#mortal vivec

[trickstarbrave]

ANDDDDDD VIVEC IS DONE these colored sketches have been fun. i also just noticed i actually did them in the ALMSIVI order???? not intentional ngl

i went a lil. ham on him ngl. i referenced both eso and morrowind bc i wanted to capture his kinda uncanny stare???

also i am a freckled vivec truther. he can get rid of the after apotheosis but i'll remember

[tonal-modulator]

literally why would "summoning the dead" be anathema to the dead keepers when like. the Whole Thing about ancestor worship/veneration is that they're not fully gone and you can talk to them sometimes

[theropoda]

not to take away from your point but didnt vivec and sotha sil also walk among and help mortals? i think almalexia herself says in tribunal that the two used to live among their people until dagoth ur appeared took the heart and everything got worse for all three of them

ok look. almalexia does not get the appreciation she deserves. 

it’s possible that sotha sil didn’t truly die– he built his consciousness into his city (and the wheels of null) and what almalexia killed was a mere husk. likewise, vivec had CHIM and could easily exist beyond reality as we know it– there’s actually a lot of extra-canonical text to support this, depending what weight you give to kirkbride’s work. the point is that both of them had fail-proofs, way to keep their divinity that they’d set up beforehand, methods of godhood that would allow them to exist even after the heart of lorkhan was destroyed

and while they were off probing into the deepest secrets of creation, who looked after the damn country? almalexia did! there is a reason that almalexia lived in the capital of morrowind, there’s a reason almalexia is solely credited with repelling the akaviri invasion along with the nords, why she’s the one who largely negotiated the ebonheart pact, why we find her again and again appearing to deal with the mundane day-to-day politics while vivec and sotha sil appear much more rarely in these capacities. while vivec and sotha sil were off exploring the universe, she’s mother morrowind, and in the most mundane capacity of little diplomatic trifles and matters of justice and economy and all those other non-mythical nonsenses, she kept the province running. 

basically she got screwed over by her fellow almsivi. it’s like– imagine that you’re doing the work of three people, acting as the captain of a ship, when suddenly your two co-captains come up to you and inform you that they’re sinking the boat, but it’s okay because they built life rafts for themselves and themselves only while you were doing their work for them. try n tell me you wouldn’t flip out and demand to be known as the one true captain and attempt a murder. cmon. 

basically almalexia kept morrowind intact for fockin eons while the other two living gods went and did god knows what and yall should show a little more respect

[what-even-is-thiss]

How did Bethesda get away with having a character like Vivec in 2002

He’s intersex and non binary, canonically identifies as both male and female. Is male presenting and appears to mostly use he/him pronouns and canonically had sex with a male presenting Daedra to get information out of him.

I think they got away with it because he’s a god. But also not really? He’s not really a god? Just kind of?

Like, good lord. Vivec is such a complicated character. He sucks but also he doesn’t. He’s a character of dualities and contradictions.

Like in order to have an intersex bigender character in 2002 they had to wrap him up in layers of theological duality but they still did it. They made Vivec. And people accepted it. Vivec is there. He was bigender and intersex even when he was mortal. That was not caused by his divinity.

They made an intersex bigender warrior poet not afraid to use his sexuality to get ahead in life. And from what I can see people just let them do that. Did they even know what they were doing? Did they even know how cool that was when they did it?

[falmerbrook]

It seems like to most people the most interesting or captivating part of Vivec's character is the sutff in the 36 Lessons and/or all the esoteric lore we learn through it/him. But I honestly was captivated by just the conversations we have with him in Morrowind, and for me that is when he is at his most interesting and fun to analyze. Maybe it's just because I find the 36 Lessons too dense to follow, but in-game Morrowind Vivec is how I picture his character in my head more than those other sources (at least for that point in his life). I think that's the most honest he has been (and will ever be) with the player.

On that note, I think it's interesting how many people when writing him (whether that be in a serious or funny context) write him speaking with all these metaphors and obtuse language like in the 36 Lessons, when the 36 Lessons are supposed to be a religious text (like, when has the Bible, for example, ever been written conversationally?), and in every instance of him having a conversation with the player or others he still talked like a normal person. Sure, he obfuscates his meaning and is careful with his words, but it's still a conversation.

In general I think many folks fall for his and the rest of the Tribunal's posturing as gods when I think in their characterization and interactions with others, they are more like just mortal people than most give them credit for, and Vivec get's this sentiment from fans the hardest. They really fall for his hype. He's just one of those characters where I feel like I gotta go back and reread his actual dialogue from time to time to refresh myself on his characterization. And it always reminds me of how much I love him in Morrowind.

