#possibly even a skyrim map or a map of tamriel if I can figure out a decent size

[umbracirrus]

Actually been having so many cross stitch ideas after trying to pick up cross stitching again-!!

My sister wants me to cross stitch a blue chicken from stardew valley, but I think basically all of my other ideas are elder scrolls related.

[tastesoftamriel]

A pinch of moon sugar (a long tale by Talviel)

Fredas, 22nd of Sun’s Dawn, 4E 207. I left the walls of Riften regretfully, looking over my shoulder as I set down the road. It had been a whirlwind past few days, with my mother’s illness and Lisandre and catching up with the Guild and Brynjolf. I wanted to hang up my apron and dawdle, but that was not to be. Time was crucial to me, as I had been summoned by Count and Countess Caro at Castle Leyawiin to prepare a feast for the birth of their son, and I had about two to three weeks in the saddle ahead of me. I had never been so far south in Cyrodiil before due to my working time constraints while there, and was excited to have the opportunity to both cook for the nobility and explore the area around the Niben River and Elsweyr to the west.

After spending much time with Khajiit merchant caravans travelling through Tamriel, I was intrigued by their native land, even though it lay in Aldmeri territory. As I began my long journey south, I bumped into M'aiq the Liar again. We spoke briefly, and when I told him I was planning on visiting Elsweyr, his face lit up like a Yule tree. “Truly, you wish to see the warm sands of my homeland? M'aiq has many friends through Elsweyr. Simply say my name at any town and you shall find good company.” He grinned, though I remained dubious. He wasn’t called “the Liar” for nothing, but as I had no contacts in Elsweyr, I decided it was worth a shot and made a mental note of what he had said.

I made it to Leyawiin in good time, three days before the planned feast. I worked with the castle chefs on a banquet featuring the best of Tamrielic cuisine that I knew of so far, to cater to the guests that came from far and wide. House Caro was an ancient family and were proud of their bloodline, and despite their out of the way town, had managed to promote racial harmony after hundreds of years of tension between the Imperials, Argonians, and Khajiits who called Leyawiin home. The fortressed town was busy with commerce, from book sellers to tailors and smiths. The Fighter’s Guild and Mages Guild held strong influence, with many from Black Marsh and Elsweyr travelling from their homelands to join their ranks. And of course, the Thieves Guild was present and flourishing. Shadowmarks graced almost every door and awning, and a notable number of people walked through town brazenly in their Guild armour. Brynjolf would definitely be proud that Riften’s influence had made it all the way south in the few short years he had been Guildmaster.

The day of the banquet rolled around. Over a hundred guests filled the halls of Castle Leyawiin to meet little Marius Caro II, the future Count of the bustling trade town. “He’s got a challenging and busy future ahead of him,” his mother the Countess said, as she fed him from her breast on her throne. The visitors were seated in the early evening, and treated to a ten-course dinner ranging from Skyrim roast beef and Imperial pastries to Redguard tagine, Breton duck in orange sauce to Khajiiti spanakopita. Not a belly left the dining hall feeling other than stuffed and satisfied. The Count handed me a generous pouch of coin for my efforts and promised to put in a good word to all the nobility in his circle. I thanked him profusely and went to bed at one of the taverns happily, feeling the swell of pride I always got when my cooking was appreciated.

The next day, I wandered the town, but found nothing of particular interest. It was time to move on. I spoke to a Khajiit baker about the possibility of crossing the border into Elsweyr, and she strongly urged me to go. “This one must ask a favour of you, traveller. In Alabaster, my family waits of word from me. I cannot afford a courier. Could you please pass them this letter? They will give you food and lodging for word of this one’s good health and safety.” I agreed, relieved to have a contact in Elsweyr at last. The baker, S'turra, marked my map with directions and gave me a large loaf of potato bread and some buns to eat for my journey. With that, I shouldered my satchel and hopped on Roach, spurring her west. Alabaster was but a day’s ride from Leyawiin, so I set out at a quick trot, eager to finally catch a glimpse of Elsweyr with my own eyes. Khajiit had always intrigued me as a child, with tales of their homeland of warm sands and moon sugar and their descriptions of their strange architecture and tribes, and most importantly, their food. I had only encountered the lives of men and some mer, and being put out of my comfort zone entirely gave my heart a little thrill.

