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The Beginner’s Guide to Homesteading

The Beginner’s Guide to HomesteadingIf you’re like most people, you’ve always dreamed of owning your own steading and building your own home. But where to start? Never fear, you hold in your hands the guide to everything you need to know. Before long, you’ll be gazing complacently across your well-tended lands from the porch of your own manor house.Getting StartedThere are two vital pieces of equipment that the prospective homeowner needs: the Drafting Table and the Carpenter’s Workbench.Your Drafting Table is where you’ll lay out the plans for each stage of your new house. Don’t worry about making a mistake here – you can always change your mind, and making a new plan costs you nothing. Remember: measure twice and cut once.Your Carpenter’s Workbench is where you’ll do the actual construction. Once you’ve settled on a plan at the Drafting Table, you can start building your house at the Carpenter’s Workbench. Avoid the common beginner’s mistake – don’t try to build the roof without building the proper supports first!Space for the FamilyIf you have a spouse or children, you’ll certainly want to get the house in a livable state as soon as possible. Your loving spouse will no doubt make do with nothing more than a roof over her head and a bed to sleep in, but what about the children? Don’t worry – all they need is a bed and a chest or dresser to store their treasures, and they will be perfectly content.Building MaterialsYou will need a lot of supplies to complete your house, but it isn’t necessary to gather everything you need ahead of time. Unless you’re in a hurry, you can just build in stages as materials become available. You’ll enjoy watching your home progress from dream to reality.The most common materials you’ll need are sawn logs, cut stone, and clay. Luckily, these are plentiful in Skyrim – in fact, most building sites will have one or more easily accessible sources of clay and stone. For sawn lumber, any lumber mill owner will be glad to sell and deliver as much as you need.You’ll need a lot of nails – fortunately even a novice blacksmith will soon find themselves turning iron into nails with ease.When you turn to furnishing your completed house, you’ll need a much wider variety of materials. Some of them, such as straw and glass, are commonly obtained from general goods stores. For the rest – the whole of Skyrim will become your general store!Hiring a StewardOnce your estate is well-established, you may wish to consider hiring a steward to help manage your affairs. A good steward can be invaluable – from hiring a carriage driver to buying a cow to keeping you supplied with building materials – freeing you to enjoy the fruits of your labors.Before hiring a steward, it’s advisable to bring a potential candidate to your manor and observe whether they are a good fit for your requirements. Remember, you are putting your entire estate into their hands – you need someone you can trust implicitly.Building Your HouseThe rest of this guide will review plans for each room that you might want to build.Small HouseBefore you get too ambitious, gain confidence by building this tidy cottage. It is the perfect starter home, and might turn out to be all you need. But don’t worry – if you decide to keep building, you can remodel this into an entry way to the rest of your house.Main HallYou may decide the Small House is not enough – perhaps you need room for a growing family? The next step is to add a Main Hall, which will turn your cottage into an imposing manor house: two floors, including space for two small bedrooms, a back room and a large dining area.AdditionsOnce you’ve built a Main Hall, your options become almost unlimited – you now have room to add three more additional wings, if you decide you still need more space.For each wing, you have three choices of what to build, giving a total of nine possible additions! (But remember – you can only build three of them, so choose wisely.)West Wing – BedroomsThe Bedroom addition is perfect if you have a family who needs more comfortable living quarters than the Main Hall affords. The Bedroom has space for a master bedroom plus two children’s beds, as well as all the dressers, wardrobes, etc. that anyone could desire. This addition also includes a spacious exterior porch.West Wing – GreenhousePerhaps you are a gardener at heart? If so, the Greenhouse provides room for planters where you can grow almost whatever you wish, sheltered from Skyrim’s harsh climate. Tend and harvest your crops from the comfort of your own home!West Wing – Enchanter’s TowerIf your interests lie in the magical realm, this tower addition is for you. Conduct your research in privacy and comfort. Plenty of space for keeping your collections and artifacts organized. And the view from the tower is guaranteed to take your breath away.North Wing – Storage RoomIf you simply need more space to store your many possessions and collections, build yourself a Storage Room. The included porch can even be connected to the porch on the East or West wings, if you build the Bedroom or Armory additions.North Wing – Trophy RoomAre you a big game hunter who wants to show off your prizes? The Trophy Room provides space for displaying up to seven magnificent mounted specimens of your choice, sure to amaze and impress your guests.North Wing – Alchemy LaboratoryPerfect for the aspiring alchemist, this tower addition will give you plenty of space and storage to hone your craft in comfort. And when you need a break from brewing potions, enjoy the view from the tower roof.East Wing – ArmoryIf you like nothing better than to spend a day hammering metal, or are simply a collector of armor and weapons, the Armory is for you. With space for smithing, as well as plenty of room to display your martial collections in style, the Armory is the perfect addition to any house.East Wing – KitchenThe Kitchen provides everything you need to pursue the highest culinary arts. Tired of cooking everything in a pot over a fire? You can even equip it with a new-fangled oven!East Wing – LibraryThe Library tower is sure to please those who value literature. With space for all the bookshelves you could desire, you’ll be able to enjoy your collection of books in style. Or perhaps take a book to the tower roof and enjoy the view of your steading?

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The Art of War Magic

THE ART OF WAR MAGICbyZurin Arctuswith Commentary By Other Learned MastersChapter 3: DispositionsMaster Arctus said:1. The moment to prepare your offense is the moment the enemy becomes vulnerable to attack.Leros Chael: Knowledge of the enemy mage’s mind is of the foremost importance. Once you know his mind, you will know his weaknesses.Sedd Mar: Master Arctus advised Tiber Septim before the battle of Five Bridges not to commit his reserves until the enemy was victorious. Tiber Septim said, “If the enemy is already victorious, what use committing the reserve?” To which Master Arctus replied, “Only in victory will the enemy be vulnerable to defeat.” Tiber Septim went on to rout an enemy army twice the size of his.2. The enemy’s vulnerability may be his strongest point; your weakness may enable you to strike the decisive blow.Marandro Ur: In the wars between the Nords and the Chimer, the Nord shamans invariably used their mastery of the winds to call down storms before battle to confuse and dismay the Chimer warriors. One day, a clever Chimer sorcerer conjured up an ice demon and commanded him to hide in the rocks near the rear of the Chimer army. When the Nords called down the storms as usual, the Chimer warriors began to waver. But the ice demon rose up as the storm struck, and the Chimer turned in fear from what they believed was a Nord demon and charged into the enemy line, less afraid of the storm than of the demon. The Nords, expecting the Chimer to flee as usual, were caught off guard when the Chimer attacked out of the midst of the storm. The Chimer were victorious that day.3. When planning a campaign, take account of both the arcane and the mundane. The skillful battlemage ensures that they are in balance; a weight lifted by one hand is heavier than two weights lifted by both hands.4. When the arcane and mundane are in balance, the army will move effortlessly, like a swinging door on well-oiled hinges. When they are out of balance, the army will be like a three-legged dog, with one leg always dragging in the dust.5. Thus when the army strikes a blow, it will be like a thunderclap out of a cloudless sky. The best victories are those unforeseen by the enemy, but obvious to everyone afterwards.6. The skillful battlemage ensures that the enemy is already defeated before the battle begins. A close-fought battle is to be avoided; the fortunes of war may turn aside the most powerful sorcery, and courage may undo the best-laid plans. Instead, win your victory ahead of time. When the enemy knows he is defeated before the battle begins, you may not need to fight.7. Victory in battle is only the least kind of victory. Victory without battle is the acme of skill.8. Conserving your power is another key to victory. Putting forth your strength to win a battle is no demonstration of skill. This is what we call tactics, the least form of the art of war magic.Thulidden dir’Tharkun: By ‘tactics’, Master Arctus includes all the common battle magics. These are only the first steps in an understanding of war magic. Any hedge mage can burn up his enemies with fire. Destroying the enemy is the last resort of the skillful battlemage.9. The battle is only a leaf on the tree; if a leaf falls, does the tree die? But when a branch is lopped off, the tree is weakened; when the trunk is girdled, the tree is doomed.10. If you plan your dispositions well, your victories will seem easy and you will win no acclaim. If you plan your dispositions poorly, your victories will seem difficult, and your fame will be widespread.Marandro Sul: Those commonly believed to be the greatest practitioners of war magic are almost always those with the least skill. The true masters are not known to the multitude.

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The Buying Game

The Elder Scrolls Online version features minor grammatical differences, but is otherwise identical.So many people simply buy the items they need at the price they are given. It’s a very sad state of affairs, when the game is really open to all, you don’t need an invitation. And it is a game, the game of bargaining, to be played seriously and, I hasten to add, politely. In Elsweyr, it is common for the shop-owner to offer the prospective buyer tea or sweetmeats and engage in polite conversation before commencing the business. This eminently civilized tradition has a practical purpose, allowing the buyer to observe the wares for sale. It is considered impolite not to accept, though it does not imply obligation on the part of the buyer.Whether this particular custom is part of the culture or not, it’s wise for the buyer and seller to greet one another with smiles and warm salutations, like gladiators honoring one another before the battle.Bargaining is expected all over Tamriel, but the game can be broken if one’s offer is so preposterously low that it insults the shop-keeper. If you are offered something for ten gold pieces, try offering six and see where that takes you.Do not look like you’re very interested, but do not mock the quality of the goods, even if they deserve it. Much better to admire the quality of workmanship, but comment that, regretfully, you simply cannot afford such a price. When the shop-keeper compliments your taste, smile, but try to resist the flattery.A lot of the game depends on recognizing the types of shop-keepers and not automatically assuming that the rural merchant is ignorant and easily fooled, or the rapacious city merchant is selling shoddy merchandise. Caravans, it should be mentioned, are always good places to go to buy or trade.Knowing what you’re buying and from whom is a talent bought only after years of practice. Know the specialties of certain regions and merchants before you even step foot in a shop. Recognize too the prejudices of the region. In Morrowind where I hail from, for example, Argonians are viewed with a certain amount of suspicion. Don’t be surprised or insulted if the shopkeepers follow you around the shop, assuming you’re going to steal something. Similarly, Nords, Bretons, and Cyrodiils are sometimes treated coolly by merchants in the Summurset Isles. Of course, I don’t know any shopkeepers anywhere, no matter their open- mindedness, who aren’t alerted when a Khajiit or a Bosmer enters their shop. Even Khajiiti and Bosmeri shopkeepers.If you see something you really like or need, buy it then and there at the best price you can get. I cannot tell you how many times I passed up a rare and interesting relic, assuming that I could find it elsewhere in the region, perhaps at a larger town at a better price. Too late, I discovered I was wrong, and when I returned to the shop weeks later, the item I wanted was gone. Better to get a great purchase at a decent price and discover it again at a worse price than to miss out on your opportunities for ownership. Occasionally impulsiveness is the best buying strategy.Sense the moves of the game, and everyone can win.

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Uncommon Taste

Congratulations!By opening this volume you have taken the first step on a truly epic journey, a voyage through the vast landscape of Breton food and its myriad joys and wonders. You will explore scents, flavors and textures so exquisite, they will seem impossible. But they are more than possible!Indeed, by following the carefully selected recipes presented in this cookbook, you will prepare extraordinary dishes with such ordinary ease, those around you will suspect sorcery. But the only magic is that which exists in your own heart, the passion you possess for creating delicious, amazing food that can be prepared easily, and enjoyed endlessly.Start here, and some day, you too can be a Gourmet!‘Sunlight Souffle’Ingredients– 2 1/2 Ounces Cow’s Cheese– 1 Ounce Butter– 1 Ounce Flour– 9 Ounces Milk– A Dash of Salt– A Dash of Pepper– A Cupful of Ground NutmegRecipe– Stoke the flames of your oven, and achieve a moderate heat.– Grate the cheese into thin shavings by running a finely honed elven dagger over the block.– Separate the egg whites from the yolks, and beat the whites vigorously until they thicken.– Begin preparation of the signature Sunshine Sauce – melt the butter, and add in the flour while stirring continuously until well blended. Move the mixture to a smaller flame and begin gently stirring in the milk. It is crucial that you do not stop stirring! Continue to do so for ten minutes, until the mixture thickens. Then, and only then, will the Sunshine Sauce be considered ready.– Add the salt, pepper and nutmeg, and remove from the flame.– Add in the grated cheese, and then the egg yolks. Stir well until fully blended. Then, gently add in the egg whites with a spoon made of carved hickory wood.– Gently pour the mix into four stonework souffle’ dishes, filling each nearly (but not quite!) to the top.– Put the dishes in your moderately hot oven and shut that door! Keep sealed for 25 minutes, or your scrumptious suns will rise, only to fall down flat into the oven’s abyss.– Remove after 25 minutes, and serve immediately.Behold, the brilliance of the sun, and the exquisite flavor of the Sunshine Souffle’!Potage le MagnifiqueIngredients– 4 Cups Chicken Broth– 4 Cups Beef Broth– 2 1/2 Ounces Butter– 1 Wooden Flagon of Flour– 1 Cup Diced Carrots– 1/2 Cup Diced OnionsRecipe– Stoke the flames of your open-pit fire, and achieve a low heat.– Combine all ingredients into a large soup pot.– Stir vigorously!– Once hot, pour into earthen soup bowls immediately!Behold, the Gourmet’s signature dish – the Potage le Magnifique!But wait. I know what you’re wondering. “That’s it? Is that all there is to it? What’s the secret of the Gourmet?”Do you really expect me to give away the secret to my most popular dish? Well guess what? I will! For that secret, my friends, is YOU! That’s right, the Potage le Magnifique is delicious, and extraordinary. Using just the simple ingredients listed, you will create a potage that is both hearty and delicious. But in order to make the Potage le Magnifique truly magnificent, it takes the imagination of a truly inspired chef. Do you have that gift?I have served bowls of the Potage le Magnifique that have caused grown men to weep with with joy. Can you guess what I added? Can you create… magic?

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Twin Secrets

These secrets I lay down, knowing full well that none may ever take advantage of them. I am upon my death bed, and am loathe to see knowledge of any sort lost to the mists of time. Take these as the foolish reminiscences of an old man, or the insights of a master enchanter. I care not which.It is well known that enchanting is limited where it once was not. The best enchanters of this age can imbue almost any spells into the metal and leather of armor and weapons. However, once enchanted, such an item will not enchant again. It is called the Law of Firsts. The first enchantment is the only one that takes.In my life, I’ve traveled widely. I’ve seen Summerset Isle, communed with Psijiics, walked the shores of Akavir. I had hoped to see lost Atmora before I passed, that is not to be. I have even done the unthinkable. I have spoken to a dragon.Dragons are said to be gone from the world. Yet I found one. Sheltered in the smoking ruins of Vvardenfell, I came upon it. My magic proved to be sufficient to defeat the beast. If that gives you cause to wonder, I will not deny that I was once a pyromancer of great skill.Exhausted and near the end of my spells, I parlayed with the wyrm, offering it life if it would share it’s secrets. Haughty to the end, it agreed to one secret for one life. I asked for it’s name, but it told me it would rather die than surrender that. Instead if offered me something else. And that it how I learned how to defy the Law of Firsts.The law itself is inviolate. However, the skillful enchanter can weave two enchantments simultaneously into an item. For men and elves, the limit is two. The dragon said that men and elves have two arms, two legs, two eyes and two ears. I asked why that mattered, and the beast just laughed.The enchanter must weave one enchantment with the left hand while weaving the other with the right. The eyes must focus on one and only one enchantment, while the ears only pay attention to the other. When I asked about my legs, the beast laughed again.I spent two years mastering the technique. Just last month I made a sword with both fire and fear enchantments. Now I am too weak to make another. I go to my death victorious, for I have done what no other enchanter in modern times has done.

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Uncommon Taste – Signed

To my old and dear friend Anton,I will never forget the kindness you and the entire Virane family paid to me, when I visited High Rock those many years ago. We were both young, impetuous, and foolish, and those were dangerous times for us all. But we knew even then, as we surely know now, that our battlefield is the kitchen. Our sword, the spoon. Our enemy, hunger.And now, thanks to your guidance and friendship, I can share our love of Breton cuisine with all of Tamriel. For this cookbook is not just a collection of recipes, but the sum total of my life’s work, and a testament to the power of passion.Your friend in food,The GourmetCongratulations!By opening this volume you have taken the first step on a truly epic journey, a voyage through the vast landscape of Breton food and its myriad joys and wonders. You will explore scents, flavors and textures so exquisite, they will seem impossible. But they are more than possible!Indeed, by following the carefully selected recipes presented in this cookbook, you will prepare extraordinary dishes with such ordinary ease, those around you will suspect sorcery. But the only magic is that which exists in your own heart, the passion you possess for creating delicious, amazing food that can be prepared easily, and enjoyed endlessly.Start here, and some day, you too can be a Gourmet!Sunlight Souffle’Ingredients– 2 1/2 Ounces Cow’s Cheese– 1 Ounce Butter– 1 Ounce Flour– 9 Ounces Milk– A Dash of Salt– A Dash of Pepper– A Cupful of Ground NutmegRecipe– Stoke the flames of your oven, and achieve a moderate heat.– Grate the cheese into thin shavings by running a finely honed elven dagger over the block.– Separate the egg whites from the yolks, and beat the whites vigorously until they thicken.– Begin preparation of the signature Sunshine Sauce – melt the butter, and add in the flour while stirring continuously until well blended. Move the mixture to a smaller flame and begin gently stirring in the milk. It is crucial that you do not stop stirring! Continue to do so for ten minutes, until the mixture thickens. Then, and only then, will the Sunshine Sauce be considered ready.– Add the salt, pepper and nutmeg, and remove from the flame.– Add in the grated cheese, and then the egg yolks. Stir well until fully blended. Then, gently add in the egg whites with a spoon made of carved hickory wood.– Gently pour the mix into four stonework souffle’ dishes, filling each nearly (but not quite!) to the top.– Put the dishes in your moderately hot oven and shut that door! Keep sealed for 25 minutes, or your scrumptious suns will rise, only to fall down flat into the oven’s abyss.– Remove after 25 minutes, and serve immediately.Behold, the brilliance of the sun, and the exquisite flavor of the Sunshine Souffle’!Potage le MagnifiqueIngredients– 4 Cups Chicken Broth– 4 Cups Beef Broth– 2 1/2 Ounces Butter– 1 Wooden Flagon of Flour– 1 Cup Diced Carrots– 1/2 Cup Diced OnionsRecipe– Stoke the flames of your open-pit fire, and achieve a low heat.– Combine all ingredients into a large soup pot.– Stir vigorously!– Once hot, pour into earthen soup bowls immediately!Behold, the Gourmet’s signature dish – the Potage le Magnifique!But wait. I know what you’re wondering. “That’s it? Is that all there is to it? What’s the secret of the Gourmet?”Do you really expect me to give away the secret to my most popular dish? Well guess what? I will! For that secret, my friends, is YOU! That’s right, the Potage le Magnifique is delicious, and extraordinary. Using just the simple ingredients listed, you will create a potage that is both hearty and delicious. But in order to make the Potage le Magnifique truly magnificent, it takes the imagination of a truly inspired chef. Do you have that gift?I have served bowls of the Potage le Magnifique that have caused grown men to weep with with joy. Can you guess what I added? Can you create… magic?

Write a book about Skyrim.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Whiterun

Author:Mikael the Bard Welcome, good sir, to this indispensible guide. Within these pages, I, your humble author and guide, will describe to you the great city of Whiterun, the Jewel of the North.Whiterun offers numerous diversions for the man in search of adventure, fortune and companionship, whether for a night or for a lifetime. The city is graced with not one, but two worthy taverns and there are maids and wenches aplenty.The city is located rather centrally in Skyrim, and this is well, for it is not far from anywhere. Perched high upon a rocky hill, Whiterun dominates the grassy plains that surround it. High wooden walls protect its denizens from the wolves, mammoths, bandits and other dangers lurking beyond.When you first enter through the city’s main gate, you will find yourself in the Plains District. This is so named because it is the lowest of the city’s three neighborhoods.Ah, but here can be found the Bannered Mare, which I count among the finest taverns in all Skyrim. The scenery within is quite compelling, if you have an eye for the fairer sex.A stout lass named Hulda tends the bar. Don’t let that stony Nord exterior fool you, for she is possessed of that same fiery passion that all Nord women try so hard to conceal. Saadia, the barmaid, is an exotic Redguard beauty. She is quite mysterious, and your humble author is determined to learn her secrets.Outside the Bannered Mare is a modest marketplace, and here is where I found true love. Though I would never deter a fellow hunting hound from the chase – for indeed, why should I author these tomes, if not to provide guidance in this very matter? – I must ask that you do me this one kindness.Her name is Carlotta Valentia, and she is a magnificent beauty who makes a modest living selling bread and produce in the daylight hours. By the gods, I will make that feisty beauty mine someday!And of course, there are other services to be found in the Plains district. Belethor’s General Goods offers various and sundry wears for the adventurous traveler, and Arcadia’s Cauldron offers what tonics and herbs one would expect from an apothecary’s shop.Arcadia herself is an amiable sort. I often visit her to make conversation, as she is a fellow Imperial far from home. She is, however, a bit old for my taste. A gentleman of advanced years might find in her a worthy companion.Should you need your blade sharpened or your armor hammered, Warmaiden’s offers smithing services very near the main gate. The smith is a pretty Nord named Adrianne Avenicci, but she is married to a great hulking brute named Ulfberth War-Bear.Adrianne is quite fair, but I should not want to find myself being introduced to the keen edge of that husband’s war-axe. If married ladies are your preferred sport, then have at, but don’t say that you weren’t warned!Near to the smith is the Drunken Huntsman. Here, some of the wealthier gentlemen gather to share both drink and rumors of the wide world. If you prefer a more distinguished class of company while you sip fine wine, you’ll be well at home here.Of the Wind district I have little to say. Most of the buildings in this second tier of the city are residences, though there is also a Temple of Kynareth and Jorrvaskr, the mead hall of the Companions.There are some intriguing prospects to be found in the mead hall should you favor a strong and fearless warrior-woman. You will find little game at the temple, however. The priestess, Danica Pure-Spring, is interested almost exclusively in spiritual matters.At last we come to the Cloud District, exclusive domain of the Jarl’s castle. I have had some merry adventures within the stone walls of Dragonsreach, let me tell you. The serving girls are most easily impressed by a well-spoken Imperial. After all, the nights in Skyrim do grow quite cold, if you take my meaning.And I will not deny that I have visited the town’s jail once or twice, which can be found in the lower levels of the palace.As for the Jarl and his court, take pains to avoid them. I find that they lack any sense of humor or appreciation for the Imperial culture. Besides which, they are all wealthy men and so must be viewed as your most serious competition. These Nords are simple folk, after all, and too easily swayed by the sight of fine clothes and a purse full of septims.Now I will conclude this work by wishing you great success in your pursuits of women and wine. Spare a moment in your revels to think of me, your humble author, and the risks I have taken to bring you this most thorough report on all thing of interest to the discerning gentleman in the grand city of Whiterun.Ah, but I will not lie and say that it was all a hardship. After all, who could want to sleep alone in such a cold and hard land as this? Not I!