[neptnzz]

mortal vivec sketches based on sermon sixteen

these are older messy doodles but i've been meaning to post them somewhere!! so now's the time >:-)

[iamnotshazam]

TES III Morrowind post -

A Nerevarine that, for all their humility, does not escape the power of the Heart. They wielded the Tools. They touched it even closer than the Tribunal or Dagoth Ur ever did, as the Nerevarine removed the Dwemer spell barrier channeling the power through the Tools. The Heart of the world, that was made to satisfy the other, that laughed at destruction and loved existence too well to cease. The same Heart that changed the spirit of Voryn Dagoth into Dagoth Ur merely by proximity.

A Nerevarine that chooses to not become a god. Not because Vivec never revealed the technique, nor because Indoril Nerevar chose not to in the past, nor because Azura is watching. But because they see the wreckage it made of people that might have once been true friends, Nerevar and House Dagoth and the Tribunal, and how the blessings the Tribunal thought eternal were, in the end, as impermanent as their underlying mortality. The Heart and its power was not theirs, but the world's.

A Nerevarine that touches the Heart, twice-insulated by Dwemer gauntlet holding knife and hammer, cutting at the pericardic seal on its overflowing power. And a Heart that "sees" a little mortal creature who chooses to accept the struggle given from their shared creator, Lorkhan. The Heart does not have a will of its own, but it is made to satisfy the other.

The Nerevarine changes. Perhaps it's the echo of dying near the Heart in a past life, perhaps it's because they chose to follow what others tried to force into a destiny, perhaps it's dumb luck. Mortals cannot stop change. Not even ageless mortals pretending to be gods, nor thrice-loyal stewards become devils, nor a hero healed of the divine disease and given accidental agelessness. The Nerevarine changes.

Are they Nerevar, or did they become a Nerevarine? Were they tricked, or have they tricked everyone else? Is this Nerevar a true rebirth, a reincarnation through sympathetic Azura reborn unaware? But would that also not leave them as processed through another's will as Trinimac was to become Malacath? Or would that be Arkay of death and birth, or even Akatosh of time, who ate and changed them? Does it even matter? It seems not to, right up until they are standing next to a power that makes death of immortals and eternal life of mortals. A known aid to Mantling. Hell of a time, when the Sharmat is breathing down your neck, to start remembering the trusting face of Voryn Dagoth. Or are the memories like dreams, and the Nerevarine has been sleeping this whole time?

The Nerevarine awakens, and changes.

Maybe now they always hear their heart and the hearts of others, beating away. Or they feel the current location and status of the Heart, locked away in magma flows and safe from tampering. Maybe they can change swiftly between Chimer and Dunmer, and Azura smiles and does not say if it's her power or their own. Or they can change between Mer and Man, or even Beast. Maybe it's only between their reborn shape, whatever species it may be, and that of Indoril Nerevar.

Whenever they look at the Imperial merging of Akatosh and Shor in tapestry or stained-glass window, the back of their skull aches and their heart feels ready to beat out of their chest. Sometimes they feel stabbing pains through the chest and their feet go numb and their face feels slack. The robe brushing their skin, the candle-smoke wafting into their nose, the chanting words pouring out of their mouth: it all feels like betrayal. Other times they feel ready to break into eight pieces, or like they might reach into their enemy's chest and pull out the heart without breaking skin.

(They tell none of this to Vivec when they return, or Almalexia when ensnared into her new scheme. They are surrounded by people in these cities named after gods who do not deserve it, people celebrating the defeat of Dagoth Ur and the return of Nerevar. Which the Tribunal now says they always knew was coming, but had to play the part.

And the Nerevarine wonders why they find themselves wanting to ask Sotha Sil for advice, when he is the enemy, and might even have been the first traitor of the three. Then they come upon his mechanical corpse, and before they realize the full implications, they think, Ah. Ayem went after the least resolute, the most likely to help me . . . Wait. Oh shit-)

Maybe they can feel where - although it's more like when, but sideways - time almost broke again, in the heart chamber. Was that the second time they were in there, if counting past lives, or merely the first? They can feel a . . . a something, a somewhen, a different time in which Vehk, Seht, and Ayem were gods from the beginning, or the Dwemer properly ascended, or the Nords overran Resdayn, or Nerevar believed Voryn and together they killed his teacher, his friend, his wife-

Time flows and they can sense the eyes of the gods looking at them through the veil. Either they go crazy and scream at them all like the Whitestrake did, or they choose - choose, again and again - to continue acting of their own power and volition. It's all a mortal can do.

