apparently,” Naris muttered. “It says a lot that he lives in an imperial castle, yes?”

Ryna hummed. She led Naris into the castle and through its cluttered, mushroom covered halls. “Where would his study even be?” she asked quietly. “I mean… how do we find a way to reach the top?”

“I have no idea,” Naris responded.

The two travelled slowly through the destroyed castle. Naris did not know how long it took for him and Ryna to finally find the open ceiling that led upwards into the actual mushroom tower, but they eventually did. The tower was less decorated than the other councillors had been, but it still looked as lavish as one would expect from such a powerful dunmer.

Naris spotted Aryon first. The mer was stood alone on a balcony overlooking what seemed to be the remains of a large hall intertwined with mushrooms. The older dunmer saw him almost as quickly and his face split into a grin. “Hello stranger.”

“Hello,” Naris greeted as he stepped into the room.

“What brings you to my tower?” Master Aryon asked in a tone that spoke of genuine curiosity.

“Master Aryon,” Naris began. “I must as for your support in being named Hortator.” He saw Aryon’s eyes narrow. “Please let me explain?” The Telvanni nodded and Naris began his tale. He watched Aryon’s expression closely as he told his story and felt some of the tension in his body drain as Aryon looked more and more impressed as he spoke.

“I understand.” Aryon nodded after Naris finished speaking. “Yes, I understand,” he repeated. “You are willing to take the responsibility, and I am willing to vote for you as Hortator.”

“Thank you,” Naris breathed, pleased that Aryon’s reputation seemed to be true. 

“No need to thank me,” Aryon smirked. “You are the one who will be blamed if you fail.” He considered Naris for a moment. “Mistress Vivyne is living in a small tower just south of Vos,” he said slowly. “She is a close friend of mine and we share many values.”

Naris nodded in understanding. “Thank you,” he repeated. Aryon smiled.

The small tower that Vivyne was residing in during her stay on Vvardenfell was easy to spot from the town. It was smaller than the others Naris had seen, but still large enough to definitely be a house. Vivyne wasn’t inside it when they approach however, she was outside and appeared to be gardening. “Strangers!” she exclaimed when Naris and Ryna approached her. “Welcome.”

“Thank you sera,” Naris smiled.

“What brings you to my ‘holiday’ tower?” Mistress Vivyne grinned sardonically as she gave a gesture towards the tower.

“I am here because I believe that Morrowind must unite under a single person,” Naris said. “To lead our people through this horrible time.”

“Ahh, business,” Vivyne nodded. “Go on… tell whatever story you have.”

Naris took a breath and intended to repeat the same story he had just told but Ryna interrupted him. “If I may?” she asked Naris softly. He blinked in confusion but nodded. And so she told the story instead. Naris thought she made him seem too powerful but it worked.

By the end of Ryna’s story, Vivyne was looking at Naris with wide eyes and an expression of pure respect. “Well… it seems the answer is obvious,” she said. “I believe you will make a great Hortator, Naris Indarys.” Her expression grew serious for a single moment. “Do not prove me wrong.”

---

It was dusk by the time Ryna and Naris made it back to Sadrith Mora and so they rented rooms in the inn again for the night. The next morning they headed towards Tel Fyr to tell Divayth that they had succeeded in his task. 

Divayth Fyr was not in his study this day, instead they found him near the entrance to his Corprusarium. “Ahh you have returned Naris Indarys. Have you completed my task?”

“Yes,” Naris nodded. “Master Neloth, Master Aryon, Mistress Faruna and Mistress Vivyne have all declared they will support me.”

“Good choices,” Fyr nodded. He smirked then. “Well… I suppose I have a council to call.”

The Council Hall was in Sadrith Mora’s central mushroom tower, that must have been an old Archmagister’s. Ryna had to remain outside because mer who were not members of House Telvanni were not welcome at these meetings, and the only reason Naris was here was because it was about him. Masters Neloth and Aryon and Mistresses Faruna and Vivyne arrived first, probably because they knew why the meeting had been called. Aryon and Vivyne both greeted Naris warmly, Faruna simply nodded and Neloth ignored him. 

