#dunmers are so hot

[k-im-lost]

I am on something (again) so I'm gonna give you a little lore on my Elder Scrolls OCs

Only the ones I've drawn as little guys so far

Let's start left to right

This is Kazjir, he's my favorite until you mention Lazare.

To start, he has been unfurried because he was hard to draw. But not to worry because I made him a werewolf, and I don't feel like giving him a cure rn. He also has an abusive mother and sister (no dad because if I can't have one, neither can he >:[) his mother is also an Alfiq because I thought it would be funny. And I don't like it when my OCs are in happy relationships, so obviously, that's the one thing he wants lol. Also, when he got to skyrim, a child was murdered and he was framed for it. The person that killed the child also decided his identity was neat they took it for themselves.

Middle guy is Falanar Selnor. He's hot as fuck.

His mom died when he was born. His dad never got over it and took it out on him. When the Red Mountain eruption happened, he escaped to skyrim, guess where. That's right, Windhelm. He met a girl he liked and got a face tattoo to impress her. Guess what? It failed, and now he feels like an idiot when people point them out. He was framed for murder was in prison the dragonborm came around and said "yeah you're mine now" so that sucks. He found a baby bunny at some point. Do I plan on murdering it in a horrible way? Fuck yeah.

Lastly my favorite, Lazare

I love her so much I forget she exists and forget to give her lore. I killed her husband, and I still don't know why. I'm gonna burn the tavern she loves down soon. She ran away when she was young and years later she realized that was dumb as fuck and now she's stuck on this path that didn't seem so bad until I decided her husband had lived long enough. She's also blind. Why? When I made her I saw white eyes were an option, and so I decided it was time to blind her. She looks sick as fuck tho, right?

One of these days, I'll actually sit down and properly write out their stories, but that's not gonna happen for a while. So, for now, I'll do this with other OCs I draw as little guys

[eliseliedl]

The Elder Scrolls Online 3 / ?

[the-sunlit-earth]

Dunmer Conjurers enjoying a day at the beach with their summoned friends 🌞🏖

(my hc is that Talvas studied at the CoW before becoming Neloth's apprentice, as he mentions he's 'learned more than I would have in twice the time at the College of Winterhold' to Varona)

[eff-plays]

Ah yes ... the "I should reinstall and play Skyrim" experience ... scrolling through 100 titty mods to find 1 (one) cosmetic mod you might actually use ...

Uh-oh spaghettios ... I just bought Skyrim Special Boy Edition and might install it soon ... Uh-ooooh :3c

[theoneandonlysemla]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @chiqita @skyrim-forever @heavy-metal-dick @illumiera @sanzas-reverie

Tagging: @friend-of-giants @sulphuricgrin @moriche @pocket-vvardvark @rikkimora @sheirukitriesfandom @ladytanithia @elavoria @tiredela @hircines-hunter @vanilleeistee @dirty-bosmer

It's Wednesday again? Uh... Ok. I've had a very productive week! I've started tracking my wordcounts again, setting myself a goal of 1000 words a day. Works kinda, my daily average is at 1800. (With one day of almost 6k and one day of 170 words lol.) I want to write a bunch of Dealings with Daedra before I'm locked in the psych ward soon (This is a joke, I will be at a daily psychiatric hospital for treating my burnout and I guess it will suck all the energy from me).

But I digress, I have also started a new Much study, this time with Nevri as Ruby. The sketch is kind of done, I want to fill in more details in the backround but by now I have no ideas really. Fun guessing game: Who will find all the hints to her story? :D

But stop right here! I have more! Who is interested in meat-beating with Morotar? It's a snippet from the beginning of chapter 26 that I'm currently writing. After a drunk and steamy encounter with our dearest Nevri, Morotar has been kicked out of her room. Chat, is it orgasm denial when she gets a PTSD flashback? Anyway, Morotar is now in his room and feeling guilty for all the wrong reasons (mostly internatlised racism and indoctrination and not that the woman he likes had a bad time touching him. He needs to learn. It is a process. And I never said that my characters are good people <3)

So, CW for sexual content, racism and *checks notes* religion? Ok. Have fun!

His back pressed to the door, he leaned on it, eyes closed and nails digging into the wood behind. Long strands of his silver hair dangled in front of his face, a thin film of sweat smeared over his forehead. He sucked in a deep breath, filled his lungs with air that was lacking her scent and caged it inside, hoping for it to clean the small vessels of the mark she had left on him. Lavender had clung to her skin, so natural as if it were the smell her own body emitted, the smoke of the hearth mixing into it. The aroma of the cheap wine mingling in, a beverage he had dislike until he had tasted it from her lips – there it had turned to the most aethereal of drinks, the gods’ nectar.

