#he looks like divayth fyr

[sub-urbanwitch]

My DnD group has made it canonical- Divayth Fyr *fucks* and is prime DILF material.

[chais-corner]

and a thing i might not finish.

[calebwittebane]

yknow, some questionable meta aside, i still vastly prefer morrowind having divayth fyr be present in it as a powerful respected rich ex-politician and entrepreneur and scholar, who also is a rotten person horrifically abusing his daughters and his patients and keeping them prisoner on the isolated island he calls home, and no one questions him and people blindly look up to him from afar, and the isolationist If Youre Powerful You Can Do What You Want politics of house telvanni further protect him, and his educated well-spoken gently eccentric persona further discourages people (including the player) from questioning him, and his own daughters isolated and manipulated as they are dont even know what to think about their own situation (and its awkward for them to even try to explain it), and because of his access to unique resources and information at some point in the main quest you have NO choice but to work with him if you want to survive/progress, and you have to confront all of that ugliness and decide what you want to do with it, if you even choose to notice it. the game doesnt punish you for not caring! why would it? has that not been the reality long before you ever got there? you can just get what you want from him and walk away, or you may remain angry and frustrated at your helplessness, because you know that you don't stand a chance against him and his magic he spent centuries and endless resources to hone, and there is no one with any incentive or authority to confront him. you may stay rightfully furious that this situation will not change just as it hasnt changed in so long, just as so many sickening things about the status quo on vvardenfell are way beyond your power as an individual to change. OR, if you're powerful enough--or if you come back later, having trained for this moment--you can simply take matters into your own hands, knowing this is the only way for the man to face any consequences, and get rid of the fucker once and for all. because he is, for all his pride and might, Possible To Kill. and you get cool armor out of it. so then how is it rare just kill him etc. do you see how compelling a narrative this is? both the maddening helplessness at the injustice you witness--a recurring thing in the game--and the catharsis of killing fyr? Do You Understand.

i vastly prefer all of the above to just retconning the whole thing, either ignoring it or clumsily trying to rewrite fyr into this quirky but totally harmless old man for the sake of Hey Remember This Guy. i understand not everyone likes the tone of morrowind and id be a complete fool to say it doesnt fall into a ton of pitfalls regarding many subjects and themes it tackles, but if thats the case, i really think eso was lame as hell for bringing back divayth fyr and stripping him of all that context. was it worth it? is the addition of divayth fyr to eso really that good? was the shallow "oh omg this guy was in morrowind" aspect worth it? i dont think so. and that fathers day joke was foul and we all know it

[maybemanyskeletonhats]

The elves being caught staring

Uh oh, someone got caught staring. Wonder why they were? 🤭

They know they're being watched, yet they only hold back a smile. Till they look up and finally ask "are you looking at me?"

Sotha Sil only has a ghost of a smile on his face. He reaches over and links his fingers with theirs. "Yes." He states calmly. Yet there's something under his expression they can't quite read.

Vivec grins shamelessly eyes sweeping over them once more. They're alone, after all. Besides, it's not like being around others would stop him. "I am, actually."

Almalexia only continues watching them. Her gaze is soft as if she's committing every feature to her memory. They're only faintly aware of the way her playfully wiggling her fingers against theirs. How odd.

Mannimarco huffs a small laugh. He playfully shakes his head. His eyes are squinty and he's smiling though. So yes, I think he was staring.

Neloth scoffs and looks away quickly. Ignoring the warm sensation creeping up his neck. Why call him out like that?

Divayth Fyr places his chin on his hand and smiles. He doesn't say a word, but the grin says enough. He was, and he wasn't embarrassed about it.

Teldryn Sero only chuckles and says he was admiring the scenery... nevermind the fact they were indoors and he was looking directly at them.

Indoril Nerevar's face gets dark. He thought he was being subtle. But he supposes stealth has never been his strong suit. He grins shyly and twiddles his fingers against theirs.

Voryn Dagoth jumps and looks away. He hadn't realized he was being that obvious. After a moment he looks back at them, cheeks warm. "I can't help it."

Vanus Galerion's face turns stark red and he vigorously shakes his head. "No! And you can't prove it!" He holds up his index finger and shakes it like he's making some grand speech.

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wips on Fridays.

And I seriously feel like it's Tuesday...where did the week go? Why are there earth tremors all the time? Why can't I just art more? idk.

Anyways tagged by @mareenavee and @thequeenofthewinter so thank you guys!!!

Going to drop this week's art and a snippet from something I finished on Sunday.

Art first!

At the stage where I can just use my own shit as references like the dork that I am.

More under the cut! That includes writing.

Because I like him so shhh.

And a cropped for the sensors line art. Ok Writing that relates in a way to all three of these arts..since they are all set within the same 6 months design-wise (sans guns and all that).

