#skooma answers

[the-skooma-den]

Wh– What happened????

oh darling im so sorry you have to find out this way

[chilei-the-hotsauce]

hAPPY NEW YEAR!

HAPPY NEEEEWWWWWWWWW YEAR!

NEW YEAR HAPPY!

HAPPY NEEEEEWWWWWWWWW YEAR!

MAY YOUR NEW YEAR BE HAPPY!

YOUR NEW YEAR IS HAPPY!

YES

YEAR IN WHICH THINE TRULY REACHETH THE TENDER AGE OF 20

i hope you're slaying

[changelingsandothernonsense]

OC Fridays you say? @the-elder-polls Hello! Naturally that means I'm going to take some time to gush about Josh...because whilst he shares a name, vocation and sarcasm as the NPC found in Dragonborn, he's pretty much his own thing at this point. Teldryn Ensirhaddon-Sero is a Dunmer- naturally, though he is half Ashlander ( Erabenimsun) on his father's side whilst his mother grew up in Redoran lands though her family did not answer to a Great House until moving to Hlaalu lands in the late forth era. Not long after he was conceived his parents fled to Cyrodiil, where he spent the first four years of his life before his mother returned to Blacklight once his father disappeared on a smuggling job. (Born 3E 370- 57 at the start of Morrowind, 268 by the start of the Dragon Crisis). He was well educated, and speaks four languages- Dunmeris, Cyrodiilic, Aldmeris and modern Altmeris. He picks up Ashland and a secret fifth thing later on. He ends up getting mixed up in the Camonna Tong which is how he ends up in Cyrodiil where he is subsequently arrested (murder, arson, treason, more arson). He spends the next 33 years being moved about various prisons and work camps in the Heartland until he is deported back to Vvardenfell and given a strange package.

Josh does not believe that he's the Nerevarine- not in any meaningful sense. What he does think he is, is an Imperial puppet. Yes he technically fulfils the prophecy but there were tweaks made to his official records so that he could "fit it more". Namely in how he was stricken from his mother's family records upon their ascension to House Hlaalu. Yes he fits but he wonders if the destruction of his homeland was a part of the Emperor's plan. He knows for certain that he is not the reincarnation of Indoril Nerevar. What he is, is a descendent of the war lord who ended up being a good host once he slipped on that ring and it didn't give him a big enough aneurysm. Deep down, he thinks anyone could have done the job. He was just convenient. Teldryn drinks- a lot and the habit has gotten worse as he's gotten older. He'll go through stints of sobriety (usually when mourning) and ends them in even longer binges. He developed a taste for skooma when he was on one of those binges and has been trying to avoid the stuff ever since. He ends up getting hooked on Sleeping Tree Sap during the Dragon Crisis and the whole thing gets worse once Sydari (my Dragonborn) gets lost in Sovngarde. He's a pain in the ass. Some Art Some early Josh (3E 427)

Some post Corprus infection Josh (3E 428-29)

And jumping to pre Dragon-Crisis Josh - 4E 199.

[trickstarbrave]

a hotly debated topic in the elder scrolls because morrowind gives conflicting information purposefully:

did the tribunal murder indoril nerevar?

the tribunal says they didnt, but also seems to have a lot of guilt and resentment towards him. the ashlanders say he did, but they could be simply biased against them for replacing the good daedra in worship and cursing everyone.

i think the answer is yes, they did. and also no, they didn’t.

i think when the tribunal became divinity, they did not just get super cool powers. they became every possible version of themselves that ever existed and ever will exist, including versions of themselves they made. theyre an amalgamation, so much bigger than just a group of three mortals with linear histories and futures.

there is one timeline nerevar fell due to his injuries at red mountain. there is one where he’s killed by voryn dagoth. there is one the tribunal killed him.

gods shape reality, so in the end the reality we live in is shaped by what they say happened. except the tribunal are not the only gods--we also have dagoth ur and azura (and possibly the other good daedra lol) who shape reality. so it is kind of a dragon break type situation, except no dragons were actually broken. just a tug of war and constant rewriting of events over and over by multiple parties until the water is so muddied you cant see through it at all.

i think the tribunal remember killing nerevar. they also remember him simply dying from his injuries at red mountain. they also remember voyrn dagoth killing him. sotha sil remembers watching his friend die helplessly and he remembers skinning his face. and regardless, he remembers going against what nerevar said and achieving divinity, and regrets the comprehension of all of these things. vivec too can try to rewrite his own history as much as possible, undo his life being a gang leader and skooma dealer and sex worker, but he cant undo nerevar’s compassion and love for him. he can’t help but admit his guilt in a coded message. and i think almalexia too has regrets and guilt, but she has instead reacted with anger to try and cover them up. she thinks if she kills sotha sil and vivec and gets more power, she can overcome these emotions. she can forget about nerevar. she can stop feeling guilty, and become perfect.

but as the dwemer proved, even gods are fallible. and azura puts it best:

"What you have done here today is foul beyond measure and you will grow to regret it, for the lives of gods are not what mortals think and matters that weigh only years to mortals weigh on gods forever."

[aladaylessecondblog]

The Whore AU Pt. 2 - Araynys

Araynys

Uthol

Vemyn

Tureynul

Odros

Endus

Gilvoth

Voryn

nsft below cut. Slapping, degradation, oral

------------------------------

Araynys circled her slowly, looking her up and down. "They say you volunteered for the job, and from the look of you I can understand why."

Sadara said nothing.

"You look far too soft to dance as you used to. Was the work too much? Or were you simply that eager to spread your legs like the common whore you are?"

"If I was to sweat I wanted to get something from it," Sadara replied evenly. "I had an audience...they were the eager ones. I've been doing well."

"And yet despite this success, here you are. You must have been told what this would entail. No one VOLUNTEERS for this, yet here you are. Why?"

Silence.

"Answer me."

Still, silence. And then a sudden blow as Araynys slapped her across the face - waited for a second - and yelled, "ANSWER ME!"

"I..." Sadara said, with a shaking voice, "...heard the term 'king's ransom' used to describe the pay, and couldn't help myself."

Araynys laughed harshly. "I should've expected. Money is all a whore ever cares for. And what would you do with such riches? No - don't tell me. Skooma and Cyrodiilic brandy?"

Sadara rubbed at the red spot on her cheek a bit before answering. "I don't take skooma...and I hate Cyrodiilic brandy."

"Enhancements of the bodily sort?"

"I don't need such things."

"I'd say that you do. Look at you...narrow hips, small ass..."

Araynys gave a slap at the latter. It wasn't much more than a sting, which was perhaps why he did it again. She gave a slight yelp at the second one, and a slightly louder one at the third.

