#ald'ruhn

[igorlevchenko-blog]

Morrowind: Portrait of Percius Mercius, former master of Fighters Guild on Vvardenfell. Ald'ruhn Year 3E 428.

[sixteenthchapel]

Morrowind - The Outlander goes to Ald'Ruhn [page 10/20]

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The errand running for House Hlaalu intensifies. Baleyna Hlaalu sends the outlander to Ald'Ruhn to impersonate Felsen, a servant of House Redoran who has gone mysteriously missing as of late.

I want to give a massive thank you to my friend @languorwine who collaborated with me on this comic. Their absolutely gorgeous night sky background on the silt strider page (page 4). I love their landscape skills and thank them so much for lending them to me for this part.

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Read the rest:

Outlander Comic

Quick links:

[1][2][3][4]

[elderscrollsconceptart]

The Fall of Ald'ruhn

"The armies of Oblivion destroy Ald’ruhn, ancestral home of House Redoran, even though ancient rituals were used to awaken the dread emperor crab and the whole city literally rose up to fight the invaders. With their warrior House decimated, the dunmer of Vvardenfell fall back as daedra move towards a siege of Ghost Gate. Prayers to Vivec and the Nerevarine go unanswered."

Unoficial concept art for events in Morrowind during The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

Art by Michael Kirkbride

[peony-plum]

Eating at the Ald Skar inn

[darkelfguy]

Morrowind - A Plaza in Ald'ruhn

[luna-the-cat]

I had some time off on my last business trip so I decided it was time to paint some pretty redoran architecture

[vosh-rakh]

The air in the Temple was thick and sweet with camphor, leaving behind a grey haze over everything - and everyone. There were several people - mostly priests - waiting for Qismehti, many faces she didn’t recognize. But she recognized Athyn Sarethi’s, who smiled warmly at her. He wore a heavy kresh robe, his tough body lost in its folds. 

She also saw Varvur Sarethi, Athyn’s son. His thin body - one she was all too familiar with - was also lost in a thick robe. He smiled sheepishly at Qismehti, his hands clasped behind him.

“You’re here,” Athyn said. “Good. We have business to attend to.”

“What business?” Qismehti asked. 

“If you want to challenge Bolvyn for the title of Archmaster, you need to be fully inducted into Great House Redoran. I’m adopting you into the Sarethi family.”

Qismehti, somewhat bewildered, blinked rapidly. But all she said was, “Very well.”

“Come,” said Athyn. He, alongside Qismehti, Varvur, and the priests, sat down on cushions surrounding the Waiting Door, a wide pit of ash and bone fragments in the center of the chamber. 

What followed was a strange candlelit ritual, one Qismehti did not understand (as the words the priests spoke was entirely in Velothi, the language of the Ashlanders), but got the gist of. They were beseeching the Redoran ancestors, specifically those of the Sarethi family, to consider and accept this young outlander into the clan and House. There were certain procedures and actions which Athyn prompted her to perform at various moments throughout the ceremony, which she carried out dutifully. 

Nearing the end of the ritual, the lead priest asked a question of Qismehti in Velothi. Athyn translated: “Now you must choose your cardehn. Who do you declare?”

Qismehti knew what a cardehn was: an ancestor bound to a person, usually upon their birth, to serve as their guide and protector in life. She’d had childhood friends growing up near Blacklight on the mainland who had had their cardehns chosen for them when they were born, usually from a list of honored ancestors from their line. She had only ever been in temporary and conditional service to House Redoran, and was born to a Redguard and an Orc; she had never been granted a cardehn. She wasn’t a history buff, either. She knew precious little about the ancestors of the Sarethi family.

“I don’t know,” she said, matter-of-factly.

The priests muttered to themselves for a moment, before one produced a gilded redware bowl, filled to the brim with a thick red liquid. It was carefully transferred down the circle until Athyn handed it to Qismehti. “Drink,” he commanded. 

Qismehti took the bowl and peered cautiously into the drink. “What is it?”

“Shein,” Athyn said. 

Qismehti smiled, unsure if Athyn was joking. “Why is it so thick?”

“Probably the ectoplasm,” Athyn said, his expression blank. “Although the gall could contribute.”

“Gall?” asked Qismehti, her face paling. 

“Not that kind. It’s corkbulb myrrh. Just drink.”

