#reachfolk

[moonshadovv]

presenting unto Skyrim fans for their consideration: transfemme Miraak? Because we love a gatekeeping girlboss dragon priest.

I've also made her mixed snow elven and reachfolk-- with draconic influence from her millennium stewing in apocrypha and having nothing better to do than absorb draconic knowledge, and that eventually comes to change her physically.

[tastesoftamriel]

The issue I see with the ESO Dark Heart of Skyrim depiction of Reachfolk is primarily the division between "ethnic/indigenous" stereotypes, e.g. living in "tribes" in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and being hostile to outsiders, and the "civilised" Reachfolk who are depicted as far smarter because they live within the relatively safe confines of Markarth with taverns and banking services and other city crap that are the benchmarks of modernity and Tamrielic civility.

There is no reason beyond blind ethnocentrism that this is a division that exists, either in real life or in fantasy (if we allow the latter to truly break the bonds of fiction into something *better*). So-called "primitive" peoples, be that the Azande or Trobrianders, have been subject to ridicule due to their indigenous knowledge, myths, and beliefs as unaligned with our post-enlightenment, postmodernist, scientific worldview. In the eyes of many writers, projecting what is deemed within their worldview to be "good" for their characters is really a detriment when it comes to original worldbuilding.

At the risk of sounding like yet another unhinged Marxist, my final comment concerns the structures of Reach society. The hierarchical structure of Reach clans is not something I'm super familiar with so I may come off as sounding like an idiot here, but bear with me. Why are Reachfolk, with supposedly primitive and unchangeable belief systems, upheld to the societal structures of mainstream Tamrielic groups? Why would they trade with gold, if they traded at all; and if they didn't, someone needs to do some research on the historical basis of global trade, which cough cough involves cooperation and amicable relations between disparate groups over huge distances and periods of time. Why are the Reachfolk exempt from this cycle of amicability? Is it more thrilling to write them as hostile savages, ready to attack anyone who supposedly threatens their way of life?

Yes, they would be thoroughly aware of the dangers of colonisation. But why have city Reachfolk been portrayed as sensible citizens of Tamriel while their brethren in the wilderness are presented as wild, IGNOBLE savages? Where is the justice in portraying indigenous peoples as they truly are and are capable of, rather than re-used Western tropes surrounding the division of self and savage Other?

Once again, this ties into the prominent Western tradition of Othering those who don't follow the tenets of a monotheistic, hegemonic, organised religion, or similarly prescribed worldview. By not including Aedra worship in Reachfolk culture, they are seen as savages and people who should be civilised and brought into the fold of the Divines. There is a pervasive undertone of violence linked to so-called "primitive" groups in TES, and this may just be to make convenient NPC bandits, but also perpetuates a stereotype that deeply harms real-life indigenous and culturally marginalised groups.

This is why careful worldbuilding is so so so important because we can project the world WE want, free from the socionormative biases that taint fantasy writing. Yes it's necessary to draw inspiration from real life, I do it all the time, but there's a point where you say "what if real life isn't that great of an idea to project here?"

I'd like to conclude by saying that I'd like to see this decolonisation of fantasy writing extended to other socially marginalised and misunderstood groups in TES, such as Bosmer, Argonians, giants, minotaurs, and the Bandaari (I could rant about them all day but I have other writing to attend to). We can do so much better not only with our ability to create some truly original fantasy worldbuilding, but also by showing others that by decolonising our own writing, we are becoming more sensitive to the worldview of others and incorporating that in an insightful and respectful manner.

[corviride]

I think every TES creator that forgets that Reachmen exist or pretends that they don't should be stoned. This includes game designers. Todd, Emil. I'll be watching you.

[crynwr-drwg]

When I do my next Reachtongue post, what would you guys like to see?

A book translation (an in-game one), just a shit load more words, or what?

Trying to think of what you all might be interested in seeing

I am planning still on making a very presentable web page or google-sheet for it, but that will take a lot of time since I can only work on that occasionally (whereas pen and paper work is whenever)

[scuttling-void]

Sorry I can't stop drawing Nana lately (plus Namira, of course)

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

Despite their similarities Reachfolk are actually significantly taller than average Bretons

The average height of a Reachman is slightly taller than an average Nord

[archangelsunited]

Being an apostate won't save her.

