telizere

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This is basically every monday experience :D

spocktober day 4

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Here is my piece for DBH Reverse Big Bang (@dbh-bb). I was partnered with @rking200 as the writer and we explored an idea of alternate universe where Captain Allen was so impressed with Connor, after the android managed to successfully negotiate the release of Emma Phillips, that he fought tooth and nail to procure Connor for SWAT (as tactical robot, electronic control weapon, protective gear, part of the Team).

You can read rking200's story here .

Also I got my hands on a tablet! I usually work with ink so it was a challenge to switch from paper and pencil to drawing digitally. After finishing lineart I decided to add basic colors and then it snowballed from there but I think I managed not to fall into Realistic Beaver Show category :D

Alt Text: Captain Allen and Connor stand face to face. Captain Allen is in his full SWAT armour. Connor wears a lighter version of SWAT armour. His LED is hidden, Captain Allen holds out to Connor his coin, Connor reaches for it but is hesitant to take it. Captain's Allen posture is confident, while Connor is slightly hunched and his head is bowed.

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I still have a second edition Cyberpunk 2020 corebook gathering dust somewhere. Just so you know.

A big Thanks, I Hate It to CDPR for the Fury Road cameo in Cyberpunk 2077, demonstrating the fact that Night City is a crapsack setting where even the slim, but tenacious hope shown in MMFR gets obliterated right out the gate (specifically the gate out of Biotechnica Flats). Seriously, fuck you very much for kicking me right in the feels and not even bothering to hide the characters' names (seriously, it's so on the nose it doesn't even count as an easter egg at this point).

Now that I've gotten this out of my system... I kinda want to make and play a character in tabletop Cyberpunk based loosely on Max. An ex-cop, skirting the edge of cyberpsychosis, avoiding making friends just in case he loses someone again and gets pushed over the edge, but actually in dire need of people who would nurture his remaining humanity.

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"I am forty bears old!"

Does this sound familiar? Happy birthday @thecraftybear! :)

Hello, midlife crisis. I've been expecting you. *gives crowbar a few test swings* Shall we begin?

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Two of my favourite things: detective story and dunmeri Ancestors' shenanigans.

The Disturbance at the Waiting Door - Another of the Cases of Canon Telvayn

The great detective, Canon Telvayn, solves yet another case as chronicled by Healer Adras of the Temple. A short mystery story/Sherlock Holmes pastiche set in Morrowind. Read it on A03 or under the cut here.

In all my years assisting the Canon, it never ceases to amaze me how often he comes to the truth of a situation without leaving the Temple. Yes, on occasion, he will need to go out - the Temple requires him to perform a number of duties and Canon Telvayn is a loyal son of the Temple. But when it comes to the cases I enumerate in these records, you will notice that the Canon often ascertains the facts without leaving our temple. He will inevitably send me or one of the acolytes to check his conclusions but we rarely find him wrong. One such perfectly intuited case was the bizarre set of circumstances I am calling here The Disturbance at the Waiting Door .

This case originated with a visit from a very upset parishioner of the Temple, a devout mer of advancing age, Muthsera Vadeni Serano. The acolytes of our temple had already been out to her house to give her aid, with no effect. I showed her to the Canon’s study, where she told us a horrid tale.

Muthsera Serano has lived peacefully in the same house for nearly two hundred years, venerating her ancestors at a small Waiting Door. She described it to us as an alcove in the wall of the front room, holding small slivers of bones resting on a base of ashes. Most of her family’s bones have gone to the Temple for the building of the Ghost Fence. 

“A commendable shrine,” commented the Canon. “But you say it has been vandalized?”

Muthsera Serano nodded. “Every day for the past two months, when I rise, I find a small bit of bone knocked out of the alcove, lying on the floor. I first questioned my great-grandchildren and the slaves, but none would admit to doing it. I called an acolyte from your Temple to come and bless the shrine again, to make reparations to the Ancestors.”

“You did well,” said the Canon automatically. Despite his many eccentricities documented in these pages, he always encourages the piety of the common people. 