The gods – they mocked him. Sitting high in their realm, watching how he stumbled through his life since he had awoken on this forsaken mountain top. He was nothing but their reason to laugh and now, on this exact evening, disdain had joined in. For what he had done, what he had allowed to happen this night was nothing but sin, a blasphemous wrong that spat on his heritage and his entire race. Shame, burning and hot ate into his guts and the fear of someone having seen his misstep swinging with it. When had he thrown his morals and all that he cherished as his believe out of the window? He had gone too far, way too far and what he had harvested from his dance on the line was a loss of control. He was tempted to blame it on alcohol, to say that the neurotoxin in his veins was solely responsible for his loss of control. Yet he knew better. Too often over the past few days, he had caught himself glancing at her and trying to coax a friendly word from the Dunmer. His downfall had been looming, for the world to see.

Morotar pushed himself away from the door and staggered into the room, his face now hidden in his hands. He paced back and forth with the fury of a caged animal, still trying to rid himself of her divine fragrance. But it remained, just like the sweet flavour in his mouth and the tingling sensation on his lips. The memory of her weight on his lap remained, as did the feeling that his trousers were much too tight in the crotch. Freezing still, he tore his hands down and shook them like a madman, as if he hoped to rid them of the sensation of her skin beneath his fingertips. He had to escape this delusion, but he didn't succeed.

Already he had the jug of water from his bedside table in his hand and poured a load of cold liquid over his face. And yet even that did not calm his mind. A sound came from his mouth, tortured like a beaten dog. Spitting the water from his lips, he rubbed his eyes to clear his eyelashes. This all was futile. Nevri did not leave his thoughts, so vivid before his eyes, grinding her hips on him, the heat from between her legs almost unbearable. Every kiss spoke from the deepest desire, a want he had seldom felt himself and even fewer times had experienced directed at him. The urge to give in was so strong, the thought of having her naked body pressed against his, their sweat mingling, he –

Gods. Morotar let himself fall on his bed, the frame creaking under his weight. Settling his elbows on his thighs, he steepled his hands before his face. The tips of his fingers against his forehead, he noted the sleek sweat still being there, now diluted with the wash of water.

“Auri-El, father to us all, grant me strength,” he whispered, the impression that the ancestor of elves did nothing but laugh at his plea ever strong. Yet he prayed on, knowing nothing else to do than to call to the gods, for they might redeem him from his burden. “By the scales and fangs and flame of the creator, aid me in overcoming this trial. Equip me with the power to resist, help me to avoid this temptation. Be at my side.”

In silence he sat, searching for any sign, any connection, however there was none. Decades before it had never been different, so that he had lessened his prayers. In his youth, he had found those a waste of time, in his training they were a mere interruption of his important lessons in fighting. Never had the gods interfered when he had needed them most, not at the darkest hours of his or his beloveds’ lives. The frustration he had carried had been mitigated after the Great War, as there had always been someone in prayers to talk about those terrible deeds and happenings. But now, the times he sat down and prayed during the year could be counted on one hand. This experience now only reinforced his belief: he had been forsaken.

None of his suffering had vanished; visions of the Dunmer still plagued him. New ones mingled with the old, some as clear as memories. One stood out in particular. Her legs were on his shoulders while he was buried deep between them, his tongue splitting her labia. Pleading laments escaped her mouth as her nails dug into the tabletop.

His length pressed even harder against the confines of his trousers. Blood pulsed so fiercely that it already hurt a bit, a pulling sensation that went all the way to his groin. But he couldn't, he mustn't, no, he...

[yamikuruku]

Can’t believe those two idiots are first 👀 Mfw i am boasting about posting oc smooching and talking about them and my opponents ocs are Enu (dunmer) and Cyril (breton/imp) 🧍🤢

Let’s ignore that drawing kisses is hard and i was crying throughout this thing and sobbing, throwing up, started praying to the artgods et cetera

Rambling, as promised:

They’re both so different but also so similar it’s insane. Still surprised of how good they of fit together. Two assholes made for each other. Disaster couple. Okay but they would not even call themself that - calling themself a couple haha.

In my mind i always compare Cyril to a stray cat. A stray who is not used to getting any pets or attention. First when you try to get closer to the cat it might hiss and scratch you. It can even happen that it bites since it’s trying to protect itself from the evil that is getting pet lol. And then if you are patient and give the cat time it might happen that it comes closer from alone. It actually realises that it wants to be loved and pet but has no idea how that works etc. So yeah. He is probably a stupid orange cat. No braincell. Also that metaphor was kinda weird. I feel weird. Anyways.

