#also why are there no Altmer companions?

[vexwerewolf]

I always figured the Imperials were the good guys.

Nnnnnngh… no. Imperials are the better of two bad options, and it's really muddied because Bethesda lost its good writers years before Skyrim came out. I can feel a hyperfixation coming on, so a quick TL;DR: the Empire is an Empire so it's still bad, the Stormcloaks are just racist saboteurs led by a Manchurian agent and Tiber Septim is a gigantic piece of shit who ruined everything.

Okay, so the Empire functionally lost its equivalent of the Mandate of Heaven when Martin Septim died heirless at the end of Oblivion. His sacrifice forged a new compact to end the Daedric incursions, but by that point Imperial infrastructure throughout Tamriel had been so badly damaged that it could no longer maintain order. By the time the Mede dynasty got its feet under it, several provinces had either risen in revolt against the Empire or and were busy violently settling bitter generational rivalries with each other.

Most notably, this included the Thalmor, who are openly and proudly an Altmer supremacist movement. Their primary goal is to end the dominion of Men on Tamriel and institute a second Merethic Era dominated by them. This is the most obvious reason for why they want to ban Talos worship - the idea that a Man could become Divine is grossly incompatible with their worldview. (I must note that there's also a much-discussed fan theory stating that they intend to unmake creation in its current form and destroying Talos worship is part of that, but it's partially based on sources whose canonicity is in doubt, so I'm not going to discuss it further at this time.) The Thalmor are pretty much explicitly Elf Nazis, right down to invading foreign countries and rounding up their religious minorities.

It should be considered, however, that Tiber Septim was an UNBELIEVABLY MASSIVE PIECE OF SHIT. There's credible evidence that during his mortal life he assassinated the Cyrodillian monarch to whom he had sworn fealty and then seized his throne. He had a dalliance with Berenziah that ended up getting her pregnant, then forcibly abducted her and had the child aborted without her consent. After gaining Numidium from a treaty with the Tribunal of Morrowind, he discovered that they hadn't given them its power source (Lorkhan's Heart - understandable, since it was the source of their false divinity), and so he created a new one, the Mantella, by tearing the souls out of Ysmir and Zurin Arctus, two of his most loyal companions. He used Numidium to brutally conquer the rest of Tamriel and then turned it on all the noble families in Cyrodil who hadn't supported him. His empire - as all empires are - was built entirely on murder, pillage and rape. And - as all emperors do - he rewrote his own history because nobody dared openly oppose it. If the Aedra truly did award him a seat amongst them after this (and the fact that his bloody armor counts as "the blood of a divine" in Oblivion suggests that they did), it's questionable whether any of them are worthy of worship.

Nonetheless, worship of Talos was of extreme cultural importance to the Nords, because he was considered by history to have been a Nord, and indeed born in Atmora, the mythic first homeland of the Nords (although, again, it's likely he was just fucking lying - heterodox historical accounts suggest he was born in High Rock and never saw Atmora in his life). The White-Gold Concordat was formulated specifically to provoke division between the remaining provinces of the Empire - the Thalmor correctly predicted that the Nords would never tolerate being stripped of their right to worship Talos, and would rise in revolt against an Empire that mandated it.

The specific cause of the Stormcloak Rebellion is also… dubious. During the war with the Thalmor, the Imperial Legion had all but pulled out of Skyrim. This allowed an uprising by the Reachmen, an ethnic minority within southwestern Skyrim who, notably, had been brutally disenfranchised and stripped of their land by… Tiber Septim! Thanks, Talos, you continue to be a gigantic piece of shit! Anyway, they seized control of Markarth and held it for two years, during which by most accounts they ruled it as an independent kingdom that was making overtures towards being recognised by the Empire. After the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, Ulfric Stormcloak raised an army to retake it, and was promised by the Jarl of the Reach (and, allegedly, the Empire itself) that worship of Talos would be freely allowed in Markarth. Ulfric Stormcloak then proceeded to lay siege to the city and butcher it, ethnically cleansing the city of every last Reachman down to the women and children, slaughtering any Nord who had collaborated with them and allegedly even killing those citizens of Markarth who hadn't answered his call to arms.

Inevitably, the Thalmor found out about the Talos worship anyway and the Jarl was forced to sell out Ulfric and his men. This is generally considered to be the betrayal that sparked the civil war, but at this point we must examine who Ulfric is.

Ulfric was trained in the Thu'um from an early age by the Greybeards, but abandoned his tutelage to fight in the Great War. We know little of his performance other than that he was captured by the Thalmor, tortured extensively, and falsely made to believe that the information he had given under torture was instrumental in the fall of the Imperial City. His father, the Jarl of Windhelm, died while he was in prison, and he was forced to deliver a eulogy via a letter that he had smuggled out of the prison. He claims he escaped from captivity, while Thalmor records claim that they let him go intentionally; neither source is particularly reliable.

From a sociopolitical standpoint, Ulfric is a staunch Nordic traditionalist who openly states that he doesn't believe Skyrim has had a "true" High King for centuries, considering recent monarchs to simply be puppets installed by the Empire. He also seems to be deeply racist: in contrast to his father, he banned Argonians from entering Windhelm proper, confining them to the Assemblage on the docks, and he's allowed racist sentiments towards the Dunmer residents of the Grey Quarter to worsen. Even citizens of Windhelm who support the rebellion comment that isn't doing very much governing, since the civil war eats up most of his attention.

One point I will give to Ulfric is that establishing Skyrim as an independent kingdom that can actively resist the Thalmor isn't actually as far-fetched as it seems. After the White-Gold Concordat ceded half of Hammerfell to the Thalmor, Hammefell said "how about fuck you," broke from the Empire entirely, and smacked the Thalmor down so hard they had to sign the Second Treaty of Stros M'Kai and retreat from Hammerfell entirely. This rendered the nation a haven for those opposed to the Thalmor, and they're in such a strong position that the Alik'r can actively hunt Thalmor collaborators like Saadia in other nations. Hammerfell is in a better position than Skyrim, and it did it without any Imperial aid.