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An Explorer’s Guide to Skyrim

By Marcius Carvain, Viscount BrumaFar too often, noble visitors from Cyrodiil see little more of Skyrim than the view from their carriage. To be sure, this coarse, uncivilized province is far from hospitable, but it is also a place of fierce, wild beauty, with grand vistas and inspiring natural wonders awaiting those with the will to seek them out and the refinement to truly appreciate them. If you are of a mind to see Skyrim for yourself, I recommend beginning your adventure as I did, by seeking out Stones of Fate.No doubt you are taken aback by the name, as I once was. The provincials and village folk have all manner of dark tales about these ancient monuments. Stories of necromantic rituals and fell spirits, of great and terrible powers conferred on any who dare to touch them.The stories are, as Jarl Igrof once told me, “A load of mammoth dung.” A bit uncouth, but you get the point.To be sure, keep your guards with you at all times – brigands and wild animals are never to be taken lightly. But the stones themselves are nothing to fear. Quite the contrary, their proximity to cities and roads makes them ideal destinations for the novice explorer, and many boast spectacular views that make the journey well worth the effort.To whet your appetite, here are four such locations:Most travelers enter Skyrim by way of Helgen, “Gateway to the North.” If you find yourself in this backwater hovel, consider taking an afternoon’s ride to the north, keeping to the road as it winds down the cliffs at the eastern end of Lake Ilinalta. Just off the path, on a small bluff, lie the three Guardian Stones, the greatest concentration of standing stones in all Skyrim. The view of the lake here at sunset is simply sublime.Visitors from Cheydinhal will pass through Riften, city of intrigue and larceny since Tiber Septim’s day. If you seek adventure in the Rift, leave the city by the southern gate and cast your gaze upon the bluff that rises to the south. Atop it sits the Shadow Stone, a fitting symbol for the city of thieves.Whiterun is the heart of Skyrim, its towering palace rivaling even the great castles of Cyrodiil. But should you tire of the Jarl’s hospitality, another adventure awaits a few hours to the east of the city, along the road that rises above White River Gorge. The Ritual Stone can be found atop the lone hill that rises on the north side of the road, set into an ancient monument. Take time to soak in the incredible view of Whiterun, the tundra, and the gorge from this unique spot.More seasoned explorers may wish to visit Markarth, the ancient city of stone far to the west. The recent Forsworn Rebellion has made travel in the Reach perilous, but for those determined to seek adventure no matter the cost, another stone can be found to the east of the city, perched on the mountain above Kolskeggr Mine. Though the climb is difficult, reaching the summit is a milestone any explorer could be proud of.There are other Stones of Fate to be found in Skyrim – I myself have seen several more, perched on the most remote mountain peaks, or wreathed in fog amid the northern marshes. But the true joy of exploration is in the discovery, and so I leave the rest to you. May the Eight guide your steps.

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Children of the All-Maker

xIf the title of this text rings familiar, then perhaps you, like me, have had the great pleasure to become acquainted with a most remarkable people, the Skaal of Solstheim.Upon first meeting these gentle wild-folk, I was immediately impressed with their great hospitality. They welcomed me into their homes, one and all, without the slightest hint of suspicion or uncertainty. Trust, it seems, comes readily to the Skaal.In appearance, the Skaal are clearly of Nord ancestry. However, they are culturally distinct in several significant ways, the most notable of which is their faith. Having never adopted the pantheon of the Empire, the Skaal recognize only a single deity whom they call the All-Maker.For the Skaal, the All-Maker is the source of all life and creation. When a creature dies, its spirit returns to the All-Maker, who shapes it into something new and returns it to Mundus. The concept of death as an ending to life is unknown to the Skaal. Rather, death is seen as simply the beginning of the next stage of an endless journey.This great respect for life is evident in one of the most important Skaal beliefs, a concept the villagers call “one-ness with the land”. The Skaal try to live in harmony with their surroundings, making as small an impact on their environment as possible. When a Skaal villager sets out to collect firewood, for example, he or she takes it from fallen, dead trees. When the Skaal hunt, it is only out of necessity, and not for sport. Because they hold all life in great reverence, the Skaal people will resort to violence only as a last resort.This has understandably led to a rather austere lifestyle for these simple, good-natured folk. For the Skaal, the word “luxury” is nearly an alien concept, though I was intrigued to note that one villager, Edla, has taken to trading basic goods with travelers who pass through the village in exchange for small luxury items. Such an enterprising outlook is something of a novelty for the Skaal.Though it saddens me to conclude this account on such a somber note, it is impossible to deny the hard truth that the Skaal people are dwindling. In a century or two, it is possible that their unique way of life will be lost to the world forever, reduced to little more than a footnote in the great epoch of history.This comes as little surprise, given the immense hardships of a life lived in such an extreme environment. For the Skaal, it is a daily struggle to survive the perpetual wintry climate of northern Solstheim, but other challenges have recently appeared.The ashfall from Vvardenfell has taken its toll on the plants and animals upon which the Skaal depend for their survival, and life is now a struggle for all who call Solstheim home.Therefore, I humbly beseech any students of history who might encounter this modest text to travel to Solstheim and learn all that can be learned of this noble people and their ancient customs. The Skaal people might not be long for this world, but let us assure that their proud and noble legacy lasts well into the future.

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Children of the Sky

Nords consider themselves to be the children of the sky. They call Skyrim the Throat of the World, because it is where the sky exhaled on the land and formed them. They see themselves as eternal outsiders and invaders, and even when they conquer and rule another people; they feel no kinship with them.The breath and the voice are the vital essence of a Nord. When they defeat great enemies they take their tongues as trophies. These are woven into ropes and can hold speech like an enchantment. The power of a Nord can be articulated into a shout, like the kiai of an Akaviri swordsman. The strongest of their warriors are called “Tongues.” When the Nords attack a city, they take no siege engines or cavalry; the Tongues form in a wedge in front of the gatehouse, and draw in breath. When the leader lets it out in a kiai, the doors are blown in, and the axemen rush into the city. Shouts can be used to sharpen blades or to strike enemies. A common effect is the shout that knocks an enemy back, or the power of command. A strong Nord can instill bravery in men with his battle-cry, or stop a charging warrior with a roar. The greatest of the Nords can call to specific people over hundreds of miles, and can move by casting a shout, appearing where it lands.The most powerful Nords cannot speak without causing destruction. They must go gagged, and communicate through a sign language and through scribing runes.The further north you go into Skyrim, the more powerful and elemental the people become, and the less they require dwellings and shelters. Wind is fundamental to Skyrim and the Nords; those that live in the far wastes always carry a wind with them.

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Hanging Gardens of Wasten Coridale

In Elder Scrolls Online, this book is simply called ‘The Hanging Gardens’Hanging Gardensof Wasten CoridaleThis book was apparently written in Dwemer and translated to Aldmeris. Only fragments of the Aldmeris is readable, but it may be enough for a scholar of Aldmeris to translate fragments of other Dwemer books.…guide Altmer-Estrial led with foot-flames for the town-center where lay dead the quadrangular gardens……asked the foundations and chains and vessels their naming places……why they did not use solid sound to teach escape from the Earth Bones nor nourished them with frozen flames…….the word I shall have once written of, this “art” our lesser cousins speak of when their admirable ignorance……but neither words nor experience cleanses the essence of the strange and terrible ways of defying our ancestors’ transient rules.The translation ends with a comment in Dwemer in a different hand, which you may be translated as follows:“Put down your ardent cutting-globes, Nbthld. Your Aldmeris has the correct words, but they cannot be properly misinterpreted.”

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Mysterious Akavir

This document was posted at the first time at the forum of The Essential Site by Michael Kirkbride long before the release of the third Elder Scrolls: Morrowind, it was called as “Notes on Akavir”. In that document, there is the interesting statement that Tamriel means “Starry Heart”. While we can see in the first Elder Scrolls: Arena that it means “Dawn’s Beauty”.The Elder Scrolls Online version of this text removes the words “in the previous era” from Tsaesci paragraph, but is otherwise identical.Akavir means “Dragon Land”. Tamriel means “Dawn’s Beauty.” Atmora means “Elder Wood”. Only the Redguards know what Yokuda ever meant.Akavir is the kingdom of the beasts. No Men or Mer live in Akavir, though Men once did. These Men, however, were eaten long ago by the vampiric Serpent Folk of Tsaesci. Had they not been eaten, these Men would have eventually migrated to Tamriel. The Nords left Atmora for Tamriel. Before them, the Elves had abandoned Aldmeris for Tamriel. The Redguards destroyed Yokuda so they could make their journey. All Men and Mer know Tamriel is the nexus of creation, where the Last War will happen, where the Gods unmade Lorkhan and left their Adamantine Tower of secrets. Who knows what the Akaviri think of Tamriel, but ask yourself: why have they tried to invade it three times or more?There are four major nations of Akavir: Kamal, Tsaesci, Tang Mo, and Ka Po’ Tun. When they are not busy trying to invade Tamriel, they are fighting with each other.Kamal is “Snow Hell”. Demons live there, armies of them. Every summer they thaw out and invade Tang Mo, but the brave monkey-folk always drive them away. Once Ada’Soom Dir-Kamal, a king among demons, attempted to conquer Morrowind, but Almalexia and the Underking destroyed him at Red Mountain.Tsaesci is “Snake Palace”, once the strongest power in Akavir (before the Tiger-Dragon came). The serpent-folk ate all the Men of Akavir a long time ago, but still kind of look like them. They are tall, beautiful (if frightening), covered in golden scales, and immortal. They enslave the goblins of the surrounding isles, who provide labor and fresh blood. The holdings of Tsaesci are widespread. When natives of Tamriel think of the Akaviri they think of the Serpent-Folk, because one ruled the Cyrodilic Empire for four hundred years in the previous era. He was Potentate Versidue-Shaie, assassinated by the Morag Tong.Tang Mo is the “Thousand Monkey Isles”. There are many breeds of monkey-folk, and they are all kind, brave, and simple (and many are also very crazy). They can raise armies when they must, for all of the other Akaviri nations have, at one time or another, tried to enslave them. They cannot decide who they hate more, the Snakes or the Demons, but ask one, and he will probably say, “Snakes”. Though once bitter enemies, the monkey-folk are now allies with the tiger-folk of Ka Po’ Tun.Ka Po’ Tun is the “Tiger-Dragon’s Empire”. The cat-folk here are ruled by the divine Tosh Raka, the Tiger-Dragon. They are now a very great empire, stronger than Tsaesci (though not at sea). After the Serpent-Folk ate all the Men, they tried to eat all the Dragons. They managed to enslave the Red Dragons, but the black ones had fled to (then) Po Tun. A great war was raged, which left both the cats and the snakes weak, and the Dragons all dead. Since that time the cat-folk have tried to become the Dragons. Tosh Raka is the first to succeed. He is the largest Dragon in the world, orange and black, and he has very many new ideas.“First,” Tosh Raka says, “is that we kill all the vampire snakes.” Then the Tiger-Dragon Emperor wants to invade Tamriel.

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The Code of Malacath

The Code of Malacath:A Sellsword’s Guide to the Orc Strongholdsby Amanda AlleiaMercenary“No one bests an Orc.”I don’t need you to guess how many times I’ve heard that boast in some dingy tavern or screamed at the top of the lungs by some fellow sellsword with too much fire in him. But I’d be lying if I said the Orc Strongholds don’t take those words as law. There are few places where Ms. Alleia would tell you that “tradition” and the “old ways” makes for a better fighter, but with Orcs it seems like staying true to your ancestors is the path to victory.Let me start a few steps back. The Orc Strongholds have existed as long as the Orc race has, according to them. They’re armored camps in the least, and fortresses at the most. Every man, woman, and child inside the walls is trained from birth to defend it. All their weapons and armor are smithed right there in the stronghold, all the food is hunted down by Orc warriors and brought back to be eaten by everyone who lives there.They follow no laws, save their own, an unwritten set of rules called “The Code of Malacath,” named after one of their gods, who is sometimes called Mauloch. Most of it’s pretty simple, don’t steal, don’t kill, don’t attack people for no reason (although there seems to be a big list of exceptions). But Orcs in the stronghold don’t have jails for their criminals. They have Blood Price. You either pay enough in goods for your crimes, or you bleed enough that the victim is satisfied. And Orcs, I don’t need to tell you, have a lot of blood.The Code also sets up who runs the stronghold. The toughest male is usually the Chief and makes decisions and decides when the Code of Malacath has been satisfied. All the women are either the Chief’s wives or his daughters, with the exception of the wise woman, who handles all the spiritual matters and healing needs. Matters of grave dispute are handled with short but violent fights, and those who don’t get along with the Chief are usually forced out of the stronghold to live among the rest of us. An Orc grows up being told to fight for everything, that if something is not worth fighting for it is beneath the Code.Orc Strongholds don’t like strangers, used to living on their own like they do. Ms. Alleia knows what she does because so many Orcs leave the strongholds to become sellswords or soldiers, and a few pints of mead gets them talking about home. I hear that sometimes an Orc will make a non-Orc a “Blood-Kin” and that person is then allowed to live in the stronghold as one of the clan, but I’ve never heard of that actually happening.For all their strange rules and traditions, the Code of Malacath does breed a culture of determined warriors. They’re focused in ways that the average sellsword isn’t. They don’t hesitate to draw weapons and settle matters openly, and I think that’s the real difference between the stronghold Orcs and the city Orcs. Imperial Law allows you to settle fights through the Emperor’s men, but the Code of Malacath demands you settle your problems yourself, a fine way of thinking if you’re leading the mercenary’s life.

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The City of Stone

The City of Stone:A Sellsword’s Guide to Markarthby Amanda AlleiaMercenaryIf you’re cutting your coins across Skyrim, you’ll want to point your blade towards Markarth, the capital city of the Reach. There’s no end of trouble in the City of Stone, and that means plenty of ways for you to earn your supper. Your sellsword instincts should point you towards the wealthiest patrons with the fattest purses to work for, but you need to mind yourself during your resting hours.Markarth isn’t like your Whiterun, where mercenary companies like the Companions make a sellsword an honored professional. No, Markarth has its own rules, rules the natives aren’t going to just tell you. Lucky for you, old Ms. Alleia is here to shine the torchlight over your thick skulls.First thing you’ll notice in the City of Stone is… the stone. They say dwarves cut out the city from the mountain, and maybe they did by the look of it. But what it really means is that the whole place is vertical, and the streets are really cliffs. Long story short, be careful when you’ve got a bellyful of mead.When you enter the city proper, you’ll immediately hit the market. The merchants usually sell food and jewelry on the streets. Meat is the preferred ration, the craggy rocks in the area make for poor farming land, and silver is what’s used to make most all the rings and necklaces you might by, thanks to the large silver mine in the city (we’ll get to that in a bit).Whatever you do, don’t ask the Markarth city guard about anything. They’re about as helpful as an angry Frostbite Spider while you’re caught in its web, and if you mention anything about the Forsworn to them they might spit in your eye. Speaking of the Forsworn, these wildmen and women will be your main source of income while you’re in Markarth. The Jarl almost always has a bounty on some Forsworn leader or another, and if you don’t mind going blade-to-axe with someone two septims short of a pint of ale, it’s steady work.The Silver-Blood Inn is where you want to head into after seeing the market. The drinks are, as usual, watered down (and judging by the metallic taste, with water from the rivers that run through the city’s smelter district). What’s important here is getting a room to stay in. You won’t find any friendly faces to con your way into a cheap place to stay in Markarth. The natives don’t trust strangers, so save yourself the trouble and put down your coin to rent a real room.After you’ve spent a day recovering from travel, you’ll see that Markarth is divided in two sides by the big crag in the center. The part with the big river running through it is called the Riverside, and the other is called the Dryside. The Riverside is where the smelter and native workers live, so don’t bother going there. Instead, head directly to Dryside and talk to the local Nord nobles and see what problems you can start solving (at the highest rate).Two major places to see are the Temple of Dibella and Cidhna Mine. The temple rests on the top of the central crag. A good place to go if you’re on good terms with the Divines, but be warned, the Priestesses of Dibella don’t allow men into their Inner Sanctums, so don’t go crashing down in there uninvited unless you want a short trip to a long fall.Cidhna Mine is the place where all the silver comes from that I mentioned before. But it’s also the jail. Markarth uses prisoners to mine the ore, and there’s a lot of it, so don’t get caught doing something illegal in the city or you’ll be hauled down there to dig. Apparently, the whole place is owned by one of the big families in the city, the Silver-Bloods (notice the inn is named after them? Always keep your sellsword eye open for hints like that). I tried meeting with the head of the Silver-Blood family to see if they had any work, but guarding their mines isn’t the blood-rush I become a mercenary for. Something to keep in mind for yourself if you’re thinking of staying a few months.The final place I’ll talk about here is Understone Keep, the home of the Jarl in Markarth. It’s a fancy palace like any other (assuming your palace is built underground), but what you need to know is the city underneath the keep. That’s right, there’s another city below Markarth. One of those old dwarven ruins. They sometimes have expeditions in the ruins that makes for a good job, guarding the scholars and maybe lifting a few stones here and there. If you’re lucky, you might come across one of those old dwarven machines, and you can bring back a souvenir after you’re done breaking it apart.All right, Ms. Alleia’s hand is getting tired and that means this guide is done. Last piece of advice, don’t cause trouble in Markarth. Don’t start fights. Don’t stop fights. Don’t stick your head anywhere without someone from the city paying you for it, because believe me, no one in Markarth wants you there. Make your gold, drink your mead, see what’s there to see, and move on. Nothing changes in the City of Stone, and that’s just fine.

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Skyrim’s Rule

Skyrim’s Rule: An Outsider’s Viewby Abdul-Mujib AbabnehIn my travels, and they have been many, I have encountered many strange peoples and cultures, in many different provinces of the Empire. And in each, I have found a method of governing and customs of leadership unique to that particular province.In Black Marsh, for example, the Argonian King relies upon his Shadowscale Assassins to eliminate threats secretly, without the common knowledge of his people. In the Imperial Province of Cyrodiil, the Emperor may rule directly, but the power granted to his Elder Council cannot be understated.During a recent journey to Skyrim, that harsh, frozen realm of the Nords, I was able for the first time to witness the unique manner of rule of this strong, proud people.It would appear that the entire province of Skyrim is separated into territories known as “holds,” and each hold finds its seat of power in one of the great, ancient cities. And in each of those cities, there rules that hold’s king, known as a Jarl.The Jarls of Skyrim are, as a whole, a fierce sight indeed. Sitting on their thrones, ready to administer justice, or send their forces out to quell some local threat, be it a pack of feral wolves or a terrifying giant that has wandered too close to a settlement.In observing these Jarls, I found each to of course have his or her own unique personality and leadership style. But what I perhaps did not expect – especially considering the Nord leaders’ unfair reputation as barbarians or uncivilized chieftains – was the formal structure of each Jarl’s court. For while that hold’s leader may be the one to sit on the throne, there is also a collection of functionaries who serve very specific and important roles.The court wizard counsels the Jarl in all matters magical, and may even sell services or spells to the keep’s visitors. The Steward is the Jarl’s primary advisor, and generally takes care of the more mundane aspects of running the keep, the city, or even the hold, depending on the situation. And woe is the fool who defies the Housecarl – a personal bodyguard who rarely leaves the Jarl’s side, and has pledged to sacrifice his or her own life to save that of their honored leader, if ever the need should arrive.But as mighty and influential as each individual Jarl is, Skyrim’s true power comes from the strength of its High King. The High King is ruler above all, and is always one of the Jarls, selected by a body called the “Moot” – a specially convened council of all the Jarls, who meet with the express purpose of choosing Skyrim’s High King. Or so it is, in theory.The reality, however, is that the High King swears fealty to the Emperor, and as Solitude is the city most directly influenced by Imperial culture and politics, the Jarl of Solitude has served as High King for generations. The Moot, therefore, is more formality and theater than anything else.But as I prepared to leave Skyrim, I could feel a change in the air, sense the trepidation of some of the good Nord people. Many seemed unhappy with the Empire’s continued presence in their land. And the outlawing of the worship of Talos as the Ninth Divine – a stipulation of the White-Gold Concordat, the peace treaty between the Empire and Aldmeri Dominion – has only strengthened that division.So while the Jarls of Skyrim still control their holds, and those Jarls are ruled over by their Imperial-sanctioned High King, will there come a day when the Moot convenes to select a new High King – one that is not, as many would say, the Emperor’s “Solitude puppet”?If that day comes, I will be thankful to be far away from Skyrim, in my own home of Hammerfell. For such a decision could well mean civil war, and I fear that such a conflict would tear the fierce and beautiful Nord people asunder.

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The Holds of Skyrim

The Holds of Skyrim:A Field Officer’s GuideFor Use by Officers of the Imperial LegionWelcome, loyal officer of the Empire. You have been given this guide to help you, and those men under your command, better understand the geography of Skyrim. Since you will be serving in Skyrim for a lengthy period of time, this information should prove invaluable.Skyrim is organized into nine holds. A hold is a large area of land roughly equivalent to a county in Cyrodiil. Each hold is governed by a Jarl who maintains his court in the hold’s capital city.Four of these holds are fairly small and sparsely populated. As a result, the capitals are little more than towns. The five major cities of Skyrim act as capitals for the larger holds.Following is a detailed review of each hold.EASTMARCHLocated in the eastern reaches of Skyrim, Eastmarch shares a common border with Morrowind. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak rules from the ancient city of Windhelm, and he and his followers should be considered your most serious threat.Do not tread lightly in Eastmarch, for the Stormcloaks are at their strongest and most organized in these lands. As an Imperial soldier, you will find few friends here.HAAFINGARSolitude, the seat of High King of Skyrim and the capital of Haafingar hold, has always welcomed the Empire with open arms. Much commerce flows along the rivers here, and you will find the folk of this hold to be among the most hospitable in Skyrim.As you venture forth in your campaigns, be sure to maintain a secure supply line back to Solitude. The Empire maintains ample provisions in Castle Dour, from which General Tullius commands all the legions stationed in Skyrim.HJAALMARCHThis hold is divided evenly between wind-swept tundra dotted with farms and a huge, stinking salt marsh. There is little of interest here, save perhaps for the hold’s capital, Morthal.Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone has been cooperative enough with the Empire in the past, but will ultimately look out for her own iterests if put in a difficult position.While the hold offers minimal strategic value to the Empire, it would make an ideal staging ground for a Stormcloak siege of Solitude, and so must be held against the enemy.THE PALEThe Pale is a barren realm covered by vast fields of ice and snow. Its boundaries stretch from the center of Skyrim all the way to its northern coast. Here, at the capital city of Dawnstar, can be found one of the busiest ports in the province.With access to the coastal waterways of Skyrim, Dawnstar could prove vital in the war effort. Should the Stormcloaks choose to attack Solitude from the river, this port would make a tempting target due to its close proximity.THE REACHDominating the western border of Skyrim, the Reach is made up almost entirely of steep, craggy mountains. Little grows in this forbidding realm, but the capital city of Markarth is a nigh-impregnable stone fortress that would make an excellent defensive position for either side in the war.Be aware that this dangerous region of Skyrim is home to the Forsworn, the rebellious natives of the Reach. They know the terrain, can strike without warning, and count the Empire as an enemy. If they attack, you must neither give nor expect any mercy.THE RIFTThis hold occupies the southeast corner of Skyrim, and much like the Reach in the west, is dominated by tall mountain peaks. The climate in the Reach is milder than in the northern holds, and there is more vegetation to be found here. Farming thrives as a result.A word of warning about Riften, the hold’s capital city. Our agents have reason to suspect that the Thieves’ Guild makes it home here, though it is now much diminished from its strength of previous years.Nevertheless, mind that your men keep an eye on their coin purses should they have reason to spend any length of time in the city.WHITERUNThis central hold is characterized by wide, grassy plains that are home to numerous farms. Many roads pass through Whiterun, joining the more distant holds together.The hold’s capital city, also called Whiterun, sits high on a rocky promontory amid a large, flat swath of scrubland. Among the wealthiest cities of Skyrim, Whiterun has usually proven friendly to the Emperor’s soldiers.WINTERHOLDThis bleak, snow-blown hold in the northeast corner of Skyrim is utterly inhospitable. Perhaps the mages at the College of Winterhold chose to make their home there because they knew they would be left largely alone.As with Whiterun, the name Winterhold describes both the hold and its capital city, though the word “city” hardly applies. The hold capital is a meager village built near the mages’ college.Few other noteworthy settlements exist in this frozen waste, and it is unlikely to play any significant part in the war.