The next to arrive was no Master, but a Mouth. Apparently they were the representatives of the councillors when they could not be present. Mouth Enar was here on behalf of Master Mithras who had been off the island when the quarantine was called and thus could not attend. The other mer could not have been much older than Naris himself but it seemed Fyr respected him because the two exchanged kind greetings. 

Mistress Therana and Mistress Dratha arrived not too far apart from each other, both giving Naris a suspicious look as they took their seats. Therana was insane according to others, and it seemed to be slightly true if the way she was chattering nonsense to Dratha said anything. Archmagister Gothren and Master Malkur arrived together, both seemingly annoyed.

“What do you want Fyr? This better not be a waste of time.” Gothren asked as he took his seat.

“Am I not entitled to call council meetings when I deem fit?” Fyr asked.

“You are not a member of this council,” Gothren responded.

“Because I have more important ventures to undertake,” Fyr smirked. “But I am a senior member of this house and I believe I have important things to speak of.”

“What things?” Malkur asked. “I imagine it has to do with this outsider you have brought here?”

“Of course,” Fyr said. “I have spend decades fighting against the spread of Corprus, as you all know, and I have concluded that there is no way to stop it without killing its source.”

“Which no one can do,” Dratha sneered. “The Tribunal tried and failed, many others have ventured into Red Mountain and none have returned.” 

“No regular mer could do it,” Fyr agreed. “But one chosen specifically for the task could. However, they would need our support.”

“You mean one you chose for this task?” Gothren’s lip twitched. 

“No,” Fyr shook his head. “Naris here was not chosen by me, he was chosen by Azura.”

There was silence. “Are you saying that this mer is the Nerevarine?” Enar spoke, his voice tight.

“I believe he may be,” Fyr nodded. “Faruna, Neloth, Vivyne and Aryon agree with me.”

All eyes turned to the four named dunmer. “The story is compelling,” Vivyne nodded.

“Yes,” Aryon agreed. “And they are right that Vvardenfell needs to be saved from the threat that looms.”

“So you want us,” Dratha said slowly. “To appoint this mer Hortator as that old ashlander superstition says we must?”

“I do,” Fyr nodded. “What harm could it do?”

“If we are wrong?” Malkur said. “Humiliation.”

“Why?” Naris spoke for the first time. “Redoran and Hlaalu have already named me Hortator, you would simply be signing off on an already decided appointment.”

Malkur narrowed his eyes but did not speak. “Well… I know my Master would agree that something needs to be done,” Enar said. “You have mine, and his, vote.”

“Your Master probably doesn’t even know you are here,” Malkur scoffed.

“I do not like this,” Dratha hissed through her teeth. “But I find no argument against it. You have my vote.”

“And mine,” Therana’s voice was surprisingly level when she spoke. “Now can I go home?”

“Not yet,” Fyr sighed. “Gothren and Malkur have yet to declare their intentions.”

Malkur frowned. Gothren leant back in his seat. “I may need time to think on this,” Gothren eventually said.

“Oh please,” Vivyne rolled her eyes. “You already know your decision, you just want to stall having to say it. Well we don’t have time for that! So speak!” She hit her palm on the table.

Gothren flinched and glared at her. “Fine, I do not see the need for this and will not vote to confirm it.” 

Naris took a deep breath. He glanced around the table and saw that basically everyone was rolling their eyes or shaking their head. His eyes turned to Fyr who raised a brow at him. House Telvanni follows strength above all, he remembered. He slowly drew his poison dagger and began to walk around the table. “You are a proud man,” Naris said slowly. “But pride is not helpful in times like this.”

“Pride?” Gothren scoffed. “I am not too proud. You may be, however, to think yourself chosen by the gods.”