(A hilarious fact about the Hammerfell situation is that the Thalmor tried the exact same thing there - inciting a civil war between the Crowns and the Forebears, two factions that have hated one another for generations. Unfortunately, they fucked it up so badly that it actually managed to end the rivalry and unite both of them against the Thalmor.)

But this is where Bethesda's inability to actually capitalize on the good parts of their writing really gets to me.

The Empire in Skyrim… sucks. Like, from your perspective as a player, the first experience you have of the Empire is "okay, so you were at the border alongside this guy and we're executing him today so I guess you get to die too." The only decent Imperial you meet is Hadvar, who makes a lukewarm plea for your life but doesn't press the issue.

All of the Imperial Jarls except for Balgruuf and Idgrod Ravencrone are dogshit. Elisif is a naive, incompetent teenager. Siddgeir is an arrogant, incompetent ponce. Igmund is a spineless Thalmor toady reigning over stolen land, having broken a promise he made to Ulfric and thus being partially responsible for the civil war. The replacement Jarls you get if you side with the Empire and conquer territories the Stormcloaks hold at the start of the game fall into two categories: "who?" and "oh fuck not you." If I say the names Brina Merilis or Kraldar, I bet you won't even remember who I'm talking about. Brunwulf Free-Winter, the replacement for Ulfric Stormcloak, has ONE personality feature and it's "I'm slightly less racist than Ulfric." But when you capture Riften for the Empire, the new Jarl is MAVEN FUCKING BLACK-BRIAR, THE SECOND-WORST PERSON IN SKYRIM.

But the Stormcloaks suck worse. Laila-Law Giver is a puppet for the Black-Briar crime family. Skald the Elder is a grumpy, hidebound old man. Korir might as well not be ruling anything at all. If you side with them, you have to sell out Balgruuf when the matter of Whiterun comes up - a man who has never been anything but helpful, supportive, trusting and forthright with you. Oh, and let's not forget that if you take the Reach for the Stormcloaks, the new Jarl is THONGVOR SILVER-BLOOD, LITERAL SLAVEOWNER AND WORST PERSON IN SKYRIM.

(There is an absolutely cursed timeline wherein during the "territory trade" at the peace talks you can hold during the main quest if you haven't finished the civil war quest yet where Maven gets the Rift and Thongor gets the Reach, meaning you have just installed the two most powerful crime families in the country into positions of executive power.)

This isn't just a case of "of course both sides aren't perfect and have issues." This is just "both sides fucking suck." A better game would allow you to make some headway in resolving the massive issues that face Skyrim, but I've already written like nine billion words here so maybe I should go into that at a different time.

[critter-in-skyrim]

Concern

Taliesin was not one to feel concern very easily. In truth, the only people he’d ever truly felt any level of concern for were his sisters, but that was when they were young. Of course, then he became a Thalmor, where emotions like concern were trained out of him. He’d truly thought he would never feel concern for another person again, and frankly, he did not mind - things were less complicated when you only cared about yourself. 

That was all before he met Louis, though.

At first, Taliesin viewed Louis as an enigmatic fool - after all, who saves the life of someone you are supposedly morally and ideologically opposed to? Not only that, but who then decides to travel with said person, especially after they basically promise to someday betray you? Only a fool would make such decisions.

Taliesin would quickly learn, though, that Louis was no fool. Perhaps someone with a bizarre judge of character and a death wish, but certainly not a fool. 

As Taliesin saw it, Louis had a bit of a saving people thing, regardless of who the person might be. Louis simply couldn’t help himself when he saw someone in peril - he had to help them. It was almost endearing, if it weren’t for the fact that it put him in danger on more than one occasion. Louis wasn’t one to shy away from danger anyway, Taliesin would realize - if anything, he was known to lean into it. 

The first time Taliesin witnessed Louis charge into battle, blade in one hand, sparks in the other, he’d thought the smaller Altmer was going to get himself killed. It was also the first time Taliesin felt a slight nagging feeling of concern for Louis, watching him nearly die by a group of bandits before he’d even had time to react. Louis came out of that battle a winner, if only barely - he was bruised, bloody, beaten, yet still smiling. “Come on, Talie, keep up!” he’d said jokingly, apparently not noticing the horrified expression on Taliesin’s face. 

Those feelings of concern would only increase the more time he spent around Louis. After all, Louis had habits aside from his fighting style that also concerned Taliesin. He would never eat, unless he was on the brink of starvation. If he got injured, he’d often leave the wound to heal on its own, rather than using a quick healing spell or potion. Worst of all was probably his sleeping habits: Louis would go for days at a time without rest, to the point that he would be on the verge of collapse. Simply put, Louis was horrible at taking care of himself.

All of this led to Taliesin’s present state of anxiety, as he watched his companion limp ahead of him. The two of them had just been attacked by a group of wolves, one of which got a good bite in on Louis’s leg. Rather than stopping and healing himself up though, Louis pressed on.

“Maybe we should stop for a bit…” Taliesin suggested, his tone betraying his anxiety.

Louis paused, turning around to give Taliesin a concerned look. “What? Why? Are you okay?”

Taliesin blinked, not expecting to be questioned himself. “I…I’m fine, yes…”

Louis nodded slowly, before looking Taliesin up and down, as though to make sure he was telling the truth. Satisfied, he nodded, “Good. But why did you want to stop, then?”

Taliesin shifted awkwardly. “Louis…”

“Because if you are worried about me, don’t be,” Louis said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?! You have an open wound!” Taliesin couldn’t contain himself any longer. 

“And it will heal, just like all my prior injuries have,” Louis said, in an attempt to pacify his companion. 

“Right, all your prior injuries that you also just left to heal on their own, no healing spells, no potions,” Taliesin snarked. “Tell me, are you a masochist or something?”

Louis’s eyes widened, before he choked out a shocked laugh. “Wow, do you really want the answer to that question?”