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The True Nature of Orcs

This book also appears in Elder Scrolls Online asThe True Nature of Orcs (Banned Ed.), with an additional postscript.Orcs were born during the latter days of the Dawn Era. History has mislabeled them beastfolk, related to the goblin races, but the Orcs are actually the children of Trinimac, strongest of the Altmeri ancestor spirits. When Trinimac was eaten by the Daedroth Prince Boethiah, and transformed in that foul god’s insides, the Orcs were transformed as well. The ancient name for the Orcs is ‘Orsimer,’ which means ‘The Pariah Folk.’ They now follow Malauch, the remains of Trinimac.Who is Malauch?He is more commonly know as the Daedroth Prince Malacath, ‘whose sphere is the patronage of the spurned and ostracized, the sworn oath, and the bloody curse.’ He is not technically a Daedra Lord, nor do the other Daedra recognize him as such, but this is fitting for his sphere. Of old he was Trinimac, the champion of the High Elven pantheon, in some places more popular than Auri-El, who protected them against enemies without and within. When Trinimac and his followers attempted to halt the Velothi dissident movement, Boethiah ate him. Trinimac’s body and spirit were corrupted, and he emerged as Malacath. His followers were likewise changed for the worse. Despised by everyone, especially the inviolate Auri-El, they quickly fled to the northern wastes, near Saarthal. They fought Nords and Chimer for a place in the world, but did not get much. In Skyrim, Malacath is called Orkey, or Old Knocker, and his battles with Ysmir are legendary.

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Treatise on Ayleidic Cities

First seen in Mehrunes Razor plugin for TES4: Oblivion.Treatise on Ayleidic Cities:Varsa Baalim and the NefarivigumTest of DagonChapter the TenthI will not be the first scholar to point to a combination of benign intent and arrogance on behalf of the Ayleids as the source of many ruinous affairs for the old heartland elves.The Nefarivigum, a foul construct of Mehrunes Dagon, was erected to be ever watchful for the pilgrim who would approach it and best an unknown trial of worth. It is said that such a pilgrim would be rewarded with the blessing of Mehrunes Razor, a vicious blade through which Dagon himself can claim the very souls of those it strikes.Benign intent compelled Ayleid folk to seek out the Nefarivigum. Arrogance let them believe themselves capable of disbarring any who would seek the Razor. So was built Varsa Baalim, a great, ringed, labyrinthine city, during the height of Ayleid rule.Sure as death, pilgrims came to Varsa Baalim, and for years the Elves drove back many, until it came to pass that a vampire slipped into the city unnoticed. Merfolk were touched with the foul affliction, throwing the city into a gathering storm of madness and ruin, and soon it seemed none was left to prevent the Razor from being recovered.Then, suddenly, Varsa Baalim was gone. Historic accounts dispute whether it happened through some final safety, a natural cataclysm, or by the touch of the Divines themselves. Whatever the cause, history agrees on the result: the mountains of the Eastern Niben swallowed Varsa Baalim, and the Nefarivigum with it, where has remained hidden since the early days of the First Era.If the tale is true, then somewhere on the eastern fringes of the Niben Valley, where man’s rule has scarcely reached through the years, the Nefarivigum still lies in wait, among a city of unliving abominations entombed within the cold bowels of the mountain.

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Walking the World, vol. XI

Volume XI: SolitudeWelcome, friend. In our latest volume, we cover Solitude. Spatior could not be more pleased to be at the very seat of Imperial power in Skyrim. In the course of our tour, you’ll see that Solitude’s riches extend from her people to the history and architecture that make up the city itself.As ever, we begin our journey outside the city walls, this time at the bottom of the hill that ascends all the way to Solitude’s massive gates.Solitude’s SurroundingsBefore scaling the hill to the city, you should be sure to take in the sights. Wander the track that leads down to the docks, and you can stop to enjoy one of the best views of the Great Arch.Originally serving as both a landmark and windbreak for Solitude’s port, the easily-defended Great Arch also provided an ideal building site for the ancient Nords.The city gradually grew to extend across the entire length of the arch. This growth culminated in the building of the Blue Palace, home of the High Kings and Queens of Skyrim. We will visit the palace later.The Gates of SolitudeEntrance to Solitude is guarded by two gates and three towers. The first of these towers, situated at the crossroads, is Sky Tower. It’s mostly a lookout, although in times of war, barricades are erected across the nearby road to act as a first line of defense.The second tower and first, smaller gate are collectively known as the Squall Gate. Here, attacking armies meet their first real resistance. Last and certainly most impressive is the Storm Gate.While Castle Dour, found just within the city’s main gate, has always been a massive walled structure, Solitude’s outer walls and gates were not added until shortly after the coronation of High King Erling.Looking up and to the left of the main gate, you can see a small hint of Erling’s preference for a more rounded style of architecture that we will see later in the Castle Dour extension, as well as the interior arch and the windmill.Now we pass through the gates and enter the main shopping district of Solitude.The Well DistrictStepping inside Solitude’s gates, you get your first view of the city itself. Rising tall and proud before you, banners waving from its crown, is the Emperor’s Tower. Home to the Kings of Haafingar before the consolidation of Skyrim and the creation of the Blue Palace, the Emperor’s Tower is now used exclusively as guest quarters for Emperors who come to visit the city.To your left and right are Solitude’s inn and shops. Here can be found some of the finest imported goods in Skyrim. After all, Solitude is a wealthy city with ready access to the major shipping lanes of Tamriel.Continuing ahead, you’ll come to the ramp that takes you up to Castle Dour. From here, you can truly feel the weight of this stone bastion’s looming presence. The left-most tower, topped by the pointed roof of Erling’s extension, was once the castle barracks and jail. Today, the tower is the center of military power here in Solitude.Looking right past the looming Emperor’s tower, you can glimpse Solitude’s natural bridge arcing gracefully over to the windmill. Built during High King Erling’s day, the bridge was said to be used used to discretely allow Captain Jytte, the famous privateer, to enter Castle Dour. Some historians claim that she and the High King were simply attempting to keep their business dealings quiet. Others believe the Jytte and Erling were involved on a more personal level.At the end of the bridge is the windmill. The tower and the windmill serve as one of Solitude’s most recognizable man-made landmarks. The Windmill’s power was once used to open the gates to what is now the East Empire Company Warehouse, but today that task falls to the strong backs of the dock workers.In the shadow of the windmill you’ll find the outdoor market and the well. Here, you can buy a number of local delicacies including the famous spiced wine made exclusively in Solitude.From here we’ll travel up the ramp and into Castle Dour Courtyard.Castle DourAs you enter the courtyard of Castle Dour, you are confronted with the banner of Solitude hanging over the door to what is now Castle Dour proper.At the far end of the courtyard stands the impressive Temple of the Divines. The founders of Solitude were deeply devout and Solitude is the only place in Skyrim where all of the divines are worshiped in a single temple. All three of the buildings here are well worth taking a look inside, but only the Temple and Castle Dour’s military wing are open.If you do venture inside the temple, take special note of the alcoves at the front. You can see the empty alcove that once held the shrine of Talos before Talos worship was outlawed.From the courtyard, travel out the exit between Castle Dour and the Temple and you’ll get your first sight of the Blue Palace. Along the way, be sure to stop outside the Bards College, a large building on your left marked by the Flame of Callisos burning beside the steps.Named for a famous bard, it is said that as long as the flame burns, the college will stand.The Bards CollegeLooking up from the Bards College steps, you can see that the college stands taller than the Blue Palace itself. The bards who train here can be heard throughout Skyrim, singing songs that capture the history of the ages. If you get a chance you should be sure to catch the Burning of King Olaf, an ancient festival where “King Olaf” is burned in effigy.Continue up the road from the college and you’ll reach the courtyard of the Blue Palace, our final destination.The Blue PalaceThe Blue Palace is home to the Jarls of Solitude, who for centuries have also served as the High Kings and High Queens of Skyrim. The northeast wing, on your left as you enter, holds the living quarters of the Jarl and her court on the top level and various servants below.The southwest wing, known as the Pelagius Wing, has fallen into a state of disrepair. Named for the famous High King, Pelagius the Mad, the wing is rumored to be haunted by the king’s ghost. The wing has been locked and left alone since shortly after Pelagius’s death.You should be sure to venture inside the Blue Palace. The grand atrium and court chambers are a sight not to be missed.Other Points of InterestSpatior has shown you Solitude in all its grandeur, but there are a few places more to see. The walls of the city are easily accessible and well worth climbing for the remarkable view. The Solitude Docks are also worth a visit, as they are the largest in Skyrim.That’s all for Walking the World Volume XI. Spatior does not know his next destination yet, but you can be sure that where he does go he will leave you a record of the best things to see.Spatior Munius, World Traveler

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Watcher of Stones

Watcher of StonesbyGelyph SigThane of BjorinLong have I waited at the Guardians. I must know: are the stories true? Surely you’ve heard them. Tales of the stones granting powers to Heroes of old, those special few being able to choose any stone to rewrite his fate. Of course you’ve heard them, that’s why you touch the stones as you pass by. You’ve heard they bring luck, or a sign from the gods. But you think little of the action. It has no true meaning for you. I see it in your eyes as you pass. You do not believe. But I have always believed. Always felt that I was one of the few whose fate was not sealed at birth by the stars overhead. One of the few who could use these stones, draw on the power of the gods to change my life, change my future. I have always felt it.I have done much in my years. Fought battles, defended villages, quested and adventured throughout Skyrim. I have bested the Companions of Whiterun in combat, and performed deeds worthy of everlasting praise in song from the Bards College. No task was too small or great if it could bring me honor, glory, proof that I was worthy of the stones’ power. And yet, nothing.I have found many of these accursed stones in my travels, and none have responded to my touch. With each new feat I would return to the Guardians, wondering if the gods finally deemed me worthy. But now those days are gone. I am an old man, with no fight left in me. And so here I sit, watching the faces of those who pass by on their daily errands, their mundane travels from one city or town to another. Most of you do not even give the stones a passing glance. You have never heard their call, you will never feel drawn to them. Some days, I envy you that.Long will I wait at the Guardians, for I must know. Are the stories true?

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Ahzirr Trajijazaeri

This is an absurd book. But like all things Khajiiti, as the expression goes, “gzalzi vaberzarita maaszi”, or “absurdity has become necessity.” Much of what I have to say has probably never been written before, and if it has, no one has read it. The Imperials feel that everything must be written down for posterity, but every Khajiiti kitten born in Elsweyr knows his history, he drinks it in with his mother’s milk.Fairly recently, however, our struggles to win back our homeland from the rapacious Count of Leyawiin have attracted sympathetic persons, even Imperials, who wish to join our cause, but, it seems, do not understand our ways. Our enemies, of course, do not understand us either, but that is as we wish it, a weapon in our arsenal. Our non-Khajiiti friends, however, should know who we are, why we are, and what we are doing.The Khajiit mind is not engineered for self-reflection. We simply do what we do, and let the world be damned. To put into words and rationalize our philosophy is foreign, and I cannot guarantee that even after reading this, you will understand us. Grasp this simple truth — “q’zi no vano thzina ualizz” — “When I contradict myself, I am telling the truth.”We are the Renrijra Krin. “The Mercenary’s Grinü” “The Laugh of the Landless,” and “The Smiling Scum” would all be fair translations. It is a derogatory expression, but it is amusing so we have adopted it.We have anger in our hearts, but not on our faces. We fight for Elsweyr, but we do not ally ourselves with the Mane, who symbolizes our land. We believe in justice, but do not follow laws.“Q’zi no vano thzina ualizz.”These are not rules, for there is no word for “rules” in Ta’agra. Call them our “thjizzrini” — “foolish concepts.”1. “Vaba Do’Shurh’do”: “It Is Good To Be Brave”We are struggling against impossible odds, against the very Empire of Tamriel. Our cause is the noblest cause of all: defense of home. If we fail, we betray our past and our future. Our dead are “Ri’sallidad”, which may be interpreted as “martyrs” in the truest, best sense of that word which is so often misused. We honor their sacrifice and, beneath our smiles, mourn them deeply.Our bravery most obviously shows in the smile that is the “Krin” part of our name. This does not mean that we walk about grinning like the idiotic, baboonish Imga of Valenwood. We simply are entertained by adversary. We find an equal, fair fight tiresome in the extreme. We confidently smile because we know our victory in the end is assured. And we know our smiles drive our enemies insane.2. “Vaba Maaszi Lhajiito”: “It Is Necessary To Run Away”We are struggling against impossible odds, against the very Empire of Tamriel. Honor is madness. Yes, we loved the Renrijra Krin who died in brave battle against the forces of the Empire, but I guarantee you that each of those Ri’sallidad had an escape route he or she failed to use, and died saying, “Damn.”When the great Senche-Raht comes to the Saimisil Steppes, he will find himself unable to hunt, unable to sleep, as the tiny Alfiq leap onto his back, biting him, and running off before he has a chance to turn his great body to face them. Eventually, though he may stubbornly hope to catch the Alfiq, the Senche-Raht always leaves. They are our cousins, the Alfiq, and we have adopted their strategy against the great tiger of Leyawiin.Do not ally yourself with the Renrij if you yearn to be part of a mighty army, marching resolutely forth, for whom retreat is anathema. We will laugh at your suicidal idiocy as we slip into the reeds of the river, and watch the inevitable slaughter.3. “Fusozay Var Var”: “Enjoy Life”Life is short. If you have not made love recently, please, put down this book, and take care of that with all haste. Find a wanton lass or a frisky lad, or several, in whatever combination your wise loins direct, and do not under any circumstances play hard to get. Our struggle against the colossal forces of oppression can wait.Good. Welcome back.We Renrijra Krin live and fight together, and know that Leyawiin and the Empire will not give way very soon, likely not in our lifetimes. In the time we have, we do not want our closest comrades to be dour, dull, colorless, sober, and virginal. If we did, we would have joined the Emperor’s Blades.Do not begrudge us our lewd jokes, our bawdy, drunken nights, our moonsugar. They are the pleasures that Leyawiin denies us, and so we take our good humor very seriously.4. “Fusozay Var Dar”: “Kill Without Qualm”Life is short. Very short, as many have learned when they have crossed the Renrijra Krin.We fight dirty. If an enemy is facing us, we might consider our options, and even slip away if his sword looks too big. If his back is to us, however, I personally favor knocking him down, and then jumping on his neck where the bones snap with a gratifying crunch. Of course, it is up to you and your personal style.5. “Ahzirr Durrarriss”: “We Give Freely To The People”Let us not forget our purpose. We are fighting for our families, the Khajiiti driven from the rich, fertile shores of Lake Makapi and the River Malapi, where they and their ancestors lived since time immemorial. It is our battle, but their tragedy. We must show them, lest they are swayed by other rhetoric, that we are fighting for them.The Mane, The Emperor, and The Count can give speeches, pass laws, and, living life in the open, explain their positions and philosophies to their people to stave off the inevitable revolution. Extralegal entities, such as the Renrijra Krin, must make our actions count for our words. This means more than fighting the good fight, and having a laugh at our befuddled adversaries. It means engaging and seducing the people. Ours is not a military war, it is a political war. If the people rise up against our oppressors, they will retreat, and we will win.Give to these people, whenever possible, gold, moonsugar, and our strong arms, and though they hide, their hearts will be with us.6. “Ahzirr Traajijazeri”: “We Justly Take By Force”Let us not forget our purpose. We are thieves and thugs, smugglers and saboteurs. If we cannot take a farm, we burn it to the ground. If the Imperials garrisoned in a glorious ancient stronghold, beloved by our ancestors, will not yield, we tear the structure apart. If the only way to rescue the land from the Leyawiin misappropriation is to make it uninhabitable by all, so be it.We want our life and our home back as it was twenty years ago, but if that is not realistic, then we will accept a different simple, pragmatic goal. Revenge. With a smile.

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Wind and Sand

Let the wind blow. Let the sand scour. Let the magic of air and sand be free to roam the Alik’r. From the mystic membranes that stand between the two, absorb and convey unto me and all who may understand the deep essential powers of the desert.Deserts are often considered to be useless wastelands, avoided by the casual traveler and shunned by the softer species as unfit for civilization. But to those who bother to investigate, to dwell, to live, to linger in these spaces, a driving hardiness develops that serves them well in all environs should they ever choose to live. A thoughtfulness born of care — for who knows best how to best invest their resources than one who has had to walk half a morning and labor for an hour to extract a few drops of water from an unyielding plant?This same sort of requisite thrift applies to all other creatures who wring their living in such a land. The insight that may at first be missed, though, is that the magic of this land is similarly affected. Forgoing the showy lights and sounds of the forest dwelling mages in Summerset, the flamboyant gesticulations of the Bretons, or even the bellowing of the Nords, there is a certain economy to the casting of a true Alik’r wizard. This is not meant as a slight against other magical styles, only noting that a such energies might be better focused into reflection and purpose.On SandWhen both foreigners and natives imagine the desert, often their first image is one of orange-hued sand blowing beneath a dark blue sky. Indeed, this is not wholly incorrect, as the shifting sands are one of the key components not only of the desert, but of its natural magics.Consider: sand is nothing but the weathering of rocks, older by far than any of the living inhabitants who claim a land as “theirs.” As each rock breaks further, more of its inner space is revealed, until it is practically naught but exposed surface in its aggregate self. This collective then scatters, intermingles, scatters, and repeats, in infinite combinations so long as Nirn continues to exist. If we believe, as I do, that the rocks themselves contain remnants of Magnus’s gift, than this exposure and combinatorial explosion results in a breadth and diversity of magic energy as is unknown elsewhere in Tamriel.On AirMuch as the sand learns from every grain around it, so too does the air which conveys it from one combination to the other absorb the sense knowledge of its carried grains. In fact, it is plausible that the air itself is guiding the combinations to novelty and expression. Indeed, consider that in the Nordic tradition, Kyne is the widow of Shor (an aspect of Lorkhan), then her ministrations (via wind) to his physical legacy within Mundus could be seen as a form of celestial mourning, from which we mortals can benefit.It would seem, indeed, that the next level of magical awakening may well be driven by scrying appropriate wind channels to carve novel paths through the vast desert such as to further diversify the land’s memory. Reading the knowledge of the sands, though, is an immense task in itself, though, more fit to an army of clerical workers than a wizard of any standing.

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Forebear’s Note

Book added by Dead Man’s Dread from the Creation ClubNaha ‘Mei Dogo Ra Gada Lonhe Trai.The Crowns are fond of this saying. “The Forebears should know their place.” They look upon us like commoners, the chaff from which the wheat is pruned.I would remind you, Na-Totambu, that our place is not for you to decide. For we are the Warrior Wave of Ra Gada, the first men. It is our sweat that salts the earth. It is our tears from which the rain falls. It is our blood that beats in the heart of Hammerfell.The throne of kings is one built upon our shoulders. It is by our grace, and our mercy, that the Crowns are allowed to sit. We know our place. Do not forget yours.

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The “Madmen” of the Reach

The “Madmen” of the Reach:A Cultural Treatise on the Forswornby Arrianus AriusImperial ScholarSince the legendary victory of Tiber Septim over the “barbarian natives” in the Battle of Old Hroldan, Imperial and Nord scholarship has cast the people of the Reach as little more than savages, prone to irrational fits of violence, worshipping old, heretical gods, and fetishizing beasts and nature spirits that any civilized person would best well avoid. In truth, these accounts are little more than “victor’s essays,” a perspective narrowed by the Empire’s constant strife with the ancient, proud people that lived in this land far before Tiber Septim walked the soil of Tamriel. In light of this, I hope to create a more complete, accurate, and fair assessment of a group that has long suffered under the role of “enemy,” “troublemakers,” and “them.”Let us begin with the Forsworn, the so-called “madmen” of the Reach. The Imperial Legion classifies them as little more than brigands, noting their constant raids and ambushes within the Hold. But none of their military reports asks the question of “why?” If they were merely a group of bandits, surely they would be focused on acquiring gold and minimizing deaths among their own. But the opposite is true in Forsworn attacks. Large sums of coin are often left behind, and their fighters easily throw away their lives rather than risk capture by Imperial soldiers.It is this incongruity that led me to Markarth, the capital city of the Reach, in search of answers. There, I met one of the native peoples, an old woman who preferred to not be named in my writings. She told me of her family’s long history. How she believes they originally came from High Rock, home of the Bretons (which would explain the similar faces and stature of the two peoples). How the Nords came and took their lands, their gods, and their culture from them. When asked about the Forsworn, the old woman would say that they are the “real” men and women of the Reach: those that refused to give in to the Nords. Those that still practiced the ancient traditions that the rest of their people had abandoned in exchange for peace.In time, I was able to create trust with many more natives in my search that corroborated the old woman’s story. By chance, one of them arranged a meeting between myself and what I thought was an elder member of his village. I was shocked to find that I was led to a camp, filled with the animal skulls, severed heads, and still beating hearts that I had read about from the military reports back in the Imperial City. There, I met Cortoran, a Forsworn, who seemed amused at the prospect of me writing down his story. Which I quote in full below:“You want to know who the Forsworn are? We are the people who must pillage our own land. Burn our own ground. We are the scourge of the Nords. The axe that falls in the dark. The scream before the gods claim your soul. We are the true sons and daughters of the Reach. The spirits and hags have lived here from the beginning, and they are on our side. Go back. Go back and tell your Empire that we will have our own kingdom again. And on that day, we will be the ones burying your dead in a land that is no longer yours.”