Enu is an ex assassin that once upon a time worked for the morag tong until an oopsie happened. And Cyril is just a hot-headed cultist who is a little pyromaniac who likes collecting weapons - and using them :D hint hint stabbing . Both idiot shitheads work for the same oc of mine who kind of ended up making a little gang? „Organisation“( they are kind of Bandits haha)

Since they both frequently see each other around during their working hours, they had to interact. Most of the time they end up fighting and bickering like little kids. While they have to share a space they sometimes end up talking, so i guess they warmed up to each other. Until Cyril opens his mouth and spoils it lmao, or Enu goes too far again with being friendly or his usual doucheness (new word unlocked, you are very welcome).

They both absolutely despise each other. Like that is their whole thing. I don’t even want to call this enemy to lovers. Its just coworkers to enemies to whatever those two are.🤷 i think if they would just sit down and talk like adults it would make things easier for everyone, but alas. Fighting like idiots it is. Just don’t show any weakness and feelings i guess.

This is just them 🧍

Ok … if you are still here then uh, thanks for listening? I am bad with words. Also - first time i ever talked about these two. Cringe.

[hircines-hunter]

WIP Wednesday

Working on a few things at once. But decided to share some art I need to finished of my OC, M’Vi. She’s a werewolf kitty made to smooch Adusa! And some far future stuff for Estinan. That’s slowly getting closer and closer.

Tagged by @chiqita @umbracirrus @silly-little-diary @skyrim-forever @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @firefly-factory @sanzas-reverie @theoneandonlysemla @aureli-us

Gonna tag @mavariel @oblivions-dawn @yewphoric @pocket-vvardvark @sulphuricgrin @illumiera @bostoniangirl21 @kiir-do-faal-rahhe and anyone else who wants to participate ! No obligations or pressure (and feel free to tag me in your WIPs)

Estinan’s eyes fluttered open. She looked around. Her head throbbed. She watched the tent flutter in the strong wind. Her nostrils flared when she smelled a campfire. Poison. Food. She groaned, catching the attention of the person outside the tent.

“Go slowly. Thought I almost lost you there.”

Estinan shielded her eyes from the sun as the tent flap opened. Sun filtered across her face. A cold breeze brushed through the flap and seeped through the furs. “Wha…?” Estinan sat up, unbothered by her nudity. She looked at the bandages around her shoulder and the other around her stomach. “Mercer!” Her face and body planted into the furs as she tried to get up. Her body throbbed. Ached. She couldn’t move. She groaned.

“Easy! You…. You almost died. Between my poison, Mercer’s dagger, and your beast blood amplifying the effects for a few minutes. It at least slowed the bleeding….”

“You’re…. You are Karliah…?” She struggled to sit back up. She looked at the Dunmer. Estinan locked eyes with her purple ones.

“Aye.”

“The Guild would want you dead.”

“Mercer wants me dead. He’s the one that killed my Gallus. And pinned it on me after failing to kill me….” Karliah knelt inside the tent. “I wasn’t only in there to confront Mercer. I went to find Gallus’ journal.”

Estinan thought for a few minutes. She finally spoke. “Did you find it?”

Karliah nodded. “Aye. I did. But,” she sighed and pulled the small dusty, leatherbound book. She handed it to Estinan.

Estinan opened it carefully. She flipped gently through the pages. Precise scrawlings etched the paper. Not Dwermeris. Nor Ayliedoon. Nor Aldmeris. She shook her head. “I don’t recognize the language.”

Karliah let out a sigh. “Me either.”

“Is there anyone he trusted? Besides you. That would know what is written?”

The Dunmer tapped her chin as she thought. “You know…. He has someone in Winterhold. At the College. Enthir. If he is still there. He might know something.”

Estinan winced as she moved. She looked around the tent, finding her pack in the corner. “We should make haste then. Who knows what Mercer is doing.”

“He’s already done so much harm.” Karliah let out a sigh. “I can explain on the way. But let’s take it slow. You have been asleep for a few days. You probably need more sleep…. I can grab horses and come back here. You’re awake now. I don’t have to worry about you dying now.”

Estinan shook as she tried to crawl over to her pack. She collapsed under her weight and laid on the furs. A loud sigh left her lips. “I want to go back home….”

“Who knows what Mercer told the others. That you’re dead. Or betrayed them….”

Estinan’s heart stopped. She gripped the furs. Her vision blurred with hot tears. She cursed. Then she sobbed. “I…. He’s going to hurt my Bryn either way. Oh Brynjolf….” Estinan buried her face in the furs and cried.