[cursedbeasts]

Rowan doodle

[hircines-hunter]

Shadow of the Druadach Chapter 1

Tiernan pulled his hood tighter around his face. He readjusted the fox scarf around his face, trying to create a warmer environment for his face. The warmth lasted mere moments before quickly freezing again. He cursed and groaned. How much longer would he need to climb up this Divine forsaken mountain? He briefly wondered why he even bothered going to Winterhold, but he sighed. He knew the answer. Paarthurnax had asked him. If anyone else had done so, even his own clan, he would’ve said no.

He looked up the road. He saw the top of a large castle. A fortress. He watched a magical light bounce from various points inside the massive fortress. At least, he could now see his destination instead of snow. He picked up the pace, so he could get indoors faster. So he could warm up.

[tallmatcha]

WIP Thursday

I've been tagged in a few weeks' worth of writing games. Thanks for thinking of me, friends! 💗

Let's see WIPs from: @whatsarasaid @gilgamish @thequeenofthewinter @changelingsandothernonsense @mareenavee @saltymaplesyrup @kookaburra1701 @dirty-bosmer @mirrordaltokki @aesadraws @paraparadigm @dei2dei @expended-sleeper @thana-topsy (no pressure, of course)

Rated B for Blood. Here's a bit from Krosis.

As the years passed, I discovered something peculiar: I could not dream. Mine was the deep and untroubled sleep of frozen lakes and slumbering pines. Silas dreamt for me, and when he dreamed he was many things: a soaring bird, a running deer, a prowling wolf. I envied him, for I, too, longed to see in the dark and feel my hackles rise before a storm. When I told him this, he shook his head and said, “It’s more than that. When I dream of being an animal, I’m hungry—so hungry it hurts, Einarth. My heart beats too fast. I can’t get warm. I don’t remember this,” he added, gesturing around us. “Our home, my hands, my feet, my body. I forget what it’s like to be here. To be me.”  He claimed to know the clean, sparkling scent of freshly fallen snow. But he also knew the feel of a living thing writhing between his teeth, the smell of steam rising from torn flesh, and the copper-rich taste of hot blood filling his mouth. As a wolf, he knew the pleasure of eating, and as a deer, the horror of being eaten. I thought I could endure both just to know how it felt to fly.

[moonshadovv]

I managed some art again! This time, tes version of Arwyn, revised! He's an ohmes khajiit that was adopted by reachfolk after his caravan was attacked by vampires on the road and left him orphaned. He later goes on to join the Dawnguard.

[elderscrollsconfessions]

Confession: I still don’t completely understand what a hagraven is. You could tell me they are a completely unique species or just ugly, immortal human women and I’d believe you either way.

mod note: going to be insufferable and explain:

druids and wyresses are Y’ffre-affiliated mystics who are connected to the Earthbones of Nirn, and are arguably the Breton (culturally; not exclusive to Bretons) equivalent of Spinners and similar traditions among the Bosmer

witches (like the Glenmoril Wyrd, but also witches of the Reachfolk) are different, because rather than connecting to Aedra, they connect to Daedric Princes. Hircine and Nocturnal and Namira most famously, but also others (thus far no canon mention of Sanguine witches but like . . . that’s just common sense that no game has implemented just yet). some witches are nice and some are not

hagravens are sort of an ascended form of witches. they’re transformed. some live alone or with others of their own kind. among the Reachfolk, it’s not unusual for them to live within or hold leadership positions within their Reach clans, even retaining a Reachman spouse

you could think of witches and hagravens as one might think of a vampire vs a Volkihar-style vampire lord -- the fulfillment of a promise, and the shedding of further humanity (or whatever, as the case may be) for more power

if you know more than I do and have something useful to add, please do so

[corviride]

"But we don't blame the river for these things. That's just life on the Karth."

Dia duit and Ey swayel! I hear it's the norm on this website to make a post introducing yourself so people can know if you're the kind of person they wanna interact with? Ech, I'm bad at introductions. My name is Aurelia, I am a transgender lesbian from British Columbia, Canada, I am a student of Irish and Halq'emeyelem, and I'm learning how to swing a sword good. I post about Reachmen from the Elder Scrolls, and not really much else. Go play Fragments of the Past, go read Aad Semblio Impera (Hello, Maple!), and always remember that the people in power have more reason to lie than they have to tell the truth. Oh I'm also writing a Skyrim fic -- P'raps you all will get to read it one day, but you will definitely get to hear about it. I stumbled dick first into naming the main character, Daighre, the same thing as an in-game NPC -- I swear I did it by accident from altering Deire. Hóyòwèlh and Slán Go Fóill!

[crynwr-drwg]

Reach-Tongue Update

All the phonology is what I've purel based off pronunciations from within the various games.