[mothermara]

I have this theory that Skyrim is so green and sunny in TESV because of climate change. In the 3rd era, Skyrim is consistently spoken of as a harsh, snow-covered tundra. Bruma is covered in snow despite being at a fairly moderate elevation, and south of Skyrim. Vivec described Atmora as completely inhospitable to mortal life, so much so that those who stayed all froze to death. However, in the fourth era, Skyrim is shown to be mostly covered in greenery, save for the northernmost reaches. I believe the best in-universe explanation for these stark discrepancies lies in the possibility of fluctuations in Tamriel's climate; specifically, I think the oblivion crisis marked the end of an ice age that began in the mid-merethic era.

[vosh-rakh]

madstone, chapter 5

“I suppose that is my name,” the former god said with a tilt of his head. “I considered changing it, but the priests advised I didn’t. Would confuse the people more than necessary, they said. I suppose they’re right.”

He put a delicate hand on Kassur’s shoulder, who suddenly felt very small and embarrassed for his outburst. “You say my name with a curious accent. Are you Velothi, by chance?”

Kassur nodded. He didn’t think his accent was that strong. Maybe Vivec was just good at picking up on it.

Without removing his hand, Vivec looked up at Ku-vastei. “What brings you to my city, Hortator?”

“Trouble with the Ahemmusa,” Ku-vastei said. She raised and jingled the Madstone in the air. “We’re helping this lad get it sorted.”

Vivec leaned his face in to examine the amulet. “Interesting design. Dwemeri, I take it.”

Ku-vastei took a closer look at the Madstone. “Is it?”

“May I?” Vivec asked, hand outstretched. Ku-vastei tentatively handed the Madstone to him. “Yes, but of very ancient make. Likely fashioned prior to a law that standardized their more utilitarian style. A law passed long before even our war with the Nords.” He smiles sadly, his eyes seeming to look beyond the amulet and into the distant past. “This really brings me back.”

Kassur managed to catch a glimpse of the amulet in the god’s hand, his first real look at it since they retrieved it. It had a round blue stone engraved with a radiant eye, cradled in an inverted crimson crescent that looked like horns. 

Vivec then casually flicked the Madstone with his finger; a loud, clear tone rang out from the stone. Kassur instinctively covered his ears, even though the sound wasn’t necessarily painful. 

“Before they became atheists,” Vivec began when the sound diminished, “the Dwemer feared the Daedra. They lacked their later, more complete understanding of metaphysical tonality, but still vaguely knew the importance of fundamental tones. They crafted devices such as this to ‘scare away’ the influence of the Daedra.”

“Seems the Ahemmusa somehow obtained one and used it to keep Sheogorath away for generations,” Ku-vastei filled in. 

“Interesting,” Vivec mumbled, scratching his chin. “I wonder how it came into their hands. No matter, I suppose.” He looked again at Kassur. “I suspect whatever issue your tribe faces, this device is instrumental to its salvation.”

“We think so, Lord Vivec,” offered Aryon when Kassur didn’t reply. 

“Oh, please,” said Vivec with a dainty wave of his golden hand. “I’m barely a ‘Lord’ anymore. Call me a saint still, if you want. But I’m more part of the common rabble these days.”

Kassur somehow doubted this. How could a god become a mortal so easily? This was, of course, assuming he was ever truly a god in the first place, something Kassur’s people readily questioned. Regardless, there seemed something insincere, or at least unbefitting, in his stated humility. 

Moving right along, Vivec said, “Well, I suppose I’ll be coming with you.”

Ku-vastei barely suppressed a hiss. “That won’t be necessary, Vivec.”

“Oh, please,” Vivec said again, clasping his hands and stretching his arms in front of him. “I’m bored out of my mind here. Endless bureaucracy. And there’s only so many ways you can say, ‘Get rid of that rock in the sky.’” 

He cast a glance upwards at Baar Dau, which Kassur only just now noticed. It was indeed a giant rock in the sky, crawling with miners like kwama, bits of excavated stone falling into the water by the Temple canton. 

“Won’t leaving the city put its stasis in jeopardy?” Ku-vastei asked. 

“No, I can handle it from afar well enough, especially seeing as it’s quite a bit lighter these days.”

Ku-vastei swished her tail and scratched her chin. Finally, she acquiesced. “Fine. You can come. But not like that.” She made a gesture with her metal hand, dividing her face into two halves.

“Of course,” Vivec replied. “I can be discrete.” In an instant the gold faded from his right side, leaving him fully grey, like any other Dunmer. “Completely inconspicuous.”

“Fine,” Ku-vastei grunted. “Just don’t make any kind of scene. This doesn’t have to be a big ordeal.”

“As you wish, Hortator,” Vivec answered. Kassur was amazed by how easily Ku-vastei commanded the (former) god, and how readily he submitted to her whims.