Karliah felt a knot in her throat, understanding a similar pain. “At least you are alive. And we will get back to the Guild. Mercer will pay.”

[trickstarbrave]

Things I’m learning from the hygiene UESP page:

>Dunmer prefer no body hair. Did not know that. I suppose that implies it’s done for a practical matter (they do seem to have unique forms of flees and lice based on lore. They could wax to get to prevent the spread to other places in the body)

>Dunmer have nail polish made of shalk resin

>werewolves are very clean and enjoy grooming each other or having special tools for it

>sewer systems are extremely common it seems, and old. The Dwemer likely had indoor plumbing all the time across also castes, but for commoners of other races outhouses and needing to carry water in for washing seem to be the standard. The second era empire built large and complex sewer systems in several major cities tho so I think all races understand and accept them

Questions I still have:

Do you think the Dunmer and Nords like. Bathe privately? For IRL Norse ppl bathing was mostly done in streams, rivers, hot springs, and only large settlements MIGHT have had bath houses. Dunmer I genuinely dunno. I feel like they could have public bath houses easily but then I also remember they are a rude and paranoid ppl. I kinda wanna go with “yes” on the public bath houses.

As for the Nords I think bc they are a colony of the empire and I feel the empire def has public bath houses they slowly introduced those concepts to Skyrim. Only like, major holds really have them though and otherwise if u wanna bathe at a inn or smth u request a tub, take it to ur room, and gotta boil water, fill it, and bathe. And this is only for nice inns too. If ur a place like riverwood they will maybe give u a bucket of u wanna just clean ur face and wipe down but otherwise they expect u to just bathe in the river like everyone else.

[jiubilant]

how hot do the Vvardenfellian Dunmer serve their food. (racial 75% resistance to fire damage.) how does the scarcity of timber impact their mealtimes: are we sitting on chairs from imported wood, or on cushions on the floor. what do they age their alcohol in? shein is comberry wine, if you're fermenting wine you have to accept that sometimes, the cask will explode. are wooden and corkbulb barrels meant for bougie greef aged for fifty years before it's first served. what are we brewing shein and sujamma in. ("liquor made from fermented saltrice" is sujamma Fantasy Sake.) what are we using to fuel our cookfires and our pottery kilns. does "chitin" behave like eggshells when exposed to vinegar. I am losing my mind

YOU. KEEP TALKING

i've put a bit of thought into that first question...i don't always interpret game mechanics as canon but i think that the velothi resistance to fire is a fun detail so i've folded it into my worldbuilding to an extent

my take is that only a dunmer's skin is resistant to fire (so eating scalding food would hurt), and only somewhat; dunmer can't walk through infernos unscathed, but they can reach into the hearthfire to snatch out something important that was tossed in (the fire would still burn their hands, but not as quickly and painfully as it would burn ours). ravi does this in the wip at least twice and both times is like "it's all right dears we're born with oven mitts on in deshaan—oh god oh fuck"

[k-im-lost]

I'm an absolute whore for dunmers it's not even funny

[wellthebardsdead]

*the scarab prince & the runaway dragon, pt 7, part 6 here*

———

Steren: *gently ushers Vivienne to their cabin below deck, surprised at the amenities and quality of the room, despite the ships rough exterior their journey would be comfortable* alright then… *releases him from his grasp and locks the door as he closes it this time* let’s try this again, shall w- *freezes in place as he turns around to see Vivienne standing in the far corner of the room, pointing a now unsheathed trueflame right at him, the smaller Dunmer having taken it and moved swiftly across the open space silently and completely unnoticed in a manner even their best assassins couldn’t manage* …

Vivienne: *trembling so hard the blade visibly wobbles in his grasp, fear and exhaustion both being overridden by a final burst of adrenaline* I-I’m n-not- I’m not- hi-him! I’m n-not v-Vivec!

Steren: *watching him for a moment, before smiling as he removes his helmet, his dark curls cascading down his shoulders, framing his handsome face as he meets Vivienne’s hostility with a disarmingly soft expression* I know… *steps forward*

Vivienne: *faltering for a moment as his voice and appearance breaks past the panic consuming him* y-you do?-

Steren: I do, *steps forward again*

Vivienne: *immediately snapping back into fight mode as he gets closer* S-Stay back! Don’t- don’t-

Steren: *calmly reaches down and grasps the sword at the hilt, taking it from his grasp and sheathing it before setting it down, Vivienne’s grasp giving no resistance, he didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want to hurt him* shhh, it’s okay… *squeezes his hand and cautiously, carefully, lifts the fabric of his hood, sliding it back from his cloud like hair and accidentally letting out a soft gasp as he sees his face once more, the well lit interior of the cabin allowing him to see far more than the dungeon, the gleam of the candlight doing wonders for the freckled gem like beauty* I won’t hurt you, you’re not in any-