Why? Teldryn dressed in the armour he’d been wearing since he crawled out of that damn swamp, old netch leather he pulled off some bandit that tried to shoot him in the ass. He tied his scarf around his neck, stroking the faded vermillion fabric for a moment. Comfort, the only thing he has that provided it. As he slung his pack over his shoulder, something caught his eye. That damn Dwemer Coherer that he had apparently sold his life for. That curious little object just lay there on a shelf, one amongst many miscellaneous objects gathering dust in a storeroom. The thing was a marvel, used as a component on one of their brilliant machines… That sadistic old mer wouldn’t miss it? Would he? Why should he care? Teldryn snatched it from the shelf, quickly putting it in his pack. Fuck him, fuck all of them! He made his way towards the door and opened it into the cool evening air. He had so many things to do. So many reports to write, journals that Caius would want to look over. Every little sordid detail, every expense. He made his way to the shore, journal in hand, his leash that the Blades held him by. He opened it and began to write. - gave me the potion. It didn't cure me. But it did remove all apparent signs of the disease. Divayth Fyr said he didn't actually WANT to cure me, just remove the harmful features of the disease while preserving its virtues. Well, it worked. And now he is eager to test the potion on the other subjects in the Corprusarium. I must hurry back to report to…report to. He scribbled out what he had just written. Awful! Hurry? Why? What was the point of any of this? His skin began to itch again and he sighed. He ran a bandaged hand through his hair, felt the bare skin that dotted his scalp. Bare scalp? He pulled his looking glass out of his pack and assessed the damage. A long scar stretched across his right cheek, cutting into the old tattoos that snaked across his face. He looked drained, pale. His long hair patchy, matted. He hated it! He pulled a dagger out of his boot and began slicing at the strands, hacking, slashing, the hair falling to the sand below. Golden mask, crimson robes. A cacophony of moans, a legion of writhing bodies. A beating heart. He dropped the dagger and fell to his knees. He screamed, burying his fists in the wet sand. Child of his flesh. SPEAK WITH US! He screamed again, throwing a clod of sand into the ocean. He grabbed his journal, tore out the page he’d just written and threw that into the ocean too. Fuck Caius Cosades! Fuck the Blades! Fuck Divayth Fyr and his weird fucking daughters! Fuck that other old man with the snobbish attitude! Fuck the Empire! Fuck the Emperor and fuck the leash that they held him by. A fire ignited in his hands, the journal he had meticulously kept since being dumped in Seyda Neen almost a year ago smouldered in his grip. He’d rather spend an eternity in the prisons below the Imperial City than spend another second serving the whims of those uncaring fucks! “FUCK!” He screamed! His voice, or what was left of it finally returning. Ashen and coarse, unfamiliar. He pounded the sand, punched it until exhaustion overtook him. He slumped over tears threatening to choke in vision. The blur was permanent, everything was out of focus. He couldn’t shake it, couldn’t focus. He punched the sand again before rising to his feet. No, he would not go back to Balmora, he was done with this guarshit! Let some other poor sod chase an ancient ashlander fairytale. He was done! They could think him dead for all he cared. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t. He’d head west, he didn’t particularly care where so long as he could be alone. His skin itched, ash and sinew clouded his vision.

[wellthebardsdead]

Lucien: so, Bass, do you have any hobbies you enjoy? Like, I know you only just emerged from oblivion a couple months ago and it’s more or less just been, go! Go! Go! Since then but. Is there anything you enjoy doing?

Bass: My wife used to bring me small shelled creatures. Snails and mudcrabs usually. Sometimes hermit crabs. All of them injured and in need of help. So I’d repair their shells or make entirely new ones while I fed them treats. It was a delightful pass time between my duties. She’d get very upset over fluffy creatures being hurt though, rabbits, foxes, deer and the like and would beg me to help them. I hated seeing my wife cry so I created prosthetics for them. It’s actually how I rose in rank from a lowly baritone tonal architect to an innovator and tonal architect under the study of Kagrenac’s teachings. I believe Yagrum Bagarn actually used my schematics to create his prosthetics after losing his lower half. I told him he shouldn’t be indulging in so much drink and moon sugar but he didn’t listen… it breaks my heart seeing what’s become of him.

Lucien: I- wait- hold on a moment you met Kagrenac?! What was he like?! And- YAGRUM IS STILL ALIVE?!

Bass: alive… but… not living… *tears up* My old friend became infected with the disease spewed out by Ur Dagoth… I saw him only through glass walls in the chamber he was being held. Divayth Fyr created a vaccine to protect everyone who’d come into contact with him, and it was one I gladly took. But still, Yagrum was too violent for me to enter… He recognised me for only a moment, and wept. He’d spent so long looking for us even in his madness, and I can only hope I brought him some peace before his end…

Lucien: His? End?…

Bass: With me alive, there was no reason to desperately try to keep him alive as the last dwemer… he was in agony, lost to madness, barely eating, a diseased, husk of the person I once new… I begged Divayth Fyr to end him, it broke my heart seeing him suffer the way he was… and as cruel as it sounds, I’m glad he did… I burned his body so he wouldn’t raise as a thrall… and now. I truely am alone…

Lucien: …

*a few hours later*

Lucien: Bass!! I need your help! It’s urgent!

Bass: What is it?? What happened??

Lucien: *holds up a snail with a cracked shell* I stood on him walking back from the hags cure! Can you fix him? Please?

Bass: *gently pats the snail making it retreat into its shell so it won’t get hurt when he picks it up* of course I will Lucien… would you like to help me and take notes?

Lucien: I- yes! Absolutely!

Bass: wonderful, I should make you my apprentice at this point!