But Muthsera Serano’s ordeals had only begun that day. As she explained to us, the event repeated itself every day after.  She lectured her dependants, set guards upon the room, emptied the house of all family for seven nights in a row, and even brought the case to the local guard. But each morning, she would find the bone on the floor. 

“I fear an evil force is meddling with our waiting door. Do the Daedra ever meddle with our shrines like this?”

The Canon shook his head. “I doubt it. The waiting door is guarded by ALMSIVI and your ancestors.”

“But Canon Telvayn. How can any living mer cause this sacrilege? We have done all we can to watch the Door. We never see anyone remove the bone.”

“Tell me, Muthsera, is it the same bit of bone you find on the floor each morning?”

“Yes, your reverence, a small bit of a knucklebone.”

“Do you know from which ancestor the bone originates?”

“I am sorry, your reverence. I have been remiss in my care of the shrine. I have never taken any particular notice of the individual shards’ provenance.”

“There is no fault in that, Muthsera. The bones and ash act as an anchor to the whole array of ancestors. But it is curious that it is the same piece of bone each day. Tell me, was there any event or ill omen that preceded this disturbance? Anything awry in your family?”

“No, your reverence. Our family has been in good health and prosperity.”

“Three months ago I oversaw the marriage rites of your great-granddaughter in this very temple. How have the young couple fared?”

“Well, your reverence. She and her husband are residing in our household.” Then the implication hit her. “Your reverence, you’re not suggesting her new husband is involved in this sacrilege? He was away visiting his parents when this first happened.”

“I am not,” the Canon assured her. “He appears to be a filial mer who will be an asset to your House. How long after the wedding did the disturbance begin?”

“Nearly a month later,” Muthsera Serano replied. 

“And you say that your great-granddaughter’s husband had departed the home when it first occurred?” “Yes, your reverence. His mother was suddenly taken ill. He stayed by her side for some weeks till she died.”

The Canon looked to me. “Adras, what do you think? Is there a possibility here that the good woman has overlooked?” 

I do not enjoy it when the Canon puts me on the spot like this. He invariably already has an answer in mind but likes to test me, to see if our years of collaboration have taught me any of his skills. I would like to object to him that I am simply a healer in our temple. Yet these pages show I have developed a keen interest in his work of deduction, and so I play along in these moments. One day, I may hit on the correct solution. It has not happened yet.

“Perhaps the disturber uses an invisibility spell” I suggested.

Muthsera Serano shook her head. “We thought of that. The guards brought in one of their best mages to pierce any such spell.”

“As I thought,” the Canon commented. “I believe the answer is more simple than either of you imagine. I daresay there has been no sacrilege at all.”

“But, Telvayn!” I roared, forgetting to show him the proper deference of his rank. “How can you say that? This woman’s family has been terrorized every day by the awful treatment of their ancestors’ remains. What is this if not sacrilege?”

“Is it sacrilege if the ancestors act on their own initiative?” the Canon asked. “Muthsera Serano, I think that if you question your great-granddaughter’s husband, you will find this particular bit of bone is the one that he brought to the Waiting Door as part of the marriage. No outsider is vandalizing your Door. Your ancestors are rejecting the bone of this outsider.”

The woman was immediately skeptical. “If it's the bone Bolyn brought, why wasn’t it rejected right after the wedding?”

“ You must ask the young mer. But I can predict his answer. He found the bone on the floor soon after he settled down in your household. It must have caused him great fear and anxiety, to see his new bride’s ancestors reject his union to the house. Is this young mer an early riser?”

“Yes, your reverence. He’s up even before I am.”

“There you have it. Every day he replaced the bone in the shrine before the rest of your family woke. But then he was called away to his mother’s sickbed. He could no longer replace the bone. That is when you began to find the rejected bone.”

“If this is true,” Muthsera Serano replied with a grim tone, “This marriage displeases the ancestors. We will have to send Bolyn back to his family.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” I said quickly. “Perhaps the Canon is mistaken. Bolyn may not be involved at all.”