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The Dunmer of Skyrim

Dunmer.That is our name. Yet you deny us even this courtesy. You, the white-skinned, jaundice-haired apes of this godsforsaken frozen wilderness. To you Nords, we are the gray ones, the ashen-skinned, the “dark elves” of Morrowind who have as much place in your land as an infection in an open wound.Oh yes, we have read your great cultural work, “Nords of Skyrim,” in which you extol the many virtues of your people and province, and invite any visitors to come experience your homeland for themselves. Well come we did, Nords, and the reception was less than was promised – but exactly what we expected.So I, Atal Sarys, Dunmer and immigrant to Skyrim, have decided to answer your beloved book with a work of my own. And let all who read it know that Nords are not the only race to reside in this cold and inhospitable realm. For we dark elves have come, and little by little, shall claim Skyrim as our own.But where, you may ask, have we taken up residence? Why none other than the ancient city of Windhelm, once the capital of the First Empire. Yes, Nords, in the shadow of your own Palace of the Kings, where the Nord hero Ysgramor once held court, we now thrive. Oh yes. Your beloved Five Hundred Companions may have driven our ancestors from Skyrim, but that was then. This is now.Indeed, one might be surprised as to just how well we’ve settled into Windhelm. The district once known as the Snow Quarter is thus named no more. Now, they call it the Gray Quarter, for such is the reality of the Dunmer occupation. The district is now populated entirely by my kind, a victory not lost on its residents.Oh, but the peaceful occupation goes even further. Thirsty? You’ll find no Nord mead hall in the Gray Quarter. But the spirits flow well enough in the New Gnisis Cornerclub. Seeking a respected family? You’ll find no Gray-Manes within these walls. But perhaps you’d like to pay a visit to the home of Belyn Hlaalu, descendant of one of the most noble houses in all of Morrowind. Ah, but no. You Nords don’t come to the Gray Quarter, do you? You fear our streets as you fear our skin.So now, “children of Skyrim,” you have the truth of it. You may call this province home, but you can no sooner claim to own it than a cow can claim to own its master’s field. You are just another breed of domestic animal, grazing stupidly while higher beings plot your slaughter.

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The Talos Mistake

By Leonora VenatusImperial Liaison to the Aldmeri DominionAs citizens of the Empire, all are of course familiar with the deeds of Emperor Tiber Septim. But it is the Emperor’s ascent to godhood, as Talos, that is the subject of this work.Until Tiber Septim’s death, there had been but Eight Divines: Akatosh, Dibella, Arkay, Zenithar, Stendarr, Mara, Kynareth, and Julianos. These gods were, and are, worshipped throughout the Empire. And while some may have different names in the varying provinces (for example, Akatosh is known as “Auri-El” to the Aldmer; and Arkay is sometimes known as “Ar’Kay”), all are recognized and revered by all races and cultures of Tamriel.But when Tiber Septim passed to Aetherius, there came to be a Ninth Divine – Talos, also called Ysmir, the “Dragon of the North.” The man who was so loved in life became worshipped in death. Indeed, it can be argued that Talos, the Ninth Divine, became even more important than the Eight that had preceded him, at least to humans. For he was a god who was once just a man, and through great deeds actually managed to ascend to godhood. And if one human could achieve such a feat – couldn’t it be done again? Couldn’t all humans aspire to achieve divinity?So we thought, we humans. And so we continued to worship Talos, and revere him as the ultimate hero-god. But that was then. This is now. And now, we know the truth:We were wrong.As citizens of the Empire, we all experienced the horrors of the Great War. And it was not until the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, the treaty between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, that we once again knew peace. One of the most important stipulations of that treaty, as every Imperial citizen is well aware, is that Talos can no longer be worshipped as a god. This edict shook the very foundations of the Empire. There were those who rebelled against the law. Indeed, some still do.But the citizens of the Empire must know this: the Emperor did not agree to outlaw the worship of Talos because it was demanded by the Thalmor, the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion.The Emperor agreed to the outlaw of the worship of Talos because it was the right thing to do.Today, the Emperor, and indeed the Empire itself, recognizes that allowing the worship of Talos was a mistake. For by doing so, by allowing the worship of Talos as a Divine, the Empire actually did its people a great disservice: for this only succeeded in weakening the memory of the man Tiber Septim and his many extraordinary (though mortal) deeds; and pushing people away from the Eight Divines, the true gods, who do deserve our love and reverence.And so, the Empire admits it was wrong. The Talos Mistake will not be repeated. May we find centuries of peace and prosperity with our new Thalmor friends, and continue to share a spirituality that binds together all the cultures and races of Tamriel.

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Nords Arise!

Nords Arise! Throw off the shackles of Imperial oppression. Do not bow to the yoke of a false emperor. Be true to your blood, to your homeland.The empire tells us we cannot worship holy Talos. How can man set aside a god? How can a true Nord of Skyrim cast aside the god that rose from our own heartland? Mighty Tiber Septim, himself the first emperor, conqueror of all Tamriel, ascended to godhood to sit at the right hand of Akatosh. Tiber Septim, a true son of Skyrim, born in the land of snow and blood, bred to the honor of our people, is now Talos, god of might and honor. The Empire has no right to tell us we cannot worship him.Our own high king, Torygg, betrayed us to the empire. He traded our god for peace. He agreed to a pact with the Thalmor signed by an emperor in a foreign land. Are we to be beholden to such a pact? No! A thousand times no.Do not let the lessons of history go unheeded. The Aldmeri Dominion and its Thalmor masters made war upon men, just as the elves made war upon Ysgramor and our people in ancient times. Shining Saarthal was burned to the ground, reduced to ruins and rubble in their treacherous assault. But Ysgramor and his sons gathered the 500 Companions and made war upon the elves, casting them out of Skyrim. In the Great War fought by our fathers, the elves again betrayed men by attacking us unprovoked. The Dominion and the Thalmor cannot be trusted!Like Ysgramor, Ulfric Stormcloak is a true hero of Skyrim. His name will ring in Sovngarde for generations to come. Only he had the courage to single out King Torygg and challenge him to trial by arms. Ulfric’s thu’um, a gift from Talos himself, struck down this traitorous ruler. And by his death we are now free of our Imperial shackles and the Thalmor overlords that darken the Imperial throne.The Empire has sent its Legions to govern us. They have enlisted our own countrymen to their cause. They have set brother against brother, father against son. They have caused Skyrim to battle itself in their name, for their cause. Do not let them divide us. Do not let them conquer us! Reject the Imperial law that forbids the worship of Talos. Join Ulfric Stormcloak and his cause!

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The Pig Children

This book has some differences in the last paragraph from the version found inTES2: Daggerfall.No one — not the oldest Dark Elf of Mount Dagoth-Ur or the Ancient Sage of Solitude himself — can recall a time when the Orc did not ravage our fair Tamriel. Whatever foul and pestilent Daedra of Oblivion conjured them up could scarcely have created a more constant threat to the well-being of the civilized races of Tamriel than the obnoxious Orc.Orcs are thankfully easy to recognize from other humanoids by their size — commonly forty pertans in height and fifteen thousand angaids in weight — their brutal pig-like features, and their stench. They are consistently belligerent, morally grotesque, intellectually moronic, and unclean. By all rights, the civilized races of Tamriel should have been able to purge the land of their blight eras ago, but their ferocity, animal cunning, and curious tribal loyalty have made them inevitable as leeches in a stagnant pool.Tales of Orcish barbarity precede written record. When Jastyaga wrote of the Order of Diagna’s joining the armies of Daggerfall and Sentinel “to hold at bay the wicked Orcs in their foul Orsinium fastness… and burn aught in cleansing flame” in 1E950, she assumed that any reader would be aware of the savagery of the Orcs. When the siege was completed thirty years later, after the death of many heroes including Gaiden Shinji, and the destruction of Orsinium scattered the Orcish survivors throughout the Wrothgarian Mountains, she further wrote, “The free peoples rejoiced for that their ancient fell enemy was dispersed into diverse parts.” Obviously, the Orcs had been terrorizing the region of the Iliac Bay at least since the early years of the First Era.

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Nords of Skyrim

Nords of Skyrim – My People, My PrideRespected reader. My name is Hrothmund Wolf-Heart, and I am a Nord. But, more importantly, I am a Nord born and raised in the land of Skyrim.I write this volume in the desperate hope that the rest of Tamriel can come to know my people as they deserve to be known, and understand this province for what it truly is – a place of uncontested beauty and culture.Some of what you know is undoubtedly true. Physically, we Nords are an impressive, often imposing sight – tall of stature, strong of bone, and thick of muscle. Our hair is often fair, and worn braided, as has been the custom for generations. Often we are swathed in the hides of beasts, for such creatures are abundant in Skyrim, and we would be foolish not to take advantage of such an available resource.Having read this far, you may be shocked at the strength of my words, and the literacy of a northern “savage.” Aye, many Nords can both read and write. My father began my instruction in the way of letters when I was but a bairn, as did his father, and his father before him.But the accomplishments of the children of Skyrim are multitude, and go beyond mere wordcraft. For we are artisans as well, and through the ages have learned to manipulate steel the way a sculptor would clay.Indeed, I have seen with mine own eyes, visitors from High Rock and Cyrodiil weep in disbelief as they beheld the blades wrought in the fires of the Skyforge, and honed to beautiful deadliness by the gods-touched hands of Clan Gray-Mane.But how can this be true, you ask? How are such achievements possible from a people who have yet to emerge from the muck and snow? Again, provincial bias clouds the truth.The cities of Skyrim are a testament to Nord ingenuity and craftsmanship. Chief among them are Solitude, seat of the High King and capital of the province; Windhelm, ancient and honored, a jewel in the snow; Markarth, carved into the living rock itself, in ages long since past; Riften, nestled in the golden shadows of the Fall Forest, whence comes delicious fish and mead; and Whiterun, built around the hall of Jorrvaskr, home of the most noble Companions and revered Skyforge.And now, respected reader, you have the full measure of it. We Nords are everything you imagined – and so much more.But let not this work be your only gateway to the truth. Book passage on carriage or vessel, and make the journey north. See Skyrim with thine own eyes. See Skyrim as have the Nords, since the gods first shaped the world.

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To A Concerned Citizen

Concerned Citizen,You’ve received this letter because you’re a businessman in Riften who’s sick and tired of being pushed around by the Black-Briar Family and their cronies. You’re sick of the Thieves Guild taking your last coin from your already meager earnings. And you’re sick of the corruption that runs through Mistveil Keep like a disease. We at the Society of Mercantile Freedom in Riften are behind you and wish to unify to fight our common enemies! Join us, and together we’ll stand up and smash the injustice that’s ruined this once-fine city. If you’re interested in becoming a part of our organization, simply mark your business with a white x and you’ll be contacted by a representative.The Society of Mercantile Freedom in Riften

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A Dream of Sovngarde

In a few hours, I will likely be dead.My men and I, Nords of Skyrim all, will soon join with the Emperor’s legions to attack the Imperial City. The Aldmeri are entrenched within and our losses will be severe. It is a desperate gambit, for if we do not reclaim the city, we will lose the war.Last night I prayed to mighty Talos for courage and strength in the battle to come. In these last cold hours before the sun rises, I sit down to write this account of a dream I had not long after.I believe this dream was the answer to my prayers, and I would pass along the wisdom it contained to my kinsmen, for the battles they will fight in the years after my passing.In the dream, I walked through mists toward the sound of laughter, merriment and the songs of the north. The mists soon cleared, and before me lay a great chasm. Waters thundered over its brim, and so deep it was, I could not see the bottom.A great bridge made all of whale-bone was the only means to cross, and so I took it.It was only a few steps onto the bridge that I encountered a warrior, grim and strong. “I am Tsun, master of trials,” he said to me, his voice booming and echoing upon the walls of the high mountains all around us.With a wave, he bade me pass on. I knew in my heart that I was granted passage only because I was a visitor. Should the hour come when I return here after my mortal life, the legends say that I must best this dread warrior in single combat.Beyond the bridge, a great stone longhouse rose up before me, so tall as to nearly touch the clouds. Though it took all my strength, I pushed open the towering oaken door and beheld the torch-lit feast hall.Here were assembled the greatest heroes of the Nords, all drinking mead poured from great kegs and singing battle-songs. Suckling pigs turned on a long iron spit over a roaring fire. My mouth watered at the smell of roast meat, and my heart was glad to hear the songs of old.“Come forth!” cried out a hoary man who sat upon a high wooden chair. This I knew to be Ysgramor, father of Skyrim and the Nords. I approached and knelt before him.“You find yourself in Sovngarde, hall of the honored dead. Now, what would you have of me, son of the north?” he bellowed.“I seek counsel,” said I, “for tomorrow we fight a desperate battle and my heart is full of fear.”Ysgramor raised his tankard to his lips and drank until the cup was empty. Then he spoke once more.“Remember this always, son of the north – a Nord is judged not by the manner in which he lived, but the manner in which he died.”With that, he cast aside his flagon, raised his fist in the air and roared a great cheer. The other heroes rose to their feet and cheered in answer.The sound still rang in my ears when I awoke. I gathered my men and told them of my vision. The words seemed to fill their hearts with courage.The horns are blowing, and the banners are raised. The time has come to muster. May Talos grant us victory this day, and if I am found worthy, may I once again look upon that great feast hall.– Skardan Free-Winter

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16 Accords of Madness

16 Accords of Madness, v. VI Hircine’s TaleEver proud and boastful, Oblivion’s Mad Prince stood one fifth day of mid year among the frigid peaks of Skyrim, and beckoned forth Hircine for parlay. The Huntsman God materialized, for this was his day, and the boldness of Sheogorath intrigued him.Wry without equal, Sheogorath holds in his realm giggling loons, flamboyant auteurs, and craven mutilators. The Mad Prince will ply profitless bargains and promote senseless bloodshed for nothing more than the joy of another’s confusion, tragedy, or rage. So it was that Sheogorath had set a stage on which to play himself as rival to Hircine.Without haste, the coy Prince proffered his contest; each Prince was to groom a beast to meet at this place again, three years to the hour, and do fatal battle. Expressionless behind his fearsome countenance, Hircine agreed, and with naught but a dusting of snow in the drift, the Princes were gone to their realms.Confident, but knowing Sheogorath for a trickster, Hircine secretly bred an abomination in his hidden realm. An ancient Daedroth he summoned, and imbued it with the foul curse of lycanthropy. Of pitch heart and jagged fang, the unspeakable horror had no peer, even among the great hunters of Hircine’s sphere.In the third year, on the given day, Hircine returned, where Sheogorath leaned, cross-legged on a stone, whistling with idle patience. The Prince of the Hunt struck his spear to the ground, bringing forth his unnatural, snarling behemoth. Doffing his cap, sly as ever, Sheogorath stood and stepped aside to reveal a tiny, colorful bird perched atop the stone. Demurely it chirped in the bristling gusts, scarcely audible.In a twisted, springing heap, the Daedroth was upon the stone, leaving only rubble where the boulder had been. Thinking itself victorious, the monster’s bloodied maw curled into a mock grin, when a subdued song drifted in the crisp air. The tiny bird lightly hopped along the snout of the furious Daedroth. Sheogorath looked on, quietly mirthful, as the diminutive creature picked at a bit of detritus caught in scales betwixt the fiery eyes of the larger beast. With howling fury, the were-thing blinded itself trying to pluck away the nuisance. And so it continued for hours, Hircine looking on in shame while his finest beast gradually destroyed itself in pursuit of the seemingly oblivious bird, all the while chirping a mournful tune to the lonesome range.Livid, but beaten, Hircine burned the ragged corpse and withdrew to his realm, swearing in forgotten tongues. His curses still hang in those peaks, and no wayfarer tarries for fear of his wrathful aspect in those obscured heights.Turning on his heel, Sheogorath beckoned the miniscule songbird to perch atop his shoulder, and strolled down the mountain, making for the warm breezes and vibrant sunsets of the Abecean coast, whistling in tune with the tiniest champion in Tamriel.16 Accords of Madness, v. IX Vaermina’s TaleDarius Shano found himself running as fast as he could.He had no idea what he was running from or towards, but he didn’t care. The desire saturated his mind — there was nothing in the world except flight. He looked around for landmarks, anything to place himself or to use as a target, but to no avail — the featureless grasslands through which he was sprinting extended as far as the eye could see. “Just have to keep running”, he thought to himself. “I have to run as fast as I can”. On and on he ran, with no end in sight or in mind….Standing over Darius Shano while he lay quietly in his bed were his mistress, Vaermina the Dreamweaver, and the Madgod Sheogorath. Vaernima looked down with pride at this disciple of hers, and was boastful of her little jewel.“Such potential in this one! Through dreams of inspiration, I have nurtured literary talent into fruition, and now he stands in acclaim as an emerging bard and poet! He will gain much favor before I tire of him.” Sheogorath, too, gazed at the young Breton artist and saw that he was indeed famous among the other mortals.“Hmmm,” mused Sheogorath, “but how many are there who hate this mortal whom you have built? It is the hatred of the mortals which confirms greatness, and not their love. Surely you can accomplish this as well?”Vaernima’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, the mortals are indeed often foolish and petty, and it is true that many of their most bold have been despised. Do not worry, mad one, for I have the power to achieve many forms of greatness with this one, hatred among them.”“Perhaps, Dreamweaver, it would be amusing to show who has this power? Inspire foolish, arrogant hatred of this mortal for ten years, and then I will do the same. We shall see whose talents are most efficient, free of aid or interference from any of the Daedra.”At this, she relaxed into confident pleasure. “The Madgod is indeed powerful, but this task is suited to my skills. The mortals are repulsed by madness, but rarely think it worthy of hate. I shall take pleasure in revealing this to you, as I bring the more subtle horrors out of this mortal’s subconscious.”And so, in the 19th year of his life, the dreams Darius Shano had been experiencing began to change. Fear had always been part of the night for him, but now there was something else. A darkness began to creep into his slumber, a darkness that sucked away all feeling and color, leaving only emptiness behind. When this happened, he opened his mouth to scream, but found that the darkness had taken his voice as well. All he had was the terror and the void, and each night they filled him with a new understanding of death. Yet, when he woke, there was no fear, for he had faith that his Lady had a purpose.Indeed, one night Vaernima herself emerged from the void. She leaned in close to whisper into his ear.“Watch carefully, my beloved!” With that, she pulled the void away, and for hours each night she would reveal to Darius the most horrible perversions of nature. Men being skinned and eaten alive by other men, unimaginable beasts of many limbs and mouths, entire populations being burned — their screams filled his every evening. In time, these visions gnawed at his soul, and his work began to take on the character of his nightmares. The images revealed to him at night were reproduced on the page, and the terrible cruelty and hollow vice that his work contained both revolted and fascinated the public. They reveled in their disgust over every detail. There were those who openly enjoyed his shocking material, and his popularity among some only fed the hatred of those who found him abhorrent. This continued for several years, while the infamy of Darius grew steadily. Then, in his 29th year, without warning, the dreams and nightmares ceased.Darius felt a weight lifted, as he no longer endured the nightly tortures, but was confused. “What have I done to displease my Mistress?”, he wondered aloud. “Why has she abandoned me?” Vaernima never answered his prayers. No one ever answered, and the restless dreams faded away to leave Darius in long, deep sleeps.Interest in the works of Darius Shano waned. His prose became stale and his ideas failed to provoke the shock and outrage they once had. As the memory of his notoriety and of his terrible dreams faded, the questions that raced in his mind eventually produced resentment against Vaernima, his former mistress. Resentment grew into hatred, from hatred came ridicule, and over time ridicule became disbelief. Slowly it became obvious — Vaernima had never spoken to him at all; his dreams were simply the product of a sick mind that had righted itself. He had been deceived by his own subconscious, and the anger and shame overwhelmed him. The man who once conversed with a deity drifted steadily into heresy.In time, all of the bitterness, doubt, and sacrilege focused in Darius a creative philosophy that was threaded throughout all of his subsequent work. He challenged the Gods themselves, as well as the infantile public and corrupt state for worshiping them. He mocked them all with perverse caricatures, sparing no one and giving no quarter. He challenged the Gods in public to strike him down if they existed, and ridiculed them when no such comeuppance was delivered. To all of this, the people reacted with outrage far greater than they had shown his previous work. His early career had offended only sensibilities, but now he was striking directly at the heart of the people.His body of work grew in size and intensity. Temples, nobles, and commoners were all targets of his scorn. Finally, at age 39, Darius wrote a piece entitled “The Noblest Fool,” ridiculing The Emperor God Tiber Septim for integrating into the pathetic Nine Divines cult. The local King of Daenia, who had been humiliated by this upstart in the past, saw his chance — for his sacrilege against the Empire, Darius Shano was executed, with a ceremonial blade, in front of a cheering crowd of hundreds. His last, bitter words were gurgled through a mouthful of his own blood.20 years after their wager was first placed, Vaernima and Sheogorath met over Darius Shano’s headless corpse. The Dreamweaver had been eager for this meeting; she had been waiting for years to confront the Daedric Prince over his lack of action.“I have been deceived by you, Sheogorath! I performed my half of the bargain, but during your ten years you never contacted the mortal once. He owes none of his greatness to you or your talents or your influence!”“Nonsense,” croaked the Madgod. “I was with him all along! When your time ended and mine began, your whispers in his ear were replaced with silence. I severed his link to that from which he found the most comfort and meaning, and withheld the very attention the creature so desperately craved. Without his mistress, this man’s character could ripen under resentment and hatred. Now his bitterness is total and, overcome by a madness fueled by his rage, he feeds me in my realm as an eternal servant.”Sheogorath turned and spoke to the empty space by his side.“Indeed; Darius Shano was a glorious mortal. Despised by his own people, his kings, and even by the Gods he mocked. For my success, I shall accept three-score followers of Vaernima into my service. And the dreamers will awaken as madmen.”And thus did Sheogorath teach Vaernima that without madness, there are no dreams, and no creation. Vaernima will never forget this lesson.16 Accords of Madness, v. XII Malacath’s TaleIn the days before the Orsinium’s founding, the spurned Orc-folk were subjected to ostracism and persecutions even more numerous and harsh than their progeny are accustomed to in our own age. So it was that many champions of the Orsimer traveled, enforcing what borders they could for the proliferation of their own people. Many of these champions are spoken of yet today, among them the Cursed Legion, Gromma the Hairless, and the noble Emmeg Gro-Kayra. This latter crusader would have certainly risen to legendary status throughout Tamriel, had he not been subject to the attention of certain Daedric Princes.Emmeg Gro-Kayra was the bastard son of a young maiden who was killed in childbirth. He was raised by the shaman of his tribe, the Grilikamaug in the peaks of what we now call Normar Heights. Late in his fifteenth year, Emmeg forged by hand an ornate suit of scaled armor, a rite of ascension among his tribe. On a blustery day, he pounded the final rivet, and draping a heavy cloak over the bulky mantle, Emmeg set out from his village for the last time. Word of his exploits always returned home, whether defending merchant caravans from brigands or liberating enslaved beast folk. News of the noble Orc crusader began to grace even the lips of Bretons, often with a tinge of fear.Less than two years after ascending to maturity, Gro-Kayra was making camp when a thin voice called out from the thickening night. He was surprised to hear the language of his people spoken by a tongue that obviously did not belong to an Orc.‘Lord Kayra’, said the voice, ‘tales of your deeds have crossed the lips of many, and have reached my ears.’ Peering into the murk, Emmeg made out the silhouette of a cloaked figure, made wavy and ephemeral by the hazy campfire. From the voice alone he had thought the interloper an old hag, but he now decided that he was in the presence of a man of slight and lanky build, though he could discern no further detail.‘Perhaps,’ the wary Orc began, ‘but I seek no glory. Who are you?’Ignoring the question, the stranger continued, ‘Despite that, Orsimer, glory finds you, and I bear a gift worthy of it.’ The visitor’s cloak parted slightly, revealing nothing but faintly glinting buttons in the pale moonlight, and a bundle was withdrawn and tossed to the side of the fire between the two. Emmeg cautiously removed the rags in which the object was swathed, and was dazzled to discover the item to be a wide, curved blade with ornately decorated handle. The weapon had heft, and Emmeg realized on brandishing it that the elaborate pommel disguised the more practical purpose of balancing the considerable weight of the blade itself. It was nothing much to look at in its present condition, thought the Orc, but once the tarnish was cleaned away and a few missing jewels restored, it would indeed be a blade worthy of a champion ten times his own worth.‘Her name is Neb-Crescen’ spoke the thin stranger, seeing the appreciation lighting Gro-Kayra’s face. ‘I got her for a horse and a secret in warmer climes, but in my old age I’d be lucky to even lift such a weapon. It’s only proper that I pass her on to one such as yourself. To possess her is to change your life, forever.’ Overcoming his initial infatuation with the arc of honed steel, Emmeg turned his attention back to the visitor.‘Your words are fine, old man,’ Emmeg said, not masking his suspicion, ‘but I’m no fool. You traded for this blade once, and you’ll trade for it again tonight. What is it that you want?’ The stranger’s shoulders slumped, and Emmeg was glad to have unveiled the true purpose of this twilight visit. He sat with him a while, eventually offering a stack of furs, warm food, and a handful of coins in exchange for the exotic weapon. By morning, the stranger was gone.In the week following Emmeg’s encounter with the stranger, Neb-Crescen had not left its scabbard. He had encountered no enemy in the woods, and his meals consisted of fowl and small game caught with bow and arrow. The peace suited him fine, but on the seventh morning, while fog still crept between the low-hanging boughs, Emmeg’s ears pricked up at the telltale crunch of a nearby footfall in the dense snow and forest debris.Emmeg’s nostrils flared, but he was upwind. Being unable to see or smell his guest, and knowing that the breeze carried his scent in that direction, Emmeg’s guard was up, and he cautiously drew Neb-Crescen from its sheath. Emmeg himself was not entirely sure of all that happened next.The first moment of conscious memory in Emmeg Gro-Kayra’s mind after drawing Neb-Crescen was the image of the curved blade sweeping through the air in front of him, spattering blood over the virginal powder coating the forest floor. The second memory was a feeling of frenzied bloodlust creeping over him, but it was then that he saw for the first time his victim, an Orc woman perhaps a few years younger than himself, her body a canvas of grisly wounds, enough to kill a strong man ten times over.Emmeg’s disgust overwhelmed the madness that had overtaken him, and with all his will enlisted, he released Neb-Crescen from his grip and let the blade sail. With a discordant ringing it spun through the air and was buried in a snowdrift. Emmeg fled the scene in shame and horror, drawing the hood of his cloak up to hide himself from the judging eyes of the rising sun.The scene where Emmeg Gro-Kayra had murdered one of his own kind was a macabre one. Below the neck, the body was flayed and mutilated almost beyond recognition, but the untouched face was frozen in a permanent expression of abject terror.It was here that Sheogorath performed certain rites that summoned Malacath, and the two Daedric Lords held court in the presence of the disfigured corpse.‘Why show me this, Mad One?’ began Malacath, once he recovered from his initial, wordless outrage. ‘Do you take such pleasure in watching me grieve the murder of my children?’ His guttural voice rumbled, and the patron of the Orismer looked upon his counterpart with accusing eyes.‘By birth, she was yours, brother outcast,’ began Sheogorath, solemn in aspect and demeanor. ‘But she was a daughter of mine by her own habits. My mourning here is no less than your own, my outrage no less great.’‘I am not so sure,’ grumbled Malacath, ‘but rest assured that vengeance for this crime is mine to reap. I expect no contest from you. Stand aside.’ As the fearsome Prince began to push past him, Lord Sheogorath spoke again.‘I have no intention of standing between you and vengeance. In fact, I mean to help you. I have servants in this wilderness, and can tell you just where to find our mutual foe. I ask only that you use a weapon of my choosing. Wound the criminal with my blade, and banish him to my plane, where I can exact my own punishment. The rights of honor-killing here belong to you.’With that, Malacath agreed, took the wide blade from Sheogorath, and was gone.Malacath materialized in the path of the murderer, the cloaked figure obscured through a blizzard haze. Bellowing a curse so foul as to wilt the surrounding trees, the blade was drawn and Malacath crossed the distance more quickly than a wild fox. Frothing with rage, he swung the blade in a smooth arc which lopped the head of his foe cleanly off, then plunged the blade up to its hilt in his chest, choking off the spurts of blood into a steady, growing stain of red bubbling from beneath the scaled armor and heavy cloak.Panting from the unexpected immediacy and fury of his own kill, Malacath rested on a knee as the body before him collapsed heavily backwards and the head landed roughly upon a broad, flat stone. The next sound broke the silence like a bolt.‘I – I’m sorry…’ sputtered the voice of Emmeg Gro-Kayra. Malacath’s eyes went wide as he looked upon the severed head, seeping blood from its wound, but somehow kept alive. Its eyes wavered about wildly, trying to focus on the aspect of Malacath before it. The once-proud eyes of the champion were choked with tears of grief, pain, and confused recognition.To his horror, Malacath recognized only now that the man he had killed was not only one of his Orismer children, but very literally a son he had blessed an Orc maiden with years hence. For achingly long moments the two looked upon each other, despondent and shocked.Then, silent as oiled steel, Sheogorath strode into the clearing. He hefted Emmeg Gro-Kayra’s disembodied head and bundled it into a small, grey sack. Sheogorath reclaimed Neb-Crescen from the corpse and turned to walk away. Malacath began to stand, but kneeled again, knowing he had irreversibly damned his own offspring to the realm of Sheogorath, and mourned his failure as the sound of his son’s hoarse pleas faded into the frozen horizon.16 Accords of Madness, v. VI16 Accords of Madness, v. IX16 Accords of Madness, v. XII16 Accords of Madness, v. VI Ý