[ftmfargoth]

Ok I plan on posting art here but all I have is traditional rn & I feel like my little pencil sketches won’t do too well, on top of my tablet broke BUT I have a new pen display coming in the mail soon so. Digital art coming soon I guess. In the meantime here’s my sloppy sketches of Divayth Fyr and a Sotha Sil I drew without a reference because Fugit. He does just look like a random ass dunmer and not exactly Sotha Sil but it’s ok ….. It’s ok. Also posting my little Fargoth again because he’s just a little guy and I love him

[mareenavee]

Life's a Beach

For @archangelsunited for their birthday tomorrow <3 Thank you to @gilgamish, @crimsonsairina and the most esteemed @changelingsandothernonsense for putting up with these crazy ideas as I rotate them ;>

Life's a Beach

“By my calculations, some planes of Oblivion would be experiencing a solstice today,” said the hulking form of Yagrum Bagarn, last Dwarf, and expert in interplanar astronomy. The brassy metal of his Dwemer Spider Legs clicked as he adjusted in place underneath a large, white umbrella. He scratched a few more numbers into a leather bound tome, and wiped his hands on the oversized tunic Beyte had fashioned him—this one was stitched from soft red fabric and printed with white florals. It would have looked rather dashing, if not for the—well. One oughtn’t point out the scars of other peoples’ illnesses, after all.

Divayth Fyr scratched at his overlong silver beard and peered over the darkened lenses of the spectacles he had crafted to shield his eyes from the abundance of sun in this place. “Yes, I’d imagine so. This particular plane seems to have perfectly even day-night cycles—such that it would, in theory, always be an equinox.”

“Ridiculous we should end up here, my friend.” Yagrum snapped his fingers absently and a humanoid shape burst from the sand beside him bearing a tray of drinks. He took one, the nearest being something served with a pink paper umbrella and a matching straw poking out of the green shell of a local delicacy—what they’d been calling a ‘coconut.’ It was a form of palm fruit filled with sweetened water. “It’s almost like we needn’t work at all.”

“Ah yes. You always were rather addicted to your research,” Divayth Fyr said. The sand atronach held out the tray of drinks to him. Tiny particles drifted across the form of the creature as if its body was made of wind, and the sand itself had just been picked up in the air currents. The dark elf nodded, taking a drink and waving dismissively. The sand atronach bowed, wordless as always, and melted back out of view. He stretched, wiping the sand off his own tunic—his was blue with white florals—and leaned back against the large, pale pink, spiraling shell they’d had incorporated into their front yard’s decor. -> Read the rest on AO3!

[trickstarbrave]

i will never turn down the chance to make nerevar sad

based on my idea from yesterday, which was inspired by shamat and riiju-lei from @mulberrycafe. dragonborn reincarnation of voryn dagoth out in the world, though so far it's really nerevar centric........ maybe that will change maybe not. (the db's name will be seryn tho i did actually name him)

--

Nerevar approached the statue of Azura cautiously, anxiety bubbling away in him the moment the ordinators told him the Lady of Twilight was summoning him.

He’d walked so long as Nerevar he became Nerevar in body as well, fully assuming his identity as chimer king once more. “A gift” Azura called it the last time he spoke with her and he held his tongue. 

It was more of a curse as far as he was concerned. 

Was it not enough that he lost everything? Assumed the role of Nerevar to slay Dagoth Ur? Then he was tasked with bringing back worship of the Good Daedra, taking control of the temple, never to return to the life he lived before he was arrested and shipped off to Morrowind. Now he couldn’t even wear this incarnation’s face and his dunmeri skin, all the while he silently mourned all he lost as Nerevar as well. 

He had no friends or spouse after all. Closest thing he had was the wizard Divayth Fyr but well…. Time had warped the Telvanni mage as it does all things. He got harsher, cared less for people around him, more insular as he retreated into his studies. Nerevar didn’t really enjoy his company much anymore given he was only really interested in studying corprus or how his skin changed back to chimeri gold. 

But there was no use complaining about it, especially not to Azura. The dunmer needed him, as she said, and he was the only one who could lead them. All he could hope for was that in a few centuries he could disappear quietly like Vivec did and die in peace. 

“Ah, my champion.” Her voice was loving and overjoyed, as Nerevar found himself cloaked in violet light the moment he blinked, the statue now seemingly coming to life. 

“You summoned me, Lady Azura?” He smiled back, willing the feeling of love to bubble away in his heart rather than despair and anxiety. Hopefully what she tasked him with now would be something simple, or even better--she’d tell him he did enough as leader of the dunmer and could finally leave to die alone somewhere quietly. 

“Indeed,” She began, “It’s important news, one you should hear from me directly.” He waited with baited breath, unable to guess what she needed to tell him. There were too many options after all, and as kind as she could be when she played favorites, she was still a daedric prince one needed to show caution with. 

“The sharmat’s reincarnation walks the earth again.” All of the blood in Nerevar’s veins froze in an instance.

“... What…?” Dagoth Ur was back? But Nerevar cut him off from the heart! Red Mountain erupted, burying the thing in rock once again! 

“He doesn’t yet walk as Dagoth Ur.” Azura clarified. “But he carries with him Voryn Dagoth’s soul, in hope of redemption.” Azura continued, though it still didn’t settle well with Nerevar. 

“You know what must be done.” Azura warned him now, stroking his hair affectionately. Nerevar in turn stared up at her in confusion. 

“What must be done…?” She wasn’t asking him to kill someone just by virtue of being Dagoth Ur’s reincarnation, could she? Of the Three she was mercy, not senseless violence. 

She then smiled even more lovingly, despite all the worry and pain on Nerevar’s face. 

“I know what you must be thinking, and no, I am not asking you to kill him.” Azura stroked his cheek now. “His soul wants redemption, Hortator. See to it he does not fall to the heart’s influence again, and the two of you can make up for the past.” She then kissed his forehead. “This is my gift to you.” 