Qismehti looked around at the priests, who were staring intently at her. She closed her eyes, raised the bowl to her lips - with this proximity she could smell the myrrh intensely - and drank deep. The wine was bitter and viscous, and it didn’t go down easily. But she choked it down with all her strength. 

A few seconds after imbibing, Mehti suddenly felt a pounding in her temples. Her hands began to shake, and invisible hands snatched the bowl from her before she spilled any of the ghost-spiked shein. The blackness behind her eyelids grew deeper and she felt herself fall backwards. Her head seemed to land on something soft, which she visualized as a lap, before she fell unconscious. 

- - - - -

When she awoke Qismehti was standing in the ash outside the temple of Ald’ruhn. But there was no temple, nothing but a mound of rock and ash. She turned around and -

A gigantic beast was staring at her. Its massive claws seemed to wring the sky and its many legs suffocated the ground. Its enormous stalked eyes were lowered, almost level with Qismehti’s face, dripping blood. 

“Don’t worry,” said a strange voice, “it’s dead.”

Suddenly a mer leapt from the top of the beast and landed on one knee. He stood and spun his chitin spear, ebony-tipped and adorned with racer plumes, with a decorative flourish. His armor was rudimentary chitin in a style Qismehti didn’t recognize, but she could tell from the quality of the plates and the way they locked together that it was of high quality. 

“Hail, Qismehti,” said the mer, his golden skin glistening in the clear midday light. Qismehti recognized why his voice was strange: he wasn’t speaking Cyrodiilic, or even Dunmeris, which she was also familiar with. He spoke Velothi, the language of the Ashlanders. Not only this, but an old form, barely recognizable to her ears as Velothi at all. But somehow she understood his meaning, despite the language barrier. 

“Hail,” Qismehti responded softly. In the haze of this place her voice barely seemed her own. “How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been watching you, ever since you came into contact with my descendants. You do great honor to them.”

“I’m sorry…who are you?”

The mer smirked and planted his spear into the blood-soaked ash. “Does this not give it away? This spear, this scene?”

Qismehti apologized again, saying, “I don’t know the history of Ald’ruhn.”

“It was once the meeting place for we Velothi. I established it when I killed this great beast, Skar, with my spear Calderas. Your House mer have long since lived here, though, and call it the seat of their political power. Which is something you seem to desire.”

Qismehti’s face hardened. “Bolvyn is a dishonorable man. He does not deserve his title.”

“You need not defend yourself to me, Qismehti. The only one you should defend yourself to is your own spirit, your ambition.”

Qismehti fell silent, lost in contemplation. Finally she asked again, “Who are you, that you know so much about me?”

“I am Dranoth Hleran,” the mer said, crossing his arms.

Qismehti frowned. “There must be some mistake. I don’t have any Altmer ancestors.”

Dranoth burst into laughter. “You call me Altmer? How insulting. I am Chimer, proud to go different, and in thunder.”

“I don’t have any Chimer ancestors, either.”

“It is not your ancestors you need lay claim to,” said Dranoth, his face suddenly grave. 

“But this family is Sarethi, not Hleran.”

“Ah, but they carry my blood just the same. What’s in a name? It is a dead thing, just as dead as I.”

“But I carry not the blood of Sarethi, either.”

“Will is stronger than blood - all the wise men proclaim it. And it is will that brought you here to me, even if you do not know me.” “But -”

“Stop questioning destiny. It’s unbecoming of a ruling king. You shall face the coming challenges with me at your side.”

Qismehti was silent for a moment, then clarified: “I will not be a king. I will be something lesser, and therefore greater.”

Dranoth smiled. “That you will. Now go. Execute your will.”

- - - - -

Qismehti suddenly woke up, and opened her eyes to see Varvur Sarethi staring down at her. The lap she had fallen into was his, and he cradled her head in his hands. He smiled and whispered, “Rise and shine.”

Qismehti reached up to grab his hand. “Don’t be sentimental,” she whispered back. 

Qismehti sat up and said, “I have chosen.” She looked around at the priests, and at Athyn, and said, “My cardehn is Dranoth Hleran.”

The priests murmured loudly to each other at this. The lead priest shushed them and said, in Dunmeris, “You have been chosen. Welcome to Great House Redoran.”

[ash3]

Staying somewhere in Ald'ruhn, after turning back from daedroth-like state

[tespics]

Ald'ruhn.