The Canon laughed at that. “By all means, make sure of my theory, Muthsera Serano. But even if I am right, there may be a less drastic solution to the problem. Adras, I will need to take a look in our temple registers, I may find aid for the Serano family within them”

I was mystified by his comments, but he refused to explain further. In fact, he seemed delighted to keep us in the dark. I took it as a good omen. This reticence usually means he is on the cusp of presenting his audience with a satisfying unforeseen conclusion.

  The good woman went back to her family to confront the unfortunate Bolyn and the Canon went to our archives. He emerged a few days later with a triumphant look and ordered me to summon not only Muthsera Serano but her great-granddaughter and her husband to the temple.

Bolyn Serano, lately Bolyn of House Salvu, was a handsome young mer with a hang-dog face. He had confessed to replacing his ancestor’s bone in the shrine and expected the Canon to dissolve his marriage to his distressed wife Lliana. The Ancestors cannot be gainsaid in these matters.

The Canon, however, welcomed him warmly. “This has been a most confounding mystery,” he continued. “Clearly, the revered ancestors of House Serano have rejected this bone you bought from House Salvu.”

Lliana Serano began weeping then. “Calm yourself, Muthsera," the Canon chided her. "Your ancestors did not reject your husband, merely one of his ancestors.”

“How can you know that?” Bolyn demanded. 

“The Ancestors are not cruel. They linger in our world to bless their descendants. I am satisfied you are a good husband to Lliana, and will uphold the house you have joined. I would not have presided over your marriage rites if I had any doubt.”

This is true. Canon Telvayn is very conscientious in all his Temple duties, and somewhat notorious for refusing to marry couples when he finds the marriage unworthy. 

“I concluded, therefore, that the problem was with the bone itself. Do you know the name of the ancestor from whom the bone came?”

Thankfully, Bolyn knew more about the provenance of his ancestors’ bones than the Serano family did of theirs. He gave us the name of his ancestor, a certain Madres Salvu.

The Canon nodded in recognition. “I have been studying the registers of the Salvu and Serano families. I found a record of a betrothal some three hundred years ago between Madres Salvu and Noveni Serano. However, the betrothal was put aside very soon after.”

“I remember that story,” Vadeni Serano spoke up. “My great-aunt Noveni was left at the Temple door by a scoundrel who was seeing a Khajiit behind her back.”

“The records do not state the identity of his paramour,” the Canon said quickly, a note of annoyance in his voice at this lurid detail of family gossip. “But we can be certain that the spirits of the Serano family were not happy to receive the bone of Madres Salvu into their midst, not after he had jilted Noveni.”

“So what shall we do now?” asked Vadeni Serano.

“Remove the bone, and ask the Salvu family for a less objectionable one. Preferably from someone more recently deceased with no links to this old tragedy.”

“My mother died not long ago,” Bolyn spoke up. “I could ask my father for a piece of her bone.”

“An excellent solution,” the Canon pronounced. “I will await the results with interest.”

They did as the Canon had ordered. The offending bit of bone was placed back in the Salvu family shrine and replaced with a sliver of bone from Bolyn’s mother. A few days later, Vadeni Serano returned to tell us that there was peace now within the alcove. The Serano family had welcomed the newcomer and through her, her son.

This is not the most shocking or complicated case that I have recorded in these pages, but it is elegant in its simplicity, as I told the Canon afterward. He remarked that all mysteries are more simple than they seem, the complications are only in the search for the truth. But as you know, he sees everything rather differently than the rest of us.

Notes:

I read a lot of Sherlock Holmes as a kid. Can you tell?

There's no official lore about mingling ancestors' remains at the Waiting Door, but it seemed like something that might catch on in some Dunmer families. And gave me the idea of ancestors who can't stand the other ancestor and keep knocking his bone to the floor.

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Out of sadness comes the beauty.

I've been self medicating my sadness by painting yaks.

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It feels like beginning of creation myth. Poignant.

