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Good morning, Fallen London

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🤝 yeah

outstandingly scoundrelcore paragraph. pack it up everybody the event has peaked

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Other games doing summer events: Fun in the sun! Beach-themed cosmetics! Maybe something fire-related?

Fallen London Summer event: It's hailing. Hell is missing. Your morning toast turned into a continent for a second. There is a suspicious lack of elephants. All in all: a perfectly normal DAY NOT FOUND.

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since mrs, ms, and mr are all descended from the latin word magister, i propose the gender neutral version should be mg, short for "mage"

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So excited to share this with y’all - my arrangement of Nerevar Rising for treble chorus, with all parts sung by me (almost three octaves of range)!

I might redo some of the lyrics or rework some of the harmony lines as I keep working on it, but I’m pretty pleased with where it is now. Enjoy!

Link to sheet music and lyrics under the cut:

Click here for the sheet music and the file with just the MIDI audio, along with my other TES-related recordings.

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skyrim is a story of hardship and oblivion is a fairy tale and morrowind is about what happens when the polycule breaks down

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What My Beloved Taught Me and Vivec’s Fondness for Allegory

So: I admit I don’t spend all my time in Elder Scrolls spaces. (See: username.) But I have gone looking for this analysis in Elder Scrolls spaces, and not found it. Oddly, in most of the analysis I’ve seen of What My Beloved Taught Me, the in-universe author is conspicuously absent—there’s debate over what certain things might have mapped to, like whether the “bitch-whore of a storm” might actually be Azura rather than/in addition to Almalexia, but most of it is about that context in that era.

To the extent that it’s taken as allegorical, it generally tends (from what I’ve seen) to be taken as foreshadowing of the Foul Murder; trust me, says Vehk, untrustworthy. The ending of the words is HORTATOR. In this case, it would be one more thing Vivec wrote out of not-particularly-well-repressed guilt that just didn’t fit into the “canon” established by all his other stories about himself. (Being honest about his own background, for one; I’m fairly sure the Lessons are taken allegorically instead of literally on that front, but it still obscures what might be under them.) This works fine as a reading of the document. I’m not here to say it doesn’t, and I’m definitely building on the established reading here.

But the thing that interests me is that Vivec clearly wrote it. So the question becomes: when, and why?

I want to talk about why first, because the why is part of my argument for the when. Vivec loved Nerevar, in one way or another, and killed him (in one way or another, and with the other two’s assistance, but I think he struck the killing blow at least in the timeline most real to him), and then spent thousands of years occasionally hiding messages about this and messages to the Nerevarine in his exceedingly odd allegorical sermons. He editorializes everything that doesn’t fit with who he wants to see himself as into myth. He rewrote his sexual trauma as him getting the better of the King of Rape (who he may have actually encountered, that’s not what I’m writing about here) in a situation that his head, at least, could freely leave, and then murdering the children of that union with the weapon that’s also an allegorical representation of his sexual trauma. Which is not generally how it works to defeat your inner demons, but this is how Vivec does it.

So he writes What My Beloved Taught Me out of a desire to write their first meeting over again, foreshadowing the end. I would argue that this isn’t an old document, though. This isn’t something he wrote soon after Nerevar’s death. I think the wound was too raw at that point; I think it remained raw for a very long time, given how the Lessons addressed the matter. In some ways, What My Beloved Taught Me is an attempt at an apology, or a universe where he might apologize, or one where apologizing is unnecessary (but also the betrayal is so clearly inevitable, which is its own kind of rewriting of history, because it’s easier to accept that a tragedy was inevitable from the beginning than that you made the wrong choice out of a set of choices you as a person could bring yourself to make).

The setting of it, I’d put forward, is part of the allegory. It’s their first meeting because they’re going to have a first meeting. The “Nerevar” in What My Beloved Taught Me, whose role is to be confused about his identity and beliefs and relationship with the person he’s speaking to, is standing in for/as the Nerevarine.

(It’s still, additionally, very much about Vehk and Nerevar, and Vivec falling over himself to make up for something he hasn’t done yet but is definitely going to do, long before he knew he was going to do it. Everything Vivec writes is an onion made of metaphors and he doesn’t consider history any more true than anything else people write down.)