Stress Pattern: Initial — stress is on the first syllable

I'm deciding still between VSO and SVO. Leaning towards VSO purely because I like it more.

Adjective Order: After the noun

Adposition: Preposition

For morphemes, I'm considering a wide swath of different things for affixes at the moment.

For Grammatical Gender, I'm still thinking it over. I'm probabl going to go with Masc. Fem. Neut. with a form of Inanimate squeezed in, but it's hard to really decide or explain it still.

Some Thoughts:

I wouldn't say I'm 'stuck', but the part I'm obviously having the most trouble with is grammar, as you'd expect. A mixture of me trying to make sure I understand bits correctly, but also deciding things? that's fucking hard. Current big thing I'm stuck on is how many grammatical genders to give it, or if I shouldn't do any? Since I'm 'expanding' from a KIND OF established thing, there's already 'existing' stuff for me to KIND OF follow but I'm also obviously messing with to a great extent, like: Phonology is kind of english, mixture from different places so can't really say which accent specifically. There's also some more not-english sounds I've thrown in. Orthography is very Goidelic, with more of a focus on irish, but I've used some bits/ideas from scottish and manx to fill different gaps. Grammar AND "word-mapping" I'm borrowing/basing a lot off of polish. Anyways. the word-mapping part takes forever, as you'd expect. and I'm always stuck at the "what do I want to do for the grammar with x, or y?"

[yansurnummu]

Little Fox

(ft. @tilliphont's boy, Bjalin. thank you for letting me borrow him <3 )

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Of course, many Reach clans had stories of creatures of the night. Cunning things, with pale skin and blood-red eyes, like a person but inhuman all at once. Some would say they feared the sun, dwelling in castles in the grand caverns below empty Dwemer halls. Some would say they inhabited the cracks and crevices of the mountains, and with bat-like features they would hibernate, hanging from the ceilings.

You mustn't play near the Karth, little ones, the clan-witch would say, for the life-stealers hide ‘neath the ice, and they'll steal you too, should you stray!

Donobhan had never been one to listen to the Elders. He strayed and wandered, often forgetting to watch his step. 

Why would you do that? His father would scold with barely-concealed frustration. 

Donobhan couldn't come up with an answer. It didn't seem like a big deal. No one got hurt. He and Daighre were just having fun, exploring and looking at insects and critters in the woods. I don't know, he replied, not understanding the anger directed at him that then followed.

There is something wicked about that boy, Daighre’s mother lamented from inside the yurt. 

The cold air stung his eyes as he ran from the camp. He threw himself in the snow on the banks of the Karth, part of him fearing that the tears might freeze onto his face. He sat there, sobbing for what felt like hours, not noticing the crunching of snow behind him until arms curled tightly around him.

I'm sorry, Daighre said, her voice shaking. It's not fair. They're not fair to you.

Why am I like this? Why do I make a mess of everything? he cried. I don’t want to! I want to be good, but no matter how I try, it’s never enough!

He knew she didn't have an answer for him; but her being there was enough. He didn’t feel as alone, crying into her soft furred collar, her arms squeezing around him tightly.

The whistling of the kettle finally became loud enough to pull him from his memories back into the present. Donobhan grimaced, quickly jumping to his feet and pulling the bubbling-over kettle off the flame.

“Ah, shit…” he cursed to himself, rubbing his eyes. Some days were harder than others.

Where had his line of thought begun? He sighed, leaving the kettle to cool and stepping through the curtain of the yurt, feeling like he needed to get some air.

Outside, he stared up at the afternoon sky. It was moderately cloudy, though not terribly cold, most of the snow having melted now in the early Spring months. He breathed in, feeling his anxiety simmering down now that he was no longer trapped inside.

Beside him, he heard Calahan push through the curtain to join him outside. Donobhan watched him curiously as he bounded off, barking happily at something, until he caught a shape approaching off in the distance.

Grinning, he rushed back inside, finishing the task of making canis root tea, this time with one additional cup.

“Hello there!” Donobhan called once the figure was close enough, setting two cups of tea down on the bench beside the doused campfire. In reply, he received a wave and a warm smile as Bjalin approached. Calahan trotted happily beside him, rushing back to Donobhan, wagging his tail like he’d found a treasure out in the melting snow.