Vivienne: *tears spilling over from his tired eyes, washing over those that had already stained his cheeks* p-please- *squeezes his hand tighter as his legs involuntarily give out and he drops to his knees* please d-don’t send me back to the brothel! D-don’t send me back to the-the dungeon! I never wanted any of this! I was just a fisherman I promise I was! I swear I never stole a coin that was never mine Im sorry I stole all these clothes I just needed the gold I had to-to- *hiccups out a tired and resigned sob as he thinks this is the end of the line, so tired and afraid he’d already forgotten sterens words at the harbour masters lodgings*

Steren: shhh- shh it’s okay, *kneels beside him and gently strokes his face, attempting to dry his tears but instead faltering to just, holding him… his skin warm against his fingertips, wet with tears, but so warm. Everything about him just so warm, his eyes, his voice, like the summer sun welcoming a hot night sky, dappled with freckles like stars* breath now… let’s just calm down and talk okay?… you’re not in any trouble… I promise.

*that evening*

Vivienne: *seated on the edge of the bed, finally settled down and utterly exhausted beyond words* that’s… everything up until now… my life was fine until a few weeks ago- months?… *sighs* it doesn’t matter anymore…

Steren: I… I’m so sorry, for all of that… no wonder you were so afraid and eager to get away… words can’t express how ashamed I am for how you were treated by the temple, by my fathers orders…

Vivienne: d-don’t be… thank you for helping me leave… I’m sorry, for all the trouble I caused… I’ll be out of your hair after we reach solstheim.

Steren: *still too many questions left unanswered and his father’s words ringing in his mind about their fates being intertwined* oh no. Absolutely not, this won’t stand. *gets up to his feet* My family and the temple have both greatly mistreated you, and thus as crowned prince it’s my duty to ensure we pay our dues, and so I’ll be accompanying you on your travels until said dues are paid~ starting with- you need some clothes… and a bath.

Vivienne: I-i- what??

[tastesoftamriel]

You know those cheesy pasta dishes with all the fancy add-ins like heavy cream and garlic so we can all pretend to ourselves that we aren't just eating mac and cheese like overgrown children? What sort of equivalent dishes do the people of Tamriel enjoy, that are basically just dressed-up "kid food" dishes?

Who doesn't love a cheeky meal that brings back memories of childhood? Across Tamriel, you'll find all manner of simple, hearty foods that will make you feel like a kid again!

Altmer

In Summerset, young and old alike enjoy mochi, a tasty sweet snack made from chewy glutinous rice flour. Mochi comes in many varieties, with fillings like sweet peanut or black sesame paste. However, almost everyone's favourite is a cold mochi filled with soft gelato of various flavours. My favourite combination is matcha mochi wrapped around a moreish azuki bean ice cream centre.

Argonians

Is there anything that makes you feel more like a kid than some snacking? Argonians are huge fans of anything that packs a crunch, both sweet and savoury. Whether it's spicy and sweet crickets, dark saltrice sauce-coated mealworms, or just good old prawn crackers with some dipping sambal, be prepared to snack your way all day long in Black Marsh.

Bosmer

If you're one of those people who stands in the kitchen gnawing a block of cheese at midnight, you're in good company in Valenwood. A popular late-night treat served at street food vendors across the Province is a simple cup of grilled witchetty grubs slathered in timber mammoth cheese sauce and topped with pulled pork. The grubs are meaty in flavour, and the pungent timber mammoth cheese complements the pulled pork when mixed all together, as the locals enjoy it.

Bretons

Pain au chocolat? Yes please! These deliciously buttery puffed pastries are essentially rectangular croissants enveloping delicious dark chocolate. Served warm, they're sure to make any breakfast or teatime a happy one! To really satisfy those chocolate cravings, pair with a classic Breton hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Dunmer

Marshmerrow cake is the ubiquitous Dunmeri dessert that has gained popularity far beyond the borders of Morrowind due to its mild flavour and unique candy aroma. A soft sponge cake, which is sometimes soaked in comberry brandy, is layered with sweet marshmerrow crème patissiere, caramelised marshmerrow crumble, and maraschino comberries. Sure to knock some years off your age and put a couple more holes in your belt (it's impossible to stop at one slice. Source: me).

Imperials

There's nothing quite like homemade gnocchi with ragout for Imperials when it comes to comfort food. While this homey dish is prevalent across Cyrodiil, every household cooks the dish differently. In mine, my mother pan-fries the gnocchi in an obnoxious amount of butter, and tops it with her top-secret slow-cooked lamb and red wine ragout. While I cannot give away the secrets to her ragout, I highly recommend trying this delicious dish a try when you need to warm yourself, body and soul.