And then he was in the temple room once more, empty with just a statue looking at him and a heavy feeling in his chest. 

In the days that followed he thought over the conversation he had with Azura, trying to make sense of it with all he knew. Voryn’s reincarnation was alive and walking Nirn just like Nerevar did. Nerevar needed to see to it that he didn’t fall to the heart of Lorkhan’s influence once again and mantled Dagoth Ur to repeat all the strife and disease that the sharmat brought. And make up for the past….

It took several weeks, but Nerevar believed he finally understood what she was saying.

In the past, in his first lifetime, Nerevar was… Well, he was a good king, but not necessarily a good friend or spouse. He was headstrong, pushed until he got what he wanted, determined to a fault. At times he could even be quite cruel and ruthless, as that came with the territory of having to protect your position as king when someone came from as low of a background as he did. He kept secrets, lied, cheated, stole, whatever he could to get the throne.

For most of his life that he knew Voryn Dagoth, he considered Voryn his closest friend. More than that, he considered Voryn the love of his life, though he never had the nerve to pursue him. So many nights they stayed up late drinking, and he told Voryn so many secrets he’d never tell another soul. So many nights he spilled his heart to Voryn, being vulnerable with him, seeking comfort, everything except confessing the full extent of his feelings. 

And Nerevar, fool that he was, thought on some level Voryn felt the same way. Maybe not that he romantically loved Nerevar in return--that was asking for too much--but he thought that, at the very least, Voryn considered him a friend. That the nights they shared secrets, Voryn was being just as vulnerable as Nerevar, confessing things to him and him alone. That when he greeted Nerevar with a warm smile, that spark in his eyes was genuine and true. 

In hindsight that was rather foolish of Nerevar, but if he was anything it was a fool. Voryn was known for being secretive, lying, and manipulative. He cared about his house and his house alone. Why would Nerevar be an exception? The only difference Nerevar had from anyone else was that he was easier for Voryn to manipulate; all he had to do was act the part of a kind and loyal friend and Nerevar would unthinkingly spill all of his secrets and hopes and dreams. He helped Nerevar become king because it was advantageous for House Dagoth and nothing more. Only his ‘friendship’ with Nerevar got him more than he bargained for. 

At times, Nerevar had to make deals and negotiations that weren’t advantageous to House Dagoth, because as king he couldn’t play favorites. Voryn had assured him there were no hard feelings, but resentment continued to bubble away inside him as he was giving more than he was getting out of their friendship. Then Voryn’s brother, Gilvoth, threatened Nerevar at a party and Nerevar had to make a big show out of it to keep his power. He had to threaten him and Voryn. He had to seriously contemplate what sort of punishment to give the older mer, if he should cut off Gilvoth’s hands and fine House Dagoth. Nerevar didn’t want to necessarily; Gilvoth had only threatened him because he believed Nerevar was taking advantage of Voryn and said as much, and as angry as it made Nerevar he couldn’t shake that what Gilvoth said was true. Voryn, however, assured Nerevar he was loyal to Nerevar and Nerevar alone and nothing the other could do could possibly be taking advantage of him. It was likely just a ploy to get him to go easy on his brother, but it worked. He let Gilvoth off with an exile of a few years, purposefully not looking into it afterwards to see if House Dagoth was secretly helping him out or not when he should have been suffering alone and fighting to survive. 

And when they found the heart, all the lies were exposed. Voryn betrayed him, using the tools when Nerevar warned him not to. He was at least semi-lucid, no matter how mad with power he had become.  And Nerevar, idiot that he was, thought that confessing his love for Voryn might bring him back. Might convince him to put the tools down and return to his side. That Nerevar had no intention of leaving him to rot, but that he trusted Voryn with the tools more than anyone because he trusted his heart with the other just the same. 

And Voryn, no longer needing to use kind words and play along with Nerevar’s foolish selfishness, laughed loudly. 

“You love me?” Voryn nearly choked on his laughter. “I’m surprised a man like you even thinks himself capable of love!” Nerevar’s heart stopped hearing that, crumbling in on itself as he felt cold and hollow despite the heat of the heart chamber around him. “As if I ever wanted your heart. As if I ever wanted that disgusting thing you call ‘love’.” Another sharp pain went through Nerevar’s chest like he was being stabbed. “Did you think of me as a lovesick fool? Did you believe I would rush to your side and beg for forgiveness if you offered me your heart?” Guilt hit him next as he tried in vain to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“You are the fool here, Nerevar. A stupid, almost pitiful fool. As though using me for centuries and then leaving me here to rot wasn’t enough, you genuinely thought I would want the disgusting affection you offer me?” Nerevar opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out beyond a broken sob at the cutting words. “The only thing you can offer me of value here is your death.” 

Again, hindsight made it clear just how stupid of a decision it was to make. Why would offering his heart to Voryn make any difference? Voryn ‘betrayed’ Nerevar only because he was tired of being used and abused by him. Tired of playing along with his foolish plans and suffering the consequences. Even though using the heart was a fatal mistake that would eventually warp him into the monster known as Dagoth Ur, he had initially done it to protect his house. A house that fell alongside Voryn, scattered from persecution and having to give up their identity just to escape with their lives. In honor of Voryn he tried to spread the history of the sixth house so they could be mourned properly, but descendants were slow to come forward, terrified of the bigotry and violence they would face. 

