#naiadel

[thebluetemple]

Redraw of my first ever drawing of my HoK Naiadel (and my first piece of Oblivion fanart ever <3) Original from 2018!

[pointy-eared-breton]

So if you have a heroforge membership they just put out their new face customization tools, so of course I had to revamp my TES ocs' faces

[just-abnormal-human]

Most HoKs when Martin dies: my life is ruined I'm going to go make bad/worse decisions and maybe become a daedric prince while I'm at it

My HoK when Martin dies: *has an existential crisis and becomes an actual good person for the first time in his life*

[underworld-melon]

Naiadiel or Naiadel. That's actually cool

Find your REAL Angel name

• First two letters of your last name • First vowel of your first name • Third letter of your middle name (or parent’s first name if you don’t have a middle name • Last consonant of your last name • Add IEL or EL to the end!

[pointy-eared-breton]

Something about the fact that I still have a playlist for Martin and my original HoK

[just-abnormal-human]

Mad Men, Madgods

Words: 1280

Rating: Teen for language and mild gore

Description: A TES: Oblivion au fic in which @powerovernothing‘s Korbin gets pulled into Naiadel’s timeline of events. Sheogorath really messed up this time!

How long had it been since the fight with Jyggalag ended? His defeat sent a ripple through the Shivering Isles; things weren’t quite right. People were where they shouldn’t be, things seemed to blink in and out of reality. Time, material, the aether, they were all in flux. In the middle of it, Naiadel stood, somewhat woozy, the blood of a daedric prince flowing in his veins.

This… isn’t what he was supposed to do. Maybe. It’s so hard to remember Nirn when he’s in the Isles. Martin is waiting for him. He should…

“Martin…!”

Naiadel’s mouth moved, but the name fell from lips that were not his in a voice unfamiliar to him. He took a few steps, turning, looking for the source.

Where he had been not a second before stood a human man. The man was similar to Naiadel, he could feel it, but oh so different.

The man wore the same shrouded armor as Naiadel, but there the visible similarities stopped. He towered over Naiadel's slight Bosmer frame. He looked like he hadn't had a good night's rest in all his life, distress painted across his features. He looked no older than his mid thirties, but his tangled hair and unkempt scruff were grey. His wide eyes, puffy and irritated by recent tears, shone gold, rippling like the rest of the Isles.

A smile creeped across Naiadel's face. This could be fun.

“Where… Am I still here? No, no, I was supposed to go back, why—” the words tumbled out of the man's mouth, each more panicked than the last. “You!” He looked now at Naiadel, “You weren't here before. Who are you?”

“That depends who's asking. What do you want with Martin?”

The man didn't answer, but a scream bubbled in his throat and he grabbed at his head and squeezed his eyes shut as though in pain. He suddenly lunged at Naiadel, grabbing for the shawl of Naiadel's armor. Naiadel blinked aside— teleportation? What other powers had he gained with Jyggalag's defeat? — and the man stumbled, grasping at air.

“You can't fool me!” the man cried, “You're him, you're… part of him, and we had a deal! You said we would go back, I was going to save Martin—”

Naiadel's smile dropped and he nocked an arrow. “What do you mean ‘save Martin’?”

“You, you don't…” the man paused and caught his breath. “You should know all this, if you're Sheogorath. We made a deal, I stop the Greymarch, you give me another chance so I can do it right, save Martin, and Lucien, all of them.”

A shockwave knocked both men off their feet. Naiadel gasped. The ripples had stopped; the Shivering Isles were stable again. All at once Naiadel was struck by the power, the madness of his role, and it was now he who screamed.

Gods, it was like everything he had felt hit him at once and then some. Tears flooded his eyes as he re-lived every sorrow and joy in his life. He couldn’t breathe through the pressure in his chest and the pit in his gut, couldn’t move through the tension in his body.

The change, the beast that came when emotion took over, it reared its fearsome head with no warning. Naiadel’s bones creaked and snapped with the force of it, his skin bleeding as fur was forced out. He did not stop screaming, but his screams became broken, monstrous as his body grew and warped. Everything hurt, but bloodlust drowned out the pain.