Write a book about Skyrim.

Aedra and Daedra

The designations of Gods, Demons, Aedra, and Daedra, are universally confusing to the layman. They are often used interchangeably.“Aedra” and “Daedra” are not relative terms. They are Elvish and exact. Azura is a Daedra both in Skyrim and Morrowind. “Aedra” is usually translated as “ancestor,” which is as close as Cyrodilic can come to this Elven concept. “Daedra” means, roughly, “not our ancestors.” This distinction was crucial to the Dunmer, whose fundamental split in ideology is represented in their mythical genealogy.Aedra are associated with stasis. Daedra represent change.Aedra created the mortal world and are bound to the Earth Bones. Daedra, who cannot create, have the power to change.As part of the divine contract of creation, the Aedra can be killed. Witness Lorkhan and the moons.The protean Daedra, for whom the rules do not apply, can only be banished.

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Aevar Stone-Singer

In TES3: Bloodmoon, where it originally appeared, this book was called “The Story of Aevar Stone-Singer”“Sit quietly, Child, and listen, for the story I tell you is a story of the ages.”“But what is it, Grandfather? Is it a story of heroes and beasts?”The Grandfather looked patiently at the Child. He was growing into a fine boy. Soon he would see the value in the stories, the lessons that were taught to each generation.“Just listen, Child. Let the story take root in your heart.”—In a time before now, long before now, when the Skaal were new, there was peace in the Land. The sun was hot and the crops grew long, and the people were happy in the peace that the All-Maker provided. But, the Skaal grew complacent and lazy, and they took for granted the Lands and all the gifts the All-Maker had given them. They forgot, or chose not to remember, that the Adversary is always watching, and that he delights in tormenting the All-Maker and his chosen people. And so it was that the Adversary came to be among the Skaal.The Adversary has many aspects. He appears in the unholy beasts and the incurable plague. At the End of Seasons, we will know him as Thartaag the World-Devourer. But in these ages he came to be known as the Greedy Man.The Greedy Man (that is what we call him, for to speak his name would certainly bring ruin on the people) lived among the Skaal for many months. Perhaps he was once just a man, but when the Adversary entered into him, he became the Greedy Man, and that is how he is remembered.It came to be one day that the powers of the Skaal left them. The strength left the arms of the warriors, and the shaman could no longer summon the beasts to their side. The elders thought that surely the All-Maker was displeased, and some suggested that the All-Maker had left them forever. It was then that the Greedy Man appeared to them and spoke.“You of the Skaal have grown fat and lazy. I have stolen the gifts of your All-Maker. I have stolen the Oceans, so you will forever know thirst. I have stolen the Lands and the Trees and the Sun, so your crops will wither and die. I have stolen the Beasts, so you will go hungry. And I have stolen the Winds, so you will live without the Spirit of the All-Maker.“And until one of you can reclaim these gifts, the Skaal will live in misery and despair. For I am the Greedy Man, and that is my nature.”And the Greedy Man disappeared.The members of the Skaal spoke for many days and nights. They knew that one of them must retrieve the Gifts of the All-Maker, but they could not decide who it should be.“I cannot go,” said the Elder, “for I us must stay to lead the Skaal, and tell our people what is the law.”“I cannot go,” said the Warrior, “for I must protect the Skaal. My sword will be needed in case the Greedy Man reappears.”“I cannot go,” said the Shaman, “for the people need my wisdom. I must read the portents and offer my knowledge.”It was then that a young man called Aevar lifted his voice. He was strong of arm, and fleet of foot, though he was not yet a warrior of the Skaal.“I will go,” said Aevar, and the Skaal laughed.“Hear me out,” the boy continued. “I am not yet a warrior, so my sword will not be needed. I cannot read the portents, so the people will not seek my counsel. And I am young, and not yet wise in the ways of the law. I will retrieve the Gifts of the All-Maker from the Greedy Man. If I cannot, I will not be missed.”The Skaal thought on this briefly, and decided to let Aevar go. He left the village the next morning to retrieve the Gifts.Aevar first set out to retrieve the Gift of Water, so he traveled to the Water Stone. It was there the All-Maker first spoke to him.“Travel west to the sea and follow the Swimmer to the Waters of Life.”So Aevar walked to the edge of the ocean, and there was the Swimmer, a Black Horker, sent from the All-Maker. The Swimmer dove into the waters and swam very far, and far again. Aevar was strong, though, and he swam hard. He followed the Swimmer to a cave, swimming deeper and deeper, his lungs burning and his limbs exhausted. At last, he found a pocket of air, and there, in the dark, he found the Waters of Life. Gathering his strength, he took the Waters and swam back to the shore.Upon returning to the Water Stone, the All-Maker spoke. “You have returned the Gift of Water to the Skaal. The Oceans again will bear fruit, and their thirst will be quenched.”Aevar then traveled to the Earth Stone, and there the All-Maker spoke to him again.“Enter the Cave of the Hidden Music, and hear the Song of the Earth.”So Aevar traveled north and east to the Cave of the Hidden Music. He found himself in a large cavern, where the rocks hung from the ceiling and grew from the ground itself. He listened there, and heard the Song of the Earth, but it was faint. Grabbing up his mace, he struck the rocks of the floor in time with the Song, and the Song grew louder, until it filled the cavern and his heart. Then he returned to the Earth Stone.“The Gift of the Earth is with the Skaal again,” said the All-Maker. “The Lands are rich again, and will bear life.”Aevar was tired, as the Sun burned him, the trees offered no shade, and there was no wind to cool him. Still, he traveled on to the Beast Rock, and the All-Maker spoke.“Find the Good Beast and ease his suffering.”Aevar traveled through the woods of the Isinfier for many hours until he heard the cries of a bear from over a hill. As he crested a hill, he saw the bear, a Falmer’s arrow piercing its neck. He checked the woods for the Falmer (for that is what they were, though some say they are not), and finding none, approached the beast. He spoke soothing words and came upon it slowly, saying, “Good Beast, I mean you no harm. The All-Maker has sent me to ease your suffering.”Hearing these words, the bear ceased his struggles, and laid his head at Aevar’s feet. Aevar grasped the arrow and pulled it from the bear’s neck. Using the little nature magic he knew, Aevar tended the wound, though it took the last bit of his strength. As the bear’s wound closed, Aevar slept.When he awoke, the bear stood over him, and the remains of a number of the Falmer were strewn about. He knew that the Good Beast had protected him during the night. He traveled back to Beast Rock, the bear by his side, and the All-Maker spoke to him again.“You have returned the Gift of the Beasts. Once again, the Good Beasts will feed the Skaal when they are hungry, clothe them when they are cold, and protect them in times of need.”Aevar’s strength had returned, so he traveled on to the Tree Stone, though the Good Beast did not follow him. When he arrived, the All-Father spoke to him.“The First Trees are gone, and must be replanted. Find the seed and plant the First Tree.”Aevar traveled again through the Hirstaang Forest, searching for the seeds of the First Tree, but he could find none. Then he spoke to the Tree Spirits, the living trees. They told him that the seeds had been stolen by one of the Falmer (for they are the servants of the Adversary), and this Falmer was hiding them deep in the forest, so that none would ever find them.Aevar traveled to the deepest part of the forest, and there he found the evil Falmer, surrounded by the Lesser Tree Spirits. Aevar could see that the Spirits were in his thrall, that he had used the magic of the Seeds and spoken their secret name. Aevar knew he could not stand against such a force, and that he must retrieve the seeds in secret.Aevar reached into his pouch and drew out his flint. Gathering leaves, he started a small fire outside the clearing where the Falmer and the ensorcelled Spirits milled. All the Skaal know the Spirits’ hatred of fires, for the fires ravage the trees they serve. At once, the Nature of the Spirits took hold, and they rushed to quell the flames. During the commotion, Aevar snuck behind the Falmer and snatched the pouch of Seeds, stealing away before the evil being knew they were gone.When Aevar returned to the Tree Stone, he planted the tree in the ground, and the All-Maker spoke to him.“The Gift of Trees is restored. Once again, the Trees and Plants will bloom and grow, and provide nourishment and shade.”Aevar was tired, for the Sun would only burn, and the Winds would not yet cool him, but he rested briefly in the shade of the Trees. His legs were weary and his eyes heavy, but he continued on, traveling to the Sun Stone. Again, the All-Maker spoke.“The gentle warmth of the Sun is stolen, so now it only burns. Free the Sun from the Halls of Penumbra.”And so Aevar walked west, over the frozen lands until he reached the Halls of Penumbra. The air inside was thick and heavy, and he could see no farther than the end of his arm. Still, he felt his way along the walls, though he heard the shuffling of feet and knew that this place held the Unholy Beasts who would tear his flesh and eat his bones. For hours he crept along, until he saw a faint glow far at the end of the hall.There, from behind a sheet of perfect ice, came a glow so bright he had to shut his eyes, lest they be forever blinded. He plucked the flaming eye from one of the Unholy Beasts and threw it at the ice with all his might. A small crack appeared in the ice, then grew larger. Slowly, the light crept out between the cracks, widening them, splitting the ice wall into pieces. With a deafening crack, the wall crumbled, and the light rushed over Aevar and through the Halls. He heard the shrieks of the Unholy Beasts as they were blinded and burned. He ran out of the Halls, following the light, and collapsed on the ground outside.When he was able to rise again, the Sun again warmed him, and he was glad for that. He traveled back to the Sun Stone, where the All-Maker spoke to him.“The Gift of the Sun is the Skaal’s once again. It will warm them and give them light.”Aevar had one final Gift he had to recover, the Gift of the Winds, so he traveled to the Wind Stone, far on the western coast of the island. When he arrived, the All-Maker spoke to him, giving him his final task.“Find the Greedy Man and release the Wind from its captivity.”So, Aevar wandered the land in search of the Greedy Man. He looked in the trees, but the Greedy Man did not hide there. Nor did he hide near the oceans, or the deep caves, and the beasts had not seen him in the dark forests. Finally, Aevar came to a crooked house, and he knew that here he would find the Greedy Man.“Who are you,” shouted the Greedy Man, “that you would come to my house?”“I am Aevar of the Skaal,” said Aevar. “I am not warrior, shaman, or elder. If I do not return, I will not be missed. But I have returned the Oceans and the Earth, the Trees, the Beasts, and the Sun, and I will return the Winds to my people, that we may feel the spirit of the All-Maker in our souls again.”And with that, he grabbed up the Greedy Man’s bag and tore it open. The Winds rushed out with gale force, sweeping the Greedy Man up and carrying him off, far from the island. Aevar breathed in the Winds and was glad. He walked back to the Wind Stone, where the All-Maker spoke to him a final time.“You have done well, Aevar. You, the least of the Skaal, have returned my gifts to them. The Greedy Man is gone for now, and should not trouble your people again in your lifetime. Your All-Maker is pleased. Go now, and live according to your Nature.”And Aevar started back to the Skaal village.—“And then what happened, Grandfather?”“What do you mean, Child? He went home.”“No. When he returned to the village,” the Child continued. “Was he made a warrior? Or taught the ways of the shaman? Did he lead the Skaal in battle?”“I do not know. That is where the story ends,” said the Grandfather.“But that is not an ending! That is not how stories end!”The old man laughed and got up from his chair.“Is it not?”

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An Overview of Gods and Worship

The olderDaggerfall versionof this book can be found here. It has some very slight differences from this edition.The TES5: Skyrim version of this book is titled “Gods and Worship” and in Elder Scrolls Online it is called “Gods and Worship in Tamriel”. The Elder Scrolls Online version is also missing the Editor’s Note.Editor’s Note:Brother Hetchfeld is an Associate Scribe at the Imperial University, Office of Introductory StudiesGods are commonly judged upon the evidence of their interest in worldly matters. A central belief in the active participation of Deities in mundane matters can be challenged by the reference to apparent apathy and indifference on the part of Gods during times of plague or famine.From intervention in legendary quests to manifestations in common daily life, no pattern for the Gods of Tamriel activities is readily perceived. The concerns of Gods in many ways may seem unrelated or at best unconcerned with the daily trials of the mortal realm. The exceptions do exist, however.Many historical records and legends point to the direct intervention of one or more gods at times of great need. Many heroic tales recount blessings of the divinity bestowed upon heroic figures who worked or quested for the good of a Deity or the Deity’s temple. Some of the more powerful artifacts in the known world were originally bestowed upon their owners through such reward. It has also been reported that priests of high ranking in their temples may on occasion call upon their Deity for blessings or help in time of need. The exact nature of such contact and the blessings bestowed is given to much speculation, as the temples hold such associations secret and holy. This direct contact gives weight to the belief that the Gods are aware of the mortal realm. In many circumstances, however, these same Gods will do nothing in the face of suffering and death, seeming to feel no need to interfere. It is thus possible to conclude that we, as mortals, may not be capable of understanding more than a small fraction of the reasoning and logic such beings use.One defining characteristic of all Gods and Goddesses is their interest in worship and deeds. Deeds in the form of holy quests are just one of the many things that bring the attention of a Deity. Deeds in everyday life, by conforming to the statutes and obligations of individual temples are commonly supposed to please a Deity. Performance of ceremony in a temple may also bring a Deity’s attention. Ceremonies vary according to the individual Deity. The results are not always apparent but sacrifice and offerings are usually required to have any hope of gaining a Deity’s attention.While direct intervention in daily temple life has been recorded, the exact nature of the presence of a God in daily mundane life is a subject of controversy. A traditional saying of the Wood Elves is that “One man’s miracle is another man’s accident.” While some gods are believed to take an active part of daily life, others are well known for their lack of interest in temporal affairs.It has been theorized that gods do in fact gain strength from such things as worship through praise, sacrifice and deed. It may even be theorized that the number of worshippers a given Deity has may reflect on His overall position among the other Gods. This my own conjecture, garnered from the apparent ability of the larger temples to attain blessings and assistance from their God with greater ease than smaller religious institutions.There are reports of the existence of spirits in our world that have the same capacity to use the actions and deeds of mortals to strengthen themselves as do the Gods. The understanding of the exact nature of such creatures would allow us to understand with more clarity the connection between a Deity and the Deity’s worshipers.The implication of the existence of such spirits leads to the speculation that these spirits may even be capable of raising themselves to the level of a God or Goddess. Motusuo of the Imperial Seminary has suggested that these spirits may be the remains of Gods and Goddesses who through time lost all or most of their following, reverting to their earliest most basic form. Practioners of the Old Ways say that there are no Gods, just greater and lesser spirits. Perhaps it is possible for all three theories to be true.

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Alduin is Real

Alduin is Real,and He Ent AkatoshBy Thromgar Iron-Head,prowd NordAs my da used to say – Imperials are idiutts!That is why I am riting this book. I ent never rote a book before, and I do not reckon to rite one agenn, but sometimes a man must do what a man must do. And what I must do is set the recerd strate about the god called Akatosh and the dragon called Alduin. They ent the same thing, no matter what them Imperials mite say, or how thay mite wish it to be so.My da was never one for the gods, but my ma was. She wershipped all the Divines, and tot me lots of things. So I noe a thing or two about Akatosh. Just as much as any Imperial. I noe he was the first of all the gods to take shape in the Beginning Place. And I noe he has the shape of a dragon. My da even told me the story of Martyn Septim, and the things what happened when the gates to Oblivion opened. Septim turned into the spirit of Akatosh and killed Mehrunes Dagon. Now I dont noe about you, but any dragon that fites the Prince of Destruction is okay by me.Now I hope you understand the problim. Akatosh is good. Everyone, from Nord to Imperial, noes that. But Alduin? He ent good! He’s the oposit of good! That Alduin is evil thrue and thrue. So you see, Akatosh and Alduin cant be one and the same.Growing up as a lad in Skyrim, I herd all the stories. Told to me by my da, who was told by his da, who was told by his da, and so on. And one of those stories was about Alduin. But see, he was not Akatosh. He was another dragon and a real wun at that. Akatosh is some kind of spirit dragon I think, wen he bothers to be a dragon at all (and not a god livin in sum kind of god plac like Obliviun). But Alduin is a real dragon, with flesh and teeth and a mean streak longer than the White River. And there was a time when Alduin tried to rool over all of Skyrim with his other dragons. In the end, it took sum mitey strong heroes to finally kill Alduin and be dun with his hole sorry story.So I got to ask – does that sound like Akatosh to you? No, frend. No it do not.And so I, Thromgar Iron-Head do firmly say, with the utmost connvicshun, that Alduin is real, and he ent Akatosh!