Khajiit

If you think you can turn away cinnamon and cardamom churros with a cup of moon sugar caramel dip, you're deluding yourself. This delicious treat can be found across Elsweyr and is considered one of the Province's most famous foods. Khajiiti churros, which are made from a mix of rice and tapioca flour, have a moist and chewy texture beneath a crisp, golden brown outer layer. They're served hot from the wok, with a cup of moon sugar caramel syrup. A truly divine pairing!

Nords

Spätzle is something I've written about in the past, and it's one of the best things I know (ask any resident of Skyrim and they'd tell you the same). These chunky egg noodles may look unrefined compared to Khajiiti vermicelli, but make up for it when liberally doused in a creamy cheese sauce and topped with fried onions. I like spicing mine up, quite literally, with some chili powder I purchased at a Sentinel bazaar.

Orcs

Nothing screams comfort food (and mess) quite like a good old echatere sausage hot dog. The echatere sausage, rather akin to Blackwood chorizo in flavour, is grilled over hot coals and served in a sourdough bun, served Wrothgar style with a good amount of horseradish mayo, fried radish chips, caramelised onions, pickles, and crispy dried baby shrimp topping. I'd say you can't stop at just one, but it's a hefty meal you can eat with one hand!

Redguards

I have probably written about gulab jamun in the past, a delicious, albeit cloying dessert popular throughout Hammerfell. An iconic dish at festivals and parties, gulab jamun is prized by dessert-lovers for its velvety, syrupy texture. These fluffy balls of cardamom-scented cottage cheese are fried and soaked in a fragrant saffron and rose water syrup, and topped with crushed pistachios. So simple, so good, and so moreish. Just be sure to stop at three, because any more and the sugar rush will send you to Aetherius!

[tread-ever-litely]

TES PROTAGONISTS

So an idea I’ve had rattling around is doing little bios for my mainline Elder Scrolls heroes, enjoy.

The Elder Scrolls I: Arena

Name: Hadraniel (He/They)

An Altmer knight-paladin of Auri-El born in the capital of the Summerset Isles, Alinor. Would eventually go on to become a trusted member of the Septim Empire’s royal court, which of course would land them in prison after Jagar Tharn enacts his coup. Very traditionally chivalrous and heroic, as befits the kind of classic ‘stop the evil wizard’ plot that Arena had. Also uses grim humour to cope with his continent-spanning task. His fate is unclear, some saying he returned home to Alinor, others theorizing he went to reclaim the Battlespire for the Empire.

The Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall

Name: Kyani al-Shajar (She/Her)

A Redguard Bard from a small town in northwestern Hammerfell, not far from the city of Sentinel. Joined the Blades after an offer was extended by one of Uriel Septim VII’s sons who was visiting Sentinel where she worked for the Temple of Dibella and within the noble courts picking up rumours and the like. Her knowledge on Iliac Bay politics basically gave her an in. Cut forward to the events of Daggerfall and she’s put to the test investigating everything as the Emperor’s Agent. Does her best to be kind but also knows how to ‘work the system’ as it were. Her ultimate fate is unknown due to the time-altering effects the Numidium created.

The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind

Name: Zyarie (She/Her)

A Dunmer Nightblade from the Imperial City, she spent her childhood as an urchin and a thief barely scraping by. Coming into adulthood and she joined a local gang where she learned some magical skills and honed her aptitude for stealth and thievery further. This eventually landed her in hot water with the law after she was caught trying to break into the home of a member of the Elder Council. She gets thrown in jail for a few months until she’s shipped off to Morrowind and the events of that story pick up from there. Over the course of the plot she has flashes of memories that aren’t hers and with her getting the Moon-and-Star ring is fully given Nerevar’s memories — including his gruesome death — but she isn’t overridden, Zyarie is still her own person, just with another’s memories alongside hers. At the beginning she nearly outright rejects the idea of her being the Nerevarine, but overtime the memories become too clear and she slowly accepts it, with the help of her allies and friends. After the defeat of Dagoth Ur, and Zyarie sadly having to kill Almalexia, she would mysteriously fade from the public eye, and is rumoured to have left all-together, possibly to Akavir. Though, others say she travels Tamriel still.