There are little bits scattered around the story that take on other meanings, interpreted that way—I think the references to Nerevar’s mask are particularly interesting, because while he might actually have worn one at the time, it’s also a stand-in for his new face. (Would you let me wear that mask, for only a minute? is Vehk’s exaggerated-for-story Vehk-ness; also, Vivec’s noted desire to understand what it would be like to be everyone/everything. But ultimately he can only be himself, as Seht says, and it’s not a coincidence that he so often ends up writing about himself.) I’m not going to address every detail in that light. It’s mostly a few bits towards the end that I feel are conclusive.

There’s a part that gets brought up occasionally in discussions: why is the enemy he who says your name wrong?

And then it’s answered with an analysis of the people who are noted after (in sky beard, or fourth corner, or the mock-walkers of our cousins, the tunnelers), which I do think is accurate, but the claim I’ve seen most is that they “say [Nerevar’s] name wrong” because they’re foreign. They are, that’s part of it, that’s one of the meanings, but it’s a kind of weak and unsatisfying one on its own. Take it as aimed at the Nerevarine, though, and as gesturing at categories: outsiders, Princes, and people once-befriended who you make war against, because they “say your name wrong,” as in “they use your identity in the way that serves them.”

With most writers, “this specific thing means something vaguer and broader, metaphorically speaking” would be a stretch at best, but Vivec does that a lot. Myth-making thrives on that particular stretch, and Vivec likes to turn true things that happened into allegories for something else almost as much as he likes to rewrite the truth into strange allegories that do all the lying for him. History is the history of a dream in which very few people are lucid. He chops it up very finely and rearranges it into whatever shape he thinks makes a satisfying story.

Also in that paragraph—This, too: the bitch-whore of storm if she does not take your hand when you ask it. Once again, definitely Almalexia (in the past and in the Tribunal DLC), and also Azura, whose favor is necessary.

The next lines are the ones I find conclusive: And I see this idea behind that mask of yours already. You aim to take the land anew. You aim to wake the old sleeper. You aim to make the sky red. You have a name for it already.

The mask, in this case, is very much doing its double duty as the Nerevarine’s face. They, more than Nerevar, aim to take the land anew—because Nerevar hasn’t done it before yet. The old sleeper is Dagoth Ur. You’re both stopping catastrophe and causing catastrophic change. You have a name for it already, Moon-and-Star, and it’s your own.

Vivec at least partially expects you to kill him, now that you can. He offers you help anyway, eventually, once he comes to the realization that this is the last time and you are the real thing and he doesn’t have any better options anymore. Who are our gods? Old things, leftovers, and that’s about the Anticipations, but it’s what the Tribunal becomes. What My Beloved Taught Me is the last, unpublished Lesson, and the numbers referenced by their names now are only numbers / I’ll become good with those, my Grace are where Vivec hid his confession (and also the baffling implication that Lorkhan is Nerevar’s Anticipation, because when Vivec makes up a metaphysical concept for propaganda that doesn’t stop him from adding it to his personal mythology). The ending of the words is HORTATOR.

In the false past, it’s irony. In the present, it’s simply true.

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another panel from that comic, sans dialogue

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(Commission) Khariva and her mother Tsanabi riding into battle against the enemies of Anequina!

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Almost done updating the earlier designs!

secrets series early access and bonus art/quotes on patreon

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guess what i’ve been doing.

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ft. my sibling @azems-familiar

romance story you think is going to be a slow burn except character A suggests fake dating For Reasons and character B immediately responds, delighted, "holy shit you're in love with me" and then the actual relationship plot is A desperately trying to deny this because they have not been allowed their requisite several months to ease into the idea romance is on the cards here for real while B is like. yes i know you have issues, you're very repressed, im tragically into this, but sweetheart. darling. we could be kissing right now.

A keeps trying to bolt from the mortifying ordeal of being known and B keeps yelling no take backsies

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acceptance speech after setting the world record in goosebumps by Andrea Gibson

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This, and: terminology often implies the societal relationship to a concept. It feels odd to call a lesbian a sdestu in your fictional culture if the word means exactly the same thing, but if the cultural expectation in your setting is “lesbians care for the tombs of the gods, and this is the only socially acceptable way to be a lesbian” or something, it will be a little jarring if you call them lesbians. (Of course, sometimes you have something to accomplish by being odd or jarring.) This is part of the magic trick.

i always thought it was silly that people would get so pedantic & heated over the idea of fantasy novels using words derived from real locations like "champagne" or "lesbian" or whatever. "a fantasy setting cant have words that are dependent on real-world context" i have bad news for you about all words

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the elder scrolls group chat is a server now and we keep talking about CHIM

these are my roles. for context.