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Ancestors and the Dunmer

Elder Scrolls Online has adifferent versionof this book with some additional content.Ghosts Walk Among ThemThe departed spirits of the Dunmeri, and perhaps those of all races, persist after death. The knowledge and power of departed ancestors benefits the bloodlines of Dunmeri Houses. The bond between the living family members and immortal ancestors is partly blood, partly ritual, partly volitional. A member brought into the House through marriage binds himself through ritual and oath into the clan, and gains communication and benefits from the clan’s ancestors; however, his access to the ancestors is less than his offspring, and he retains some access to the ancestors of his own bloodline.The Family ShrineEach residence has a family shrine. In poorer homes, it may be no more than a hearth or alcove where family relics are displayed and venerated. In wealthy homes, a room is set aside for the use of the ancestors. This shrine is called the Waiting Door, and represents the door to Oblivion.Here the family members pay their respects to their ancestors through sacrifice and prayer, through oaths sworn upon duties, and through reports on the affairs of the family. In return, the family may receive information, training, and blessings from the family’s ancestors. The ancestors are thus the protectors of the home, and especially the precincts of the Waiting Door.The Ghost FenceIt is a family’s most solemn duty to make sure their ancestor’s remains are interred properly in a City of the Dead such as Necrom. Here the spirits draw comfort from one another against the chill of the mortal world. However, as a sign of great honor and sacrifice, an ancestor may grant that part of his remains be retained to serve as part of a ghost fence protecting the clan’s shrine and family precincts. Such an arrangement is often part of the family member’s will, that a knucklebone shall be saved out of his remains and incorporated with solemn magic and ceremony into a clan ghost fence. In more exceptional cases, an entire skeleton or even a preserved corpse may be bound into a ghost fence.These remains become a beacon and focus for ancestral spirits, and for the spirit of the remains in particular. The more remains used to make a ghost fence, the more powerful the fence is. And the most powerful mortals in life have the most powerful remains.The Great Ghost Fence created by the Tribunal to hold back the Blight incorporates the bones of many heroes of the Temple and of the Houses Indoril and Redoran who dedicated their spirits to the Temple and Clan as their surrogate families. The Ghost Fence also contains bones taken from the Catacombs of Necrom and the many battlefields of Morrowind.The Mortal ChillSpirits do not like to visit the mortal world, and they do so only out of duty and obligation. Spirits tell us that the otherworld is more pleasant, or at least more comfortable for spirits than our real world, which is cold, bitter, and full of pain and loss.Mad SpiritsSpirits that are forced to remain in our world against their will may become mad spirits, or ghosts.Some spirits are bound to this world because of some terrible circumstances of their death, or because of some powerful emotional bond to a person, place, or thing. These are called hauntings.Some spirits are captured and bound to enchanted items by wizards. If the binding is involuntary, the spirit usually goes mad. A willing spirit may or may not retain its sanity, depending on the strength of the spirit and the wisdom of the enchanter.Some spirits are bound against their wills to protect family shrines. This unpleasant fate is reserved for those who have not served the family faithfully in life. Dutiful and honorable ancestral spirits often aid in the capture and binding of wayward spirits.These spirits usually go mad, and make terrifying guardians. They are ritually prevented from harming mortals of their clans, but that does not necessary discourage them from mischievous or peevish behavior.OblivionThe existence of Oblivion is acknowledged by all Tamriel cultures, but there is little agreement on the nature of that otherworld, other than it is the place where the Aedra and Daedra live, and that communication and travel are possible between this world and Oblivion through magic and ritual.The Dunmer do not emphasize the distinction between this world and Oblivion as do the human cultures of Tamriel. They regard our world and the otherworld as a whole with many paths from one end to the other rather than two separate worlds of different natures with distinct borders. This philosophical viewpoint may account for the greater affinity of Elves for magic and its practices.Foreign Views of Dunmeri Ancestor Worship and Spirit MagicThe Altmeri and Bosmeri cultures also venerate their ancestors, but only by respecting the orderly and blissful passage of these spirits from this world to the next. That is, Wood Elves and High Elves believe it is cruel and unnatural to encourage the spirits of the dead to linger in our world. Even more grotesque and repugnant is the display of the bodily remains of ancestors in ghost fences and ash pits. The presentation of fingerbones in a family shrine, for example, is sacrilegious to the Bosmer (who eat their dead) and barbaric to the Altmer (who inter their dead).The human cultures of Tamriel are ignorant and fearful of Dark Elves and their culture, considering them to be inhuman and evil, like Orcs and Argonians, but more sophisticated. The human populations of Tamriel associate Dunmeri ancestor worship and spirit magic with necromancy; in fact, this association of the Dark Elves with necromancy is at least partly responsible for the dark reputation of Dunmer throughout Tamriel. This is generally an ignorant misconception, for necromancy outside the acceptable clan rituals is a most abhorrent abomination in the eyes of the Dunmer.The Dark Elves would never think of practicing sorcerous necromancy upon any Dark Elf or upon the remains of any Elf. However, Dark Elves consider the human and orcish races to be little more than animals. There is no injunction against necromancy upon such remains, or on the remains of any animal, bird, or insect.Imperial Policy officially recognizes the practices of Dunmeri ancestor veneration and spirit magic as a religion, and protects their freedom to pursue such practices so long as they do not threaten the security of the Empire. Privately, most Imperial officials and traders believe Dark Elf ancestor worship and displays of remains are barbaric or even necromantic.Telvanni “Necromancy”The Telvanni are adept masters of necromancy. They do not, however, practice necromancy upon the remains of Dark Elves. Sane Telvanni regard such practices with loathing and righteous anger. They do practice necromancy upon the remains of animals and upon the remains of Humans, Orcs, and Argonians — who are technically no more than animals in Morrowind.Publisher’s Note: This book was written by an unknown scholar as a guide for foreign visitors to Morrowind shortly after the Armistice was signed. Many of these practices have since fallen into disfavor. The most obvious changes are those regarding the practice of Necromancy and the Great Ghostfence. Dunmer today regard Necromancy upon any of the accepted races as an abomination. The Ghostfence has forced many changes in the practice of ancestor worship. With the vast majority of ancestors’ remains going to strengthen the Great Ghostfence around the mountain of Dagoth Ur, there are very few clan ghost fences in Morrowind. The Temple discourages such practices among the Houses as selfish. The upkeep of family tombs and private Waiting Doors has also fallen into disfavor, as very few remains have been buried in these tombs and shrines since the Armistice. In recent years most Dunmer venerate a small portion of their ancestor’s remains kept at a local temple.

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Annotated Anuad (A Children’s Anuad)

The first version of this text was given to fans before the release of TES3: Morrowind on The Essential Site (a TES fansite), and was titled “the Ayleid (Bosmeri) Creation Myth” at the time. You can read that versionhere. In TES4: Oblivion and TES5: Skyrim this book is instead called A Children’s Anuad, but the text is identical except for the capitalization of the various mer. In Elder Scrolls Online this book is namedThe Anuad Paraphrasedand has a few additional differences.The Anuad ParaphrasedThe first ones were brothers: Anu and Padomay. They came into the Void, and Time began.As Anu and Padomay wandered the Void, the interplay of Light and Darkness created Nir. Both Anu and Padomay were amazed and delighted with her appearance, but she loved Anu, and Padomay retreated from them in bitterness.Nir became pregnant, but before she gave birth, Padomay returned, professing his love for Nir. She told him that she loved only Anu, and Padomay beat her in rage. Anu returned, fought Padomay, and cast him outside Time. Nir gave birth to Creation, but died from her injuries soon after. Anu, grieving, hid himself in the sun and slept.Meanwhile, life sprang up on the twelve worlds of creation and flourished. After many ages, Padomay was able to return to Time. He saw Creation and hated it. He swung his sword, shattering the twelve worlds in their alignment. Anu awoke, and fought Padomay again. The long and furious battle ended with Anu the victor. He cast aside the body of his brother, who he believed was dead, and attempted to save Creation by forming the remnants of the 12 worlds into one — Nirn, the world of Tamriel. As he was doing so, Padomay struck him through the chest with one last blow. Anu grappled with his brother and pulled them both outside of Time forever.The blood of Padomay became the Daedra. The blood of Anu became the stars. The mingled blood of both became the Aedra (hence their capacity for good and evil, and their greater affinity for earthly affairs than the Daedra, who have no connection to Creation).On the world of Nirn, all was chaos. The only survivors of the twelve worlds of Creation were the Ehlnofey and the Hist. The Ehlnofey are the ancestors of Mer and Men. The Hist are the trees of Argonia. Nirn originally was all land, with interspersed seas, but no oceans.A large fragment of the Ehlnofey world landed on Nirn relatively intact, and the Ehlnofey living there were the ancestors of the Mer. These Ehlnofey fortified their borders from the chaos outside, hid their pocket of calm, and attempted to live on as before. Other Ehlnofey arrived on Nirn scattered amid the confused jumble of the shattered worlds, wandering and finding each other over the years. Eventually, the wandering Ehlnofey found the hidden land of Old Ehlnofey, and were amazed and joyful to find their kin living amid the splendor of ages past. The wandering Ehlnofey expected to be welcomed into the peaceful realm, but the Old Ehlnofey looked on them as degenerates, fallen from their former glory. For whatever reason, war broke out, and raged across the whole of Nirn. The Old Ehlnofey retained their ancient power and knowledge, but the Wanderers were more numerous, and toughened by their long struggle to survive on Nirn. This war reshaped the face of Nirn, sinking much of the land beneath new oceans, and leaving the lands as we know them (Tamriel, Akavir, Atmora, and Yokuda). The Old Ehlnofey realm, although ruined, became Tamriel. The remnants of the Wanderers were left divided on the other 3 continents.Over many years, the Ehlnofey of Tamriel became the Mer (Elves):The Dwemer (the Deep Ones, sometimes called Dwarves)The Chimer (the Changed Ones, who later became the Dunmer)The Dunmer (the Dark or Cursed Ones, the Dark Elves)The Bosmer (the Green or Forest Ones, the Wood Elves)The Altmer (The Elder or High Ones, the High Elves).On the other continents, the Wandering Ehlnofey became the Men: the Nords of Atmora, the Redguards of Yokuda, and the Tsaesci of Akavir.The Hist were bystanders in the Ehlnofey war, but most of their realm was destroyed as the war passed over it. A small corner of it survived to become Black Marsh in Tamriel, but most of their realm was sunk beneath the sea.Eventually, Men returned to Tamriel. The Nords were the first, colonizing the northern coast of Tamriel before recorded history, led by the legendary Ysgramor. The thirteenth of his line, King Harald, was the first to appear in written history. And so the Mythic Era ended.

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Arkay The Enemy

This book was added to TES5: Skyrim by the Staff of Hasedoki addon from the Creation Club. The Elder Scrolls Online version of the book replaces the sentence that reads “He was also a man who entered the ranks of the gods” with “Once he was also just a man,” and also features a couple minor grammar differences.Hear me, children. Once I was a lowly man such as yourselves. By my will I entered the ranks of the gods. By your unquestioning devotion, you can share my glory.Most Necromancers are fools and weaklings. Fodder for the witchhunters. But you, my servants, you are among the chosen. In the days to come, few will dare to stand against your might. But one obstacle remains. His name is Arkay.He was also a man who entered the ranks of the gods. The similarities between his mortal life and my own astonish even me. It is only proper that we should be enemies.Arkay’s Blessing prevents the souls of men, beastmen, and elves from being used without consent. Arkay’s Law prevents those buried with the proper rituals from being raised to serve my children’s will. As you know, my children, Arkay’s Blessing is flexible to those with daring, but Arkay’s Law is unwavering.To the Scholars: Humiliate the priests of Arkay. Reveal the primitive burial customs to be mere superstition. Befriend kings with honeyed words and bind them to your will. Look to my children in Cyrodiil for guidance.To the Priests: Use your servants sparingly, let none be seen by the living. Let the memories of the undead waste away from the people. Send missionaries to the unbound dead, to the Vampires and the Liches. Let all the nations of dead carry my banner and my banner alone.To the Hidden: Wait, as always, in the darkness.For soon we shall strike. The Temples of Arkay will be torn stone from stone. The blood of his priests will sate our thirst; their bones will rise as our servants. The name Arkay will be stuck from the records. Only I shall hold sway over life and death. Only one name shall be whispered in fear. The name of your lord and master.KW

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Black Books

An excerpt of each book is all that is available. When read, these books transport the player between Skyrim and Hermaeus Mora’s ApocryphaBlack Book: Epistolary AcumenEpistolary Acumen by the Transparent OneBring you forth the lovestruck mute who preys with vigor on his love, and set the sky alight with all who dare to struggle ‘gainst our move. For we are they who own the night and all who dwell without us fall; we drink the mind-grapes formed of thought and wail a tumult on the wall. To sweepBlack Book: Filament and FiligreeFilament and Filigreeby JelketherisI stared at my reflection in the metal, wondering if my face had hardened to match my inner mood. I had been working the piece for days, and the forge’s swelter was taking its toll. I always came to the metal shop when the dark swam over me, and today was no exception. In the midst ofBlack Book: The Hidden TwilightThe Hidden TwilightbyCarillius MelfusThe City of Inkseeds rose from the desert, shining and decadent. Somehow, it still stood. I crossed through the gate, and the beast knew exactly where to take me: the way worn by beggars and poets. The only place a man of my appetites can find satisfaction. I’m not proud, but then, nobody ever is.Black Book: The Sallow RegentThe Sallow Regentby Hawfip the CrafterAct I, Scene i(Enter Filemina, with broken sceptre)Filemina–Woe betide my fate-wrecked heartWhich gives no tender shine to heWho gave his favors up to godsAnd brought his blood-struck mind to me.Black Book: The Winds of ChangeThe Winds of ChangebyLiesl Grey-HeartDuring the reign of Elgryr I took notice the various patterns of in the thoughts and behaviors of a troubled populace, and undertook a humble plan to comprehend and, in the end, affect them. Being of ordered mind, I began my taxonomy in the lower classes, which divide evenly into those whoBlack Book: Untold LegendsUntold LegendsThe Other Lives of YsgramorAs the great ships of men crawled the waves to their destinies, there were, after long years, a number of tales lost in the mists of morning. Even after the forgetting, though, wisps of story find ways to receptive ears as even the deepest of secrets never truly dies. When fires burn and the night grows soft inBlack Book: Waking DreamsWaking Dreams of A Starless Skyby Bilius FelcrexThe eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see the faint insight drawn by the overwhelming question, as only the True Enquiry shapes the edge of thought. The rest is vulgar fiction, attempts to impose order on the consensus mantlings of an uncaring godhead. First,

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Heretical Thoughts

This book was added to Skyrim as part of the Saints and Seducers addon for the Creation Club.Zealotry is an abomination that must be wiped from the Shivering Isles. We cannot suffer their beliefs to spread to even one more soul. They name us Heretics for our lack of belief. We gladly accept the name, and will make a honorable one.It is not heresy to speak truth. It is not heresy to speak out against an unjust lord. It is not heresy to take arms and action in defense of true belief. We are the so-called Heretics of the Shivering Isles, but we do not speak heresy. We speak the truth.Our Lord, Sheogorath, is but a man. He is only flesh and blood, not a god, and certainly not a Daedric Prince. There are no princes in the realms of the Daedra, only vile servitors such as the Hungers that we summon to do our bidding.Sheogorath the False is a mad despot. Years of dabbling in foul magic and consorting with Daedra have driven him mad. He is not a fit ruler, let alone divine. He perverts the teachings of Arden-Sul, He Who Gave His Heart’s Blood.When the truth of our cause is common knowledge among the people, we will drive him from New Sheoth and put that cesspool to the sword. His four limbs will be scattered to the four winds. His head will rest upon the Hill of Suicides and his heart shall be burnt in the flames of freedom. His entrails shall be fed to the dogs.We will make all the people of the Shivering Isles wear the robes of the Heretics. By these robes we know each other to be true non-believers. The people shall return to the wilderness and live among the wild things, as we do. They will see the wisdom and purity of the life we lead and they will hail us as saviors.

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Invocation of Azura

TheDaggerfall versionof this book has an extra paragraph and various smaller wording differences.For three hundred years I have been a priestess of Azura, the Daedric Princess of Moonshadow, Mother of the Rose, and Queen of the Night Sky. Every Hogithum, which we celebrate on the 21st of First Seed, we summon her for guidance, as well as to offer things of worth and beauty to Her Majesty. She is a cruel but wise mistress. We do not invoke her on any Hogithum troubled by thunderstorms, for those nights belong to the Mad One, Sheogorath, even if they do coincide with the occasion. Azura at such times understands our caution.Azura’s invocation is a very personal one. I have been priestess to three other Daedric Princes, but Azura values the quality of her worshippers, and the truth behind our adoration of her. When I was a Dark Elven maid of sixteen, I joined my grandmother’s coven, worshippers of Molag Bal, the Schemer Princess. Blackmail, extortion, and bribery are as much the weapons of the Witches of Molag Bal as is dark magic. The Invocation of Molag Bal is held on the 20th of Evening Star, except during stormy weather. This ceremony is seldom missed, but Molag Bal often appears to her cultists in mortal guise on other dates. When my grandmother died in an attempt to poison the heir of Firewatch, I re-examined my faith in the cult.My brother was a wizard of the cult of Boethiah-and from what he told me, the Dark Warrior was closer to my spirit than the treacherous Molag Bal. Boethiah is a Warrior Princess who acts more overtly than any other Daedroth. After years of skulking and scheming, it felt good to perform acts for a mistress which had direct, immediate consequences. Besides, I liked it that Boethiah was a Daedra of the Dark Elves. Our cult would summon her on the day we called the Gauntlet, the 2nd of Sun’s Dusk. Bloody competitions would be held in her honor, and the duels and battles would continue until nine cultists were killed at the hands of other cultists. Boethiah cared little for her cultists-she only cared for our blood. I do think I saw her smile when I accidentally slew my brother in a sparring session. My horror, I think, greatly pleased her.I left the cult soon after that. Boethiah was too impersonal for me, too cold. I wanted a mistress of greater depth. For the next eighteen years of my life, I worshipped no one. Instead I read and researched. It was in an old and profane tome that I came upon the name of Nocturnal-Nocturnal the Night Mistress, Nocturnal the Unfathomable. As the book prescribed, I called to her on her holy day, the 3rd of Hearth Fire. At last I had found the personal mistress I had so long desired. I strove to understand her labyrinthine philosophy, the source of her mysterious pain. Everything about her was dark and shrouded, even the way she spoke and the acts she required of me. It took years for me to understand the simple fact that I could never understand Nocturnal. Her mystery was as essential to her as savagery was to Boethiah or treachery was to Molag Bal. To understand Nocturnal is to negate her, to pull back the curtains cloaking her realm of darkness. As much as I loved her, I recognized the futility of unraveling her enigmas. I turned instead to her sister, Azura.Azura is the only Daedra Princess I have ever worshipped who seems to care about her followers. Molag Bal wanted my mind, Boethiah wanted my arms, and Nocturnal perhaps my curiosity. Azura wants all of that, and our love above all. Not our abject slavering, but our honest and genuine caring in all its forms. It is important to her that our emotions be engaged in her worship. And our love must also be directed inward. If we love her and hate ourselves, she feels our pain. I will, for all time, have no other mistress.

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Legend of Red Eagle

by Tredayn Dren, Archivist of WinterholdThis tale was transcribed from the memory of Clarisse Vien, student of Winterhold. Elements of the legend suggest a date c.1E 1030, though as with any oral tradition, much of it is likely a later anachronism. Curiously, stories of a similar king and his legendary blade appear in other ancient myths of the Reach.Long ago, a child was born in the Sundered Hills. They named him Faolan, which means ‘Red Eagle’ in the tongue of the Reach, for the screeching bird-call that greeted his birth, and the crimson blooms on the autumn hills.Thus began his legend: Reach-child, born under auspicious skies, his very name the color of blood.Ten kings ruled the Reach in those days, and though men were free, the people were scattered and warred amongst themselves. The augurs foresaw the boy’s destiny: a warrior without peer, first and foremost Lord of the Reach, chosen to unite all under his name.Faolan grew in years and strength, and it seemed the prophecy would be fulfilled. The banner of the Red Eagle was raised along the cliffs of the Reach, and his people prospered.Then came Hestra, Empress of the South, riding to war. One by one, the kings stood before her. One by one, they fell aside, bending knee in Imperial bargains or slaughtered on the battlefield.Her legions came at last to the Sundered Hills, and envoys were sent to bargain for their surrender. Faolan refused to yield the freedom of his people, but the elders were afraid, cast him out, and accepted the Imperial yoke.Thus was stolen by the foreign invaders: his land, his people, his very name. In the years that followed, Red Eagle became known as the untamed spirit of the Reach, unbowed, unbroken, stained by the blood of his foes.He gathered loyal Reachmen to himself, those who clung to the old ways, who yearned for freedom, and forged a new nation. Together, they fell upon the occupiers and the traitors by night, disappearing into the cliffs and caves each morn, evading capture. It was not enough. For every Imperial patrol and garrison they wiped out, yet more seemed to march from the green south to replace them.One night, under a cloud-choked sky, the men of the Red Eagle warmed themselves over damp fires of smoldering moss. A huddled, shambling figure came to them, cloaked in rags, face cowled. Though his men mocked and cast stones at the stranger, Faolan sensed something, and beckoned. The cowl was thrown back in the dim light, and she revealed herself to be one the ancient and venerable Hagravens. She offered power, for a price, and a pact was made.Thus was brokered to the witch: his heart, his will, his humanity. From that day forth, his was a spirit of vengeance, pitiless and beyond remorse. The rebels grew in strength and numbers, and none could stand against them. Faolan’s eyes burned coldly in those days, black opals reflecting a mind not entirely his own. Two years passed, and the foreigners were all but driven from the Reach.Such peace could not last, however, and a great host fell upon them, a swift army of invaders unlike any before. For a fortnight, Hestra’s generals laid siege to Red Eagle’s stronghold, till he himself came forth for battle, alone and robed in nothing but his righteous fury. A thousand foreigners fell before his flaming sword, and the enemy was routed. Yet, when night fell, so too did he. The warriors who came to him said Faolan’s eyes were clear again on that final night.He was taken to the place prepared for him, a tomb hidden deep within the rock. With his remaining strength he presented his sword to his people, and swore an oath: Fight on, and when at last the Reach is free, his blade should be returned, that he might rise and lead them again.Thus was given for his people: his life, his dream, his sword. But when every debt is repaid in blood, these he shall reclaim once more.