“Let’s be on our way then, shall we?” asked Aryon. “We’ve got the better part of the island to cross.”

Ku-vastei shrugged. “We’ll just teleport to Sadrith Mora, take the boat to Vos, then walk the rest of the way to Ald Daedroth. Not too complicated.”

- - -

And it wasn’t too complicated. The teleport to Sadrith Mora (which Kassur handled even better than the last three, getting quite used to it), the walk across town, and boat ride to Vos, were mostly uneventful. But it was far from boring, as you might imagine, being a trip with a powerful wizard, the leader of a nation, and a god. To Kassur it went by in a blur; either Aryon and Vivec were in heated debate about the Dwarves, which Ku-vastei moderated, or the three discussed political matters so far over Kassur’s head in their import that he simply tuned it out and focused on not getting seasick. Gals Arethi kept a baleful eye on Kassur, but apparently the esteemed company Kassur traveled with kept him safe from the shipmaster’s wrath.

When they arrived, Sedyni the Vos shipmaster was not there. The four travelers stepped off the boat and glanced around. The nearby tradehouse seemed unusually quiet. Gals shrugged and sailed off back to Sadrith Mora.

“Where is everyone?” Kassur asked. At this time of early evening, the village was usually buzzing with activity.

Vivec closed his eyes. “The chapel is empty.”

“How could you possibly know that?” asked Ku-vastei, planting a metal hand on her hip. Kassur wondered about that brass gauntlet she wore – it was incredibly ornate, and had an air of being impossibly ancient and powerful. But he had no idea how to ask politely.

“I can still feel it,” Vivec said, opening his eyes again. “Most people still revere me as a god, especially this far removed from the official temple in my city. So the Tribunal holy places are still attuned to me.” Kassur had no idea what he was talking about.

Aryon was oddly quiet. In the short time Kassur had known him, he’d never acted like this; he was the type of consequential mer to always have something to contribute to a conversation. It was barely perceptible, but Kassur could swear he saw a slight tremor in Aryon’s hands. But Kassur couldn’t tell if it was fear…or rage.

“Aryon?” asked Ku-vastei. “Are you alright?” She seemed to notice the same thing Kassur had.

“Check on the village,” Aryon said, his voice dry. “I go to the tower.” And so he did, flying off fast through the air, much faster than they had in Vivec. As Kassur watched him disappear into the sky, he saw a dark cloud in front of the setting sun. Or…was it a pillar of smoke?

“This bodes ill,” Vivec said, frowning. “Kassur, stay close. It’s quiet, but I suspect danger.”

Kassur felt a sudden pang of guilt. He realized he was more like a liability to these powerful beings, someone they had to keep close and protected because he was so weak and helpless. He could barely conjure a flame, and didn’t know how to use a weapon. In a fight, he was worthless. He began to wonder why they’d brought him along at all. A sneaking suspicion told him they thought he would be useful only as a bargaining chip, of sorts. A sort of intermediary to help them accomplish…whatever grim task they meant to do.

The thought escaped his lips just as he thought it. “Don’t kill them,” he blurted. “If it is the Ahemmusa. Please.”

“Kassur…” Ku-vastei began, turning to face him. “That might not be –”

“You have our word,” Vivec interrupted, placing a delicate hand on Kassur’s shoulder. “No excessive harm shall come to your people.”

Ku-vastei scoffed, snapping her head towards Vivec to glare at him, but after a moment sighed and shrugged. Kassur wasn't sure if he could trust the word of the false god – or if the Nerevarine had any interest in going along with him. 

They proceeded towards the town walls, which were actually the backs of the tightly-crowded huts of the village, no space left between their rounded stucco corners. There were no guards posted at the gate, the town’s single entrance, and beyond them was still silent. Down the single street they could see that many of the doors were half-to-wide open, but there were no obvious signs of a struggle.

“Vivec,” said Ku-vastei, “take Kassur to check the chapel. I’ll check on the houses.” Vivec nodded and gently directed Kassur towards the chapel as Ku-vastei began picking her way from hut to hut.

Vivec and Kassur passed under the chapel gate into the meager courtyard. The small alchemical garden the two priests maintained there was not overgrown or choked with weeds. “They haven’t been gone long,” Kassur observed out loud. 

Vivec noticed Kassur examining the garden and nodded. “Good,” he said, smiling at Kassur. “Let’s check inside.”

The door was closed, and unlocked. But the chapel never locked its doors, not even when the priests were both asleep. Vivec cautiously pushed through the threshold, Kassur following close behind. “Hello?” called out Vivec. “It’s alright. We’re here to help.” 