Yasmine Wüster

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That worldbuilding is your thing.

I really wish Zenimax writers took a long, hard look qt how covid affected our world and tried to work it tastefully into ESO's worldbuilding (i mean, it's been what? Twenty years since the Knahaten flu's initial outbreak? Short enough for young Mane candidates to have childhood trauma about it).

Have the Redguard started celebrating the Day of Shame already, after turning away the Crimson Ship from their shores? Is there a consensus among them about it, seeing as all ports in Hammerfell turned it away before it sailed out into the Abecean again, or is it a point of contention among political factions, or perhaps even on an individual level?

Did the epidemic spreading from the south affect the Dunmer much? Did House Telvanni focus their slave-taking practices on Argonians as immune to the flu, or away from them and as potential asymptomatic carriers? I mean, they have the highest number of secular healers and researchers among the Houses, it's impossible thay they ignored a calamity developing just south of Morrowind when they stood to gain knowledge or profit from it, or at the very least a way to cut their own losses in resources and manpower.

For Western Tamriel, the Knahaten Flu was an exotic disease at first - something happening far away and treated as gossip fodder, most likely, not a real threat. Moreso than covid, really, since common folk don't fly around Tamriel overnight for business and pleasure. So when it finally reached Hammerfell? High Rock? Summerset? They were unlikely to be prepared. Especially Summerset, an isolationist land of folk convinced of their unshakable perfection. By the time they closed their ports on Auridon to foreigners, the disease already started incubating in Altmer, who then dragged it everywhere from Skywatch to Shimmerene to Alinor, from Sunhold to Cloudrest to Silatar (assuming anyone still lived there).

Even the hardy, disease-resistant Bosmer in the deepest heart of Valenwood were afflicted by this merciless, mammal-targetting new germ. Of course they blamed the Khajiit, whose lands sat halfway from Argonia and whose Baandari caravans travelled all across the continent. How come nobody ever raises that as a problem among the Dominion, instead focusing on Altmer being just plain Racist Because Tradition and Bosmer having a bad case of Our Forest, Our Rules towards people who have no spiritual obligation towards Yffre?

Perhaps the members of Ebonheart Pact keep together not only because of some Bonding Moment at Vivec's Antlers, but because they all weathered the disaster better? Nords are hardy and tropical diseases don't spread well in cold climate. Dunmer, as i said before, probably were the first to react, and while Telvanni may have opted out of the Pact, other Houses could have been saved by Temple healers and Almalexia herself, playing well into her politics and giving her more clout when pushing for the Pact. Argonians, as we know, remained unaffected, and in fact had their work cut out for them managing the lands abandoned by their mammalian neighbors - Kothringi, Lilmothiit, Imperial colonists around Blackrose and Whiterose prison forts... This all probably laid foundations which were only cemented by the victory over the Akaviri.

Ah, i digressed again. What was i talking about?

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MOON MOON

knuckle tattoos

BEST FRND KNUK TATS LETS PALS LOVE YOUS KILL ALL❗ MOON COOL GOST HNTR SPAG HETY IRON PICK SLND RMAN FREE WRLD WRLD PECE XPLR WRLD SEEU ARND NUDE NITE WZRD SEX❓ SNTD CNDL RDDL SLVR GIFO RJIF LEFT RITE PUPT MSTR REAL COOL BALD GUYS VMPR BLUD WERE WOLF DEAD BODY 1DAD 3KID WATR BOTL LABY RNTH GOOD WORK DONT CARE WONT FUCK MUST FUCK FUCK THIS FUCK YOUS OUTA HERE IMSO DONE DIVO RCED NICE BALD BALD HEAD MARS FAKE CAR❓ CRSH TTYL L8RS S'BED TIME ULTI MATE OVER WTCH ARMY SUXX GLRY HOLE JAZZ SONG NITE MARE TERR ARIA MINE CRAF IGOT MAIL UGOT SRVD ITS2 LATE WISH DEAD SOOO SADD HPPY BDAY SKEL TONS FIRE BURN ICNO EVIL TBLR POST PORN GOOD SAND WICH CORN DOGS HRSE RLSH GTAR SOLO STYX SONG SORD FITE GUTS BSRK AQUA RIUS FIRE TRUK LAMP POST LITE HAUS BIBL REAL GODS DEAD DEVL WINS KILL SOM1 NUKE ERTH HELL 4EVA SLEP TITE ENDS HERE