“I do not think I was chosen by Azura,” Naris shook his head. “I know I was.” He raised his hand, with Moon-and-Star glinting on a finger, and his dagger clutched inside it. Then he drove the poisoned blade into Archmagister Gothren’s neck. 

There were gasps from all around the table as Gothren choked and spluttered on his own blood. In a few moments he was dead, laying limp in his chair. Naris pulled the dagger out and turned to face the table. “Anyone else have objections to me being named Hortator?” he asked, eyes locked on Malkur. The Telvanni Wizard shook his head, and Naris grinned. “Good.”

“Well then,” Aryon spoke first after that. “I believe that is every vote in favour. Congratulations Naris Indarys. You are now Telvanni Hortator.”

post masterlist / 'NMaS masterlist

[aladaylessecondblog]

me looking at that hot picture of Duke Vedam Dren: Man I am so sorry for what I'm going to do to you in Severed Destiny. ur a nice dude. and very good looking

[feivelynart]

Duke Vedam Dren of Vvardenfell, ingame Potrait for Tamriel Rebuilt

[relfanalae]

Chocolate-Box exchange

Sooo, my second exchange is over and it was fun again. I only wrote the one fic I was assigned, but I was (and still am) kind of put out by events in real life, which will continue until April at least, sooo finding my romantic groove in writing was hard once I could not fall back to my own OTP. Well, here is the little thingie I cobbled together for dear @worldsentwined about Tuuri finding a kindred spirit in Reynir.

The Byway where two Paths become One

And I am still so pleased and grateful for the two stories that I recieved! One truly wonderful and romantic and emotionally gripping (and also quite funny, in a way) Emil/Lalli-story from @minutia-r and one very interesting and intriguing and wonderfully dialogue-rich story about King Helseth Hlaalu, Vedam Dren and Ilmeni Dren by Filigranka! Morrowind politics ftw!

So have Maybe tonight I’ve got a question for you and A Game At Dinner.

Thank you both so much again!

[ravenkult]

Duke Vedam Dren by Nuare Studio https://www.artstation.com/artwork/DeW29

[ansu-gurleht]

OH re: that “niche tes npcs” post: all the drens in tes3. not just like the main two or three like vedam and orvas and ilmeni, but all the side-drens too, like daynali, and galmis, and marayn, and others i’m sure. no i do not care about the online drens

[uesp]

"Don't make enemies. If someone is determined to be your enemy, then fight. But do not turn friends or potential friends into enemies through arrogance or carelessness."

--Duke Vedam Dren

[libertineangel]

Introducing my all-in-one OC: Delam Farano

Delam Farano is a Dunmer spy, too often pressed into saving an Empire he hates.

Born in 3E 375, his parents were formerly mid-ranking members of House Hlaalu, part of a minority group within the House that opposed further Imperial encroachment on Morrowind’s traditional institutions, content to have them as business partners but not leaders. Due to this, they were vehemently opposed to the appointment of Vedam Dren, known Imperial ally, as Grandmaster, and as a result they were “strongly advised” to leave Morrowind by the Cammona Tong. As a result of this, Delam was born and raised in the town of Riften in Skyrim, being taught of his heritage, his birthright and all the traditional skills necessary for a young Hlaalu initiate.

He took to this education well, with a quick mind, a steady hand, a talent for moving quietly and a cool head under pressure, and he began working as a spy-for-hire (and occasional thief or assassin, for the right price) in the courts of Skyrim’s Jarls, making steady coin and connections off their conflicts, all with the intention of building a power base strong enough to reinstate his family’s rightful place in Morrowind. Unfortunately, his skill earned the attention of the Empire’s Blades as a potential agent, and what the Empire wants it tends to get: one night he returned to his chambers to find a note telling him that he had impressed the Empire and his services would now be put to their use, that he should take a carriage waiting for him outside the town gates in the morning and that he should then expect a letter from his parents, who had been relocated to an Imperial settlement.