Getting a hug from Bjalin was like having every joint along his spine corrected in ways he didn’t know he needed. He was a big man, even by Nord standards, and Donobhan had to reach to wrap his arms around his neck, burying his nose in a cloak that smelled of oiled leather and pine. But he was so kind and gentle, unlike other Nords who had only met him with scorn. He laughed, his heart fluttering, as Bjalin pressed a kiss to his temple, his soft beard tickling his face.

“It’s so good to see you, my friend,” Donobhan grinned, pulling away from the hug but keeping his hands at his shoulders.

“You as well,” he gestured with his hands, slowly, knowing that Donobhan was still learning. “I brought you a few things from town.”

“Oh, you are like a Vateshran’s hero,” he smiled, leaning up to press his lips to the corner of Bjalin’s mouth. “Come on, then, you must be tired, and cold. I just made some tea.”

Bjalin smiled and nodded, leaving a hand at the small of Donobhan’s back as he led him towards the bench.

He conversed with Bjalin for a number of hours. It had been a while since he had seen the man, the tundra too dangerous to traverse at such a length in the dead of winter. He was grateful for the company, and the distraction.

As night began to fall, Bjalin accompanied him as he walked the perimeter, tending to the magical wards keeping the spirits peaceful. The chill of the night brought him back to his earlier thread of thought, and he wondered…

“Have you ever met a vampire?” Donobhan asked, glancing at Bjalin at his side, who gave him a puzzled look.

“No,” he tapped two fingers to his thumb, slowly, even though it was a sign that Donobhan knew well enough. He then gave a curious smile, raising his hand near his head for the next sign. “Why?”

“Uh,” Donobhan chewed his lip, regretting opening his mouth on the topic. “I don't know. I was just curious if you knew anything about them.” 

Bjalin sighed through his nose, looking elsewhere, seemingly thinking.

“I couldn't tell you much,” he gestured as they walked. “You hear stories, in town. But from what I understand, it's a disease like any other.”

“Sorry, a what?” Donobhan frowned, a little embarrassed.

“Disease,” he moved both hands in circular motions that Donobhan had a hard time tracking, before spelling it out, letter by letter.

“Ah,” his gaze fell to the ground ahead of him, a little dejected. Thinking of it as a disease didn't make it sound very pleasant at all. 

Bjalin tapped the back of his hand against Donobhan's shoulder, signaling he had more to say. His eyes were soft when Donobhan looked back at him.

“You can talk to me. There's something on your mind, I know it.”

Donobhan sighed, knowing that the anxiety was just in his head. Bjalin was a kind man with an open mind, and he should feel safe telling him things.

“I think I may have… befriended a vampire,” Donobhan said, grimacing now that it had finally been said aloud.

Bjalin raised his brow, looking taken aback, but not horrified, like Donobhan had feared. 

“And?” he pinched his fingertips together, moving them to the side of his chest with a curious cock of his head. “I'm just glad you've made a friend. It's not good to be all alone out here.”

A smile crept onto Donobhan’s lips then, the rest of the tension draining from his body.

“Aye, you're right, aren't you?” he chuckled, relieved. “I don't know. I think I felt… intimidated, when I learned what they are. Not afraid, really, they're very sweet and I like them a lot, but just… well, that's a really powerful creature, and here they are, sitting at my little campfire and listening to my little stories! Felt a tad surreal, I suppose,” he pouted.

Bjalin huffed a silent laugh.

“Can I meet them?” he gestured with a grin.

“Well, I'll ask them, but I wouldn't get your hopes up,” he frowned, patting Bjalin’s shoulder. “They're very shy. It was like trying to earn the trust of a fox. I thought I was seeing a ghost for months.”

Bjalin gave him an amused look, that if Donobhan didn't know better, he might describe as smug.

“What?” he asked, cautious.

“My little fox,” he gestured, bringing his thumb and forefinger to form a circle, a nose, the rest of his fingers spread out like whiskers. Donobhan could feel his face turn as red as his hair.

“Oh, stop it, you,” he chuckled, batting playfully at Bjalin's hand. Bjalin grinned, throwing his arm around Donobhan's shoulder as they continued their walk.

Pet name aside, he caught the underlying meaning. All of them had been through their own lives of being burned at every turn. Donobhan had been slow to trust Bjalin, years ago. Bjalin, himself, was functionally an outcast of his village.

Donobhan realized then, that learning to reach out, even if it hurt, felt more brave than just giving up because it might end poorly.

He wondered if Asha-ammu felt similarly.

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

Wish you could start No One Escapes Cidhna Mine without doing The Forsworn Conspiracy first because The Forsworn Conspiracy is such a pain in the ass because Markarth is such a pain in the ass to navigate