Azura told him of this reincarnation for a reason. Nerevar can’t truly undo all the harm he caused Voryn in the past, but he might be able to make right by him this time around. He could ensure he didn’t fall to the temptation of the heart all over again. And he could make sure Voryn was safe and well protected this time around without selfishly shoving his feelings onto him like he did in the past. Nerevar was doomed to his fate, but Voryn didn’t have to be. 

Nerevar could make things right. He will make things right. 

He had to. 

--

“Are you certain it will work?” Nerevar questioned, holding the mask of Dagoth Ur once more. Powerful magic was cast on it, various seals stuck to it to keep the influence contained.

“Yes yes,” Divayth Fyr rolled his eyes, “I am positive.” He scoffed at the very notion it would fail. “More certain than even the potion I gave you could resolve your little corprus problem.” Nerevar’s eyebrow twitched at that, but he held his tongue. “I’ve done so much work with corprus I understand Dagoth Ur’s magical essence very well. The ritual will banish him and free any incarnation from the heart’s influence.” 

He had been working on this frankly monumental task with Divayth for several years now, and it was a relief it was finally done. He resisted the urge to run his hands across the golden mask that looked so much like Voryn’s face, trying to bury the romantic feelings deep into the pit of oblivion that had made its home in his heart. 

“Though I must warn you,” Divayth began with a sigh, “Given how long Voryn’s soul has been warped by the heart and taken in by Dagoth Ur, it will likely banish him as well.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nerevar question with a raised eyebrow. “You said the incarnation would be safe.”

“The reincarnation will be safe, yes.” Divayth clarified. “He will continue living on as whatever identity and life he made himself out to be.” He looked away briefly, not meeting Nerevar’s eyes. “But all of Voryn’s memories will likely be banished with Dagoth Ur’s influence all the same.” A heavy feeling settled in Nerevar’s stomach, as his grip on the mask tightened. “The man you knew as Voryn Dagoth will be gone with Dagoth Ur.”

“... That’s… Probably for the best.” Nerevar admitted with a sigh, tucking the mask away into his bag. 

“Hortator,” Divayth began, but Nerevar interrupted him.

“My goal was to ensure Dagoth Ur doesn’t return.” He continued. “Making sure corprus doesn’t spread anymore takes top priority, as I’m sure you understand.” The mage’s mouth formed a firm, straight line. “And if the price is just the reincarnation’s past life memories… Well, that is relatively cheap, all things considered.” 

“But Voryn was your good friend.”

“Was.” Nerevar clarified. “Voryn Dagoth has been dead for thousands of years.” It was the truth, however much it hurt him. “Voryn deserves a peaceful rest. All of the bad memories will fade, and the incarnation won’t even need to mourn losing any good ones. He’ll be free of the past, able to start with a clean slate.” 

Gods know Nerevar wished he had been given that chance. That he didn’t have to become Nerevar entirely. What could the dunmer Nerevarine have accomplished if he was free? Able to travel and see the world? Able to leave the past that was haunting him behind him? 

“... At least promise me this will be a last resort for you.” 

“But Dagoth Ur--”

“Azura said the incarnation didn’t walk as Dagoth Ur yet, didn’t she?” Divayth countered. “The ritual might be very painful and difficult for him. It will force him to confront Dagoth Ur, and even though it will give him the tools needed to push him away, it will still hurt him.” Nerevar couldn’t argue with that logic. As much as he wanted to free the reincarnation, he didn’t want to hurt him either. “Only use it if you must.” 

“... Fine.” Nerevar sighed, turning to leave with a levitation potion in hand. “Only as a last resort.”

[sagedapplee]

✴️ and 🧣 for Iridryn :)))

HEHEHEHHHEHEHEE YASSSSSS

Iridryn mainly looks up to older family members. Of course, she always looked up to Sotha Sil for his dedication to knowledge and his craft, as well as her mother Usya's battle prowess. However, out of anyone she admires the work of Divayth Fyr the most. She loves the idea of jumping across realms to find artifacts like he does, and to know as much magic as well.

Her parents and her girlfriend Eerika. Despite her stubborn rebellious attitude when leaving the Clockwork City, she misses Sotha Sil and Usya immensely and is scared of being out there. However, Eerika provides a feeling of security while she's out exploring Tamriel.

...And not that she would admit it, that's why she keeps Sunna'rah on her at all times. Because her father created it. You'll never see her without it.

(Usya belongs to @vestigme !

Eerika belongs to @romansweetrollthief !)

[guildmaster-galerion]

Dear Guildmaster, are you going to address the comment made by the Telvanni Divayth Fyr towards you and the Mages Guild's name in the new article by the University of Gwylim? (Loremaster's Archive-House Telvanni)

When compared to your person, Fyr responds like this: "The comparison to Arch-Mage Galerion is apt, but short-sighted. The Mages Guild is a halfway house for those with the mystical aptitude to slowly float a quill over a parchment, or light the lanterns in Wayrest with incantations a Dark Elf child masters before their tenth year. In short: lackwits. That a talent like Vanus Galerion has shackled himself to that sprawling edifice to mediocrity proves that wisdom is no requirement for arcane power."

I must admit, the last thing I expected to read upon procuring myself a copy of the newest publication was a reference to myself or my organization— and such a negative one, at that. What was once a regular occurrence has lessened with time. I was of the belief that the general public had changed their opinions on the Mages Guild, though I suppose there shall always be detractors. That one such detractor happens to be Divayth Fyr does not come as much of a surprise to me, though I had hoped for the opposite.