[leavingautumn13]

oc-tober day 4: redesign

i don't remember the last time i drew my nerevarine, but here he is. details under the cut.

[i have commissions open now!]

Arsyn Indarys

he/him, bi/demi, sign of the Atronach

6'2" or 188 cm

46 y.o. (at start of Morrowind); 254 y.o. (at start of Dragonborn)

easygoing and friendly, prefers talking to fighting

adoptive parents were merchants; he learned to swordfight while traveling with caravans across Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Hammerfell

had not been to Morrowind before the events of the game; does not leave often afterward

joins House Redoran and refuses to work with the Blades

supportive of both the Dissident Priests and Ashlanders, and pushes for more House/Ashlander cooperation

eventually enters a romantic relationship with librarian Mehra Milo

In my canon he doesn't leave Morrowind after the events in-game, and helps lead the dunmer from Vvardenfell after the events of the Red Year. He's also present for the events of Dragonborn and helps dovahkiin Kyrena with both her prosthetic arm and the events taking place on Solstheim.

[bobombun]

Out of the Elder Scrolls games, I've played Morrowind, Oblivion, and Skyrim. And somehow only Morrowind truly captured me, and I've wondered why.

At first I thought maybe it was just the nostalgia, since I played it first, and started when I was, frankly, too young to really play it. That maybe it was just those fond memories.

But now I think it's probably the personality of the world. Let me explain.

Morrowind is a fantasy game, set in a fantasy world. You see that obviously from things like magic and gods existing, but also in the nature. The Telvanni mushroom houses, the floating jellyfish-like somewhat bug-like netch, the whale-like sounds making large insectoid silt striders... It all makes for a world that is so distinctively its own, you see a nix-hound anywhere and immediately think "ah, that's from Morrowind." I love that. It makes you want to explore, learn about this world with nature almost alien to ours, and it makes you feel like you truly are in a different land.

Oblivion and Skyrim on the other hand are let-downs in this aspect. Oblivion's nature looks like any other medieval fantasy world, and the most common enemy is wolves. Skyrim... if I wanted to talk to bearded blond dudes in the snow about whose land we're on, I'd just go outside. I live in Finland, I could go to the woods right now and find tracks of bears or wolves myself. Technically, that is. I do live in a city. But the point is, that's not exciting, that doesn't pull me into a magical adventure that I'll want to learn more about. It's just a field trip to a historical site where I larp as a viking.

Now granted, viking stories have just never appealed to me anyways, and Oblivion's basic European medieval fantasy land is probably easier for people to jump into than everything Morrowind has got going on.

But I adore a world that truly does feel different from ours. Please make me feel invested and curious in your world, please try something different. Thank you Morrowind, for having done that.

[landgraabbed]

her growth

[igorlevchenko-blog]

Morrowind: Donation to the shrine of Saint Olms. Ald'ruhn. Year 3E 420.

[erika-xero]

REPOSTOBER, DAY 27: Moon and Star

A collection of drawings with my Nerevarine, Raelin. TW! this post has some TES-headcanons which might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but please, don’t judge a woman by her headcanons

After her mother died, Raelin became a street performer in the Imperial City. She was a young girl when she got captured by the imperial guards and thrown into the dungeon alongside with another dunmer, for a thing she didn't do. A day after she found herself on a ship sailing to Morrowind, even though she was born and raised in Cyrodiill and has never been to Vvardenfell.

She arrived to Seyda Neen and then the Morrowind storyline begins.

During the Morrowind storyline, she got infected by corprus. She was barely herself by the time she reached Tel Fyr. Divayth Fyr saved her life, and she got so fascinated with him, that it became an obsession. The girl was madly in love and at the same time she was repulsed by the fact that he cloned himself four times and married the clones, so she never approached him. Not only he had four clones of himself, he also managed to clone Raelin while she was recovering from corprus, using her cells. He kept that fact a secret, knowing that she would never forgive him.