The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

Name: Llevana (She/They)

A Dunmer Rogue born in Narsis but raised in Cheydinhal, they were the child of a disgraced noble who was forced to leave Morrowind. Fell into a decadent crowd who turned out to be a minor cult of Mephala. There they learned the arts of stealth and how to speak smoothly, until in true Webspinner fashion, was betrayed by their former ‘friends,’ and framed for a crime they did not commit. Cut forward a few months to Uriel tromping up to them and doing the whole spiel, where the dashing disheveled rogue felt a strange compulsion to help the weird human man. Shenanigans and Oblivion Crisis ensues, Llevana gets the hots for Martin and they totally have some time together before he turns into a Dragon, blasts Dagon to bits, and becomes a statue. Llevana kind of snaps a little after this, vanishing into the Shivering Isles portal, and mantles Sheogorath entirely. Though from then on, uncle Sheo would begin to appear as a Dark Elf more and more to the common madmen.

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Name: Ylva Frostborn (She/Her)

A Nord spellsword born in Falkreath but grew up in Bruma. Her father was a widowed blacksmith who served in the Legion during the Great War. She had a generally unremarkable childhood, hunting in the frosted woods around the city and helping her father, while learning some magecraft on the side as it was an interest of hers. Story old as time; she’s caught in the middle of a skirmish between the Imperials and Stormcloaks on the border, and taken prisoner. She escapes, and the events of Skyrim take place. Ylva is the most stoic of the heroes, though has the most with her on her journey (modded followers, team Dragonborn.) She eventually disappears from Skyrim, some say on an expedition to Atmora, others, that she dwells in Apocrypha. However she is said to return when Tamriel as a whole needs her.

[ghostemojiii]

My hot take from both ESO and the Oblivion Remaster is that I don’t like this trend of Dunmer NOT having red eyes. Like pink and even to some extent purple, are both made with red so Karliah or whoever is fine. But like the lore and everything literally says that Azura cursed the entire race to have ashen skin and red eyes…so it bugs me when they don’t

That feature, along with the forehead ridges and chain smoker voices from breathing in smoke for their entire lives are like a key part of their character. I dunno.

[vehksfingerguns]

WIP Wednesday

Ayyy, it's WIP Wednesday! I was tagged by @changelingsandothernonsense and @labskeever! This is actually a scene from a little further on in Bury Me to the Sound of Your Name that I was inspired to write because... what is chronological order? I won't tag anyone right now because I know I'm posting hella late and everyone I usually tag has probably already posted. Anyway, tw for some serious violence. Enjoy a little bit of dark Rathas ahoy!

The kick to the ribs landed hard. Rathas felt some of them break beneath his boot as Tarek wheezed and tried to roll away from him, and it gave him a sick sort of satisfaction that he reveled in before he gripped the older elf with his hand firmly by the shoulder to roll him back over. 

“Get up.” 

Tarek coughed again, and spit blood and fragments of teeth onto the sand. Rathas watched as Val’s father rolled himself over again to push himself up onto his hands and knees. The older Serano had no intention of going down easy.

Good, Rathas thought as he walked around Tarek still struggling up into a crawl. Stopping, his hands slid into Tarek’s silvery quiff of blond hair, and he tugged the mer’s head up sharply so he could look into the other man’s face. Eyes blazed with fury, with hatred, but with no fear. Instead, the pirate grinned at him, somehow looking even more menacing with blood dripping from his mouth, and spit more red tinged mucus at his feet before lifting his chin again to look at Rathas defiantly. 

“Well I certainly underestimated you…”

The younger man felt his opponent’s face contort under his fist as it slammed against his cheek, knuckles privy to the sickening wet pop of a broken nose. He roughly yanked Tarek’s head front and center by his hair again, and dropped into a squat, his lips pulled into a tight, thin line that might’ve been a smile as he withdrew the ruby studded blade from its sheath, holding its razor sharp tip to the other mer’s throat. 

“No,” he growled, “You underestimate your son. Now get the fuck up.”

He dragged the beaten and battered elf to his feet, but Tarek’s knees buckled again, sending him right back down into the sand. Rathas made a disgusted noise and reared his foot back once more before delivering another heavy kick to the older Dunmer’s stomach, watching him wheeze and curl and try to roll protectively. It reminded him of chaurus’ curling in on themselves to protect their soft bodies beneath their chitin clad exoskeletons. 

Fitting, considering the vermin that groaned on the ground, Rathas glaring down at him as the final vestiges of sun burned hot at the back of his neck.  

“I said, get. up.”

“I knew…” Tarek began with a cough, spitting more blood out onto the sand next to his head before he tilted his head to look up at Rathas. “I knew I was sending Fathis to his death. You remember that about your friend.”