The screaming wolf-beast ran, leaving one distraught man alone to process the past several minutes of his life.

~~~

Naiadel awoke, as he often did after transforming, in a bloodstained field, sore but deeply satisfied. He was somewhere in Mania, based on the vegetation, and dawn was breaking. He glowered, chastising himself for the use of that phrase. Shaking his head, he heaved himself into a sitting position and found himself facing a shadowy, rocky outcropping, under which a human figure was slumped, alive.

Naiadel tilted his head, curious. His eyes adjusted to the shadows, and he identified the figure as the man who had appeared the day before. He picked up a small stone from nearby and threw it at the man, hitting him squarely on the cheekbone. The figure lurched upright with a great snort and a loud string of curses. Naiadel snickered and picked up another stone. He threw just as the man spotted him, this time hitting the forehead. This time the figure grabbed his sword and stood sharply, hitting his head hard on the overhang above. He dropped the sword and fell to his knees with its hands on its head.

“GOD DAMN IT!” the man shouted.

Naiadel broke into a fit of laughter. The man glowered at him, apparently defeated. As his laughter faded, Naiadel cleared his throat and said, “You tracked me down, so you must really need me. You have a name?”

“It’s Korbin.”

“A pleasure. I’m Naiadel, avatar of Sheogorath, defeater of Jyggalag and stopper of the Greymarch.”

Korbin, still rubbing his head with one hand, furrowed his brow in confusion. “You sure about that? Last I heard, I’m Sheogorath’s champion, and I killed Jyggalag.”

Silence fell between them, neither quite sure what to say. Naiadel crossed his legs and plucked a piece of grass and placed it between his lips as he considered the situation.

“Well, things got… strange after Jyggalag left the Isles,” Naiadel said, staring more into space than at Korbin. “You said Sheogorath was going to… ‘send you back.’ Perhaps in doing so, rather than bringing you to your destination, he landed you here. But where—” Naiadel stopped abruptly, the grass falling from his lips. “You need to tell me what you meant by saving Martin.”

“I-I meant the late Emperor Martin,” Korbin said, “I can save him, or I could, if I hadn’t gotten stuck here.”

“Well, I’m not sure what ‘here’ is to you, but if Martin is going to die and you can stop it, then I must insist you come with me.”

“Martin’s alive? Then, maybe it worked!” Korbin picked up his sword again and stood, careful not to hit his head again.

“Not so, if Lucien Lachance was a part of your deal,” Naiadel said, stretching out to lay on his side. It hurt to remember, but Korbin’s look of shock and pain was delicious enough to make up for it. “There’s some timeline-crossing nonsense going on here, if you couldn’t tell. Some things are going to be the same, some aren’t.”

Korbin scanned the ground as he walked, mouthing silent words, as though having a conversation only he could hear. “What went wrong?” he finally whispered.

“So, are we going?” Naiadel asked, growing impatient as he considered what danger Martin might be in.

“Yeah, alright, fine. If Martin’s alive, and you’re sure he is, right?”

“He’d fucking better be,” Naiadel snapped as he stood. “I did not deal with Jauffre’s hassling and accusations for a year just to have his incompetence kill Martin as soon as I leave.”

“Uh, right. Martin’s alive, so we can at least save him. But, before we go anywhere, are you planning on doing that whole… werewolf, screaming, slaughtering thing again any time soon?”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Naiadel bared his teeth, revealing bloodstained fangs. He chuckled when Korbin took half a step back. “By the Nine, you people make it too easy. Come here, we’ve got work to do.”

Naiadel clasped his hand around Korbin’s forearm, and Korbin hesitantly did the same to him. Suddenly, they were gone, not a blade of grass disturbed.

[thebluetemple]

“He never wept at death until Martin died.”

Do not repost or edit.

[bellonathedragonborn]

I saw this years ago but I finally found it again. Love it to death.

- Lucien “The Listener’s Dad” LaChance

[thebluetemple]

Mumford and Sons - Broken Crown (click to enlarge)

[thebluetemple]

Been too long since I drew the bastard

[pointy-eared-breton]

Hgngfhgg no thoughts head martinhok

[pointy-eared-breton]

(Posting just so I can reference back later) My OCs in order of height

Cornsbert: 5'0

Lilia: 5'1

Naiadel: 5'2

Cassaril: 5'3

June: 5'6

Brahna: 5'7

Drelani: 5'8

Dar-Tah: 5'10

Thail: 6'0

Taurril: 6'7

Piir'Ala: 7'6

[pointy-eared-breton]

the mods i have installed for oblivion are wild because about 3/4 of them are just like atmosphere and graphics improvements to make the game pretty and nice to play, and then the other 1/4 is just like “here are more horrific methods to do murder :)”

[pointy-eared-breton]

I tried to make a new oblivion character but I genuinely cannot do it Naiadel is my everything

[thebluetemple]

Hallelujah (click to enlarge)

[pointy-eared-breton]

OCs as Major Arcana

Cornsbert: The Fool

Taurril: The Wheel of Fortune

Cassaril: Death

June: The Magician

Drelani: The Empress

Naiadel: The Devil

Lilia: The Tower

Piir'Ala: The Sun

Thail: The Star