“If it would give me a satisfying reason for why you don’t take care of yourself, then yes,” Taliesin said, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

“Why I don’t…” Louis repeated, eyebrows furrowing. “Where is all this concern for my wellbeing coming from? You’ve never acted all that worried about me before.”

Taliesin felt his face warm, and he shifted on his feet. “D-don’t change the subject!”

Louis looked quite pleased that he had managed to fluster Taliesin. “No, really, I’m curious. What’s changed, Talie?” Louis froze, then, as a thought occurred to him. “You care about me.”

“I…what?”

Louis pointed an accusatory finger at Taliesin. “You care about me.”

Taliesin blinked in confusion. “…We’ve been traveling as companions for a little while now, of course I care about you. It’s…not as easy as I would like, to remain detached from people I am around a great deal…” Louis’s expression was one of pure shock, as though this were all brand new information for him. It made Taliesin think… “I don’t know why this is so surprising to you. Do you not care about me?”

Taliesin made sure to steel his heart for whatever Louis had to say, completely prepared for rejection. Louis, however, looked almost offended when he replied. “Of course I care about you. I just…I didn’t expect…” Louis trailed off and looked away, suddenly self-conscious. 

Taliesin was able to fill in the blanks, though. “You didn’t expect me to care about you?” Something in Taliesin’s chest twisted a little. “Is it because of my past?”

“Your past- no, nothing like that,” Louis quickly reassured him. “It’s just…I never expect anyone to care about me, ever. I’m just…not used to it, is all.”

Taliesin’s eyebrows furrowed a bit at that. “Well, you better start getting used to it,” he said firmly. 

It wasn’t only the man’s tendency to not take care of himself that worried Taliesin - Louis’s mental state was also something that very much concerned him. Taliesin honestly did not know much about Louis or his past, and since Louis did not pry too much into his own past, he did not pry into Louis’s. He had to wonder though, what could have happened to Louis to make him care so little about himself, to believe that no one around him should care for him either? It broke his heart, just a little. 

“Come. Sit. Let me take care of that wound,” Taliesin suddenly demanded. Louis opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but instead, he merely sighed, before following Taliesin’s directions.

Taliesin knelt down beside Louis, hands reaching out to gently position his leg so he could see how bad the injury was. Louis’s pants were bloodied and ripped where the wolf had bitten. Taliesin hesitated, before ripping a strip of fabric from his robe, beginning to wrap it around the wound to stop the bleeding. Once that was done, he placed a gentle hand on the bandaged leg, casting a strong healing spell. 

A bit of the color came back to Louis’s face and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“You would probably feel even better if you ate something,” Taliesin pointed out.

“I let you heal me, don’t push it,” Louis warned. He pushed himself to his feet, testing the steadiness of his leg. Satisfied, he began walking down the road again. Taliesin got up, following after him. 

The two walked in silence for a bit, both seemingly thinking about the conversation they had just had.  Eventually though, Taliesin could stand it no more and he had to break the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Maybe. What do you want to ask?” Louis asked carefully. 

“Why is it that you don’t take care of yourself?” Taliesin asked in return.

Louis snorted slightly. “Well now, that is a loaded question, isn’t it?”

Taliesin shrugged. “It’s something I am genuinely curious about.”

“So you think I don’t take care of myself. Do you have any examples to back this up?” Louis asked.

“Plenty,” Taliesin said blandly. “Besides the fact that you never heal yourself when you’re injured, you also hardly ever eat or sleep, you consume substances that are bad for you, and you fly into battle like you have a death wish. You have to admit, Louis, it makes it seem like you are-”

“I’m not suicidal, if that’s what you’re implying,” Louis interrupted Taliesin. 

Taliesin held up his hands placatingly. “I wasn’t necessarily implying that, but I was going to say all of this stuff makes it seem like you are harming yourself on purpose…”

Louis did not respond right away, continuing to walk down the road like he hadn’t heard Taliesin at all. Eventually though, he spoke in a low, warning voice, “I wouldn’t go there if I was you.”

“Self harm can come in many different forms-” Taliesin tried to state calmly.

“What would you know about self harm?” Louis snapped, blue eyes fierce as they glared at Taliesin. It was clear a nerve had been struck, as it was rare for Louis to get genuinely mad like he was in that moment. 

“...” Taliesin struggled to find his words. Eventually, he settled on, “More than you might expect.”

Louis’s glare seemed to melt away in an instant. “You used to harm yourself?” Louis asked curiously.

Taliesin sighed heavily, avoiding Louis’s gaze. “Well…yes. Not a time I remember fondly. Self hatred is a nasty, evil thing - it works to destroy your very soul.”

Louis nodded in understanding. He swallowed hard, before saying, “I’m sorry I made you so concerned about me. I’m…fine. Really.”

Taliesin felt skeptical, but Louis’s eyes were practically pleading with him to take his words at face value. 

So, he did. “I’m glad,” he said, hesitating, before reaching out to grasp Louis’s shoulder firmly. “You’ll tell me if you ever become…not fine, right?”

Louis nodded, smiling a tender smile towards Taliesin. “I promise.”

[thalwhore]

Intermission

A little Tally fic to get down my thoughts on their turbulent dynamic. Set in a universe where Eira (oc) is the Dragonborn and Sulba (oc) is one of her followers. As always Taliesin belongs to @dynamite124 (go install his mod if you're on pc 🔫 he's so fun and worth it)

.

"You know, the only reason you're alive right now is because of Eira." The Redguard snarks, eyes focused on the opposite end of the room- anywhere but at him.

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of that fact. If not for her I'd have probably bled out back then." Taliesin replies, still dutifully bandaging his comrades wound. "It's a miracle really, that she even stumbled across me. I can't say I'm not grateful."

Sulba growls. "Not what I meant."

"What do you mean then?"

"That I'd have killed you by now if it weren't for her."

Taliesin can't help but bark a laugh. "Oh dear, something tells me you're in no position to fight at the moment. We barely got you here, I sincerely doubt you'd have held up against a single bandit."