Was I planning to address his statement? No, I was not. As I said; I have grown quite used to hearing the doubts and disapproval of Tamrielans from all walks of life since the very moment I stepped foot off the Isle of Artaeum. I discovered rather quickly that if one wishes to make change of any significance, one must learn to steel themselves against unwarranted criticism— and to pick their battles, as it were. If I responded to each and every point of disparagement, I would have no time to do anything that actually mattered.

However, seeing as I am beholden to my gracious readers to answer the inquiries they send to me… I suppose I can make an exception.

Firstly, I will address that Fyr’s acknowledgement of my arcane talent has not gone unnoticed. Though, given the fact it is hidden between both discrediting opinions on my organization, and demeaning comments about those that attend, I am in no way obligated to accept backhanded compliments.

Secondly, I find it quite humorous that the Master would dare to speak lowly of those within the Guild and their aptitude, comparing them to persons who have had magical knowledge at their fingertips from birth. It is clear to me that he horrendously misunderstands the very point of the Mages Guild, though I cannot say I’m surprised. I may have yet to speak directly to the Mer, but there was very little I did not overhear during my youth— whether the Psijic Ritemaster was aware or not. Despite our shared prowess, Fyr and I have never been of like mind, it seems.

I am not shackled to the Mages Guild— far from it! Unlike Fyr, or my teachers before me, I do not wish to horde my knowledge in the attempt to grow stronger, or to create manufactured elitism. The people of Tamriel deserve access to magic, whether one comes from the idyllic Summerset Isles, the ash-swept Morrowind, or elsewhere entirely. Tell me, I beg, why “slowly floating a quill over a parchment” would not be an improvement to not doing so at all? Must one be an author in order to write? A scholar in order to learn?

Divayth Fyr’s views are narrow-minded and selfish, looking only towards his own future. He is uninterested in the betterment of Tamriel and its people— only in his own acquisition of power and prestige. I have seen it far too many times before, and have not allowed it to shake me, nor shall I now. Fyr will not be remembered for his altruism. The Mages Guild, however, shall stand as a testament to the magic of Tamriel, and the true strength of its inhabitants.

[littlegalerion]

RE: Divaythcourse

Honestly? There's enough space to argue that Divayth Fyr wasn't in that kind of relationship with his clones.

The wife thing is only mentioned by the daughters, who mind you, live alone on an isolated island with only their creator as company. I double-checked his Morrowind Dialogue, and nothing he says seems to be out of line for a familial relationship.

I find it just as likely that there's a fundamental misunderstanding with the girls about what actually goes on in a wife/paramour relationship. They are isolated, they don't get many visitors who don't quickly go mad, and Divayth is mentioned as being in his study most of the time.

Some Corprus afflicted dude probably asked one of them if they were Fyr's wife, she asked what that was and he tried explaining delicately, and accidentally gave the impression that being a paramour/wife is just living with a man. Divayth probably thinks it's funny or hasn't caught on yet.

And I'm standing by this interpretation. My canon now.

Yeah, given the characters that could be an interpretation.

I always explained it away that Divayth and his daughters spread the false rumor purely because they dislike visitors. I mean Divayth literally will say you're too boring for him if you arrive too early in game to his tower in Morrowind, and I believe the daughters kinda imply other visitors stop in way too often if only to "oooooh look at the crazy mushroom wizard!" It would take a lot for a dunmer to disgust another dunmer, but implying the sick daughter wives thing would definitely repell even the likes of Neloth away from the family.

But also this was writing from Kirkbride, and unfortunately his humor was "edgy", so while we choose to interpret it differently, he definitely meant it in that way.

But like you said, it's our canons now, so boo on him.

[sleepymarmot]

I had been looking forward to meeting Morian Zenas in person ever since the chapter was announced — and I finally got around to doing his quest today; second to last of all location quests.

By now I've long figured out that my predictions didn't come true, and made peace with it. Maybe we'll still see a reunion somewhere in the future, now that he's been properly introduced as an NPC.

Poor Alfidia would be hearbroken to see him in this state, though. He's nothing what she described. Does he even remember her?

In terms of writing, it's kind of disappointing that he speaks in Sheogorath style, because that's the only way the writers know how to convey "scatterbrained". Just like Azandar overuses unusual words like Sotha Sil, because that's what the writers think "bookish" sounds like.

But most importantly...

Does he know that it was Divayth Fyr who did this to him? He knows he has "powerful enemies", but in a later conversation says he thinks he'd angered Hermaeus Mora. And, according to UESP, there isn't an option to talk about his past for the players who know his backstory (I think there isn't even an achievement for learning the Imperial style).

Frankly, I think it was reasonable of me to expect that a chapter focused on the Telvanni and Apocrypha would answer the nine year old question of what price was paid by a Telvanni to confine his rival in Apocrypha!

[nerevar-near-and-far]

They grow up isolated, not just because their dad is a corprus beanbag and Fyr's Telvanni old grump paranoia, but also because holy shit they're healthy, living Dwarves. Religious and history texts in Morrowind for millenia called Dwarves the enemy of the Dunmer, ally of House Dagoth in the War of the First Council. And who even knows what jacked-up experiments mages researching the disappearance would want to try on them. Yet still, they aren't hidden from the few visitors, just described as either Altmer or Dunmer (no canonical Dwemer skin color!), who Divayth Fyr is helping treat for a rare condition or something like that.