There was no answer. The chamber within was nearly pitch-dark, only faint light coming through the stained glass domed ceiling. Vivec cast a Light spell for them to see by as they entered.

It was a mess. The Tribunal tapestries on the walls were torn to shreds, and the murals defaced with what Kassur hoped was paint; candles and torches were snuffed out; the prayer-stools were upturned and thrown about; loose ripped-out pages of books were fluttering in the breeze visiting from outside; ash and bones from the circular Waiting Door on the floor were spread across the room haphazardly. Kassur held no great faith in these things, but it still pained him to see such desecration of a holy place. 

“Be on your guard,” said Vivec stiffly. “In this state I fear I could not trust my divinity to tell if we’re alone. There is little holiness left here.”

Kassur’s muscles tightened. He still didn’t understand how Vivec could know such things. But if he truly was anything close to what he claimed – an ancient mortal-made-god, a living deity – then it was difficult to doubt him.

They slowly circled the Waiting Door, more carefully inspecting the scene, but there was no more evidence of exactly what had happened. At least there’s no blood, Kassur thought. He remembered his teacher, Yakin Bael, and said, “There’s a bedroom downstairs. We should probably check there, too.”

Vivec nodded in agreement, and led the way down the steps, his orb of magical light guiding the way. The priests’ bedroom was not saved from the sacking: pots and urns of various alchemical and cooking ingredients were overturned and cracked open; broken glass from shattered bottles littered the rug underfoot (Kassur was for once glad for his shoes, and Vivec hovered an inch above the ground); the desk had its drawers yanked out, scattering torn papers and writing implements, and its stool and tall candlestick were toppled; the privacy screen was ripped open; and the beds were torn apart, sheets and blankets strewn and split.

Vivec stopped to inspect some of the loose pages of sermons and notes on the floor. Kassur went up the short ramp to the beds to look more closely. He knew the bed on the left was Yakin’s – they had a few lessons down here, when the upstairs chapel was too busy and loud. He picked up a pillow from the floor, gashed open and spitting up dried wickwheat stuffing, and gently laid it back on the head of the bed. He knelt down, and quickly realized that under the pillow was Yakin’s spectacles, broken and bent at the nose and lenses shattered. He gently took them in his hands, careful of the jagged edges of glass, and stared at them.

Just as he was getting used to his new life in Vos, now it seemed to be ripped from him again. Even the only real friend he had among the housemer, his teacher Yakin Bael, seemed to be in some unknown peril. And, useless as always, Kassur could do nothing but follow along with the real heroes, who actually had power to do anything about it.

“Here,” said Vivec, startling Kassur from his misery. A second orb of light appeared, floating near Kassur by the beds. 

“Thanks,” said Kassur. Vivec smiled and kept reading a document in his hand.

Kassur looked back down, and something immediately caught his eye. Just under the edge of the bed was a bright gleam, reflecting the magical light above. Kassur slowly reached for the shining object and pulled it out. 

It was a short sword, still in its sheath; its metallic hilt had been catching the light. He removed the sheath noiselessly and beheld the glistening steel blade, sharp as the day it was forged. “Vivec,” he called, “he had a sword. Yakin, that is. And he didn’t use it.”

Vivec dropped what he was reading and floated up the ramp to Kassur, looking down at him and the sword. “Hm,” he pondered, tucking his legs up under him as he floated and placing his hands on his crossed knees. “Doesn’t mean there wasn’t a struggle. Those spectacles are broken. No blood?”

Kassur looked around again. On a whim he grabbed the pillow he had adjusted earlier and turned it over; sure enough, a small bloodstain seeped through the cloth case.

“Punched in the face,” Kassur suggested. “Nose bled, maybe broken. No other signs of a struggle, that I can tell.”

“Fair analysis,” Vivec said. “I don’t think there’s any other clues here. Let’s go meet up with Ku-vastei.”

Ku-vastei had just come back from the end of the street to the chapel by the time Kassur and Vivec came out. She was alone.

“I see you didn’t find any survivors,” Vivec said, frowning. “Any dead?”

“No,” Ku-vastei said. “No sign of any struggle. Everyone is just gone. What of the chapel?”

“We found no one, but the chapel was desecrated. The homes were untouched?”

“That I could tell, yes. Some doors were left open, and the breeze disturbed some belongings, but that was it.”

“Hm,” Vivec said, stroking his solid grey chin. “Perhaps they’re sheltering at the tower?”

All three turned west towards Tel Vos. The pillar of smoke was rising higher, and blacker. Without a word they began at a quick pace towards it.