"I could kill you in your sleep."

"But you won't."

The Redguard looks annoyed, scowling at Taliesin before returning to glaring a hole into the wall opposite her.

With a sigh, her Altmer companion snips the remainder of the bandage, securing it to her arm before packing the supplies away. "I'd recommend against magic until she comes back with a potion for you, believe me- its not pleasant to fight with."

"You're not pleasant to fight with."

"Will you please stop acting like a petulant child!" Taliesin snaps, rising to his feet. "I understand that you have issues with the Thalmor, but that's no reason for you to be so hostile to me when I've very clearly left them!"

He turns away from her, packing the medical supplies away in one of the parks Eira had given them. Ear twitching as Sulba mutters something under her breath.

"If you're going to shit-talk me, at least have the guts to say it to my face."

"I asked why I should believe you."

It gives the Altmer pause, securing the straps in silence. "Honestly? You shouldn't. We're trained in subterfuge, anyone who knows anything about the Thalmor is right to be wary."

He expected Sulba to be happy with the statement, to look at him with a shit-eating grin that says 'I got you'. But she doesn't. Instead she's staring down at her shaking palms.

"What, have I upset you?"

"Your existence upsets me."

"You- Oh not again! We're talking in absolute circles! If you're going to hate me for having the audacity to exist, at least be creative about it. Or better yet- tell me why."

"You really want to know? You want to live with that knowledge?"

"I assure you, it can't be worse than anything I learned or saw during the war. Whatever the Thalmor put you through, I probably had to participate in enacting in thricefold."

She hesitates a moment, holding one hand in the other. "Thalmor killed my parents."

Taliesin scoffs. "Hardly a unique tale of woe these days, there must be more than that."

"And I watched."

"...Now we're getting somewhere. Go on, what horrors have been burned into your memory to make you hate me?" He asks, rather flippant about the whole thing.

It receives a brief scowl from Sulba, but that expression is quickly overtaken with grief. "I...I was only eight. You already know this, but Hammerfell has always opposed Dominion rule, thanks in large part to its people. My parents were such people." She starts.

Taliesin winces. "Yes, I also know Thalmor actions there can't exactly be described as legal, even in wartime."

She nods. "My parents saw the colours of the uniform, had me hide in a crawlspace built into the home in case of such a thing. They..." there's hesitation, a shaky inhale of breath to steady her nerves. "They were both burned. A flame spell, no matter what they did they couldn't put eachother out- try as they may. And the Thalmor soldiers...they just watched, seemed to enjoy it, even."

She hiccups a sob, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle it. "The fire spread but they didn't leave- I thought I was going to burn to death with the home. By the time they left i- I was choking on the smoke, I barely managed to get out before the building collapsed on top of me."

Sulba takes a moment to steady herself, Taliesin sitting patiently all the while.

"I passed out after it, some researchers found me near the still smoldering ashes- took me with them to Skyrim. They figured I'd be safer with them here."

It's then that Taliesin finally speaks up. "I'm...I'm sorry. I know that won't mean anything to you, but I truly am. Nobody should have to suffer that, least of all a child."

She looks blankly at the robes he's still wearing. "Even just the sight of those gives me nightmares, I can still smell the smoke now, the burning flesh. Its very distinct, you know? No other scent like it."

In the morning he'd wear robes more typical of a Skyrim mage, in blue and white, a far cry from that of the Thalmor colours.

She'd nod a silent thanks, and their previous discussion remained between them alone while her general anger at his presence seemed to lessen.

A shaky bridge formed, but a bridge nonetheless.

[isirumarin]

Miraak and Isira pt.4

The young forest was made up of all small trees. The sparse canopy of the yellow-leaved trees started just above Miraak's height. Light from the morning sun shone in at an angle, illuminating the mossy ground beneath, or perhaps it was algae, growing on the ash.

Isira stooped and took a sample for later.

They walked together in silence for a long while. Each in thought, still trying to process what had happened.

"I'm not ready to go back yet." She said stopping, her eyes following a small trail leading off into the woods towards a rock cliff.

"You mean that you do not trust me." He turned and faced her, staring. 'Why did he always do that?' She thought. 'He is always staring through me.'

"If I make you uncomfortable, why did you ask me to keep my mask off?" He quipped with impatience. Isira took a deep breath and strode quietly to him, taking his hand in hers.

"Miraak, I am glad that we did not kill each other. I am glad that you are here with me, but you are still a terrifying ancient Nordic...villian..." her voice faded into a whisper. His placid visage was unyielding, but she could feel that particular designation was bothering him.

"We are going to change that, but please know that others, especially ones that are going to know who you are, are going to be wary of you. I am here for you. I am pledged to bring you back to light and back to focus from Kynareth herself." She moved his dark hair away from his strong face and gazed at him. She didn't think a human could be so handsome.

Before she could react he put his arms around her and kissed her.

The swirling sounds of rushing wind and water....the shifting of mountains...the sounds of time, the sounds of life, all played in her head. She was there, being kissed by Miraak and also nowhere....eternal....somehow.

It was over. She was back. In his arms, facing his unsmiling, ever stoic face.

"You saved me." He said finally. "There is much to be done and I'm glad that you are here with me. I will try not to disappoint. I am....unused to following another's direction." He said carefully.

"Thank you.." She said quietly, looking up at him.

She pulled away and appraised him at arm's length. "We will be meeting my group of companions. These are my most trusted followers." Isira said flatly.

"An Altmer, by name of Rumarin. He is my lover before you. He is sweet natured and will probably be terrified of you." Miraak said nothing, but crossed his arms.

"There is Inigo. He is my best friend. A Khajiit. Teldryn Sero, a dunmer obsessed with cleanliness and cynicism. J'Zargo, a Dagi-raht khajiiti wizard, and Lucien, an imperial scholar." She watched the nord with her silver eyes. "These are my company. Please do not harm them and do not mind their tongues."

"You have no Nordic followers?" He asked in an astonished tone.