Then he moved back in front of her.

"And the breasts..."

"I've gotten compliments on them," Sadara said, "But I'm guessing they displease you too?"

"Everything about you displeases me, and yet you are what I can get. I suppose you think yourself a prize...well...I am here to remind you that you are anything but, you arrogant--"

He stopped short. There was a slight nod.

"Kneel."

There was the slightest of breezes, which lead to Sadara giving a shiver as she obeyed. "As you command, my lord."

The stone beneath her knees wasn't comfortable in the slightest, but she was smart enough to know that was the point.

"I think you were looking forward to this," Araynys said, lifting her chin to force her to look up at him, and slipping his fingers through her hair when she kept her eyes on him, "Weren't you? Dreaming of the foul things that would be done to you when you came to us?"

"Something like--" Sadara's words were cut off, when his grip tightened and her face was mashed into his thigh. "Gods, you don't give a woman time to THINK about her answers, do you?"

Her hands shifted.

"Oh, you ARE an impudent thing...I suppose you're trying to goad me into fucking you early, hmm? Perhaps you WANT t--"

That was when he spotted it, Sadara, with one hand between her legs.

Araynys laughed.

"You DO. You little slut, you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Sadara didn't respond - with words, anyway. She gave a soft moan as she stroked herself, and shook her head when Araynys asked the same question again.

"I don't think it was the gold that brought you here," Araynys went on, smug amusement sneaking into his tone, "Did you WANT to be treated like this?"

No answer. She seemed too focused on pleasure.

He had to remind her, then.

A tug back at her hair, forcing her to look up. There was the blush, and then the shame soon to follow, all over her face. "Answer, slut."

"Y-yes," Sadara stumbled on the words, "I did. I want it, I--"

"That's all I needed to hear." Another laugh, and with the grip of her hair he mashed her face against the bulge in his loincloth. "Since you're so eager for cock...get to work."

There was silence as she stripped him of the loincloth, and as she stroked him to full hardness. There was the tiniest smirk on Sadara's face as she slightly ran her tongue over the underside of his cock - a smirk that vanished the moment he thrust forward, as deeply as he could go. There was the sound of one gag, but after a second Araynys pulled back.

"Whatever power you think you hold over me with that tongue, it is nothing to what I hold over YOU. I can replicate anything you can do, and better, too - you are a hole, nothing more. You need to remember that."

Sadara's retort never came since he thrust forward once again, running over her tongue and breaching her throat almost instantly. While he gave her room to breathe, at no point did he completely withdraw.

"An amusing hole, certainly...not worth what they're paying you. How does it feel, to be the sacrificial lamb, hmm? To be sent into the house of demons and blight, made to serve our pleasure? Do you like it? Or are you already regretting it?"

A gag. He pulled back and then pushed forward again, sneering.

"Why did I bother asking? Look at you...just LOOK at you. Limply letting yourself be used with not even a trace of resistance. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic."

Sadara earned herself a swat to the side of the head when Araynys saw her reaching back between her legs.

"No. No, you aren't going to get any pleasure of your own, not tonight. Perhaps if you'd behaved, I'd have allowed it, but as it is..."

A grunt.

"But it HAS been a while...perhaps once I've used you a few more times, once you've shown yourself capable of good behavior..."

Several minutes of relative silence elapsed, broken only by the lewd slurps and grunts and occasional gags. Finally, after what felt like far too long, Araynys felt a leap in his gut.

"You are going to swallow, since you're such an eager whore," he said, "You understand?"

Sadara nodded as best she could with his cock half-buried in her mouth.

"You should be capable of that, at least, as foolish as you've been so far. A--" There was a hitch in his voice as her tongue swept upwards, and brought him nearly to the edge. "--damned woman--!"

A final tug of her hair, and a jerk in Araynys's body. As bliss surged through his body he spilled himself empty in her mouth. Sadara swallowed his seed eagerly, spilling not a drop, even as he withdrew and stepped back from her.

She wiped a lingering bit of saliva from her lips and shuddered, not looking up until Araynys pulled her to her feet and lead her down a side hallway she hadn't seen at first. The moment the door was closed behind them she was immediately pulled into a tight hug.

Another shuddered, and a sob. For her the skin contact was wonderful, even if Araynys wasn't as warm as he might have been.

"You did very, very well," he said gently, "Yes. Very well, better than I've had in a long time. You were everything I needed you to be."

Sadara clung to him, listening quietly to the words of praise, glorying in the soft caresses that followed. She didn't do this sort of thing often, but to have someone do it so RIGHT...she thought she wouldn't mind if it could be like this every time.

"Thank you," she finally said.

"Do you need anything?"

"Water," Sadara replied, "You were salty, and swallowing always dries my mouth out."

"Whatever you need." He finally let go, and stepped back.

A half-hour elapsed. Sadara ate, drank, and redressed, finally coming back to herself.

When Araynys offered to let her sleep there, with him beside her, she took him up on the offer.

(One down, seven to go, she thought before she fell asleep. She hoped Uthol and his little master/slave request would be as good as this had been.)

[vervayyn]

Sujamma Sundas Tirdas

I was tagged by @friend-of-giants and I'm going to tag @elavoria (not sure if you have any TES ocs you want to divulge the deets on?) and anyone else who wants to @ me. I'm still trying to figure out who to tag and get back into the Tumblr swing of things. As always, feel free to ignore the tag and/or me and to post at your leisure/otherwise. :) Today, Sujamma wants to know about your OC's moral compass. What God do they worship and why? Do they engage in any illicit activities (drugs, etc?) Any holy activities, like healing in the name of a certain divine? Have they committed any crimes, or are there any crimes they actively despise? Feel free to talk about anything and everything along these lines.

CW: Mentions of cannibalism and rape.