Because of time and place, they're raised more as Dwemer "second generation immigrants" within Dunmer culture. They learn Dwemer language and philosophy and crafting from Yagrum. Yagrum still struggles with bad depression because *waves hands* look at him, but he's a good dad. Divayth's old enough to have been around Sotha Sil before godhood, so he almost certainly knew some Dwemer. He helps how he can teaching the girls how to "be" Dwemer. And the Fyr ladies are like mothers and aunties.

(Content Warning for Icky Family Abuse: This is not the time and place for a Fyr clan apologia that would intrinsically, regardless of any intentions, diminish abuse, but I like to at least think Divayth didn't raise his - ugh - "daughters." They started as just experiments and he's a busy mer, he's got to take care of the Corprusarium, so he shipped them off to Dratha or Therana's people to raise. He may not have even seen them until they were adults. Which actually doesn't remove the question of consent and abuse, it just obscures it, but for shallow fanfiction purposes it helps it Feel Less Bad.)

Now to headcanon territory! There's the possibility of a few corprus victims who hadn't lost their minds yet by the time the Nerevarine beat Dagoth Ur. If stopping Dagoth Ur also stopped the progression of corprus disease in people who already had it, but leaves the disease itself, then there's people left behind who are ill and disabled, forever. Tanusea Veloth is at least one.

Fyr helps them. Most escaped Vvardenfell with the household. Fyr was paying close attention to news about Baar Dau. I can't imagine a way to succesfully corral the mindless shuffling victims in the Corprusarium off the island, but the conscious people were able to get out. They are around the Dwemer girls as well, creating a small village that loves them, and potentially having children of their own that can play with them.

Player Character headcanon and characterizations - if they remember Nerevar's life, they probably know quite a bit about the Dwemer! They were friends for almost 300 years! If they find their way back to Yagrum Bagarn at some point, they are floored by the young new Dwemer. Just spellbound. Nerevar never had time to process the disappearance of an entire race but in reincarnated hindsight they feel a bit responsible. They know it's not their fault, but a theme from all the stories and rumors about that day is that Kagrenac rushed to finish Numidium because Nerevar challenged Dumac.

So to me, the best part of this idea comes when the Nerevarine decides to protect the young women, in a strange and emotionally mixed repentance that they keep bottled up. And maybe they can speak some Dwemeris! Before long they are emotionally attached. Oops. As another parent figure? Older sibling? Totally ill-advised romance with one of them? The possibilitieeeeessss

Would anyone like to hear about the idea (conditional on them escaping the Red Year) that Divayth Fyr could create female Dwemer clones from Yagrum Bagarn, resurrecting the race?

Starting with Alef, B'vet, Gemmel, and Dalad Bagarn, all tall ladies with magnificent sideburns, if not generous beards

(No cloned selfcest required because children in TES are the race of the mother)

[maybemanyskeletonhats]

hello its me again uwu

elves with a person from this world who, for lack of a better term, is "isekai'd" into the elder scrolls universe? just like a modern person who miraculously survived long enough to even meet the elves lol

(also, as a side tangent, its implied that Vivec is aware he's fictional and to some extent Sotha Sil is semi-aware as well? so if a "real" person somehow got into the universe would it suddenly render them real as well? food for thought. you don't have to include any of this stuff bc its weird meta stuff but I think it might be interesting)

Doing the elves who I would believe would have a stronger reaction to this as I think some would just choose not to believe the hero.

I give you...

Familiarity

Vivec would smile lightly as the vestige arrived, then his eyes caught on the frazzled individual behind them. He looks at them curiously and notices they look at him with not a gaze of awe but one of silent familiarity. His eyes rake over them and notice the odd garments they adorn themselves in. 'You are unlike the others. Different perhaps?' he muses in his mind. He then turns to the vestige and tilts his head. "I see you've returned and with a new companion to boot." he turns to the stranger, "Hello, outlander. You aren't from here, are you?" There's something in his tone that tells them. "I know you don't belong here."

Sotha Sil makes a silent glance at the vestige's companion and he hums curiously. They stand out for some inexplicable reason. Later on he and the odd companion speak. "You aren't of this world, are you?" He sounds like he knows the answer already. They pale and hesitate for a few moments before nodding. Sil doesn't say anything more but his eyes shine with pity.

Neloth didn't believe them when they showed up asking if he could help them get back to their universe. For some reason, he humours them and wants to know more. "I suspect this has something to do with daedric princes. It's a shame that Jyggalag is still sulking around, I imagine he'd know a great deal."

Divayth Fyr finds it admirable that they tracked him down figuring he knew about how to get them home. "I've traveled the realms before, not quite like you however. I'm curious as to what you know." He does try to help, in exchange he gets some answers to things. To him, it's fair.

Mannimarco being a god can see beyond what mortals do. He's intrigued about how they came to find him of all mer. "You suppose I know what whisked you here? It's most certainly not me. I wouldn't waste my time on such things. You likely came about here by the aedra. Mayhaps an even higher power."

[changelingsandothernonsense]

oooo for the oc trauma ask game, 3, 8, 10, and 20?? >:3c

Helloooo! Time for another long Joshi dump! Things that I haven't published on Ao3 will be REDACTED.