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My final assignment color script for Kat Tsai class, which I made based on The Left Hand of Darkness… First row is when the rain clouds lift and they emerge from between the narrowed ridges and first see the ice across the valley of ice and volcanoes, and Estraven says “I’m glad I have lived to see this”. Mid row is a few separate scenes inside the tent: when Estraven is reciting the verse about “the left hand of darkness”; when Genly is thinking about how rather than happiness, they experienced joy during the journey; when Genly mind-speaks to Estraven for the first time. Last row is the last leg of the journey: when Estraven almost falls into the ravine, when they reach Karhide, when they lay together in the hollow before Estraven tries to cross back across the border

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My entry for The Left Hand of Darkness Secret Santa this year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Meshe (The Left Hand of Darkness), Original Hainish Character (The Left Hand of Darkness) Additional Tags: Art

Everybody, look and read what @venndaai made for me!!!

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TLHOD SECRET SANTA 2022 MASTERPOST

Thank you to everyone for taking part !  <3

1. By Telizere for Nick

2. By Anjael for Mossfloss

3. By Venn for Telizere  - with accompanying notes on Ao3 here

4. By Nick for Manny

5. Fanfic: How a Ghost Becomes a God by Naq for Brightlady

6. Fanfic: la quinta by Manny for Naq

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The piece I made for @splendiferous-soup for TLHOD Secret Santa event this year. 

@splendiferous-soup​, all of your prompts were great, in fact I started with gethenian landscapes, but then switched to the foretelling. And somehow Genry and Enstraven wandered in, their struggles on ice creating a counterpoint for the foretelling scenes with Faxe as focal point... Anyway hope you like it.

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@an-orsimer-and-a-gentlemer

Thank you! I liked all little pieces about Shara you have posted before, but seeing how she interact with others is so much more satisfying. Also Ra'Barbar's "don't mind this lazy, rude uncle, there is nothing here worth your attention" and than that one sentence about fading into shadows which puts all previous notions about him into question… Nice. Also: now I have a written proof that Shara is the cutest Khajiiti kitten :) But that piece got me wondering: which kind of reaction is more instinctive for her when she is very surprised or/and very stressed: will she react with her 'Dunmeri face' or go staight to Khajiiti nonverbal communication?

A small piece for @telizere, who wanted to see Shara teach Irveru (her OC) a bit about Khajiiti honorifics.

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“Shara-la!” - boomed a voice from above. Both women raised their heads to a large, dark shape leaning over the signal platform’s edge. “So good to see you! And is that Mehra with you?”

Irveru glanced over to her companion. Shara’s ears were folded back, and for a moment she looked like an irate cat; the only thing missing was an angrily swatting tail. When she spoke up, her accent was unlike anything Irveru had heard from her before.

“Rude, dro’Barbar! You know very well it’s not her. Might as well let us in while you’re here.”

The man above disappeared from the platform, and soon the front gate cracked open. A large, black-furred Khajiit gestured for them to enter, with a bow so ostentatious it had to be a mockery; as Irveru passed him, though, he bared his teeth in an embarrassed smile.

“Welcome to Hjaalwatch, muthsera. Apologies. J’Shara is too harsh, though - at a distance this one honestly did mistake you for a Dunmer friend of ours.”

“Why would-”

“As this one was saying…” - the Khajiit shot Shara a glare - “Welcome to Hjaalwatch. Ra’Barbar, rude J’Shara’s fittingly rude uncle, is at your service.”

“Indoril Irveru Sala. Pleased to meet you, ah… Ra’Barbar” - the priestess bowed her head slightly. She couldn’t quite keep up with the other two’s constantly changing tone.