Simply put, Sinder is morally bankrupt. He struggles with it, and yet he revels it in, constantly playing flip-flop between trying to be a better person and falling back into old, ugly, borderline evil habits. He steals. He kills. He relapses into cannibalism every so often. He’s not against allying with the wrong people for the right (and wrong) reasons, yet there is some part of him that’s still bright and gleamy and full of hope—that won’t die no matter how many times he tries killing it. His relationship with Namira is a complicated one, less worship and veneration than it is constantly vying for control. She won't let him (her Champion) go, and even if he leaves, he always comes back. Otherwise, he has no respect for the Divines, even less for Talos, the Breton son-of-a-whore, and despite his unconventional upbringing—he pays little mind to the Khajiit pantheon, making an exception for Jone and Jode, as well as Rajhin—the latter because he can appreciate the hustle. Sheogorath is probably the closest he comes to any sort of semi-appropriate veneration, and that's only because of a joke his adopted parents told throughout his youth that he never realized was a joke. The joke, for reference was: That Sinder was conceived north-northwest Leyawiin, on a stone slab beneath the spread legs of Ann Marie. — in other words, it's an abstract way to say he was born crazy. In his youth, before separating from the caravan, whilst in the area, he decided to gain clarity, and who better than to ask than the Skooma Cat himself? Unfortunately, all Sinder managed to gain from that encounter was an obsession with cabbages as well as more questions than answers. Fun fact: A century+ later and he's still going strong with the cabbage obsession. Last and certainly least, despite being Dunmer, Sinder doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the Dunmeri pantheon, actively spitting on the ideals of the Old Temple, and sneering at the resurgence of the New. He doesn’t celebrate any holy holidays—not since leaving Namira’s cult and trying to put that behind him, anyway—though he will celebrate with friends, like Una, who will party any given opportunity, as well as helping Ves with whatever Boethiah-themed mission she's on. The only personal ritual that kind of fits the bill is his abstaining from eating meat in an attempt to keep certain specific impulses at bay. As for illicit substances? He does a whole hell of a lot of moon sugar and skooma. Being raised amongst a traveling gaggle of Baandari Pedlars (who accidentally kidnapped his runaway ass) has offered him a higher-than-average tolerance for the stuff. He’s committed quite a few crimes, from petty theft to property damages, to mass arson, to murder, to kidnapping (for religious* purposes), to cannibalism to adopted patricide. As for crimes he actively despises? Religious persecution and rape. Also, animal abuse.

[angelicsnekgirlthing]

So, I've been playing buckshot roulette for stream, and we went through several characters named after food items — Beans, "Ronald" (as an outlier), Skooma, Potato, and our last contender was named Burger.

Now, Burger picked up where Beans left off. He made it to, and past, match V. (Technically round II in Double Or Nothing).

Burger made it to the 6th match, lasted 3 rounds in it before he met the smoking end of a 12 gauge.

Now, why is this important?

Here's why:

(Reblog and tell us your answer in tags!!! Please!)

[skyrim-forever]

Yo Eve, my darling, give me a moon for the fall themed asks. Share all your secrets with me. <3

Hello Winter my queen <3 I would be glad to answer this!

🌙 moon: do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

This is going to be for Theodora as she is by far my most fleshed out oc.

Oh boy, so to start, Theo's parents were a pirate, her father Ricardo Viticius and a noblewoman Kassandra Ves. Her mom ended up running away with her dad when they fell in love, getting disowned from her family and breaking off her semi-arranged marriage. Her father had spent his life before meeting her as thief and eventually becoming a pirate, particularly raided slavers ships along the Coast of Morrowind and Black Marsh.

Theo was born off the coast of Senchal in 4E 177 26 Last Seed. Around two years later her mom goes overboard during a storm in Abeacan Sea. Theo does not remember anything about her and she finds even talking about her uncomfortable. Other women who try to be mother-figures to her cause her to lash out at them.

Ricardo never fully recovers but he is determined to be a parent as he never knew his own father. He decides to move permanently back to Anvil, the city he grew up in. Since the war destroyed the city, the East Empire Company has invested and made the city sort of a company town. Ricardo sees how their greed harms the city and how only the higher level officials have any measure of a good life; this causes him to focus his criminal enterprise against them. So Theo grows up with the backdrop of crime war. A lot of her youth was spent learning to fight and prepping to take over her father's work. Although some would say this was no life for a child, she thinks very highly of her dad. He kept her away from the very dangerous stuff, but he respected her and taught her many things about all of Tamriel due to his extensive travels.

Things come to ahead when mercenaries hired by the company head succeed in killing him, her uncle Elo Man-llu (uncle Elo is highkey my fav, iconic dunmer), and many of the crew. Theo is around 14 when this happens and she chooses to live with her friend Phy in Valenwood as they are very close and she's visited her often. They stay there until 18 when they leave for the Imperial City to try to make money and get revenge on the man who killed her family. Due to her father's criminal past (as well as him being a Great War draft dodger :P), her inheritance is seized by the Empire. She joins the Thieves Guild and becomes an Arena fighter in an attempt to gain fortune. Eventually she joins the Legion in Skyrim due to a bargain. The Empire gets the Dragonborn's service in exchange for clearing her father's name and her inheritance.

From ages 16-27, she heavily copes using alcohol, sex, fighting, and occasionally drugs (though that's more of Phy's thing). Most of it is coping with losing her father and uncle, the two people she looked up to the most, but there is also a lot of coping with the fact she's never had a mother and much of her childhood was surrounded by violence and tension. It's sort of a numbing the pain problem. She also has a tendency towards men who are terrible which include, but aren't limited to; a skooma smuggler, a Morag Tong assassin, and a married local official who funds her arena career! This gets a bit better once she starts doing Dragonborn duties mostly because she has less time to self-destruct. Originally she ran from it, only after the events of Dawnguard does she accept it and allow it to give her purpose. Though the newfound fame and expectations become difficult.

And the biggets secret she is trying to keep is orginally that she's sleeping with a Thalmor agent, and then that she's in love with said agent :P

Sorry for writing you a novel! Thank you so much for asking this question! There's a lot of thought put into her that I don't get to explore in fic because the Ondolemar brainworms haha. I just like them so much together you know :P

[ashvampire]

cw; violence, death

At twilight, a number of councillors, merchants and guards had been summoned deep beneath Kogoruhn, into one of its many halls. They were given no explanation as to why, just that it was important and vital that they came.

It was a spacious hall, lit by mage-lights which drifted idly above. They only lit the entrance of the hall, the rest of it was shrouded in darkness.

They entered the hall one by one. Some recognised each other as they came in, and a sense of dread began to hang in the air. They remained silent, not daring to talk. There were guards in and outside of the hall, watching them all closely. As more people came in, the greater that dread grew.

Once all were inside, the doors were closed and then locked by guards. They began to speak then, demanding to know why they’d been brought there. As they raised their voices and searched for answers, the guards suddenly moved. They wrestled and held them down, binding their wrists and putting magicka-restricting enchantments on them.

Once all of them were bound, the mage-lights moved, revealing the rest of the room.

Someone laid on the floor ahead, beaten bloody and unconscious. His truths had spilled like his blood, and he had purposefully been left lying there, where the others could see him. So they knew that they had been caught; that their secrets were now known.