Clearly seeing the veiled threat in those words, he took the carriage, felt a hood go over his head and upon its removal found himself in High Rock, where he was informed he would be stationed until further notice, reporting to another local agent and receiving short letters from his family every few months, to which he of course could not reply. He began carrying out the Empire’s orders, working diligently as always, until one day he was given the assignment to exorcise the spirit of the late King Lysandus, a task which quickly escalated far beyond what anyone had expected.

After the Warp in the West the Empire lost track of him, and he took that opportunity to use what information he had gleaned from other Blades agents to try and find where the Empire kept its hostage families, but was captured and thrown in the depths of the Imperial Prison, too valuable to execute but too dangerous to be sent into the field for extended periods except at utmost need.

Utmost need arrived a decade later when he was sent to his true home of Morrowind, where it suited the Empire’s needs to have the Nerevarine Prophecy fulfilled and he was the only agent the Blades thought stood a strong chance of succeeding. Delam did his job admirably, while leaving a cell only a handful of times a year for a decade had dulled his skills somewhat he was still highly competent and pursued this assignment with particular fervour, as he thought he might be able to use his position against the Empire that sent him into it. Unfortunately the Empire had of course anticipated this and he was recalled back to Cyrodiil as soon as all their work was done in the province, and for another six years he languished in a cell, before one fateful day when the Emperor himself would pass through.

He very nearly kept the Amulet of Kings and let the Mythic Dawn wreak their destruction, travelling to Weynon Priory only with the intention of asking Grandmaster Jauffre himself where his parents were, but events moved to quickly and he thought that, while he would be glad to see the Empire burn, the letting the whole of Tamriel die was foolish and served no benefit. Hating the fame brought on him by his deeds as Hero of Kvatch, he travelled through the Door in Niben Bay and found himself yet another land’s champion, though this time feeling a little more at home in the court intrigue of the House of Dementia. Of course, he could not leave Tamriel for long, for as always his primary goal was the freeing and restoration of his parents, though after the Oblivion Crisis all of his leads and information had become obsolete and he had very little to go on. He did the best he could, but he abruptly left when Baar Dau fell to aid his people however he could. He then returned to the Shivering Isles, as stories claimed the great rock was Sheogorath's doing and he intended to confront the Madgod, who naturally denied all involvement. With the Imperial infrastructure in tatters and House Hlaalu disgraced he found himself struggling for direction, as he had no means of finding his lost family and no position to restore them to once he did, and the Shivering Isles fed on this depression as he stayed there longer, becoming more integrated in their courts and society, and as the Greymarch began in earnest he ended up mantling the Madgod himself. Part of him maintained the hope that he could use this position and the resources it commanded to finally find his parents, but much of his time and energy was spent restoring and managing his new land. Eventually he returned to Tamriel, but his perception of time as it passed in the mortal realm had become distorted with his apotheosis and his extended stay in the split land, and the years had turned to decades, and he realised that if he did not find his family soon he would likely be too late, if indeed they still survived. Upon learning of the current political situation, and not trusting the feeble Empire's knowledge of even its own past operations, he presented himself to the Thalmor as a defector and gladly worked his traditional clandestine job against the regime he'd hated for centuries, all the while hoping to find some intelligence on what the old Blades did with their captives. Unfortunately the Aldmeri Dominion realised what Delam was looking for and decided they could use exactly the same leverage as the Empire, except they themselves had not found the old prisoners and Delam knew their attempts at blackmail were fraud. He disappeared back to the Isles, knowing there was nothing left for him in Tamriel, and there he remained, this time keeping a regular eye on the mortal plane to ensure he did not lose years like before. When the Stormcloak movement began and he saw his people being persecuted he decided to intervene, hoping to work his way into Skyrim's political scene just has he did over two hundred years ago...except he was captured, trying to cross the border.