Another dangerous noise made its way out of Rathas, and he lifted his foot to kick again. This time, Tarek anticipated the blow, and reached out with his other hand to roughly yank the younger mer’s leg out from under him, sending him careening to the ground, dagger tumbling out of his hand. For his trouble, Rathas kicked out his other foot as he landed on his ass, connecting the heel of his boot with the side of Tarek’s head violently.

“Filthy fucking n’wah,” the young mer snarled, launching himself toward Val’s battered father.

Another violent roll gave Tarek the momentum to back hand him across the cheek, bony knuckles connecting hard with the sharp angle of his face, but Rathas caught him by the shoulder and shoved him back against the soft earth of the beach, scrambling on top of the other elf. Reeling back, he swung hard, bone cracking beneath his knuckles before he hit Tarek again, the soft meat of the other man’s face squleching under the contact. 

Beneath him, the other Dunmer fought and clawed at him. It wasn’t desperation to survive – rather, it was malicious, intent to injure, to maim. Short, blunt nails scrabbed at his face, fingers questing toward his eye and Rathas jerked his head before opening his mouth to bite down hard on those digits, Tarek howling in pain as he yanked his hand back. 

Not wanting to miss his chance, the younger mer closed his hands around the other’s wrists and lifted them away from the space between their bodies, slamming them hard against the ground before he managed to get his feet back underneath him. His hold still tight around Tarek’s wrists, Rathas stood, dragging both their weight up before be let go to shove the other man roughly, heel of his palm connecting ferociously with the old mer’s sternum and knocking air from Tarek’s lungs as he fell backward toward the rocky outcrop at the center of the island. 

Slowly, Rathas made his way toward the other man’s wheezing form, sand soft and giving under his boots. He could feel rage swelling in him, icy and black and terrible, filling his chest cavity and threatening to strangle him. But rather than shy away from it, rather than try and snuff it out before it took hold of him, he leaned into it, letting that dark fury guide him as he grabbed the other mer by the collar and dragged him further up on the rocky outcrop, until Tarek’s head rested against the edge of the stone cliff.

“I made him,” Tarek rasped, pain straining his words. “I made him what he is…”

Rathas used the toe of his boot to roll the other Dunmer over before he knelt down next to Tarek and grabbed him by the hair root again, dragging his mouth to the edge where the rock curved downward. 

“Open your mouth,” he told the older elf calmly. From his place, he could see Tarek’s lips curl up into another one of those bloody, terrible grins. Rathas shifted some, lifting the other mer’s head by the hair with one hand while the other came up to squeeze the pirate’s broken jaw tightly, more and more pressure until Tarek had no choice but to relent, his mouth falling open before it was shoved roughly against the cliff’s edge, hard enough to wedge it open, teeth scraping stone as the man struggled. 

“I don’t know what’s worse…” His voice was still calm, carrying a chill that had nothing to do with the wind off the northern sea as he sat on his haunches next to Tarek. “Your massive ego… or the fact that you actually believe what you’re saying.” His hand twisted tighter in that fluff of silver blond, pulling painfully at the roots even as he leaned in closer to the mer’s ear, his voice dropping dangerously low.

“But Val’s made more of himself than you’ll ever be. You’re nothing but a sad, jealous, self-loathing piece of shit…”

“And I should put you out of everyone’s misery…” he started as he stood again, his foot immediately stepping on thin shoulders far narrower than his own, the toe of his boot resting on the back of Tarek’s skull. “I should spill your brains and teeth all over this rock and be done with it.”

He rocked his foot forward just a little, shifting more of his weight against the other mer’s skull threateningly. Tarek made a noise that sounded like a grunt, attempting to lift his head, and Rathas bared down harder, applying more weight and pressure until he pulled a whimper from his quarry. “But you don’t deserve a quick death. No… you deserve to die knowing that no one… not even your own flesh and blood.. will miss you. You want to suffer?” he hissed, his foot applying more pressure still, feeling teeth start to give, the hard edge of the rock and the leverage of Rathas’s foot pushing them out of the soft tissue they were embedded in. “Then I will make you suffer.”

[alavastor]

Argonians are kinky and batshit

I posted this to b-sky so i'm gonna regurgitate it here.

Within The Elder Scrolls lore, Argonians went and tried their damnedest to basically colonize a section of Oblivion after a gate showed up in Black Marsh, yeah?

So! In Morrowind, everyone was getting slaved up, even other dunmer from what i remember. Argonians are known for their battle prowess and insanity to FUCKING SET UP SHOP IN OBLIVION, are one of the races slaved up, yes?

What if they're getting shackled and collared... willingly?

Everyone else is kicking and screaming(for good reason), but the Argonians are just sitting there like: "Idk what everyone's so upset about, this shit's hot af."