Dagoth Voryn stood in front of them all, holding his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. He kept his face expressionless, a mask he’d learnt to wear in his adolescents. He couldn’t quite keep the fear and guilt out of his eyes, but he held his head high and tried to make himself look confident.

The guards stood behind the captives, making sure no one tried to escape. Each one had been chosen by Voryn. They were the ones he trusted the most; some he had grown up knowing, others had connections to his uncle. He had few he could trust, and he wasn’t even certain the guards he had chosen wouldn’t betray him. There was only one he trusted not to tattle, though he was not a guard, nor of House Dagoth, but a stranger from the mainland. An outsider. He stood next to Voryn, his chitin boots slick with red.

“You know why you’re here,” Voryn said, forcing himself to speak loud and clear, keeping the tremble out of his voice. He didn’t look at any of the captives before him in the eye. He knew some of them; some he’d even known since he was a child.

“You would betray the empire?!” one of them yelled, both fear and anger in her voice. Voryn dared to look at her; she was a Chimer woman, someone Voryn remembered attending numerous council meetings. He now knew her as an informant of the Nordic Empire.

“You betrayed your own people!” the mer beside Voryn growled, pointing his dagger at her.

The woman gave a look of disbelief. “What choice did I have?! We can’t win against the Nords!” She looked to Voryn pleadingly. “Don’t do this, serjo! They’ll destroy House Dagoth! Surely you realise this?!”

Voryn’s nails dug into the palms of his hands. He was well aware of what would come. He knew he wasn’t ready for war. In truth, he wanted to bury his head in the sand, as his father and brother had done before him. But House Dagoth was already starting to crumble, all of its wealth being handed over to the empire, and surrounded by enemies inland and out at sea. It was easier to hide, and pretend that everything was fine. To look away when villages were overrun by Dwemer or pirates, and as his council was slowly replaced by informants of the empire.

It was the outsider by Voryn’s side that had convinced him to look. Not only look, but do something. He had whispered promises of glory and power in his ears, his breath smelling of skooma and his hands pressed against Voryn’s chest. Somewhere in that fervour, Voryn had agreed to all this.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, and looked to the outsider, searching for approval. Their eyes met, and there was an unspoken understanding between them.

“Nerevar;” Voryn said with hesitance, and gestured to the people before him.

The outsider nodded, an eagerness in his eyes that Voryn chose to ignore. He started with the one already on the floor, flipping him over onto his back and slitting his throat with one fast motion. Then he turned, and some of the captives tried to flee. They were held in place by the guards, none succeeding in breaking free.

Voryn forced himself to watch as Nerevar stalked towards them, his glass dagger gleaming in the pale mage-light. He went to the woman who’d spoken first, standing in front of her in silence. The woman didn’t speak or move, her betrayal turned to fear. Voryn felt his tremors grow worse, and his mask was slipping. He wanted to tell Nerevar to stop, but his jaw seemed locked in place. Even his eyes refused to move, even though he wanted desperately to look away.

Nerevar lunged, plunging the dagger into the woman’s stomach and cutting upwards. There was screaming, and gagging. Nerevar stabbed his blade between her rips, and the woman shuddered and slumped, taking a few raspy breaths before she went silent.

The others died in a similar manner, and Voryn was still frozen where he was, watching each death with wide eyes. After the last one took their final breath, Voryn dismissed the guards, trying to muster his confidence again. He failed, his voice trembling as he told them to leave.

Nerevar cleaned his dagger on one of the dead’s robes, and then approached Voryn. There were specks of blood on his face.

“I hate you,” Voryn said under his breath. “I knew most of those people.” Nerevar walked right up to him, so close they could feel each other’s breath.

“I hate you,” Nerevar replied, eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who made me kill them.”

Voryn’s hands seemed to move on their own accord, cupping Nerevar’s face. He leaned forwards and gently kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll need you to kill for me again, if we are to fight this war,” he whispered. He tasted blood.

“Only if you do the same for me.”

[themegachessatron]

A Review of my time in Skyrim's Prisons (Featuring some followers): The Chill

This is the (much delayed due to work) eighth part of my Skyrim Prison Review series. In this post I explore The Chill, the only thing in Winterhold other than the College of Winterhold to hold any significance whatsoever as this jail contains much do discuss.

First arriving in the prison and we are greeted with what I can only assume to be a claustrophobe's worst nightmare. The guards had thrown the entire squad into a single tiny cell. Space to move around was effectively non-existent for us. I imagine a singular convict would fare better, but not by much. Also worth considering is our surroundings. We were tossed into a frozen cavern in the middle of nowhere and locked in a sharp metal box. Needless to say the Winterhold judiciary were making their attitudes to prison life clear. They wanted convicts to suffer.

Shuffling myself through the rag-tag squad to better observe the cell interior we see a single bed roll and lantern for illumination. This all aligns perfectly with how Winterhold want their prisoners to leave review scores of one Ancient Frost Atronach out of ten Ancient Frost Atronachs and not even risk stealing from Winterhold because of how badly they'd be treated. Needless to say there was a LOT of debate in the team as to who would receive bed roll privileges and who would have to huddle to each other for warmth. As can be expected from a squad comprised of a drunkard, a donkey, a recovering Skooma addict, a barely housetrained Reikling and a Skyrim Tumblr Sexy Man, yelling eventually evolved into its stage two form: Violence. Just before proper conflict could be instigated though I noticed something.

I still had my equipment on me. At no point did any of the authorities strip me of my gear and as such there would be no prisoner belongings chest in this prison. This can be interpreted in one of two ways. Either the guards that brought me here are largely incompetent and simply forgot to remove my belongings (which seems unlikely given the complete lack of a prisoner belonging chest) or the way I personally interpreted it which was "These guards have the biggest kahoonies in the entire country". They are SO confident in their defences that they don't even bother taking away prisoners' gear. They think even with it all convicts can't escape.

Now it is worth noting that not having their things stolen is nothing new for my companions. I am unsure as to why every hold lets them keep their gear while I lose mine, but I suspect that the answer is very complicated, personalised and more than likely involves Slaughterfish in some capacity. This aside, thanks to our shared equipment not being stolen, picking the adept lock on our cell before any blood was drawn proved simple.

Looking outside my cell I can plainly see where the confidence of the Winterhold Guard derives from. Instead of sending good men to freeze to death guarding pickpickets that also freeze to death, they hired out Frost Atronachs from the College nearby. This proved to be a very effective source of fear, muscle and worry in convicts, so much so that I temporarily deployed the Super Special Dragonborn Information Vision (S.S.DIV) that every Dragonborn has to keep track of my health, magicka and stamina (It's a dragonborn thing, look it up). The atronach was patrolling a small area with only three cells including ours and some barrels inside. Given how small I imagine the life expectancy for Chill inmates is thanks to the cold, I suppose it makes sense to not bother decorating. Once we had properly stepped outside of our cell, the Atronach got to work immediately and began an offensive on our group.