3. Have they died before?

He's not quite sure. Divayth Fyr believes that he did, recording in his treatment notes that he had to restart Josh's heart several times. All Josh remembers is that he reached out for something, and then he woke up with half his body missing and a pervasive madness that threatened to destroy him. After REDACTED he notices a few alarming symptoms and undergoes this experimentation a second time, though this time with REDACTED who was present during the original experiment. His heart did not stop this time, but that's because it beats differently, slowly and in time with the earth. The flesh under his corprus scaring is dead though, it oozes a strange, dark substance when cut.

8. Are they trusting or do they refuse to trust? Answered here. Simple answer is no, he does not trust easily.

10. How do their friends and family think of them? Mixed, very mixed.

Teldryn's burnt a lot of bridges in his time though much of his behavior was in retaliation to unfair treatment. His grandfather and uncle both despised him. Not because of anything he did, no. They hate Teldryn because he represents the family's loss of face. The circumstances of his birth were, before attitudes about the Ashlanders amongst the settled Dunmer changed in the face of the Nerevarine's return, traditionally seen as deeply shameful. He's visibly Velothi and was treated as such. His mother would say that what happened to him was her fault. That she had been so wrapped up in her grief over losing his father that she became increasingly more distant as he grew to resemble his father in both looks and personality. She used to react out of fear, and she was constantly fearful when she lived under the thumb of her own father. She allowed the abuse because she was afraid of losing their place to live. In turn Teldryn grew to resent her before ultimately disappearing for three years before turning up again in Cyrodiil. Only finding out about his whereabouts because he'd committed a serious crime in the heartland. She was told that if she helped the Legion find him, that he'd get a lighter sentence and a deportation to Morrowind. She was lied to.

Instead she fought for his release for a decade and a half before she was suddenly unable to locate where he'd been transferred. She was afraid that they'd finally executed him, though she continued to write to whomever would listen about it. She eventually runs into him as he's accosting a merchant in Suran's market. Maera see's Teldryn's behavior as a consequence of the shit that's happened to him. She's just there to try and help, even if its still complicated. His son, Adren would say that he's unpredictable and dangerously immature. There was a point where the two were on zero speaking terms, though they do repair things enough to have both of them be civil in a room together. From Adren's perspective, he's lived the first thirty-eight years of his life thinking the man his mother was married to was his father. Despite having nothing in common and not resembling him at all. He was confused but not bothered. Then, one day as you're visiting your grandparents this absolute drunken nutcase that looks just like you pops up blubbering something about the two of you being related. You ask your mother what the hell it was all about and she finally admits that you were the product of a summer fling between a noble girl and the bastard son (not technically but he received the same treatment) of a merchant's daughter. Your identity is crushed. You decide to write to the miserable sod, only to find your letter is ignored for close to a year. (It wasn't until later that he found out what Teldryn was actually doing.) Now he wont stop writing you back. You don't want contact. He stops writing you for six years. Suddenly he shows up to ferry you out of the province because the damn Volcano's about to blow. You're stuck actually talking to him face to face for the first time and you find out why you have a talent for numbers. Things sort of make sense. Then the man you've actually call your father finds you bio dad in bed with your mother and your whole family just fucking implodes. You don't see the guy again for almost a century and when you do, he's been thrown in gaol because he tried to save you. You return the favour and now you're in an uneasy truce in your mind. Adren has mixed emotions about Josh, but as it stands he wont see him treated unjustly. He knows why Josh is the way he is, he would just rather keep him at arms length. Geldis is in the same camp as Maera, his attitude is a product of his circumstances. The guy's been through more in one lifetime then most could reasonably be expected to handle and he knows part of Josh's self-destructive is due to his despair over knowing there's no natural end to it. He tries to give his best friend and REDACTED some space. Erra will tell you that Teldryn's constantly wearing a mask. He's kind, sensitive, intelligent and, in his opinion, incredibly brave. Erra believes he puts on this mask because he's scared to show vulnerability and he'd be right. Erra fully believes that Josh is the hero his people think him to be. He fought and died believing that. His heart breaks whenever his ghost gets the odd glimpse of his destructive behaviour. Juib will also tell you about the mask Teldryn puts on. He believes that what Teldryn needs is some time alone, away from the chaos he'd been drowning in for decades. If he was allowed to live a mundane life, away from everything that reminds him of his past, maybe Teldryn could heal. That's all he ever wanted. Sydari will tell you that Teldryn is complex but that he ultimately needs to take some responsibility for himself. Like her, he presents himself differently depending on who he's speaking with.

There's the Teldryn Sero that the public of Raven Rock know, a somewhat aloof mercenary who tends to blend into the background, never showing his face in public unless you catch him on one of his benders in the early hours of the morning. He's a fixture of the local corner club, seems close with Geldis Sadri and sometimes lends a hand if the Redoran Guard are having trouble. He's different around his inner circle, often bragging showing off or coming up with some sort of scheme to stave off boredom. That front he puts on to strangers, where he's aloof, if a bit arrogant is replaced by a mer who uses cockiness as a front instead. It takes a lot to get him to actually admit how he feels, and most of the time what Teldryn feels is a deep, all consuming sadness that bubbles to the surface as anger and aggression. It took years for her to chip away at that shell.

She'll tell you that Josh is so afraid of dealing with his emotions that he'll weave the world's most ridiculous tapestry of lies just to avoid being honest with himself, and those around him.

She wants him to know that it's okay to be scared and that he doesn't have to handle everything alone.

20. Will they recover from their trauma or will it consume them?

Sort answer, YES AND NO.