[vosh-rakh]

a window, open and closed

chapter 2 

(chapter 1)

cw: implied nsfw, nothing explicit

note: i don’t even know what the state of tense is in this, and i don’t care at this point lol

- - - - -

“...So.”

Hla-eix had already rolled over away from Daabush, her eyes contemplating the window. “So...what?”

“You said we would talk.”

Dammit, he remembered. She closes her eyes. “Did I?”

A hand grabs her shoulder and rolls her onto her back, but she keeps her head turned away from him. “No,” Daabush says. “Not again. You agreed to this. Stop trying to run away.”

“It’s all I’m good for. Running away.” She bites the inside of her lip, wishing she hadn’t said anything.

Daabush reaches over her, his rough hand gentle on her chin, pulling her around to face him. He’s so intense, the way he stares at her - into her. She always tries to avoid eye contact, but if she ever finds it, that intensity holds her completely still. No more running away. 

He caresses her cheek, his thumb running over the thin, delicate scales there. “I just want to get to know you, Eix.”

“Sorry,” she says, her eyes managing to step aside for just a moment to breathe. “I don’t know what to tell you. Where to start.”

Daabush purses his lips around his tusks. “Fine,” he says. “Okay. I’ll start, then. I grew up in a stronghold, out east, in the Velothi. What about you?”

“Uh.” This was going to be hard to explain. She always hates having to. But maybe if she can just get it over with… “I grew up in two places. Some in Morrowind, some in Black Marsh. Few years with my moms near the border. About ten years in Morrowind. Few years after the Red Year, I got taken in by the An-Xileel. Then -”

Daabush stretches his thumb over to cover her lips. “Sorry, hold on,” he says. “The Red Year?”

She bites his thumb. “I told you I was old.”

“Ow! Okay.” He props himself up on one elbow. “Also, what’s the An-Xileel?”

“Uh. Government of Black Marsh?”

“Is that common knowledge?”

“It’s not a secret.”

“I’ve only ever lived in Skyrim.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know then.”

“Anyways. Why’d they take you in?”

“Well. My mother was a dunmer. Ashlander. Mabrigash, to be specific. Like a witch, I guess. I lived with her and her coven for a long time.” Hla-eix looks up at the ceiling. She’s always thought about these things. She just needed a push - and some trust - but once she got going, she had plenty to say. “But the An-Xileel pushed north after the Red Year, to take back lands stolen by the dunmer long ago. We lived in those lands. So they killed the mabrigash except for me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but…okay. They didn’t kill you? Why?”

Here’s the hard part, the one she’d been avoiding. “Well. You know what I look like. I had two mothers, an argonian and a dunmer. They found a way to have a child of their own with magic. When the soldiers found me, they thought I was … a cruel experiment of witches, I guess. Another awful thing the elves had done to our people.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?”

“Couldn’t. I don’t know why. But I didn’t speak for a couple years after that. So I just let them assume what they wanted.”

“Okay. So -”

Hla-eix covers his mouth with her hand. “Nope. Your turn again.”

He swats her arm away. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Why’d you leave the stronghold?”

“Well. Hm. You know the Great Houses of Morrowind, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there was a wave of Hlaalu emigrants almost ten years ago. Bunch of folks nobody wanted no more, on account of being so close to the Empire. Got especially bad after the Red Year.”

“Wait. You said you were born in a stronghold.”

“I did. Hold your tongue for a minute. I’m not Hlaalu.” His eyes glaze with thought for a moment. “Well. I might actually be, technically. That’s...well, who gives a shit.” He shakes his head and looks back at Hla-eix. “Where was I? Before you rudely butted in.”

“Hlaalu emigrants.”

“Oh. Well, they passed through the Velothi near our stronghold on their way to Skyrim. We let them camp nearby, gave them some supplies. Hlaalu’s always been the House that hated us least. There was…” He pauses, bites his lip. “...a person who, uh. Became important to me. But before I could get...their...name, the caravan left.”