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THE PROPER VERSION DIDN’T POST. I DIDN’T EVEN CLICK POST ON THIS ONE. WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim Characters: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil, Martin Septim, Jauffre (Elder Scrolls), Baurus (Elder Scrolls), Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Ensemble, Original Characters Additional Tags: Novelization, Oblivion Main Quest, Mostly Canon Compliant, Romance, Tragedy, Loyalty, Getting Together, Bigender Hero of Kvatch, Dunmer Hero of Kvatch, POV Second Person, Not Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Not a Fix-It (yet), Only Ever Debatably A Fix-It In Later Works, The Hero of Kvatch is doing their best, But the world is ending and they’re mentally ill about it, They would still be mentally ill if the world wasn’t ending but they would handle it better, Martin is also doing his best but unfortunately Glorious Destiny has it out for him specifically Series: Part 1 of A History That Rhymes Summary:

Tanvyr Vandlen—as known to the Imperial City’s illegal fighting pits—is a hedge wizard, a brawler, and if you ask them, a s’wit who doesn’t know how to shut their mouth unless someone shuts it for them. But only Arena-sanctioned fights are supposed to end in death. An accident with a dubious spell later, they find themself unlucky enough to see that enforced. They’re slated for execution as a murderer—until the Emperor walks into their cell instead.

To their guilty conscience, having the Amulet of Kings shoved into their hands is an opportunity to make something of their life. To their adrenaline-seeking impulses, it’s a thrill to throw themself into an Oblivion Gate. But for all Tanvyr is trying to be the hero the situation deserves, the priest they were sent to save sees through their fronts.

Martin terrifies them, most of all for his insistence on seeing them as an equal. Being the Emperor’s sharpest Blade is simple. Being his friend is more difficult—and wearing his love openly, unthinkable. Not because of what they’ve done, but because of who they are. And the longer they stand beside him, the less certain they are of who that is.

Which has to be a good thing, given everything. Right?

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what is going on here. why did this post. I posted a proper version and yet here’s chapter 1 again

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim Characters: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil, Martin Septim, Jauffre (Elder Scrolls), Baurus (Elder Scrolls), Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Ensemble, Original Characters Additional Tags: Novelization, Oblivion Main Quest, Mostly Canon Compliant, Romance, Tragedy, Loyalty, Getting Together, Bigender Hero of Kvatch, Dunmer Hero of Kvatch, POV Second Person, Not Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Not a Fix-It (yet), Only Ever Debatably A Fix-It In Later Works, The Hero of Kvatch is doing their best, But the world is ending and they’re mentally ill about it, They would still be mentally ill if the world wasn’t ending but they would handle it better, Martin is also doing his best but unfortunately Glorious Destiny has it out for him specifically Series: Part 1 of A History That Rhymes Summary:

Tanvyr Vandlen—as known to the Imperial City’s illegal fighting pits—is a hedge wizard, a brawler, and if you ask them, a s’wit who doesn’t know how to shut their mouth unless someone shuts it for them. But only Arena-sanctioned fights are supposed to end in death. An accident with a dubious spell later, they find themself unlucky enough to see that enforced. They’re slated for execution as a murderer—until the Emperor walks into their cell instead.

To their guilty conscience, having the Amulet of Kings shoved into their hands is an opportunity to make something of their life. To their adrenaline-seeking impulses, it’s a thrill to throw themself into an Oblivion Gate. But for all Tanvyr is trying to be the hero the situation deserves, the priest they were sent to save sees through their fronts.

Martin terrifies them, most of all for his insistence on seeing them as an equal. Being the Emperor’s sharpest Blade is simple. Being his friend is more difficult—and wearing his love openly, unthinkable. Not because of what they’ve done, but because of who they are. And the longer they stand beside him, the less certain they are of who that is.

Which has to be a good thing, given everything. Right?