- - -

Aryon had put out most of the flames by the time they arrived, but the damage had been done. There was nothing left of the Telvanni fungal roots of the tower but ash, even Aryon’s personal pod at its peak. The tendrils which had so integrated themselves into the stonework of the Imperial fort no longer held it up, causing several portions to collapse into charred bricks.

Ku-vastei and Vivec readied their spears (Kassur hadn’t noticed the god had been carrying one until now) while Kassur cowered behind the two. But it made him feel like a coward, so he tried his best to straighten his back, puff out his chest bravely, and at least put his hand on the sheathed sword of Yakin Bael, even if he didn't have the nerve to actually draw it.

Aryon knelt in front of a smoldering pile of bodies. It was hard for Kassur to make out in the carnage, but it seemed like a mix of guards, tower servants, and Ahemmusa raiders. He might have recognized some of the latter, if they weren’t all so horrifically burned.

“Master Aryon?” asked Vivec. “Are you harmed?”

Aryon turned his head slowly. There was no evidence of weeping on his face, but he looked like a man completely exhausted. Kassur understood the feeling immediately. “No,” Aryon said. “They likely went north before I arrived.” He stood and wiped his hands on his robes. “To the old camp. What of Vos?”

He’s held together by a thread right now, thought Kassur. There was a haunted look in his eyes. He’d just lost everything. Kassur could relate – although he’d ran from his old life, instead of having it torn from him.

“There was no one there,” Ku-vastei said. “No sign of a struggle, except that the chapel was ransacked.” She took a cautious step forward towards Aryon. “Are you sure you’re –”

The wind changed suddenly, and Kassur caught a big whiff of the corpse-smoke. He gagged loudly, covered his mouth with the collar of his robes, and fled towards a nearby wall. He planted his free hand against the stone as he tried to calm his retching before it grew into something worse. He could feel three pairs of eyes on his back, and he resented it. He let go of the wall and looked at his hand; it was completely covered in soot. The wall now had a relatively clean handprint on it where he’d stolen the blackness. “I’m fine,” he shouted, although the act nearly made him gag again. “I’m –”

There was a loud crack somewhere above him. He only had time to look up at the top half of a tower rushing towards him, but not enough to move out of the way. He closed his eyes.

Something hit him hard, but not at the angle he was expecting. The collapse was deafening, its roar of crumbling stone erasing all other sounds. When the sound had settled, Kassur opened his eyes. Ku-vastei had him in her arms; he could feel the cold metal of her right hand pressing into his spine through his robes. 

Vivec and Aryon appeared in the air above them, their feet glowing with pink light. “Are you two alright?” Aryon asked.

Kassur felt a soothing energy enter his body from the gauntlet, and he felt less sore from the tackle. “Yes,” Ku-vastei said as she stood up, lifting Kassur with her. “I’m fine, and he will be.”

Kassur caught a glimpse of Aryon’s face, wrinkled with worry, before it relaxed into relief. Then he put on a new mask, a mask of cold wrath. A cascade of facades to make Mephala proud.

“Good,” Aryon asked. “We need to go to the old camp and see if they’ve taken the citizens there.”

Aryon turned, and with a mystical wave of his hand, buoyed up the rubble in mauve smoke and flung it aside. “Come,” he said once the crashing din faded. “We have work to do.”

Suddenly, Kassur was terrified of Aryon – and for the safety of his own people.

[scarila]

Mortal Almsivi ! The hortator’s advisors, queen Indoril Almalexia,Vivec and Sotha Sil

[trickstarbrave]

people love dagoth ur for the same reasons they hate almalexia.

both of them are power hungry. both are not afraid to use horrible methods to control the people of morrowind who they claim to love and want to protect (corprus and weather machine). both use their past relationships with nerevar in an attempt to manipulate the nerevarine. both use flattery to manipulate the nerevarine. both knew as much as they offer to work together and rule side by side the nerevarine is too dangerous to leave alive and must be killed. it was always going to end with the nerevarine's death.

but i regularly see dagoth ur being painted as sympathetic and misguided, if not outright correct. he is just crazy, he's our best buddy, the nicest bro ever, he's just not in the right state of mind. but almalexia has to be a massive bitch who has no redeeming qualities ever and is stupid and manipulative and evil and bad and should be killed on sight because she's our bitch ex wife.

personally i think theyre both morally wrong and deeply flawed people driven to the point of insanity but who do have, somewhere deep down, a desire to do good. dagoth ur lived through the nordic empire's occupation of morrowind just as almalexia did, and he wants to purge the empire from morrowind and wants to be worshipped by the dunmer as a true god who will never abandon them. almalexia also has some similar goals but believes its vivec and sotha sil holding her back from achieving true independance and the full worship of the dunmer as she deserves. absorbing people into a hivemind through a disease that mutates them is Bad as is using a weather machine to scare your citizens.