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Lives of the Saints

If you would be wise, model your lives on the lives of the saints.If you would learn valor, follow St. Nerevar the Captain, patron of Warriors and Statesmen. Lord Nerevar helped to unite the barbarian Dunmer tribes into a great nation, culminating in his martyrdom when leading the Dunmer to victory against the evil Dwemer and the traitorous House Dagoth in the Battle of Red Mountain.If you would learn daring, follow Saint Veloth the Pilgrim, Patron of Outcasts and Spiritual Seekers. Saint Veloth, prophet and mystic, led the Dunmer out of the decadent home country of the Summerset Isles and into the promised land of Morrowind. Saint Veloth also taught the difference between the Good and Bad Daedra, and won the aid of the Good Daedra for his people while teaching how to carefully negotiate with the Bad Daedra.If you would learn generosity, follow Saint Rilms the Barefooted, Patron of Pilgrims and Beggars. Saint Rilms gave away her shoes, then dressed and appeared as a beggar to better acquaint herself with the poor.If you would learn self-respect and respect for others, follow Saint Aralor the Penitent, Patron of Tanners and Miners. This foul criminal repented his sins and traveled a circuit of the great pilgrimages on his knees.If you would learn mercy and its fruits, follow Saint Seryn the Merciful, Patron of Brewers, Bakers, Distillers. This pure virgin of modest aspect could heal all diseases at the price of taking the disease upon herself. Tough-minded and fearless, she took on the burdens of others, and bore those burdens to an honored old age.If you would learn fierce justice, follow Saint Felms the Bold, Patron of Butchers and Fishmongers. This brave warlord slew the Nord invaders and drove them from our lands. He could neither read nor write, receiving inspiration directly from the lips of Almsivi.If you would learn pride of race and tribe, follow Saint Roris the Martyr, Patron of Furnishers and Caravaners. Captured by Argonians just before the Arnesian War, Roris proudly refused to renounce the Tribunal faith, and withstood the cruel tortures of Argonian sorcerers. Vengeance and justice for the martyred Saint Roris was the rallying cry of the Arnesian War.If you would learn the rule of law and justice, follow Saint Olms the Just, Patron of Chandlers and Clerks. Founder of the Ordinators, Saint Olms conceived and articulated the fundamental principles of testing, ordeal, and repentance.If you would learn benevolence, follow Saint Delyn the Wise, Patron of Potters and Glassmakers. Saint Delyn was head of House Indoril, a skilled lawyer, and author of many learned treatises on Tribunal law and custom.If you would learn the love of peace, follow Saint Meris the Peacemaker, Patron of Farmers and Laborers. As a little girl, Saint Meris showed healing gifts, and trained as a Healer. She ended a long and bloody House War, intervening on the battlefield in her white robe to heal warriors and spellcrafters without regard to faction. The troops of all House adopted white robes as her standard, and refused to shed the blood of their brethren.If you would learn reverence, follow Saint Llothis the Pious, Patron of Tailors and Dyers. Contemporary and companion of the Tribunals, and the best-loved Alma Rula of the Tribunal Temple, he formulated the central rituals and principles of the New Temple Faith. Saint Llothis is the symbolic mortal bridge between the gods and the faithful, and the archetypal priest.

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Lost Legends of Skyrim

By Talsgar the Elder, Archivist of WinterholdThe history of Skyrim is vast, predating even the most ancient records of man and mer. Much has been lost, fallen to the ravages of war or the turning of the ages. But nothing is ever truly forgotten. Where no records exist, legends and folk tales offer us a key to the past, a way to piece together truths half-remembered in the minds of men.For generations, the people of Morthal have told whispered tales of the Pale Lady, a ghostly woman who wanders the northern marshes, forever seeking her lost daughter. Some say she steals children who wander astray, others that her sobbing wail strikes dead all those who hear it. But behind these tales may lie a kernel of truth, for ancient records speak of ‘Aumriel’, a mysterious figure Ysgramor’s heirs battled for decades, and finally sealed away.Reachmen tell the story of Faolan ‘Red-Eagle’, an ancient king who rallied his people and drove back the armies of Cyrodiil with a flaming sword. Though accounts vary, they too seem to be based on an underlying truth: the imperial chronicles of Empress Hestra mention a rebel leader of that era who was eventually cornered and slain in battle, at the cost of a full legion of men.But some tales prove far harder to analyze. Among scholars, perhaps the best known is the ‘Forbidden Legend’ of the Archmage Gauldur.In the dawning days of the First Era, the story goes, there lived a powerful wizard by the name of Gauldur. Wise and just, he was well-known in the courts of King Harald and the jarls of Skyrim, and his aid and counsel were sought by man and mer alike.And then he was murdered. Some say one of his sons killed him, others that King Harald, jealous of his power, gave the order. But Gauldur’s three sons fled into the night, pursued by a company of Harald’s best warriors and the Lord Geirmund, the king’s personal battlemage.A great chase ensued, from the wilds of the Reach to the glacial north. One brother is said to have perished in the ruins of Folgunthur, at the foot of Solitude. The others were run to ground soon thereafter. And once it was done, King Harald ordered every record of their murders destroyed, and Gauldur’s name and deeds were struck from the rolls of history.Even today, few sources remain, and no bard will tell the tale. But perhaps the truth yet remains in some ancient ruin, waiting to be unearthed. For nothing is ever truly forgotten.

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Minorne

Glory be to Minorne! Glory be to the mistress of all! My life for you, oh beautiful savior! Where once my feeble ramblings seemed so grand, I now realize they are but scratches on parchment, unworthy of you. Oh, that I could properly describe you, I would write a thousand testaments to you! Damn my tiny thoughts, if only I were wiser!Minorne asks that we bring more here for her, more to worship her and do her bidding! I have sent word to the Hall of the Vigilants to come. A simple lie was told, for they would not understand. Not until they saw her, o glorious Minorne!But she is fearful! There are fools in this world that do not heed to her beautiful voice. The guard, Florentius, sent from the Beacon, he still prays to Arkay, an absentee god who pales in comparison to Minorne! I will pray to the goddess I can see! May he rot in his cage!Oh, sweet, sweet, Minorne…

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Myths of Sheogorath

In Elder Scrolls Online this book is split into two volumes, and the story order is changed.Sheogorath Invents MusicIn the earliest of days, in a time when the world was still raw, Sheogorath decided to walk amongst the mortals. He donned his guise of Gentleman With a Cane, and moved from place to place without being recognized. After eleven days and eleven nights, Sheogorath decided that life among mortals was even more boring than his otherworldly existence.“What can I do to make their lives more interesting?” he said to himself. At that same moment, a young woman nearby commented wistfully to herself, “The sounds of the birds are so beautiful.”Sheogorath silently agreed with her. Mortals could not make the beautiful and inspired calls of birds. Their voices were wretched and mundane. He could not change the nature of mortals, for that was the purview of other Daedric Princes. However, he could give them tools to make beautiful sounds.Sheogorath took hold of the petulant woman and ripped her asunder. From her tendons he made lutes. From her skull and arm bones he made a drum. From her bones he made flutes. He presented these gifts to the mortals, and thus Music was born.Sheogorath and King LyandirKing Lyandir was known to be an exceedingly rational man. He lived in a palace that was a small, simple structure, unadorned with art and ugly to look upon. “I do not need more than this,” he would say. “Why spend my gold on such luxuries when I can spend it on my armies or on great public works?”His kingdom prospered under his sensible rule. However, the people did not always share the king’s sense of practicality. They would build houses that were beautiful to look upon, although not necessarily very practical. They devoted time and energy to works of art. They would celebrate events with lavish festivals. In general, they were quite happy.King Lyandir was disappointed that more of them did not follow his example and lead frugal, sensible lives. He brooded on this for many years. Finally, he decided that his subjects simply didn’t understand how much more they could accomplish if they didn’t waste time on those frivolous activities. Perhaps, he reasoned, they just needed more examples.The king decreed that all new buildings must be simple, unadorned, and no larger than was necessary for their function. The people were not happy about this, but they liked their king and respected the new law. In a few short years, there were more plain buildings than ornate ones. The citizens used the money saved to make and buy even more lavish art and hold even more excessive celebrations.Once again, King Lyandir decided to provide them a strict example of how beneficial it would be to use their time and resources for more practical purposes. He banned all works of art in the city. The people were quite put out by this, but they knew that their king was doing what he thought was best for them. However, human nature is not so easily denied. In a few more years the city was filled with plain, simple buildings, and devoid of any sort of art. However, the people now had even more money and time to devote to their parties and festivals.With a heavy heart, King Lyandir decided that his people were to be treated like children. And like all children, they needed rules and discipline laid down by great figures of authority to make them understand what was truly important in life. He decreed that there should be no revelry in the city. Singing, dancing, and music were all banned. Even food and drink were limited to water and simple foodstuffs.The people had had enough. Revolt was out of the question, since King Lyandir had a very well trained and equipped army. They visited the shrines and temples in droves, praying to all the gods, and even to some of the Daedric Princes, that King Lyandir would revoke these new, oppressive laws.Sheogorath heard their pleas and decided to visit King Lyandir. He appeared to the king in his dreams as a field of flowers, each with arms instead of petals and the face of the Madgod in the center. “I am Lord of the Creative and Lord of the Deranged. Since you have no use for my gifts of creativity, I have decided to bless you with an abundance of my other gift.”From that day forward, every child born in the city was born into madness. Since infants do not reveal illnesses of the mind, it was several years before this was realized. The king’s own son was among the victims, suffering from seizures and delusions. Yet, King Lyandir refused to change his ways.When his son, Glint, was 12 years old, he stabbed his father while Lyandir was sleeping. With his dying breath, King Lyandir asked, “Why?” His son replied, “It is the most practical thing I could do.”The new, young king ordered all the palace servants slaughtered. He ordered a grand festival to celebrate his new reign and the repeal of Lyandir’s laws. He served the crowds a stew made from the carcasses of the palace servants. He ordered the east facing walls of every building painted red, and the west facing walls painted in stripes. He decreed that all citizens wear ornate masks on the backs of their heads. He then burned down the palace and began construction of a new one.In the new palace, the young king ordered his personal chambers to not have any doors; for fear that small woodland creatures would attack him. He ordered that it have no windows for fear that the sun and moon were jealous of him and plotting his death.And thus ended the line of King Lyandir. The people of the city returned to their grand works of art and raucous celebrations. They talked and acted as if they still had a living king, and even kept up the palace, using it to house and care for their mad children. Sheogorath was mightily pleased with this outcome. From that day forward the city was blessed with more than the normal number of gifted artists and deranged citizens.The Contest of WillsA mighty wizard named Ravate once walked the Winds of Time to find Lord Sheogorath. His intent was to win a favor from this most capricious of the Daedric Princes. Upon finding Sheogorath, Ravate spoke humbly to him, “Lord Sheogorath, I beg a favor of you. I would gladly drive a thousand men mad in your name if you would but grant me the greater magical powers.”Fortunately for Ravate, Sheogorath was in a playful mood. He proposed a game, “I will grant your wish, if you are still sane in three days. During that time, I will do my utmost to drive you mad. It shall be great fun.”Ravate was not so certain that he liked this new deal. He had been really looking forward to driving a thousand men mad. “Lord Sheogorath, I regret having disturbed you with my shallow, selfish request. I withdraw my unfortunate plea and will humbly leave this place.”Sheogorath just laughed, “Too late, mighty Ravate. The game is afoot, and you must play.” Ravate fled, only to find that all exits from the Daedric realm were now sealed. He wandered aimlessly, constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at every noise. Each moment brought new terror as he waited for Sheogorath to begin.After three days, Ravate was convinced that every plant and animal was a tool of Sheogorath. He hadn’t eaten or drunk for fear that Sheogorath had poisoned the food or drink. He hadn’t slept for fear of Sheogorath invading his dreams. (Which was foolish, as dreams are the domain of Vaermina, may She grant us Restful Sleep.)It was then that Sheogorath appeared to him. Ravate cried out, “You have set the whole world to watching me! Every creature and plant are doing your bidding to drive me mad.”Sheogorath replied, “Actually, I have done nothing. You have driven yourself mad with your fears. Your delusions prove that you are truly deranged, and therefore I win. While you wanted to make a thousand men mad, I only wanted to break one man’s mind, yours.”From that day forward Ravate served Sheogorath’s every whim. Whenever daring travelers try to approach Sheogorath, Ravate warns them, “Sheogorath is already inside each of us. You have already lost.”

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Oghma Infinium

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Red Eagle’s Right

Having bathed the blade in human blood, present it at Rebel’s Cairn together with your sacrifice and intone:Lord Red Eagle, ancient one, first and foremost among Reachmen, heed the call of your people! Still we fight for freedom! Still our blades are dark with blood! Turn your gaze upon us, and grant us your blessing anew!I renew the ancient covenant: When at last our lands are free, we shall return, your sword of victory in hand. Then arise, O great one, from your honored tomb! Reclaim thy stolen throne! Rule over us, High Lord of the Reach, forevermore!

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Songs of the Return

TES5: Skyrim includes volumes 2, 7, 19, 24, and 56. Elder Scrolls Online includes volumes 5, 27, and 49.Songs of the Return, Volume 2, The First Tale of the DarumzuThis volume is found only in TES5: SkyrimOur great lord Ysgramor, the harbinger of us all, did then sent forth his two beloved sons (with him the only other survivors of the brutalities of Saarthal) to seek out the bravest warriors of the land and mount the great return.Yngol and Ylgar, they were called, and they were known among Atmora as fine warriors with bright eyes and dawning futures. Yngol, the elder, was the brave strategist, bringing his learnings to bear on the battlefield that his enemies would be defeated before they even know the battle had begun. Ylgar, the younger, was possessed of an unwavering spirit that drove his singular prowess to overwhelming feats in war. Together, the mind and the arm, they were capable of sowing a destruction most thorough and glorious to any foe who stood before them.Before they parted ways to gather their crews, the two clasped arms and necks in the old fashion and laughed at the heavens for their stories to come.Young Ylgar then took to the massive shipyards of Jyljyrfyk at the southern point and commissioned two ships for himself and his brother. He would command the Darmuzu, and his brother the Harakk, thus carrying the names of the two favored stars of their heavens. The shipmakers spirits had been suitably filled by Ysgramor’s tales of the savage elves, and they set about to birth ships that befit their noble homeland.Arrangements having been made, Ylgar set forth to the academies of honored soldiers, seeking out his most trusted friends and advisors to join him on the venture of the Return. By now the stories of the new land to the south were spreading before him, and the emergence of his presence was enough to cause the finest warriors to lay down their present undertakings and follow him.So was he able to call to his side the great Shield-Sisters, Froa and Grosta (who thought and spoke as one), and they brought with their the wise war-teacher Adrimk, who first taught them to dance among the blades. She, in turn, mustered all the students at her command, whose names were not yet made, but some of whom would one day be know: Hermseskr (Who Threw his Shields), Urlach (Who Breathed Fire), Ramth the Greater, Merkyllian Ramth, and the Far-Sighted Uche, who would see the first of many dawns.On the Day of Final Passage, when the many-oarded fleets would last see the distant green summers of Atmora, the brothers were near in their father’s wake as the freshly joined Five Hundred would eagerly press onwards towards Tamriel. Ylgar could see his well-minded brother smiling from afar across the waves, and they shouted war-cries to each other, longing for the soon-day when their assembled crews would draw the treacherous elf blood itno the ground which they would now claim for their own rights.But Kyne’s ministrations are not to be taken lightly, and though her blessings gave wind to drive those brave sailors to their destiny, so too did her mmighty tears fall, to drive them apart. When the Storm of Separation first arose, young Ylgar had no fear, for his crew was strong and able, and their ship drove true through the forest of swells as though pulled by the rope of fate.When the skies cleared, and Ylgar glimpsed again, with new eyes, the land of his past and future home, he knew his brothers vessel was not within his horizon. The Darumzu, arriving late, drew forth onto the sands and Ylgar rushed to his father to seek word of his brother. The Grear Ysgramor, harbinger of us all, wept for his lost son, and sought comfort in the arms of his only remaining joy. The crew of the Harakk became the first deaths among the Five Hundred, and Ylfar was so enraged with love for his brother that his crew would soon be counted as the first among the many noble and honored names in the Companions.Songs of the Return, Volume 5This volume is found only in Elder Scrolls Online.It came to pass that our great lord Ysgramor, the Harbinger of us all, sat before an encampment fire. The crews of the Jorrvaskr, the Fallowfire, and the Kaal Kaaz bade him eat, and boast, and drink. For the boon members of the Five Hundred Companions were abroad in the land. Stories were told, hearts won and lost, and always the smell of roasting meat hung in the air. The greatest of us all beckoned every warrior to his side, and spoke the tale of Wuuthrad’s forging.Every Mer the Harbinger slew died at Wuuthrad’s bite. All through the long campaign, the only weapon that would fit in the Harbinger’s hand was the mighty Wuuthrad. As he told it, the most legendary of axes was forged in the darkest of nights.It was the Night of Tears. Ysgramor sat staring out across the waters. He rode upon the last ship in his fleet, fleeing Tamriel for the shores of Atmora. From that vantage point, he watched as Saarthal—the first city—burned. A swollen sky poured rain upon the flames and upon the sea. And the greatest of us all wept bitter tears.So great was the grief of the Harbinger that, instead of salty sorrow, Ysgramor wept tears of purest ebony. His eldest, Yngol, collected the tears in a stein and held his father in a warm embrace. He poured mead down the Harbinger’s great throat, wrapped furs around the Harbinger’s great shoulders, and slung the Harbinger into a great hammock below decks.Then he set to work. For Yngol, eldest son to the Harbinger of us all, was the greatest smith our people have ever known. There, on the sea, Yngol set to work with his tools. He used lightning to heat the Night’s Tears, the ocean’s swell to cool them, and always his hammer-blows rang in concert with the rising wind.When Ysgramor awoke the next morning, Yngol presented him with a mighty axe, hewn from the sorrow that had laid him low just the night before. And the Harbinger of us all embraced his son. He cried out in joy, sadness, and rage. And there on the deck of the last ship from Saarthal, Ysgramor named his axe Wuuthrad, which means “Storm’s Tears” in the language of Atmora.It was then, in telling the tale, that Ysgramor paused. The Harbinger of us all called out to lost Yngol, who had been with the crew of the Harakk in the Storm of Seperation. For his son, his eldest and greatest joy, was with him always. He who had bound the storm’s tears, he said, rode with him always in the days of the noble and honored Five Hundred.Songs of the Return, Volume 7, The Tale of the JorrvaskrThis volume is found only in TES5: SkyrimWhen at last the rightful claim of Saarthal had been retaken, driving the murderous elves back to their lofty cities, did great Ysgramor turn and let loose the fearsome war cry that echoed across all the oceans. The Five Hundred who yet stood joined in the ovation for the victory and the lament for their fallen peers. It was said to be heard on the distant and chilling green shores of Atmora, and the ancestors knew their time had come to cross the seas.As the reverberations echoed out and drowned to silence, all looked to Ysgramor, who bore the blessed Wuuthrad, for his next commandment. With his lungs that bellowed forth the fury of humanity, he bade them to continue their march, that the devious Mer might know the terror they had brought on themselves with their trickery.“Go forth,” he roared. “Into the belly of this new land. Drive the wretched from their palaces of idleness. Oblige them to squalor and toil, that they would see their betrayals as the all-sin against our kind. Give no quarter. Show no kindness. For they would not give nor show you the same.” (Our great forebear gave this order as he did not yet understand the prophecy of the Twin Snakes, that he would be fated to die before seeing the true destiny of his line.)Hearing this, the Circle of Captains gathered each their crews unto themselves. From here, they decreed, we will go forth. Let each ship’s band make its own way, seeking their fates to the open sun. A night spent in feasting, the Oath of the Companions was sworn anew, with each of the Five Hundred (so they still named their count, in honor of the shields that were broken at Saarthal) swearing to act as Shield-Brother and Shield-Sister to any of the Atmoran line were their fates to ever again entwine.As the red hands of dawn stretched from the east, so broke the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, setting about their journeys, sailing now across the land with waves of stone and crests of trees flowing under their footed hulls.The first to break from the grounded fleet was the crew of the Jorrvaskr, who had been formed of Ysgramor’s closest friends. Their captain was known as Jeek of the River, so called by the Harbinger himself from their youths passed in glory. When assembling their glistening hull, he sought out the labors of Menro and Manwe, who now bore the native timbers across this new land of Tamriel. Among their fiercest were Tysnal (Who Was Twice-Named), and Terr, his twin and Shield-Brother whose girth was never spoken of to his face. There were others, too, in their band — Meksim the Walker, Brunl (Who Fought with his Off-Hand), and Yust the Smiler. These and others were sworn to Jeek, and they pushed forth into the shadows where yet the sun had not reached.Southwards they went, by beast and by foot. Elves they found, though none remain to tell what those battles entailed. The numbers of the Jorrvaskr never faltered, so shrewd were they in battle, with minds as sharp as their blades.Once, as the sun beat from its high-home, Jonder the Tiny, the one who ran ahead, came over the hill to tell what was seen. Amidst a vast plain his eyes had met a monument of a bird, whose eyes and beak were opened in flame. When his brothers and sisters crested the hill, they too saw its glory, but they were afraid for no elven settlement could be seen to the horizon.“But this is not seemly,” said Kluwe, who went by Loate when hiding his face. “Is not this wide land fit for harvest? Why have not the elves, vile to their core, seen to exploit and tame it?” They asked of their elven captives (for they had many) what they found unfit about these plains. Yet even the captives who still bore their tongues could say nothing of the valley. They looked with fear at the winged colossus, and from their babblings did the warriors of the Jorrvaskr learn that it was older than even the elves themselves. Of those who wrought it solid from its mother-stone, nothing could be said, but it was known to drive a magic almost as old as Nirn itself, some remnant of the gods’ efforts to render a paradise in Mundus before the shattering of Lorkhan.This first of many, this crew of the Jorrvaskr, heathens and ancestors to us all, feared no stories or gods. Indeed, if there was something the elves feared, they would have it for their own. Thus began the labors, once more, of Menro and Manwe, whose eager hands again laid to the Atmoran wood which had born them all across the sea, and what was their ship became their shelter as this valley became their purview until the end of all their days.Thus began the building of the Great City, circled by the running of the White River, as brought forth by these beloved of Ysgramor, yet but twenty-two of the glorious Five Hundred Companions.Song of the Return, Volume 19, The Second Tale of the YlgermetThis volume is found only in TES5: SkyrimWhen that final battle at the barren pass was completed, and the melting snow carried elf-blood back to the sea, the crew of the Kaal Kaaz, the Sadon Reyth, and the most exalted crew of our lord’s ship, the Ylgermet, at last parted ways, never to join shields again. They drew apart in that form which is not a loss, but a gain knowing one’s heart can be carried in the chests of others. So great was the love that those first of the Five Hundred had for each other, and most especially for the great Ysgramor, harbinger of us all.They pressed eastwards, seeking the sea, when they came upon the barrow of Yngol, the mighty of Ysgramor’s son who had fallen to the whims of Kyne rather than the treachery of the elves.Our lord had not expected to lay eyes upon it again so soon, and his grief flowed anew at the sight of it, as a reopened wound will bleed as it did when first received.His eyes turned to the south, where a river met the sea, and decreed that there would he and the crew of the Ylgermet create a great city, in monument to the glories of mankind, and that from his palace he might always look upon the hill of his dead son’s resting place, and feel that his line would know peace in this new home that was never known in Atmora.The elven captives were set to work, bringing forth stone to build in their conqueror’s fashion. As many elves died in the building of the city as had the crew of the Ylgermet slain while on way to its site, and Ysgramor drove the wretches ever more, to build higher, to lay a claim to the river so that none might pass into the interior of this land without first showing due respect to its rightful claimant.Thus was the great bridge constructed, forever striding the river that no elf might sneak through to avenge his devious cousins. As the bridge was build long, so too was the palace built high, spires reaching the sky to show dominion even over the very winds that had brought forth such grief.In the deep hollows beneath the city, a great tomb was prepared for the day when lord Ysgramor, harbinger of us all, would be called home to glory in Sovngarde. But as we know, he chose instead to be buried on the shore, facing towards Atmora, that though his heart lived and died in this new land, it would forever yearn for the beauties of still-green Atmora, before the freezing took it.Thus was founding of Windhelm, the city of Kings, though her history is long and her glories did not end with her founder.Songs of the Return, Volume 27This volume is found only in Elder Scrolls Online.At last Sinmur was brought to bay. Ysgramor, Harbinger of us all, boldly led the remaining Companions into the final battle. Many a brave Companion had already fallen to the giants. Stalwart Valdur and Sly Hakra, long may their spirits be honored, fell assaulting the wily half-giant. Many others now trod the blessed pathways to Sovngarde. With all his kin slain, only Sinmur still defied the greatest among us.The axe Wuuthrad, dripping with the gore of a hundred dead giants, gleamed in the darkness of Sinmur’s barrow. Ysgramor strode forward, halting his followers with a gesture. With another he dared Sinmur to face him in mortal combat. The giant-kin proved willing, roaring his defiance and leaping to battle. His massive, iron-bound club swung forward to crush. Our Lord Ysgramor stepped aside and the club shattered the stone a pace from his side. Wuuthrad sang a blood song as it chopped into the club, breaking it asunder as if made from straw.Sinmur howled his rage and hurled the stub of his once-fearsome weapon at Our Lord Ysgramor’s head. He grappled Ysgramor, seeking to squeeze life away. A roar of laughter was the answer the monster received. Ysgramor’s forehead and knee delivered two mighty blows. Sinmur screeched and fell to his knees before our lord.A song of death and delight keened from Wuuthrad as Ysgramor buried it deep in the giant-kin’s skull. A splatter of gore and a death rattle came from Sinmur as Ysgramor gave a victory yell. The Companions cheered mightily as Wuuthrad waved overhead. The depredations of the giant and his vile kin were at last ended. And the legend of Ysgramor, Harbinger of us all, grew mightily that day.Songs of the Return, Volume 49This volume is found only in Elder Scrolls Online.With the Circle of Captains’ decree that each ship’s crew should go forth of its own accord, making its own legend, the crew of the Fallowfire rejoiced. They yearned to bring the fear of Men to new lands of the Mer that had not yet been put to the sword. They took to heart their Lord Ysgramor’s words to “Give no quarter. Show no kindness.”A pyre upon the shore was raised for the Fallowfire. The ashes of their beloved vessel fell upon the waters and drifted toward Atmora, cutting all ties with their homeland. Led by Captain Gurilda Sharktooth, the crew of the Fallowfire turned their backs to the sea and strode inland.South they traveled, seeking lands untrammeled by others of Ysgramor’s crews. South and south they went, sowing the blood vengeance demanded by Ysgramor. No Mer escaped their axes once seen, no settlement remained unburnt in their path. Truly the Fallowfires brought their lord’s wrath to bear upon the treacherous Elves. As they journeyed, so the terror of them grew among the Mer.Gurilda led her crew to the foothills of a lofty range of mountains. These they named Ysgramor’s Teeth and long they sought a pass through them. When finally a way was found, the crew crossed over and into a new land. “The Rift” they called this region, for it was riven by deep canyons and swift-flowing rivers. In the name of Fallowfire, their lost Companions, and Yngol, they scoured the land, burning Mer villages and putting all they encountered to the axe.Finally, the Mer offered battle. The cowardly Elves gathered in great numbers high atop a rocky hill, daring Gurilda’s Companions to attack. And so they did. Challenges were offered, brave deeds were done, and heroes made. Battle raged through the day and as the sun touched the peaks of the western mountains, the Mer broke and fled. Gurilda lay dying, pierced by a multitude of weapons, but lived until sunset. Her spirit ascended to Sovngarde knowing her crew was victorious.That day, the dominion of Elves over the Rift was ended. The Companions claimed the land in the name of Ysgramor, Harbinger of us all, and made it free to all Nords. To honor their dead, the Companions labored long, delving into the hillside to craft a tomb. Gurilda was buried there, with all her weapons and armor. There too were placed the remains of Bergitte the Toothless and Kajord Eagle-Eye, laid alongside Gurilda as they had fallen in battle, defending their captain. Others of the honored dead were entombed as well. A mighty cairn of stone was erected around the tomb entrance, to forever mark the grave.Vikord One-Ear, long Gurilda’s first mate but now captain, gazed long upon the hills rising about them and the valleys at their feet. This was a land he could love, where his people could prosper and grow. He decreed the crew’s wandering at an end and caused a great hall to be built on the battle site. Thus was Fallowstone Hall created, in homage to the ship that carried them to these shores. From this time, the days of the Companions of the Rift are counted. Never may their glory fade!Songs of the Return, Volume 56, The Final Tale of the ChrionThis volume is found only in TES5: SkyrimThese Songs of the Return are eternal and numerous, for these first Five Hundred, those Companions of Ysgramor who cleared the way for mankind’s rightful habitation, burned with a fire not seen since those days long passed. Each ship carried a crew that performed legendary feats that could feed the pride of any nation for a thousand years. And during this time of the broadening, scores of Companions wandered the land, bringing the light of the proper god to the heather land of elves and beasts.They were but mortal, though, and in time, all would taste the glories of Sovngarde. It was in one of the uncounted years after the retaking of Saarthal that the crew of the Chrion was declaring their fortunes in the eastern lands near the Red Mountain. They were encamped, surrounded by bodies of murderous elves who had attempted to make them believe they held peace in their hearts. The shrewd Rhorlak was the Chrion’s captain, though, and would show no quarter to the liars of the southlands, as had been commanded by his lord Ysgramor, harbinger of us all.It was in this state of carousing that they were approaced by a young and breathless messenger of their sister crew from the Kall Kaaz. The boy (Asgeir, as his name is now sung) had ran unimaginable distance at breakneck speed from the blood-stained fields of the Clouded Sun, to deliver the news to all would would hear. When he reached their camp, he bellowed a great sob before releiving his heart of the news that the mighty Ysgramor had breathed his last.Asgeir continued his swift run, to inform the other crews as quickly as they could be found (for there were many now crawling the land, rendering our legacy from their deeds), and the camp of the Chrin descended into a mourning of the most forlorn sort. Among these fiercest sat the bravest men and fiercest women who had ever graced the dirt of this land, and they were brought low by such a notion. While we in the day-shine know only of Ysgramor’s glory as the gleams of history, these Companions knew his might with their own eyes, and such a loss hands so heavily on the heart that mere words cannot express the altering of their world.For indeed the stories tell that Rhorlak, the most battle-hardened and unflinching of all captains, did collapse with grief, and never again lifted his mighty axe. And all around Tamriel, as the news spread as dark cloud washes from horizon to horizon, did brilliant lights go out in silent honor of their fallen general and war-leader.So ended the period of the Return, and the original glories of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, harbinger to us all.