“I’ll show her around, nakom” - her friend gestured at the house in front of them. “Is pakseech at home?”

“On business in Morthal. Barbar’s been holding the fort.”

“You mean sleeping in the sun. Well, thanks for getting the gate.”

As Shara led her inside, Irveru glanced over her shoulder. The large catman was no longer standing by the gate, as if he’d faded into the shadows cast by the wall. “Nakom? Pakseech? Shara-la?” - she noticed her companion frown at that last one. “Who was the Dunmer in your family, again?”

“The one who considered pigfaced n’wah a term of endearment” - the orc growled before she could stop herself. “Sorry. Ra’Barbar never fails to irritate me.”

“So I noticed. But you called him something else there - dro’Barbar?”

“Good thing you didn’t call him that too”, laughed the orc. She laid down her backpack on a nearby bench and sat down by the firepit in the middle of the hall. Irveru joined her. “I get a pass, because I only call him that if he gets me angry first. If you called him a geezer to his face, he’d be less understanding.”

“Is that what it means?”

“More or less. Dro can be used to call one a venerable elder or an old horker. It’s all in the context. Barbar prefers to be adressed as ra - that’s what you’d call a leader… or a gang boss.”

“That explains some of the Khajiiti names I’ve heard over the years. But why did he call you J’Shara? You’re not a Khajiit.”

Shara laughed. “In his opinion, I am. You know I wasn’t raised by my blood father, right? My ahnurr… foster father… was a Khajiit. He never imposed his culture on me, but did his best to teach me about Khajiiti customs in case I ever needed that knowledge. I speak Ta’agra as fluently as possible without whiskers and a tail. And J’Shara… that’s what he’d call me if he was still alive.”

She stayed silent for a moment, and then cut in just as Irveru was opening her mouth to say something soothing. “Anyway. Ra’Barbar treats me as his honorary niece. That’s why I call him nakom, uncle. When he’s being civil.”

“And Shara-la?”

“The first time he called me that, I nearly punched his lights out. Terrig had to drag me off him. La means ‘young lady’ in a very casual way, almost disrespectful. He thinks it’s funny.”

“Rude uncle indeed. But he seems to know his way around Dunmeris a bit. Have you brought other priests of the Tribunal with you before?”

It took Shara a moment to recall what Irveru was talking about. “Oh, that! Well, yes and no. He didn’t mean mehra like that. There is a Redoran priestess who’s part of this… not-quite-clan we have here, but that’s her actual name. She actually shares a room with me when she’s around. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you used her bed. It’s not like she sleeps in it. Or sleeps at all, really. Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

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What a fantastic armour design!

WIP of my Ordinator Lady, Caprice ✨

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I wanted to introduce some of my Elder Scrolls OCs here!

So first: Bvyyth (no last name), He/Him, and was born under the sign of The Lover. A dunmer who is an Ordinator of the Order of the Watch in Vivec city. And his story takes place during TES3: Morrowind. He is 43 years old, and 2.10m (6.9ft) tall (a big lad) Personality-wise he is grumpy, usually too sarcastic and/or flirty and over-confident (It’s his intimidating height I tell you). He’s just a big tease. A little bit of backstory: He is an orphan, raised in an orphanage with a lot of other children. He grew up having lots of friends, and always wanted to be an Ordinator. He was impressed by those holy knights and their dutiful life. He was not the best behaved child, but he cared a lot about his orphanage siblings. When he grew up, he went to train to become an Ordinator. After many years of service, he realised how hopeless it is. Everyday was the same, and everyday was lonely. During this time he saw through lies of the Tribunal. He lost any of his faith that was remaining, and chose to still work as an Ordinator, because it’s all he knows, and he is respected. So he is using his life as much as he can. And has lots of fun intimidating random people :) Later he met someone special, a mer named Bolathyn Nulingi (@steamclouds OC) who he teasingly calls Bo or “Old man”, but that’s a story for another time!