No points for guessing how it went.

A small incline to the right of the cell we were put into let out of the prison, where we were greeted with both a sharp realisation and, surprisingly, a welcome party.

Three additional Frost Atronachs ambushed us the second we stepped out of The Chill, as well as a lone Horker which appeared to be there just to feel included. This troublesome trio posed a triple threat to our squad and even managed a decent hit on me in the ensuing battle, though once again through the power of friendship, magic and Jordan we pulled through (at the cost of Teldryn's Flame Atronach).

It was following the defeat of the Atronachs that we came to a realisation. We were not in the city of Winterhold. We were not even CLOSE to the city of Winterhold. We were, as the less eloquently spoken would say, in the middle of fucking nowhere. We were dragged onto a tiny island in the middle of the ocean in freezing weather (heavy armour and all) by the guards and simply left to die. This goes beyond simple prisoner negligence or torture for military/political information. They were actively trying to kill us because I punched a single guardsman once and immediately surrendered. That is... a very commendable attitude. These guards are even more no-nonsense than the Windhelm Guards and this further supports my arguments about the aforementioned kahoonies.

In conclusion, this was easily the best prison I have seen so far. It fully commits to its cold attitude to prisoning with zero compromise, makes effective use of powerful Frost Atronachs to save on manpower, is incredibly cost efficient in terms of cell upkeep and manages to keep convicts out of the city streets better than any other hold capital by simply imprisoning them several miles away from the city itself in a sub-zero climate that would kill most escapees alone. This facility is beyond exceptional.

Final Score: Ten Ancient Frost Atronachs out of Ten Ancient Frost Atronachs

Thank you for reading this review. I hope that the conclusion to this saga arrives with a smaller gap than the last two did. This is especially important since I've saved by far the biggest for last.

"No one escapes Cidhna Mine"? Yeah right.

[the-skooma-den]

whats a good elder scrolls game, eso n skyrim are pretty trash imnhaao (in my not humble at all opinion)

Well I hate to say it dude but if you don't like the 2 biggest games in the series it may not be the series for you

[dagothurthegod]

my lord, can I have have a little bedtime story?

first day as a 3rd Era warlord i have my men tie branches to their horses’ tails to stir up dust and make it look like there’s a lot of us but i forget it just rained so there isn’t any dust and the enemy can clearly see there’s like twenty of us all spread out in a line, I swear this strat kills back in Morrowind.

second day as a 3rd Era warlord I bribe a bunch of filthy scalies kids to start singing a nursery rhyme i carefully crafted to spread misinformation and further my strategic ends. Obviously children, with their grand and intoxicating innocence, would never read between the lines of a nursery rhyme. But they change the lyrics to be about Skooma, and the enemy isn’t misdirected at all.

third day as a 3rd Era warlord I lure the filthy mongrel dogs into a narrow valley and send a team of archers to shoot them from the high ground but there was a feral sabercat napping on the trail up to the overlook and they couldn’t decide whether to try and shoot it or just go around and by the time the cat woke up and left on its own, the troglodytes that made up the enemy forces had already passed safely below.

fourth day as a 3rd Era warlord we attempt to join a battle on the side of the guy we want to ally with but he and the guy he’s fighting have really similar names and it’s terribly dusty and i misread the standards and attack the wrong guy. so now we’re stuck with this total n’wah of a liege lord, because how the fuck do you explain that after a battle?

fifth day as a 3rd Era warlord and some sort of non-elven wizard wanders into camp, my n’wah liege lord wants to execute him for being a wizard but I convince him to let the wizard stay, because i want to do more weather-based strategies and i’m pretty sure having a camp wizard can help with that. after the welcome to the team banquet the wizard steals half the treasury and my n’wah liege lord’s wife and leaves.

sixth day as a 3rd Era warlord my n’wah liege lord sends me to reinforce a city he’s taken, but in the confusion of leaving I forgot to take the token that would have gotten us into the city, so my men have to wait outside the city walls for like eight hours while i ride back to get it.

seventh day as a 3rd Era warlord and my loser liege lord finally joins me in the city, it turns out he’s actually a pretty cool guy, and he isn’t even that mad at me for letting the wizard steal his wife. i decide to shoot my shot but i’m really nervous and keep on stalling because what if i mess up our relationship and by extension jeopardize the security of my men, and eventually he just says goodnight and goes back to his room, where an assassin is in the process of setting up to kill him.

eighth day as a 3rd Era warlord and my loser n’wah liege lord tells me to fake defect to his rival warlord, the one i originally wanted to ally with, to find out if he was the one who sent the assassin and why. but my whole way over to the rival warlord, i’m worried that this has something to do with the wizard thing or how awkward i made it last night.

ninth day as a second 3rd Era warlord, I try to tactfully ask my fake liege lord if he sent the assassin to kill my loser liege lord and it turns out the idea of using assassins never occurred to him, but now that i’ve suggested it he’s really into it. So I’ve traded answering to a n’wah to answering to this total s’wit. However, I’m in too deep, so in order to save my loser n’wah liege lord, i volunteer to be the one to kill him

tenth day as a 3rd Era warlord on my way back to my loser n’wah liege lord’s city. i realize i won’t be able to collect my men from my s’wit liege lord until i bring back my n’wah liege lord’s head. this would have been a great thing to think of before i got myself in this situation. i go back to my loser n’wah liege lord and ask him to rescue my men, and he tells me that if he could sack my fake s’wit liege lord’s camp he already would have. that doesn’t change the fact that my men are still trapped. they’re prisoners, even. i go back to my room to sulk.

eleventh day as a 3rd Era warlord i find a little caged pigeon in the rafters of my n’wah liege lord’s room and deduce it belonged to the assassin. without asking permission or telling my loser n’wah liege lord goodbye, i let the pigeon loose and follow it north. don’t ask what i was doing in that n’wah’s room. it’s not important.

twelfth day as a 3rd Era warlord, i disguise myself as a wizard and enter the camp of the coalition leader the pigeon led me to. in the middle of my little sleight of hand performance i make eye contact with the coalition leader’s second-in-command. It’s the wizard that stole my loser n’wah liege lord’s wife. after the banquet i corner the fake wizard and ask him what the fuck is going on and he just says “wouldn’t you like to know” and leaves. i don’t know what to say to that so i just let him go.