Raelin receiving the Moon and Star from Azura in the Cavern of the Incarnate:

Raelin by the Red Mountain:

Raelin in Balmora:

During the Morrowind storyline, Raelin became a part of house Telvanni, though she still preferred using staff as a pole weapon and the theory of magic fascinated her a lot more than the spells she could use in battle. She planned going on an expedition to Akavir, but the Oblivion Crisis prolonged her stay in Morrowind for a few years. She finally managed to leave during the Red Year. Her ship was sailing in the sea when the catastrophe happened. She knew what happened from a vision she got: she helplessly watched the destruction of Vivec, Ald'ruhn and Balmora crumble into dust. Her ship got into a terrible storm and wrecked apart: none of the crewmembers and the expeditioners survived, but her. Corprus changed her body forever: she became a lot stronger, more agile than regular dunmer, immune to any decease, being able to recover a lot faster and survive such damage that would kill a regular person. She survived on an Island and it took her forever to get to Akavir, but eventually, she did. She lived in a tiny shack in the middle of nowhere, the years flew by. In horror, she realised that she never aged. Her body remained young, the terrible injuries she got during the shipwreck didn't leave a single scar on her body. She most likely coundn't have children anymore. She was scared and devastated, she lost everything she loved, she lost her land, her people, and she also felt like she've lost herself.

She still has visions. She dreamed of the past and of the nearest future, and the Tang Mo, who, at first, were disturbed by her presence on their land, started to see her as a shaman, a wise woman, even though she was significantly different from them. She eventually made friends among them. One night, she had a vision: a daedra appearing out of nowhere somewhere at the bog, in a form of a man. She went out to search from him and found him and saw that he is no daedra, but a white haired mer, covered in blood and mud. Here's a bunch of post-Morrowind concepts:

Champion of Cyrodiil/Hero of Kwatch post: here

And some Nerevarine/Champion stuff under cut:

[unknownhomosapien]

Wanna add some more context to reverse!au for better understanding

(Added more sickness to his face cus I still like trickstarbrave's art teehee)

Basically all canon events till "foul murder" is...canon. It wasn't his will to become a god, but Nerevar's mind got corrupted in some ways because of heart of lorkhan, so he ready to use god powers to reach his goals. His ways to deal with tribunal are much more sinister, so he as well as madman.

Somehow even Almsivi thinks that it was Dagoth Ur who has got awakened (very tough awakening though). Nerevar using this legend as profit. Everyone seems to believe that Nerevarine prophecy is true, even ashlanders. Wonder how he deceived them.

If Dagoth Ur using the magic to fight, Mora Ind using his strength. Don't be fooled by his exhausting look, this man is able to cut a massive rock with trueflame in the first try as well as crush your head with one hand.

He is using the magic, still. Prostetics looks advanced, but has bad mobility, plus constant pain, so, he learnt how to levitate and use it effectively in the attacks. Also, Nerevar somehow developed resistance to magic, and its not easy to beat him only with the spells.

His god voice echoes, but can change depending on mood. Main difference that in moments of anger it echoing in higher tone, almost cutting the ears.

Mora Ind has his own followers, despite having sixth house as source to threaten people. He is not fully controlling them though. Despite being blind and using raw magic, Nerevar is able to "see" through eyes on his hands, and through his followers. This is part of the deal: they're serve him with no hesitation, him is protecting them from corprus (except sixth house sleepers), saving their will, but has right to take control whenever he wants. And he has much more influence on dissident priests. But only few loyal knows who is truly sitting in the red mountain.

Godryn is quite weak, despite being tall, so he is highly counting on his charisma, magic abilities and alchemy skills. He is suffering from rosacea, migraines and epilepsy, thought last one comes from migraines and happens in the moments of high stress, and has uncontrollable and incurable magic origin. Blessing and a curse in the same time.

This man loves to be good looking and morning routines are his best friends. Only when being alone, he allows himself to look sloppy.

He is not a Nerevarine. How do you think he'll become one if Nerevar is alive? But Godryn surely gonna doubt tribunal much and make his own investigation because of curiosity. Will meet Almsivi eventually.

Anarenen gonna have main part in his story and will become some kind of love interest before meeting Nerevar? Anyways, they both slay queens in boring Ald'ruhn with dumbass Redoran around.

He gonna be suspicious and paranoid in the first chapters. Godryn is not a reckless one, and tryin to make decisions with thinking twice.

Godryn is 24 years old and born in 3E 403. He is an adult, but very unexpirience in live, so, there are gonna be some dumb choices. Recognising himself as Voryn will help in some ways, but dunmer is not gonna BE Voryn. He doesnt wanna be "someone" except himself. He tired of that.

[darkelfguy]

Ald’ruhn - City of the Redoran