I crossed the Niben River and reached the walls of Alabaster in the late afternoon. The town, like Leyawiin, was fortressed, with docks to its south serving as a trade route to the Summerset Isles and carrying passengers directly to Senchal. The smooth white walls towered overhead, casting a shadow over me as I trotted up to the main gate. “What business do you have here in Alabaster, traveller?” One of the guards asked, clad in light leather armour. “I carry word from S'turra the baker in Leyawiin, who wishes for me to visit her family.” “Ah, this one knows S'turra. Continue straight through the city and turn right at the big moon sugar factory, then left. You will see a great lodge by the pond belonging to matriarch Dra'varra, to whom you should speak. Welcome to Elsweyr, friend.” The guard opened the great gate for me, and I rode into the town proper. I tried not to gape in awe at the raised wooden homes with peaked roofs, the smooth white cobblestones that mirrored the outer walls, and the hundreds of Khajiit who milled around, ignoring me as they went about their daily business. Unlike elsewhere in Tamriel where they were forced to assimilate, they wore comfortable clothing suited to the southern climate, and pierced ears glinted in the sunlight while heady spiced perfumes graced every fur. None but the town guards carried weapons; after all, who needed a sword when they had claws? I tried not to gape in wonder as I took everything in, so foreign from everything I had ever known.

Alabaster was known for producing a fruity spiced ale for centuries, and I was keen to see how it was made as my good friend Lisandre in Skyrim was in the middle of setting up an ale brewery on her property near Falkreath. After my business with S'turra’s family was done, I planned on finding its recipe, probably with a bit of bribing in store. Not to mention, I was eager to explore the town right down to its last alley to drink in the sheer wonder of it all. Clipping down past the sickly sweet smelling moon sugar factory, I rounded a corner and came across a massive lodge, sprawling across a swampy area and overlooking a large pond. I dismounted from Roach and walked over to a Khajiit who was pruning some bushes near the entrance. “Greetings, foreigner. Are you lost?” “No, I was told to come here by the town guard, and S'turra. My name is Talviel of Riften, and I have a letter from her that I’m meant to deliver to her family.” I said, pulling the scroll from my satchel. The Khajiit’s face lit up. “Truly, you bring word of my cousin? Dra'varra is inside, let this one take you to her.” I followed along a maze of corridors, and was met by children and adults alike who greeted me with questioning looks. Finally, we stepped out onto an open porch, drenched in sunlight. A Kahjiit woman sat in a comfortable looking chair, engrossed in needlepoint. “Dra'varra, this foreigner from Skyrim brings word of S'turra.” Dra'varra looked up from her embroidery and squinted at me in the harsh afternoon sunlight. She dismissed S'turra’s cousin, and beckoned to me. “Come, child, sit. Dra'varra does not scratch. What news do you bring of my daughter?” I passed her the scroll, and she read it in silence. Finally, she sighed and tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you, stranger, for bringing this to me. I am glad that S'turra is well, but I fear for her in Cyrodiil. For this deed Dra'varra thanks you and offer you my family’s hospitality. Is this your first time in Elsweyr?” “Yes, it is, honorable Dra'varra.” I nodded, remembering the name Dra meant that she was a respected older woman. “Then come, let this one show you my home and my family. I believe it is much different to that of your homeland.” She said, standing up.

Dra'varra was tall and lithe despite her brood of fifteen children of varying ages, and the younger ones ran through the house. In fact, the property itself was home to most of her extended family, ranging from cousins to those who married into the clan. I was introduced to a large number of various Khajiit, whose names I almost immediately forgot due to the foreigness of them all. They all greeted me with pleasant smiles, and I was hustled into a parlour for some traditional apple tea, sweetened with moon sugar. Despite being served in small glasses and being absolutely delightful, the moon sugar made my head spin. As with anyone who wasn’t a Khajiit, the moon sugar played tricks on the brain. “Are you alright? You look pale.” Dra'varra said with concern. I smiled, trying to figure out how not to be impolite. “I…I’m not used to the partaking of moon sugar. It does funny things to us foreigners.” Dra'varra slapped her forehead. “This one forgets, she has not hosted a foreigner in many years! You do not have the tolerance for moon sugar. Dinner will be difficult, as all dishes of Elsweyr are prepared with it. I wish to extend my hospitality but alas have no idea what to feed you for dinner now! My humblest apologies. Are cheeses palatable to you? I can have my servants prepare you cheese and fruit, maybe some dried kagouti also, but as it is now almost time for dinner we have no time to prepare you your own meal.” “Oh, please don’t worry about me, honored one. I love cheese, it's my favourite food. In fact, I would love to see Khajiiti cooking in action.” Dra'varra stared at me quizzically. “I’m a travelling chef, you see. I’m wandering Tamriel to learn of every cuisine I can and bring them to others across the continent.” I explained. “Why, delightful! Dra'varra and her clan would be most pleased if you could prepare us food of what you have learned during your travels. We do not often see foreigners in Alabaster and have not had a chance to taste much of the world.” I agreed, and ate my dinner of cheese and fruit and bread with the family, promising to cook for them the following day.