Isira raised a brow with a smirk.

A crunching of ash and there was quick movements. Isira reached for Shadowsong and nocked an arrow searching for a target.

Seekers!

Miraak was already in action fighting a lurker. Isira dispatched three seekers before running back to Miraak's position. He was destroying cultists and seekers alike. The huge lurker lay dead and was leaking its acrid body fluids out onto the ash in black rivers.

Miraak's voice rang out. His thu'um was beautiful and strong. She watched him... the first Dragonborn. He was magnificent. Of course, the minions of Hermaeus Mora stood no chance.

The noise of the battle had gathered attention of a nearby camp and figures were running up the hillside.

Miraak cursed in what sounded like Dovahzul. He sheathed his terrible tentacled sword. Isira would never get used to that thing. "Damned Mora will never give up until he has one of us to feed him dragon souls." He yelled angrily, growling with frustration.

"We will deal with it." She tried to calm him.

The people from the camp were coming into view now and she saw in slowed time the looks of astonishment on her companion's faces as they approached.

Miraak drew his sword and stood tall. "Miraak, no! They are my friends!"

Her band of companions stopped a safe distance away and watched with horror and amazement.

"Isn't that the evil Nordic dragonborn, servant of Hermamora. What is it doing with Isira?" Asked tiny J'Zargo, looking up expectantly at Rumarin.

Rumarin stood silently, his jaw dangling, with a hand ruffling his long reddish blonde hair.

"Looks like she's brought home a stray." He finally said with exasperation.

[oblivions-dawn]

🖊 🖊 🖊 🖊 🖊 🖊 🖊

[SLAMS PENS INTO SENU’S HANDS]

[scoops up the pens] The power . . . (◕‿◕) Oh yeah. It's all coming together.

🖊 I definitely DON'T have another Skyrim fanfiction in the works I definitely don't--okay, fine, yes, I do. It's slow going because I HATE my introduction right now aaaaand haven't come up with how to fix it. Shatha is my Argonian Listener and she's GREAT. She's a little crazy and her backstory is . . . sad, I suppose, but she WILL make an appearance in Petrichor. Don't worry everyone EVERYTHING WILL ALL MAKE SENSE YOU JUST HAVE TO BE PATIENT! I'm really excited to write out Vig and Shatha's interactions [again] because they're very, shall I say, different from each other.

🖊 My eventual Harbinger of the Companions is a Khajiit named Do'Shavir and he loves Teldryn. At some point. But he's the sweetest of all of my OCs. He's genuine, honest, loyal, and good at heart. That means he's hurt easily and loves a lot, so I think the Companions questline would be super tough for him to handle due to all the vengeance and death that he faces. He would manage it though! He knows he has to learn and grow in order to become his very best uwu

🖊 I have a Breton Arch Mage [at the moment, I may tweak him in some ways at some point] named Vinsith and he's kiiiiind of evil. He's deep into the Daedric shit and will do anything to achieve his ends. He's also blind but uses 'magic' to see his way around! He's very charismatic towards everyone, so he's a character that has a mask he puts on for the public eye and is a very dark person in private. Let's just say that the Thalmor would be terrified of him.

🖊 My Thieves Guild Master is an Altmer named Aerwynn! I like her backstory that I've created so far but I may tweak it a little. I also have no idea who all I want her to like or romance or whatever as she's just an indecisive as she sounds. Maybe Brynjolf? Maybe Karliah? Maybe someone else entirely?? I don't know. She won't make up her mind. But she's good at being a thief and so that's why she is granted the rank of Master. I'm not sure how intimately involved she would get with Nocturnal, as I had plans to write her story out too [at some point] and certainly saw myself making changes to the questline [as one does when writing fanfiction eh?].

🖊 OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT TO MENTION YOTUL!! As I'm sure everyone that has read up to chapter 5 has noticed, Yotul is not a character in the game! She's my own character, and one that I created to act as an interesting arch-nemesis to Vigdis [and Serana too]. Feran talked a little bit about what he knew of her. She's an Orsimer that's absolutely dedicated to Harkon after he saved her life and will prove to be a tough enemy. She won't play a huge part for the time being, but I do intend on having her cause problems for our favourite hunter and vampire.

🖊 Everyone should be worried about Vigdis because, seriously, I have so much planned for her. Perhaps too much. I know right now she's not really acting as the Dragonborn and is just a boring and sassy vampire hunter, but that will come into play in due time. In fact, if you have sharp eyes, it already has at least once OwO It's the little hints here and there that point to her being the Dragonborn--although they are a bit obscure and are kind of my own headcanons anyway so . . . IT WILL ALL MAKE SENSE SOME DAY AHAHAHAH [coughs] I'm fine

🖊 I also have two fraternal twins--one that's a Bard at the Bard's College and the other that ends up joining The Blades. I forget their names right now and I'm too lazy to pull up the document with all this information, but they're Bosmer! The guy that joins the Blades is a bit of a little bitch, but at least his sister is mellow and nice lsjgkdlgjl

🖊 LOOK! AN EXTRA PEN!! I have a Snow Elf OC whom I've shared photos of here named Helthune. She's been through a lot [I'm sorry for making you suffer--]. At some point I plan for her to end up in Gelebor's care, who becomes her adoptive dad because she DESERVES that, at the very least. Plus he seems like he's great dad material. Don't you think??

Uh oh. It seems I've run out of ink despite having an extra pen. [shoves empty pens into back pocket] Until next time.

[aethuviel]

Does anyone else have a character in Skyrim (or elsewhere) that you love so much you want to play them all over again, from scratch?

Well I have Qualin Velendas.

Started for real in late 2019, he was my first character where I actually played Skyrim as a roleplay game. I had previously gone through 35-45 levels each with an Argonian, a Khajiit, and an Altmer (plus 14 boring levels with myself as a Nord), but I didn’t get builds or backstories or motivations, I just played it as a game. And while I loved that, coming up with a real build and character made it 100 times better.