“Daa.” Hla-eix playfully bonks him on the head. “My parents were both women. You don’t have to play the pronoun game.”

He sighs, and she notices that some tension leaves his body. He closes his eyes. “Okay. So … Well, I decided to leave the stronghold to follow them, so I could talk to him again.”

“You didn’t mind leaving your kin behind to follow this Hlaalu mer?”

Daabush’s eyes shoot open. “That’s...Actually. It’s your turn. Why’d you leave Black Marsh?” 

“...Occupational reasons.”

“A trader? Adventurer? Mercenary?”

“...Sure.”

Daabush furrows his brows pointedly but doesn’t push it. “But you didn’t mind leaving your kin behind to follow your occupation.”

Hla-eix cocks an eyebrow. “So your elf crush was just a job to you?”

“That’s…!” He stiffens his posture and raises his voice. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. I was just … ugh.”

“I was forty-four when I left for the first time since arriving,” Hla-eix says. “To me, that’s nothing. But to orcs I’m sure that age is meaningful. What I’m saying is that it wasn’t easy to leave.” She wiggles and fiddles with her fingers idly. “I’m sure you can imagine … what it was like for me. To be among normal-looking argonians. To constantly have to prove yourself worthy. That you’re one of them. That you’re loyal to them, and not the dark elves.”

“...Yeah. I get it.”

She snaps out of her anxious spell and sits up straight, crossing her legs. “Tell me more about the Hlaalu boy.” 

Daabush gently runs his fingers along Hla-eix’s exposed and heavily scaled back. “...His name was Sevren. Member of the Dren family, he said.” Hla-eix raises a confused eyebrow. “As in, Vedam Dren.” She pulls back a corner of her mouth and shakes her head. “Was the Duke of Ebonheart. Whatever. Important guy.”

“...So what happened? Did you talk to him? Were you...involved?”

Daabush’s eyes close shut, then open again, but they were in a different place and time. “Yes. We were in love. He left his family to be with me.” He shakes his head back and forth slightly. “Not easy, two men, orc and elf, in Skyrim, you know. He was used to city life. But it wasn’t really an option. We joined a band of poachers in Eastmarch. They didn’t mind, long as we pulled our weight and didn’t get nobody caught. They were skeptical about Sev at first. But we managed. It was cold, but there was warmth there, with Sev, and the others. Like family.”

He shakes his head more forcibly to clear it and sits up, matching Hla-eix’s posture. “What about you? What’s your history with love like?” 

She looks away towards the window. “...I lied.”

“What?”

“I, uh. You’re my first.”

Daabush places a firm hand on her thigh. “...No. Doesn’t make sense. You’re too experienced. You’ve had others.”

She stands and walks towards the window. “No. When you’re like me, you have to pay them. And only if they’re desperate.” She opens it and leans into the biting cold.

Hla-eix doesn’t hear anything except for the heavy silence of Solitude late at night. It is a quiet hour, even the loud drunkards fled to bed. No early morning exercises clanging metal at the castle; no music wafting from the college; no weeping at the cemetery; no prayers at the temple. There is the faint whisper of winter wind, the delicate sound of snow shifting, the crisp crackling of street torches, and the cacophony of thoughts roaring in her head.

Then there is a massive warmth pressed against her back, wrapping around her. “Then I’m not your first,” Daabush says, slowly turning her to face him.

First she sees his chest, heavily scarred grey-green flesh built like a bear. Then she looks up into his eyes, this time without being forced by them. “You’re the first that mattered.”

He pulls her into a deep kiss, their first real kiss despite all their rutting, and his first in years. In his arms, she is warm despite the cold outside.

When they finally pull away from each other, he reaches over to close the window. Hla-eix buries her face in his chest, listening to his heavy heartbeat, entranced. But he hesitates, and distantly she registers the sound of a door slamming open downstairs. 

“Shit.”