almalexia is honestly less extreme than dagoth ur and more clearly warped by the heart. mortals arent supposed to have that kind of power, and it was clear there was a time she was reasonable and sane. dagoth ur is MUCH more warped and clearly insane, because he sees nothing wrong with the death and destruction around him, either because he's okay with it or he's completely delusional. the first dream he sends the player of the wedding everyone else is a corpse but he laughs and talks with them like theyre alive and happy. almalexia is not that far gone (yet, at least)

[uesp]

"I remember [being mortal]. I do not feel it. I can, if I choose, remember the feeling. But I do not choose. It is very, very sad being mortal. There is happiness, yes. But mostly sadness. As I have said, "Count only the happy hours." For mortals, they are all too few. But for gods -- for me -- there is no more feeling. Only knowing. [Pause]

“Not quite no more feeling. I still want to win. I want to defeat Dagoth Ur. Perhaps I have lost the feeling for the people, for their suffering. I don't want that feeling. It is no use to me. That is no longer what matters to me. I only want not to lose. To lose would be very, very bitter."

--Vivec

[fictional-gods-tournament]

Prelims

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls Part 2/2

Part 1/2

Characters' info under the cut

Padomay (wiki1, wiki2)

Domains: Primordial God of Change, Chaos, and the Void

Propaganda:

He is a product of the Godhead's dream that clashes with his mirror opposite Anu to create the TES cosmos. He is the supreme force of the evil side of things.

Sheogorath (wiki1, wiki2)

Domains: Madness and creativity (among other cultural associations and derivatives)

Propaganda:

[Contains spoilers for The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion: Shivering Isles] The Elder Scrolls handles its deities with varying degrees of success, but I'd argue that Sheogorath (specifically his Oblivion incarnation, the others are meh) is one of the best depictions of a god as a fictional character. He is a member of the Daedric pantheon (ie the ones that did not contribute to the making of the mortal world) but he differs from the other members in that he was 'created' out of the former god of order to prevent a hostile takeover. He is considered a trickster god in general, frequently outsmarting other gods, but plays a variety of roles to the different cultures in Tamriel, ranging from vision-giver, tester of psychological weakness, and bringer of art, music, and feeling. Even his own followers hold a variety of views on him. But what really makes him stand out to me is his role in the Oblivion DLC Shivering Isles. The DLC takes place in his realm, which is under threat from a cyclical reappearance of the god of order, who destroys everything imperfect, that being the entire realm. Sheogorath asks the player to help by completing a variety of tasks to preserve his realm, its inhabitants, and their traditions. In doing so, the player learns to become like Sheogorath, and eventually becomes him to fight his previous incarnation when he turns into the god of order. It's a bit complicated and convoluted--TES players please don't get mad if I got anything wrong, it's been years since I've played--but essentially, the player comes out of the whole ordeal with Sheogorath's power and identity. Fandom has debated on what this means for a long time. I played Shivering Isles while at a tumultuous time in my life, struggling with my own neurodivergence. While the game doesn't portray everything perfectly, it still speaks to an appreciation of 'mad' people, and the variety of interpretations of Sheogorath's role and goals just adds to that. Heck, when you begin Shivering Isles, if you ask how the people of Sheogorath's realm can be 'cured', you are immediately told that they are not diseased, they just 'live in another state of being' and 'perhaps you need a cure'. The themes of this story helped me accept who I was. Also, look up some of this guy's dialogue, you will not regret it.

Sithis (wiki)

Domains: Emptyness, The Void, Misanthropy

Talos (wiki)

Domains: Skyrim, Mankind, War

The Godhead / The Amaranth (wiki)

Domains: Existence, the all-encompassing "I"

Propaganda:

The Elder Scrolls is in-universe a dream dreamed up by the Godhead/Amaranth, the Amaranth is also an all-transcending state of being that if one were to achieve in the dream would escape the dream and become another dreamer as well, like escaping the Godhead's skull

Vivec (wiki)

Domains: Poetry, Lies and Falsehoods, Duality, Truth, War, Mastery

[vrrl]

Mortal Vivec travels through Tamriel on guar. Based on my headcannons about where he went after the events of Morrowind.