I actually came up with Qualin because “I wanna play a bad guy”, Daedric armor, all the evil choices. But I truly suk at playing evil characters, so looking at the neutral-chaotic, good-evil chart, Qualin ended up being a true neutral in the end. Pretty much the most evil thing he’s done, is kill Degaine because he was a rude a-hole. And then he kills all the other beggars because he thinks they’re pathetic. But he’s kind not cruel to others, undyingly loyal to his people, and would never harm a child.

I did also do the Oblivion Walker achievement with him, but if I played him again, I wouldn’t do it because it’s... so gross and so not lore-friendly. (He would definitely not do the Molag Bal, Namira, Mehrunes Dagon and a few other quests.)

Here’s something I wrote a few weeks ago when asked what your character worships, and I got a bit ahead of myself:

My Dunmer Qualin is a follower of Boethiah, though he does pay respects to all the good Daedra.

He left Morrowind for Cyrodiil as a youth, disillusioned with life and without a goal, he traveled around doing odd jobs. Eventually, despising theft but enjoying fighting, it turned into a life in the fighting pits. He was good at it, far from the biggest or strongest but he made up for it with speed, agility and technique.

This went on for some years and he went down a spiral of mental and spiritual decay where he became extremely cynical, nihilistic and nearly suicidal. He thought he could throw himself into extreme danger likely to end with his death, as either passive suicide or giving him a reason to carry on. Neither happened, and he stagnated.

Beginning to wonder what it was all about, he started questioning everything he had been taught, and began delving into the darker side of magic and spirits. Thinking that if he's going to die young, he might as well go big - he went to Skyrim to search of whispers of Daedric artifacts. Later, he joined the Dark Brotherhood, fulfilled all their contracts, then killed the rest of them (sorry, Nazir), as he saw them as too corrupted and too in love with pure killing for its own sake.

It was due to this history, and his subsequent adventures in Skyrim, that he came to understand Boethiah's teachings about mortality being a struggle and test to overcome. He fully believes everyone is responsible for their own lot in this world and for making their own choices (no sympathy for the beggars from Qualin), solidified again by how he arrived to Skyrim owning nothing but rags (vanilla start in Helgen), but less than a year later, was a well-known "hero".

That's why he follows Boethiah. I say "follow" rather than "worship", because unlike Azura and many others, Boethiah does not care for adoration, she only cares for those who show strength and fight to victory.

When starting this character, I had planned next to nothing, but I thought he needed a wife on the “darker” side. I thought of Muiri and Jenassa, and soon realized the little alchemist girl was definitely not for him. (Besides the fact that he doesn’t like humans.)

Shortly into his stay in Skyrim, he met a fellow Dunmer while in Whiterun.Her name was Jenassa, and after the first two Nord companions had frustrated him, he hired her as a mercenary. To start off, he had no intentions with her other than to hire her skills as an archer, to watch his back and help him on his ventures.

But soon, the two found they greatly enjoyed each other's company, and often spent all night up by the campfire, talking for hours about anything they could think of.

After a month or so, Qualin found he had grown quite fond of her, and on one occasion, they were inside a Draugr-infested dungeon, when Qualin was disarmed and thrown into the wall. The powerful Draugr then went for Jenassa, and was about to strike when Qualin jumped in front of her, risking his own life without a thought of anything but her life. They defeated the Draugr, and left the dungeon with life and limb intact.

They did not speak of it, but Jenassa was understandably struck by the irony of why he would risk his life to save his bodyguard. Her hardened exterior began to melt for him just a little, and she found herself more and more attracted to him, while Qualin was ignoring her. He cared for her, but he certainly wasn't looking for any of that company now.

Eventually, after a couple of months traveling together, Qualin pondering his choices and future carefully, he plainly proposed to her one day while in Riften, and they were married.

After this follows many more months of adventures around Skyrim, and five years later, they had a son, Vaelin (Jenassa was never really sure about this mothering-thing, but he convinced her). At this point, they lived on Solstheim, but traveled back and forth occasionally to their second home in Falkreath hold. Seven years after Vaelin, they had a second son born on the road through Skyrim, named Tilanos. Another five years after him, they had their last child and only daughter, Taluri, also born on Solstheim.

(Qualin also takes in an orphan Dunmer child at some point just after marrying Jenassa, but I’m not sure if it should be Terlan and Felana or Ashur.)

Perhaps not the most lore-friendly, but I have this idea of him giving himself up to the Morag Tong after destroying the Dark Brotherhood. The two factions are sworn enemies, which made Qualin a target while in Morrowind (but the MT are supposed to have a policy of letting a target go after evading them), but he regretted his choice in joining the DB, and after destroying them for good, offered his services to the Tong instead, if they would have him.

As for war and politics, he loathes the empire and wants independence for Morrowind, but realizes all the same that they’re all a bunch of squabbling houses who can’t get stuff done for centuries. “We’re a shitty, dysfunctional family, but still family”, sums it up for him.

He couldn’t be dragged into Skyrim’s civil war kicking and screaming. Obviously he would never fit in with the Stormcloaks, but he also doesn’t want the Empire anywhere near Morrowind.

He basically loves stealth, fire and fighting, the love of his life is Jenassa and his homeboi is Teldryn, who he first met while on his “honeymoon trip” to Solstheim just after marrying Jenassa. Also he has a massive library containing every book in Skyrim.