thirteenth day as a 3rd Era warlord i’m honestly so sick of not knowing what’s going on, so i adjust my wizard costume to passably disguise myself as a woman and break into the women’s area of the camp, where sure enough my loser n’wah liege lord’s wife is. i ask her what she’s doing here and she tells me the fake wizard overheard her singing a poem she overheard on the street, not knowing it contains the coalition leader’s formation’s weaknesses. the fake wizard kidnapped her and assigned an assassin to kill her husband before they figured out the poem’s significance. she shares the first couplet with me but i’m discovered and thrown out before she can share any more. she doesn’t need to. through a bizarre coincidence of homophones, it’s the skooma version of my misinformation nursery rhyme.

fourteenth day as a 3rd Era warlord i go back to my n’wah liege lord and tell him everything, urging him to join with my fake s’wit liege lord to attack the coalition leader according to the weaknesses in the nursery rhyme. he tells me frankly that he doesn’t trust me anymore. i ask him to execute me if that’s really true, because i can’t bear to live if i can’t protect him and i can’t protect my men. he agrees to attack the coalition leader.

fifteenth day as a 3rd Era warlord. due to the information in the nursery rhyme, and thanks to my loser n’wah liege lord reminding me of the weather conditions multiple times while planning our battle strategy, our alliance carries the day. my loser liege lord gets his wife back. my men tell me that our fake s’wit liege lord actually treated them really well and they’d like to stay with him if i don’t mind. i do mind, now that neither the men i love nor the n’wah i love have any use for me, but i don’t tell them that.

sixteenth day as a 3rd Era warlord i’m preparing to leave to i don’t know where, maybe to try to become a wizard for real, when my loser n’wah liege lord stops me and asks me where i’m going. he says he had hoped i would continue to work as his advisor. i was unaware i was his advisor in the first place. i agree, and he tells me he’s truly honored to have me in his service at last. he has known i am a rare and talented man with a strategic intelligence far above his ever since the day he witnessed me tying branches to my horses’ tails in six inches of mud, and could not for the life of him figure out why.

[chilei-the-hotsauce]

ALL the artist ask game questions. ALL OF THEM-

omg yes hold up

1. uuh krita, fire alpaca (i used to use fire alpaca but not after getting csp)

2. left? i think? i can draw all directions (-ish) (it wont be good but i can)

3. none?? idk bro i have bad memory (or maybe i suppress them idk)

4. anything from canon media. like i love you boo but why. also clothes and poses

5. i post very little of my art actually lmao whoops. very busy lately but might start posting art again if i remember

6. my hyperfixation at the time. or well, me. also art tutorials i see on pinterest, though that's a bit more conscious i think

7. SCULPTING TRADITIONAL PAINTING GRAFFITI all so cool amazing wow

8. there's so many that i cant even remember jesus christ-

9. everything is keysmashes. i do not name my layers. i am satan

10. mm i actually like drawing shirts i think?

11. music. fun fact i listened to paranoia on loop for over a week. thats what brain rot does to a man

12. uuuh hhand

13. i really dont know. every thing is my thing. every creator is admirable in their own way. love everyone. commit crime

14. death? eldritch horrors? blood? rot and corruption? yeag the good shit

15. my room. at school also because im studying animation and game design

16. making. sprite sheets. for 2d game.

17. i usually have a tea nearby but i always forget it. i kinda drink it halfway when it's still warm, then forget about it and then when i go back for it it's cold so i just chug it all and go get a new one

18. uuh i'd say like? 10? im very gentle and loving with my stuff uwu

19. no. i do not. ok but maybe like. cloth idk.

20. hands. idk bro i drew them so much at one point out of spite i just kinda got good at it and now i just wing it and it looks good and doesnt require much thought. and if it requires thought it's in a funky position but then i just wrangle my own hands a little, inspect it, and then continue to draw

21. lineless, painting-esque, thick lines, realistic, sketchy... yeah good shit

22. nah man i just go straight for the laptop

23. uuh sometimes

24. im satan i dont use references often. but when i do? yeah i think

25. i havent been told so idk

26. i. dont really intend anything on purpose? so when someone interprets something wild i just kinda go "yeaah sure! idk either!"

27. Dno. straight for the art. might doodle thine truly if im not in a hurry

28. nah, but i'd like to! i've made art for two 2D games in the past year and now there's a 3D one in the making. im charged with making the 3D model for our main villain thing and boy is it pain

29. bold of you to assume anything doesnt inspire me artistically (he doesnt know)

30. thats a great question i have no idea 👍

[changelingsandothernonsense]

For the cute ship, please answer for the weirdest ship that has ever crossed your mind at any point in time: 🧸 and 💌 if you could be so kind, thank you.

I once wrote about the Nerevarine and Sanguine as a short-lived (90 year) thing. Sanguine was legitimately interested in capturing Azura's neglected Champion. Unfortunately, he started to become a bit of a wet blanket and the Daedric Prince tired of him after almost a century of debauchery in the Alik'r. Having said that... 🧸 | which one is the little spoon & which is the big spoon

Sanguine doesn't do aftercare, he also doesn't take Joshi's preferences into account. Josh is a toy, a shiny toy that makes Azura angry and that's the whole point. "Look what I can do with your favourite mortal". Josh is a lonely spoon in this dynamic. It's also something he's painfully used to. 💌 | a love note from one to the other

If Sanguine was to leave Josh a note, it would mention his voracious appetite. That he's missed in Revelry. Parties aren't as fun when he's not feeling it. Just because Skooma fucked up his brain a bit doesn't mean they can't have fun anymore. Instead he lures Josh into a drinking game that involves fucking a hagraven. (No one knows if he actually did). It was a busy, Daedra filled month.

[nuwanders]

i hope you recover soon!! ♥️ sending you well wishes for your health and comfort

i have been rereading king and lionheart and if you’d like to share, what do you think were some of raydrins thoughts during chapter 11 seven thousand steps :) i love seeing her perspective both on him and high hrothgar.. how she carefully chooses her answer about her past.. and the description of the voice…

much love frances i hope you get lots of rest!!