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

My take on The Godhead, achieving Chim, zero summing and Amaranth

So for starters

Achieving Chim isn't the whole “Oh they're aware that they're in a video game!!” cuz that trope is done to death and I hate it

What my take on achieving Chim is basically it happens when one achieves peak awareness basically becoming aware of everything and everyone

You know every person you know every location you know everything and you see everything, everywhere and everyone all at once you perceive reality all at once

Now ofc not many people can withstand seeing all of existence at once and basically go into nonexistence

You see all of existence and you cease to be you zero sum

Now why does one zero sum? Well basically seeing all of existence all at once and can give one an existential crisis you began to wonder if you are apart of the reality you're seeing or if you even exist at all

If you can affirm that you are apart of all that you currently perceive then you achieved Chim if you can't affirm this and question your existence then you cease to be because if you don't believe you're real while perceiving all that is real you basically become not real anymore but if you believe that perceiving all of reality at once includes perceiving yourself as well then you've achieved Chim

If you perceive yourself as you perceive all of reality then you've achieved Chim if you can't then you zero sum

Well except for Vivec and Tiber Septim

Now what is The Godhead

Well this ain't no H.P Lovecraft shit where everything is just the dream of a greater being instead The Godhead is one god split into three because this god is too powerful when put into one being

This god being Akatosh who is split into three beings

Auri-El, the elven god of time, Akatosh, the mortal god of time and Alduin, The World Eater

If Auri-El, Akatosh and Alduin become one being then it creates The Godhead the true god of time who basically is the god version of achieving Chim as The Godhead perceives all of reality at once

Past, present, future

Mundus, Aetherius, Oblivion

Man, mer, beast

All is one to The Godhead

The Godhead IS time

BUT

The Godhead MUST remain separated

It separated because it was too powerful it literally almost ripped reality apart which nearly caused an event like The Dragon Break to happen which is why Alduin being sent forward in time caused The Dragon Break because a piece of the god of time was sent through time

A piece of the god of time was sent through itself which is why time broke and The Dragon Break happened

As for Amaranth well that's not seeing all of reality it's transcending it you don't see existence you exist beyond it

It's not zero summing and it's not achieving Chim

It's not seeing all of reality and existence and it's not failing to perceive yourself as a part of all you perceive

You don't perceive yourself as a part of existence but you also perceive yourself as existing

You exist outside of existence

You transcend it

[falmerbrook]

WIP Whenever thing

(unfinished friday maybe?)

I was tagged by @youthroad (TY so much!!!)

Tagging (idk if any of you have been tagged already, but either way don't feel like you have to!): @apollinariafh, @snowy-weather, @angiemaniac

I've had these Vivec and Nerevar moments sitting on a canvas for awhile, I just haven't gotten to finishing them. There's a bunch of other rougher sketches too, but those aren't decipherable enough to post (I just like these two fellas a lot!)

---

Also, I don't post fic much, but I went on a bit of a spree and started a few small ones yesterday, so I thought it might be fun to share one of those too. Miraak and LDB fight:

Miraak was supposed to be fighting for his life—his freedom—but the thrill of battle had gotten to his head. Every fireball that whiffed by his head, every shout that was countered by an equally powerful cry, and every soul of a dragon he felled that surged into his own soul energized him in ways he hadn’t been energized in millennia. Hell, in ways he hadn’t been energized ever. He’d fought hundreds of battles over his mortal life, many against his fellow priests with a perfect mastery of the Thu’um, but none had ever felt like a true equal. A challenge, sure, but never someone who could match Miraak in his understanding of the Voice. They had treated it as a simple language, a skill to practice, a tool to use for their gain, but for Miraak it was a fundamental part of his world. It shaped him and everything around him. Face to face, spell to spell, with another Dragonborn was different. While her skills were obviously less refined, her use of the Thu’um held a natural, instinctual punch. She wasn’t shouting out of strategy, but out of frustration, arguing with Miraak in the way only a Dov could. Her sharp eyes dug into his with the same hatred that he looked at her, but the smirk on her face as she paused and steeled herself for his next move betrayed she was equally as exhilarated as him. While he had the experience over her to pummel her with his Thu’um, he couldn’t help but respect her as an equal.

He never wanted the fight to end, but he knew he would eventually have to draw it to a close and slay the young Dovahkiin. The thought of losing the opportunity to keep around someone who mirrored himself, even as a rival, sent a sour pang up Miraak’s chest, but the threat of losing his millennia of planning and his freedom was too great. He had grown up the only Dragonborn, and he could continue to live that way.

For now, though, he was in control. Her lack of experience reflected in the way she overexerted herself too quickly while he had been largely holding back. He could let this dance play out for a while longer. Her upper hand was in her magic, a skill Miraak had admittedly practiced little in during his imprisonment in Apocrypha, but while powerful, she was sloppy, and was already starting to slip up and fail her casting. He, however, was as strong as he’d ever felt in Apocrypha.