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Sithis

Sithis is the start of the house. Before him was nothing, but the foolish Altmer have names for and revere this nothing. That is because they are lazy slaves. Indeed, from the Sermons, ‘stasis asks merely for itself, which is nothing.’Sithis sundered the nothing and mutated the parts, fashioning from them a myriad of possibilities. These ideas ebbed and flowed and faded away and this is how it should have been.One idea, however, became jealous and did not want to die; like the stasis, he wanted to last. This was the demon Anui-El, who made friends, and they called themselves the Aedra. They enslaved everything that Sithis had made and created realms of everlasting imperfection. Thus are the Aedra the false gods, that is, illusion.So Sithis begat Lorkhan and sent him to destroy the universe. Lorkhan! Unstable mutant!Lorkhan had found the Aedric weakness. While each rebel was, by their nature, immeasurable, they were, through jealously and vanity, also separate from each other. They were also unwilling to go back to the nothing of before. So while they ruled their false dominions, Lorkhan filled the void with a myriad of new ideas. These ideas were legion. Soon it seemed that Lorkhan had a dominion of his own, with slaves and everlasting imperfections, and he seemed, for all the world, like an Aedra. Thus did he present himself as such to the demon Anui-El and the Eight Givers: as a friend.Go unto the Sharmat Dagoth Ur as a friend.AE HERMA MORA ALTADOON PADHOME LKHAN AE AI.

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Shezarr and the Divines

Before appearing in Knights of the Nine this text was posted on the official Elder Scrolls forum by Michael Kirkbride as Shezarr and the Eight Divines.ESO removes the last paragraph, but is otherwise identical.Shezarr and the DivinesbyFaustillus JuniusSubcurator of Ancient Theology and PaleonumerologyImperial LibraryThe position Shezarr enjoys in Cyrodilic worship if often misconstrued. He, and a thousand other deities, have sizeable cults in the Imperial City. Shezarr is especially venerated in the Colovian West, though he is called Shor there, as the West Kings are resolutely, and religiously, Nordic.The haziness of Shezarr’s relationship to the Divines (he is often called their ‘Missing Sibling’) begins with St. Alessia, the so-called ‘Slave Queen of Cyrodiil, the founder figure of the original Cyrodilic Empire. In the earliest Cyro-Nordic stories of the Heartland, Shezarr fought against the Ayleids (the ‘Heartland Highelves’) on mankind’s behalf. Then, for some unknown reason, he vanishes from the stage (presumably to help other humans elsewhere), and, without his leadership, the Ayleids conquer the humans and enslave them.This slavery lasts for generations. The isolated humans eventually begin to venerate the pantheon of their masters, or at least assimilate so much of High Elven religious practices into their native traditions that the two become indistinguishable.In 1E242, under the leadership of Alessia, her demigod lover, Morihaus-Breath-of-Kyne, and the infamous Pelinal Whitestrake, the Cyrodilic humans revolt. When Skyrim lends its armies to the Slave-Queen of the South, the revolution succeeds. The Ayleid Hegemonies are quickly overthrown. Shortly thereafter, White Gold Tower is captured by Alessia’s forces, and she promptly declares herself the first Empress of Cyrodiil. Part of the package meant that she had to become the High Priestess of Akatosh, as well.Akatosh was an Aldmeri god, and Alessia’s subjects were as-yet unwilling to renounce their worship of the Elven pantheon. She found herself in a very sensitive political situation. She needed to keep the Nords as her allies, but they were (at that time) fiercely opposed to any adoration of Elven deities. On the other hand, she could not force her subjects to revert back to the Nordic pantheon, for fear of another revolution. Therefore, concessions were made and Empress Alessia instituted a new religion: the Eight Divines, an elegant, well-researched synthesis of both pantheons, Nordic and Aldmeri.Shezarr, as a result, had to change. He could no longer be the bloodthirsty anti-Aldmer warlord of old. He could not disappear altogether either, or the Nords would have withdrawn their support of her rule. In the end, he had become “the spirit behind all human undertaking.” Even though this was merely a thinly-disguised, watered-down version of Shor, it was good enough for the Nords.As for why Tiber Septim has not attempted to ‘revitalize’ Shezarr during his wars against the Aldmeri Dominion, we can only speculate that, at this time, memories of the Alessian Order’s follies (the Dragon Break, the War of Righteousness, the defeat at Gelnumbria Moors) would only damage his campaign for the Imperial Crown.

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Opusculus Lamae Bal ta Mezzamortie

This book originally appeared in the TES4 DLC Vile Lair. In TES5: Skyrim, it is titled just “Opusculus Lamae Bal.” In Elder Scrolls Online, 3E 105 is changed to 2E 105, but the text is otherwise identical.By Mabei Aywenil, ScribeOpusculus Lamae Bal ta MezzamortieA brief account of Lamae Bal and the Restless DeathTranslation by University of Gwylim Press; 3E 105As brighter grows light, darker becomes shadow. So it passed that the Daedra Molag Bal looked on Arkay and thought the Aedra prideful of his dominion o’er the death of man and mer, and it was sooth.Bal, whose sphere is the wanton oppression and entrapment of mortal souls, sought to thwart Arkay, who knew that not man, nor mer, nor beastfolk of all Nirn could escape eventual death. The Aedra was doubtless of his sphere, and so Molag Bal set upon Nirn to best death.Tamriel was still young, and filled with danger and wondrous magick when Bal walked in the aspect of a man and took a virgin, Lamae Beolfag, from the Nedic Peoples. Savage and loveless, Bal profaned her body, and her screams became the Shrieking Winds, which still haunt certain winding fjords of Skyrim. Shedding a lone droplet of blood on her brow, Bal left Nirn, having sown his wrath.Violated and comatose, Lamae was found by nomads, and cared for. A fortnight hence, the nomad wyrd-woman enshrouded Lamae in pall for she had passed into death. In their way, the nomads built a bonfire to immolate the husk. That night, Lamae rose from her funeral pyre, and set upon the coven, still aflame. She ripped the throats of the women, ate the eyes of the children, and raped their men as cruelly as Bal had ravished her.And so; Lamae, (who is known to us as blood-matron) imprecated her foul aspect upon the folk of Tamriel, and begat a brood of countless abominations, from which came the vampires, most cunning of the night-horrors. And so was the scourge of undeath wrought upon Tamriel, cruelly mocking Arkay’s rhythm of life and death through all the coming eras of the et’Ada, and for all his sadness, Arkay knew this could not be undone.

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Spirit of Nirn

Lorkhan is the Spirit of Nirn, the god of all mortals. This does not mean all mortals necessarily like him or even know him. Most Elves hate him, thinking creation as that act which sundered them from the spirit realm. Most Humans revere him, or aspects of him, as the herald of existence. The creation of the Mortal Plane, the Mundus, Nirn, is a source of mental anguish to all living things; all souls know deep down they came originally from somewhere else, and that Nirn is a cruel and crucial step to what comes next. What is this next? Some wish to return to the original state, the spirit realm, and that Lorkhan is the Demon that hinders their way; to them Nirn is a prison, an illusion to escape. Others think that Lorkhan created the world as the testing ground for transcendence; to them the spirit realm was already a prison, that true escape is now finally possible.

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Sovngarde: A Reexamination

Speculation regarding Sovngarde, the Nordic Hall of ValorDeath. It is something we all face. Or do we?Just ask the nearest Nord what he thinks of the end of life, and you’ll likely be treated to a horrific story of blood, bone and viscera, of courageous deeds and heartbreaking sorrow. Carnage notwithstanding, there may be even more to death than the average Nord warrior realizes. New evidence suggests a life beyond the battlefield, where a valiant Nord may live forever, downing mead and engaging in contests of strength and skill. But in order to fully understand the possibility of a Nord’s eternal life after death, one must first reexamine the legends surrounding that most wondrous of warrior’s retreats – Sovngarde.According to the ancient writings and oral traditions of the Nords, going back as far as the Late Merethic Era, there exists a place so magnificent, so honored, that the entrance lies hidden from view. Sovngarde, it is called, built by the god Shor to honor those Nords who have proven their mettle in war. Within this “Hall of Valor” time as we know it has no meaning. The concepts of life and death are left on the doorstep, and those within exist in a sort of self-contained euphoria, free of pain, suffering and the worst malady a Nord could suffer – boredom.But just how well hidden the entrance to Sovngarde is has been a matter of much scholarly debate, and there are those who believe Shor’s great hall is just a myth, for there are no actual accounts from Nords who have experienced the wonders of Sovngarde then returned to tell the tale. Not that this has stopped anyone from looking. Some Nords spend a lifetime searching for the mysterious hidden entrance to Sovngarde. Most return home sad and broken, their hearts heavy with failure. They’ll never know the pleasure of a mead flagon that never empties, or a wrestling tournament without end.What, some may ask, does the entrance to Sovngarde have to do with death? Everything, according to a series of ancient parchments recently discovered in the attic of a deceased Nord’s home in Cyrodiil. What at first seemed to be a series of love letters was later found to be a correspondence between one Felga Four-Fingers, a medium of some note, and the ghost of a Nord warrior named Rolf the Large.According to the parchments, Rolf had spent his entire life searching for the entrance to Sovngarde, without success. He was returning home to his village of Skyrim when he was waylaid by a band of giants. Rolf fought bravely, but was quickly killed, and the giants proceeded to play catch with his head. Amazingly, all of this was seen by Rolf in ghostly form as he drifted away from the scene, soaring upwards into the heavens, where he finally arrived… in the magnificent hall of Sovngarde!Rolf could not believe his good fortune, and his foolishness for not having realized the truth so many years before. For death was the entrance to Sovngarde. So he was told by Shor himself, who greeted Rolf the Large as a brother, and personally handed him a leg of roast mutton and the hand of a comely wench. Sovngarde, Shor told him, can be entered by any Nord who dies valiantly in honorable combat.It is time for Nords to learn the truth. Eternal life can be theirs, without the need to spend an entire mortal life in vain pursuit of something completely unattainable. In the end, all valiant Nords can enter Sovngarde. Dismemberment, decapitation or evisceration seems a small price to pay for the chance to spend an eternity in Shor’s wondrous hall.

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Spirit of the Daedra

HOW YOU SHOULD KNOW USDEATH, DEFEAT, AND FEARWe do not die. We do not fear death.Destroy the Body, and the Animus is cast into The Darkness. But the Animus returns.But we are not all brave.We feel pain, and fear it. We feel shame, and fear it. We feel loss, and fear it. We hate the Darkness, and fear it.The Scamps have small thoughts, and cannot fear greatly.The Vermai have no thoughts, and cannot fear.The Dremora have deep thoughts, and must master fear to overcome it.THE CLAN BONDWe are not born; we have not fathers nor mothers, yet we have kin and clans.The clan-form is strong. It shapes body and thought.In the clan-form is strength and purpose.THE OATH BONDWe serve by choice. We serve the strong, so that their strength might shield us.Clans serve by long-practice, but practice may change.Dremora have long served Dagon but not always so.Practice is secure when oath-bonds are secure, and trust is shared.When oath-bonds are weak, there is pain, and shame, and loss, and Darkness, and great fear.HOW WE THINK ABOUT MANPerhaps you find Scamps comic, and Vermai brutish.How then do you imagine we view you humans?You are the Prey, and we are the Huntsmen.The Scamps are the Hounds, and the Vermai the Beaters.Your flesh is sweet, and the chase is diverting.As you may sometimes praise the fox or hare, admiring its cunning and speed, and lamenting as the hounds tear its flesh, so do we sometimes admire our prey, and secretly applaud when it cheats our snares or eludes pursuit.But, like all worldly things, you will in time wear, and be used up. You age, grow ugly, weak, and foolish. You are always lost, late or soon.Sometimes the prey turns upon us and bites. It is a small thing. When wounded or weary, we fly away to restore. Sometimes a precious thing is lost, but that risk makes the chase all the sweeter.MAN’S MYSTERYMan is mortal, and doomed to death and failure and loss.This lies beyond our comprehension – why do you not despair?

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The Adabal-a

Editor’s Note: The Adabal-a is traditionally believed to be the memoirs of Morihaus, consort to Alessia the Slave Queen. While this cannot be historically verified, the Adabal-a is certainly among the oldest written accounts to come down to us from the early First Era.PELINAL’S DEATHAnd in the blood-floored throne room of White-Gold, the severed head of Pelinal spoke to the winged-bull, Morihaus, demigod lover of Al-Esh, saying, “Our enemies have undone me, and spread my body into hiding. In mockery of divine purpose, the Ayleids cut me into eighths, for they are obsessed with this number.”And Morihaus, confused, snorted through his ring, saying, “Your crusades went beyond her counsel, Whitestrake, but I am a bull, and therefore reckless in my wit. I think I would go and gore our prisoners if you had left any alive. You are blood-made-glorious, uncle, and will come again, as fox animal or light. Cyrod is still ours.”Then Pelinal spoke again for the last time: “Beware, Morihaus, beware! With the foresight of death I know now that my foe yet lives, bitter knowledge to take to my grave. Better that I had died believing myself the victor. Although cast beyond the doors of night, he will return. Be vigilant! I can no longer shield the host of Men from Umaril’s retribution.”ALESSIA’S YOUTH DURING THE SLAVE-YEARSPerrif’s original tribe is unknown, but she grew up in Sard, anon Sardarvar Leed, where the Ayleids herded in men from across all the Niben: kothri, nede, al-gemha, men-of-‘kreath (though these were later known to be imported from the North), keptu, men-of-ge (who were eventually destroyed when the Flower King Nilichi made great sacrifice to an insect god named [lost]), al-hared, men-of-ket, others; but this was Cyrod, the heart of the imperatum saliache, where men knew no freedom, even to keep family, or choice of name except in secret, and so to their alien masters all of these designations were irrelevant.Men were given over to the lifting of stones, and the draining of the fields, and the upkeep of temple and road; or to become art-tortures for strange pleasures, as in the wailing wheels of Vindasel and the gut-gardens of Sercen; and flesh-sculpture, which was everywhere among the slaves of the Ayleids in those days; or, worse, the realms of the Fire King Hadhuul, where the begetting of drugs drawn from the admixture of daedrons into living hosts let one inhale new visions of torment, and children were set aflame for nighttime tiger sport.MORIHAUS EXPLAINS ALESSIA’S NAMESThen Morihaus said to them: “In your tales you have many names for her: Al-Esh, given to her in awe, that when translated sounds like a redundancy, ‘the high high’, from which come the more familiar corruptions: Aleshut, Esha, Alessia. You knew her as Paravant, given to her when crowned, ‘first of its kind’, by which the gods meant a mortal worthy of the majesty that is killing-questing-healing, which is also Paraval, Pevesh, Perrethu, Perrif, and, in my case, for it is what I called her when we were lovers: Paravania.”“Though she is gone to me, she remains bathed in stars, first Empress, Lady of Heaven, Queen-ut-Cyrod.”And they considered themselves full-answered, and departed.