In the morning, Shamiz, the Khajiit who had introduced me to Dra'varra, accompanied me to the markets to find ingredients (“The merchants will rob you blind if not with Khajiit”), and took me on a brief tour around town. I bought a few bottles of Alabaster ale, which I sent back to Skyrim for Lisandre. The fish from the port was fresh and the array of southern spices, which differed from those sold in Hammerfell, were fragrant and mouthwatering. After much bartering and hissing, Shamiz escorted me back to the house, where I began to set up in the kitchen. To my surprise, a small crowd of Dra'varra’s relatives had assembled, ready to see the strange northern outsider cook. “What will you be feeding us, friend?” One of them piped up. “Well, since there are so many of you, I’ve planned a whole banquet menu.” I rattled off the dishes I would be serving, and was met with murmurs of intrigue and delight. “May this one help you?” A young boy asked, tail swishing. “Me too, me too!” A teenage girl chimed in. Soon everyone was clamouring for my attention. “Alright, I’ll take on three assistants to help with the washing and chopping and stirring. As we say in the north, too many cooks spoil the broth.” The first three children who volunteered were my assistants for the day. I showed them how to julienne vegetables, Imperial style, and laughed when they gasped as I flambéed steak Diane. But most of all, I was asked the question, “Where is the moon sugar?” I had to patiently explain that foreigners didn’t eat moon sugar as it made us ill, which caused much confusion.

Dinner rolled around and over thirty hungry Khajiit assembled themselves around the dining hall. Unlike other parts of Tamriel, the Khajiit did not sit at one or two long tables, but rather a few smaller circular tables seating about five people, sitting on the floor cross-legged on colourful cushions. My proud assistants helped to serve everyone, as I explained each dish. To my surprise, each table had a bowl of moon sugar, which the Khajiit sprinkled liberally on their food. “Is the food not to your liking, friends?” I asked, concerned that I’d made something unpalatable. “No, no. We Khajiit just cannot taste the food well without moon sugar.” Dra'varra said, stirring a healthy pinch into her Potage Le Magnifique. I shrugged, sitting down to eat without the help of any moon sugar. Dessert was Skyrim jazbay crostata, which pleased everyone greatly. Yet at the end of the meal, Dra'varra waved a paw at one of the younger children, who brought out a large tray of some sort of candy. I bit into a piece, which was a delicious, slightly salty caramel sprinkled with nuts. Yet after a couple of shards, I felt my head start to spin. “What is this?” I asked. “Moon sugar brittle, most traditional of Khajiit sweets! Do you like it?” The serving boy smiled. I nodded uncertainly, and fell over in my seat. Faintly, I heard the room of Khajiit laughing and felt strong hands carry me back to my room.

I woke the next morning feeling slightly nauseous, and was greeted by Shamiz, who had brought me some strong coffee to wake me up (free of moon sugar). I wandered through town once more, scaring off any potential pickpockets, skooma dealers, and scam artists when I lied that I was with the Skyrim Thieves Guild and flashing my knife. All in all, Alabaster was a nice town, albeit not a very big one, so it was time to move on. I booked passage to Senchal on a boat, and made my way back to Dra'varra’s home. Thanking her and her family profusely for her hospitality, she gave me a warm furry hug and told me to come visit anytime I was in the area. I promised that I would, and rode to the docks with Roach. I didn’t normally like people immediately, but the Khajiit of Elsweyr were truly something else. I was going to settle right in, thousands of miles from home.