@creaking-skull

hello jay! thank you so much for the well-wishes 🥺 i'm back home now and so far feeling mostly okay <3

this is a really great question! i had to go back and reread a little to refresh my own memory. in short i think raydrin's thoughts at this point in the story are a little all over the place, but he is trying desperately hard NOT to think about (a) mathyas and (b) skooma, and supporting jórunn is his way of distracting himself from those two things.

he is repressing a lot, definitely. so much has happened and a lot of it is surreal, so instead of trying to come to terms with it, he is just. saving it for later i suppose? like with mathyas, i don't think he has yet come to fully grasp that mathyas is gone. it's the type of thing that would hit him at odd times only to escape him moments later. skooma withdrawal i think would have him feeling jittery, ill at ease, paranoid etc. then of course there is his shame and embarrassment at having been "found out" by both cassathra and mathyas.

so all of that is going on at the subconscious level, or at least raydrin is trying to keep it there. consciously, i think he is focusing on practicalities; navigation, guiding jórunn, tending to their needs on the road. if this chapter had been written from his perspective, i maybe would have kept it deliberately light on introspection, to kind of show that he is not allowing himself to dwell on anything.

then, of course, there is jórunn herself. raydrin has always liked her i think, but he is only now properly interacting with her for the first time. i think he pities her, in part (wrongly) because of her disability, but mostly because of the burden she has been saddled with. he is questioning his own abilities, wondering whether she might have been better off paired with someone else. and i think part of him is (guiltily) grateful that it's her who's the dragonborn and not him; in pitying her for her fate, he can make himself feel better about his own problems.

ty again for the ask !! very flattered to hear that ur rereading k&l 🥺this has def motivated me to keep chipping away at the next chapter (when im feeling a little better at least) !

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny, pt. 18

Orvas appeared later in the evening, and laid out to Haj-deek the route they would take after she went over what had happened to bring her back there.

"My smugglers have caves all over the Bitter Coast," he said, "But I would prefer not to tempt them with your presence if it can be helped. Almalexia is no doubt already spitting and screaming for your capture, so I don't wish to give them reason to stab us both in the back."

"But don't they work for you?"

"Indirectly. They're loyal to their pockets above everything else. Lord Dagoth is working on them...but he has asked me to be as careful as possible, and that order I shall obey."

"So what--what's the plan, then?"

Orvas laid a map on the small table between them, and pointed to a spot in the north before tracing down. "Northeast of Khuul, there's an entrance to Foyada Bani-dad. We simply follow it down this way...and up this path here, we'll come to Kogoruhn. One of your esteemed uncles lives there. That is where I leave you - though I would have made the whole trip, should it have been an option."

She wanted to protest that she could have gotten there on her own, but kept silent. She COULD have, maybe, but depending on how fast Almalexia could get to the ordinators...probably not. Nerevar reborn or not, with all the help she'd gotten, there was only so much she could do against a goddess.

He chatted on a little longer, something about the goddess's anger and her father's protection, and only after he said something about preserving House Dagoth did she think of a question to ask.

"Have you ever met any of the Dagoths? My--" The word was a bit strangled, uncertain as it came out, "--family?"

There was a sudden pain in the back of her neck. The dovahfly (so the knife-seller had called it) was clenching tightly at her skin. Then it started double-tapping, over and over.

NO. NO. NO.

"Lord Dagoth has come to me on numerous occasions in the dreams that he sends to his faithful. But in person? No, I have never had that honor."

"And...Lord Dagoth himself?"

The word "father" she had said many times in relation to the man that occupied a sort of mythical and far-away space in her mind. But now, confronted with the idea of soon seeing him, having all this become really real, she felt both awkward and fearful.

"I would suggest using the title of Lord until you're told otherwise. Politeness will get you quite far with the Sixth House...and even more so, considering you're one of them. I've told Lord Dagoth of your upbringing, so he may underestimate your ability to speak in the noble fashion."

"I can make do," Haj-deek said, "Talking to you, the Duke...Vivec, Almalexia..."

"Of course." Orvas gave a slight laugh she didn't like at all. His eyes didn't leave her face for a moment. "You'll do fine, once we've delivered you safely to Kogoruhn."

NO. NO. NO.

Sunchaser protested at the dovahfly's flurry of movement, and Haj-deek shushed the cliffracer as best she could.

"We'll be able to hide you well enough to get you onto the ship with an invisibility potion...it'll work on the cliffracer, too, but it being seen won't be the problem."

"I know a calm spell...and I just learned a silence one not too long ago. What about when we're ON the ship?"

"Well," Orvas said with a slight smirk on his face, "My Camonna Tong ARE well known for smuggling..."

-----------------

The answer, as it turned out, was "a hidden compartment". It wasn't a particularly large room, it didn't have much room to walk, but Haj-deek was assured she was safe. That particular corner was filled and then ignored until the time came to unload the ash statues or skooma or whatever else he was smuggling--and she had to share room with a few boxes of the latter...

But it wasn't that bad. She had enough food and water, and there was enough room for her to sit and lean over one of the boxes to write...which she did the moment she was sure Orvas and his group were gone.

She pet Sunchaser until the cliffracer calmed down from the inability to make noise or fly about, and then grabbed a stump of charcoal from her bag and a piece of paper.

The dovahfly crawled down from her shoulder and didn't do anything - until she wrote on the page the words To Vivec,. It tapped wildly at the name until she had to pull it back.

"I can write the note and he'll get it," she said quietly, "I don't know how. I can even tear it up after and he'll still find it...and he can write back."

It tapped and scratched at the charcoal.

"You want me to say something to him for you?"

What WAS this thing?

It tapped once. YES.

"Let me finish writing this first. Then you tap on any letters you want me to write for you. Understand?"

YES.

Almalexia found my mother's journal and figured out everything. Someone who says they're a friend of my father's offered to take me to Kogoruhn. It used to be the seat of House Dagoth, he said? When I went to the Clockwork City to see Sotha Sil, she cornered me, said she would make me a martyr. I can't come back. I don't know what to do.

While I was in the Clockwork City I found a dwemer gauntlet on Sotha Sil's body. And a little dovahfly dwemer thing. It seems intelligent...and wants me to write you some words I'll put down now:

Haj-deek watched the hovering dovahfly turn and look at what she'd written. Then it moved down, its head rotated slightly, and it tapped as it started to sidle about.

SI ALIVE. SHED SHELL. YOU SUPPORT DAUGHTER OF DAGOTH? WATCHMEN OF GHOSTS HELD.

Haj-deek wrote it down, and then let the paper lay. She looked at the dovahfly, thinking - maybe some element of Sotha Sil had rubbed off on it. Ghost stories were common enough - sometimes, sailors said, if someone died violently - and clearly Sotha Sil had - an echo of them could remain. But those tales usually involved angry spirits or wailing ones, not ones as intelligent as this thing seemed to be.

"Now I just have to wait. When he writes a reply it just sort of...appears before me."

It tapped again at the paper.

"You want me to write something else?"

NO.

"You want to talk to me?"

YES.