[valtiels-darkness]

In Search of a RP partner. Must be nsfw friendly (though, it is more story driven than anything else. This is NOT a porn. Smut , if any has to drive the story.)​

I'm looking for someone to RP as Ondolemar from Skyrim. It's a female Nord Vampire/ Ondolemar romance. I normally do not do F/M RPs, but this headcannon will not leave me alone. Ondolemar's looks are based off the Handsome Ondolemar mod. Though added flair is appreciated! Looking for 3rd pov, Literate/Semi-literate, prefer other's who like story more than smut. Daily replies (life gets in the way, a head's up would be appreciated!), Wanting a partner who can contribute to the story. I adore enemies to friends to lovers. At least a 2 paragraph reply. PLOT: I rather negotiate the plot with you! I have a general idea and will post when there is a prospect for a partner. Though, basic idea: Serana, Lucien , and Dexion suggested to Aconita, to accompany Dexion back to the Imperial City. Mainly as a distraction. She agrees and also suggests they stop off to visit some old friends at The College of Whispers. Thalmor are present, all along Cyrodil. Ondolemar had been reassigned to lead the Dominion's interests in the Imperial province. First, in the Imperial City, then in Lleyawyn. They do NOT hit it off at first. He suspects what she is (Bonus points for why he does not turn her in.). More Bonus Points: *Altmer breeding doctrines and since he is "superiorly bred" Mer? If he has any inclinations outside of other "Superiorly Bred" Altmer, consequences will be had. *Ondolemar is already in an arranged marriage. Both find the other quite dull, in secret. *An argument about Lorkhan. * Sancre Tor and debates on Talos. *Shared interest in a bitter, roasted bean brew (you may come up with the coffee equivalent name!) *Super Secretly soft Ondolemar. *Ondolemar, Lucien, and Dexion adventure shenanigans! A Bit about my character: Name: Aconita Age: 26. Height: 6'3. Race: Nord- Daughter of Coldharbour. Religion: Daedric worshipper. Main patrons being Sheogorath, Nocturnal, Sithis, and Hermaeous Mora. Formally Molag Bal. Affiliation: College of Whispers, Dark Brotherhood, and Volkihar Coven. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral. Sign: Born under the Shadow. Weapons of choice: Daedric Crescent, Dawn/Duskfang, and Ruin's Edge with Soul Stealer Arrows. Homesteads: Elysium meets Leafrest mashup, though in the Rift. Raven Castle, but make it a family thing. Also, resides in Volkihar Castle. Class: Multiclasses. Assasin/Necromancer (School of Conjuration)/Bard. Companions: Serana, Lucien Flavius (Follower mod, more like an apprentice.), Teldryn Sero, Shavee, Opal (an OC Bosmer, female.), Arvak, Durnevhir (Is able to summon him and does so regularly.), Babette, Tolfdir, Dexion, and Nazir. Former Companions: Ysolda (former, one sided love interest), Lydia (The companion that was turned into a sweetroll...), Kaidan ( a mod follower. Akaviri, former lover, but just left her with no reason as to why.), J'Zhargo (Partner in crime, had gone to Northpoint.), and the Dragonborn. Hobbies: Foraging, Cooking, Alchemy, Summoning, trying to commune with the hist. Is moonsugar a hobby or a way of life? Appearance: Avatar picture is of Aconita. Eyes: Reflective yellow/silver iris, and a deep blood red sclera. Almond shaped, hooded. Hair: Shoulder length, undercut, wavy, and a cool toned midnight black. Skin: Very pale, "White as snow", with cool undertones. Making her skin almost "glow" in certain cold light ( That is actually a thing, in certain ambient light, with cooler undertones). Various scars due to her adventures. Notable ones are under her left eye and right side of her mouth to her clavicle (They happened when she became a Daughter of Cold Harbour). Facial tattoos of a deep blackish red on both eyes (almost looks like elaborate makeup). Brief personality description: Unhinged, yet can be composed. Not the "SkYRiM fOr tHe nOrDs" type. Despises Ulfric. Enjoys conjuration... A little too much. Has fun with the Wabbajack. Once turned one of her companions into a sweetroll... Tried to find a way to reverse the effect... Got hungry, and well... You get the rest! She can be lethally calculating when the need arises, but gets bored

easily. Has a sweet tooth. There is obvious trauma, due to the Molag Bal ritual... Light hearted, dark sense of humour. A chronic insomniac. Referenced Mods in the RP will be: Soul Stealer Arrows, Elysium Estate, Raven Castle, Wearable Horns-TDN (Vampire Lord crown in picture.), Lucien Flavius, Kaiden, Handsome Ondolemar, Tamrielic Lore (a good one to look at!), Alchemical Cooking, Raven Witch Armor, Winterhold Restored, Magical College of Winterhold, Castle Volkihar Redux. Areas: I would love all of Tamriel to be traversed, or mentioned. Shivering Isles and Apocrypha. Mentions of Thras, Atmora, Yokudan, and Akavir. Frostcrag Spire. Lore: If you need a brush up or a rundown: Uesp.net is a great place. I'll also be more than willing to help! There is more, but will update for later. Message through here, inbox, or whatever is easiest for you, if interested! Thank you!

[talldarkandroguesome]

12th of Sun’s Dusk, Fredas

What a strange day indeed.

First, I spent a good portion of the day still stranded in that horrible room. Nothing but the darkness and I, staring out at that small sliver of light from under the door.

Then I heard something.

Voices!

From the tone and the strange distortion, I realized they were Daedra. And they were discussing how they had scared someone or someones off.

Of course, that was rather devastating to learn. There were at least two of these unknown Daedra who were certainly the cause of my being stuck in this isolation. Further, anyone that might have been able to learn of where I was, were now dead or scared off. I was being kept in isolation to a purpose. I just cannot tell what it might be. Why would any Daedra want to keep me locked up?

Was it Daedra of Coldharbour seeking to avenge their master? Was it another of Nocturnal’s Dremora come to play games with my mind? Or given the maddening sensation of it, could it be Sheogorath?

Or something wholly worse and different?

I listened out to hear if I could tell the number of Daedra or anything about what they were doing. Not that I would have any great chance even if I were not locked in this room, but it is always important to know what options are available to you.

Yet everything was silent once more.

Then, just when I had about given up hope of learning any more, I heard the Daedra cursing about other mortals showing up and I heard two sets of retreating footsteps.

I waited, hoping for the best for the, possibly unaware, people who had drawn the attention of these Daedra.

But as it was, I could hear no signs of how any fight might be unfolding. I could only wait and hope for the best.