She paused...thought for a moment, and then turning over the letter she'd written to vivec, wrote out the alphabet and made a gesture to the dovahfly. It began to tap at the letters.

NEREVARINE? FRIEND WITH VIVEC?

"Yes. And he trained me," she said quietly, "In the spear, in...a bunch of things. Said it was his fault my mother died..."

Really, she knew it was weird to be talking to something like this. What if it was spying on her? But if it WAS a spy, how would it talk to anyone - most would probably swat it down, or it could get attacked by something wild, before it ever got to 'speak' to anyone.

It didn't seem too eager to fly off, considering Almalexia's situation. She'd just have to make sure it didn't get very far.

DAGOTH?

"My father," she said quietly, "My mother...was the last Nerevarine. She...she loved him, but...knew she couldn't do anything for him, so she left. And then I happened. I want to help him but I don't know how."

COMPASSION KILL YOU.

"Well I have to try, don't I? I don't have much of a choice now. He's not going to kill ME, so that's a start. And Vivec gave me something that might help, but...I'm not supposed to say the words until it's time."

It still ran beneath her skin, whatever it was. And feeling the confinement of the room she was eager to distract herself. So for a second time she wrote the words that Vivec had told her.

AE GHARTOK PADHOME CHIM AE ALTADOON

"He seemed to think it would help my father..." she shook her head. "One of the Tribunal made you so I guess you hate him as much as anyone else in Morrowind, but...I want a father. I want a family. I've never had either."

It was a hollow feeling, and a shameful one. Hollow for missing what she'd never had, and shame for that same thing considering all the Argonians had done for her. Im-Kilaya had actually wept when she left, loved her like a father, and this was how she repaid him?

But a moment later she thought, maybe he wouldn't be upset. He'd always been very understanding of her wanting a family like the other Dunmer children in Ebonheart had.

You are not bad for wanting a mother and father.

Tapping, against her hand.

Haj-deek sat up, realizing that Vivec's reply had come while she was distracted. She looked over it.

Haj-deek, it read in small print,

I will not say you are not in danger. I will also not say to be careful, for you are wise enough to know that for yourself. Considering Almalexia's reaction to your parentage, to be at Kogoruhn or Dagoth Ur itself may very well be the safest place for you to be right now.

You know the stakes. You know what may happen. For now, be no more than what you wish to be - and by that I mean, in your desire to know your family. We may form a plan for more later. Write me again only if you are in danger or you have access to fire, that the letters I send may be burnt or better disposed of.

To the dovahfly: I knew not that you would manage such a feat, but I am glad. Yes, I support her. A plan is in place but if you are well enough to render aid so much the better. I did not know the watcher of ghosts was available; perhaps it is best to remain silent on it for now.

Haj-deek tore the note into as many small pieces as she could - and apparently on noting what she was trying to do, the dovahfly zapped a few of the pieces until they were ash. She had no clue what was meant by the 'watcher of ghosts' but - maybe it was the dovahfly itself? Maybe it was meant to report on whether things in the Clockwork City had died back to some sort of superior?

"I don't know what you are, but...it'll be nice to have some company during this trip...what do you think, then? If I can save my father..."

NO CHANGE POSSIBLE.

"Well I'm going to try it anyway. Maybe I can do something my mother couldn't."

And then after a pause she could only call frustrated - the dovahfly tapped out a word she'd only ever read in an Imperial history book in the chapel in Ebonheart.

NUMIDIUM.

"What's Numidium have to do with my father?"

------------------------

The trip was lengthy, and Haj-deek quickly lost track of time. One day bled into another, and only a time or two did Orvas come back to speak to her and to remove a box or two.

(The last time he took one, a single bottle of skooma rolled unnoticed across the floor and on impulse she picked it up and tucked it away.)

Soon, he'd said the last time, but soon didn't come quickly enough for her. By the time that false door opened again she was half-ready to break it down herself, damn the consequences. Sleep had gotten hard, and she didn't dream of her father at all - or if she did, she didn't remember.

The ship had stopped in the dead of night and the rowboat raised and lowered several times. Orvas gave some instructions to some of his guards she couldn't hear, and with whatever it was sorted, they proceeded forward, alone.

"You might want to put that helmet of yours back on," he said, while in the process of donning his own, "They've not kicked up yet, and the blight winds may not affect you, you might still find them unpleasant."

She just nodded, and obeyed. Beneath her cloak Sunchaser and the dovahfly seemed to be bickering - the former was giving its slight cries, while the dovahfly kept tapping out NO. NO. NO.

The ensuing walk was one of the most unpleasant she'd ever engaged in. The sandals she'd put back on didn't help keep the ash out very well, and it was somehow more unpleasant than the sandy grit of Ebonheart.

But she kept walking anyway, down the path that seemed endless. (No, she thought, it was just that she hadn't slept well.)

The blight winds kicked up not too far in, and she almost didn't notice that they'd been joined by someone else as they passed some sort of cave. Someone who muttered "the Sixth House welcomes you" and fell in line behind her.

The uneasy feeling started, and only grew as they walked.

After what seemed like an eternity (and how could she tell even what time of day it was, with this storm on?) Orvas finally turned onto a path to the left. Up they went, until--

Is this Kogoruhn?

The building looked like a palace, even compared to the Duke's castle in Ebonheart. As they mounted the stairs someone emerged from one of the doors to the left - a creature with trunks hanging from its face that immediately made her recoil.

They were encouraged to come inside, and while Haj-deek was taking off her helmet the creature seemed to be thanking Orvas for his service. After something was handed over to him, he turned, placed a kiss on her hand, and left.

"We are glad you have finally come," the creature said, speaking in a voice that put her in mind of flutes. It took her by both hands and bowed just slightly. "I am Dagoth Ulen, and Lord Dagoth has appointed me your guardian."

"My guardian?"

"The trip from here to Dagoth Ur--the building, that is--is lengthy, and there are some who are mindless and would attack without thinking. With my presence - no harm will come to you. Now, Lord Uthol--"

He muttered a few other things as he lead her along, but spoke aloud of her father's gladness that she was here - here, and more importantly, safe, away from the machinations of Almalexia.

Around and down the stairs, she was finally lead to one that seemed vaguely familiar. Her feet ached and she wanted to rest, but that word - family - rang in her head. At least one of them was here now, before her.

"Well," the man said, on turning around, "You'll pardon me for disbelieving you at first, but the resemblance is clear as the rising sun. Through the ash and blight, we welcome you to House Dagoth. I am Dagoth Uthol."

There was a pause and a wry smile with a stare as if he were remembering something.

"I will leave it to your father to properly name you one of us, but no trouble will you have from me."