And it seems my prayers were answered. For soon enough ,there came the sounds of multiple footfalls and voices, though none of a Daedric quality. I heard a woman’s voice, approaching.

Knowing that this might end up poorly for me, but not wishing to take a chance of not being able to escape, I began to wail upon the door, pounding my fists against them, even as I felt my stinging hands grow wet with blood. There was time to deal with that later. For now, I needed to get out of this room. I knew I had potions enough to heal myself once I was safe and I was ready to grab one of my blades if need be.

I heard the woman’s voice saying she could hear something. So I began to shout for help.

The voices came closer and closer and I prepared myself. The moment the door opened, I would bolt out of it. Then, friend or foe, I could deal with the situation, without fear that I would remain trapped. If they wished me harm, I could deal with that, but there was no reason not to take a chance that meant life or freedom.

I heard a second female voice and noticed three footsteps approaching. I felt like I could cry in happiness, suddenly aware of just how badly I had suppressed my fear from even myself.

The door began to swing open and I pushed on it, launching myself out of the room and into the blinding light of day. And as it seemed, also right into the waiting arms of an Altmer. I struggled, as my eyes burned and began to adjust to the figure in front of me, but his arms held me firmly in place as he tried to soothe me and asked if I was alright. I took in his dark hair, lean face, and stubble showing that, despite his finery, he had need of a proper shave.

I told him he had no idea how grateful I was to be free from the unspeakable horrors that the Daedra had been threatening me with.

He asked me why I was being captured by Daedra. I asked truthfully that I was not entirely sure and rattled off a few possible explanations without even thinking. My mind racing even as my eyes continued to adjust to my surroundings and my rescuers.

I noticed that the Altmer’s two companions were a Bosmer and a Khajiit. Worried that I was now halfway across Tamriel, I made a small attempt to teleport back to my recall spot, but as I had feared, it did not work.

I tried to keep my tone light and joke about how I was grateful for my rescue, but I somehow doubted I was in the Pact anymore and I greatly needed to get back, asking if I was somewhere in the Dominion territory. 

The Altmer shook his head and said I was in the province of Rivenspire.

Rivenspire?! I was in High Rock! My body felt numb.

The Altmer asked me what had happened.

I said I was not sure, I was traveling to see family in Morrowind and then suddenly found myself locked in that room without any use of magicka and not seeing anything at all. I cursed under my breath about Daedra throwing me to random parts of Tamriel and the Altmer seemed to perk up.

He said that he was the Count of the area and that he and his companions had rushed to see to what the Daedra were up to when they chased off some of his people and they had found shrikes, Nocturnal’s servants. 

I nodded. That made sense. I sighed.

The Count invited me back to his castle so that I might rest and recover. He said he would assist me if I could explain everything to him and I agreed. The promise of a hot bath and a meal was a gift from The Three themselves.

As we walked out of the building, I noticed that the town we were in was in horrible condition. It seemed the remnants of a large city, though there was not a soul save us on the streets. Buildings lay in disrepair, many of them boarded up. The nearby mountain seemed to have collapsed partially over the one side of town, knocking down or burying various buildings, and no doubt, its people as well.

I also noticed that the Khajiit, upon closer inspection did not look quite normal. Her fur was far too pale and her eyes were not just red, but there was a redness around them.

Then it all clicked. The Khajiit was a vampire.

An abandoned town. A caste. This count was clearly enthralled by this vampire, the Bosmer likely too. And now I was being led back to the lair of the beast.

I told the Count that, on second thought, I really should not intrude upon him. That I could simply make my own way into the nearest town and find myself an easy way home.

He seemed to take no offense and offered again.

Then the Bosmer to his side spoke up and said I had no reason to be afraid. And there was something in her face or the manner with which she spoke. Something was sharp and predatory. And I realized that perhaps she was either beginning her transformation, or a vampire herself.

I backed up and said I would be perfectly safe. I would find a way. The Bosmer telling me that they were not going to hurt me.

I was in a panic. Clearly they were seeing me as a delicious treat and trying to lie to me about their intention. I told them I knew a vampire when I saw one and that if it was all the same, I would just take my leave. That if they did not, I would kill myself, as many times as it took.

The Bosmer said that they would not bite me. I told them I had heard that one before and I was not interested in being enthralled again. That I had had enough fun in being made to be a play toy and kill my best friend and myself before breaking free and I was fine with not reliving the experience.

The Khajiit stepped forward and told me that I was being a fool and I pulled out my dagger, taking a big step back.

The Count told me he was sorry I had gone through such a thing, but that no one at the castle would hurt me. That I could put the dagger away. That they would just help me to find my way back home.

I laughed and held the dagger to my throat and told them that I was serious.

The Khajiit stepped forward again and said they only fed on the willing.I spat a curse at her in Ta’agra, one of the few I knew, and said if she tried to touch me I would kill myself, that I knew what it was to be forced to be compliant and that I did not trust anything they had to say.

The Count asked her to go on up ahead to let everyone know we were coming back to the castle.

I knew I was shaking. I  must have sounded mad. But I could not stop, the cold edge of the blade my one reassurance of escape from that previous nightmare I was trapped in for weeks.

The count told me again that he would personally make sure of my safety.

I knew that I had little choice, but continued to tell him that, while no offense was made, I had learned not to trust when there were vampires around. However, since I was otherwise stranded, I would agree to his protection. Though, if anyone so much as touched me, I would kill myself as many times as were necessary to keep them from bringing me harm and that they would have to be the ones to deal with cleaning my corpses up off their floors.

There was a spark of intrigue, but the Count merely nodded and gestured for me to follow.

The rest of the walk back was silent and uncomfortable and I was grateful that it did not take too long. I kept my dagger in its sheath, but my hand firmly upon its hilt. One cannot be too careful.

The castle itself was in far better condition than the town had been. A welcome relief. And there were servants inside as there should be in any other lord’s home.

As I was being led through to where I would be given a bath, a door opened and a cheerful young mer’s voice rang out, inquiring about how everything had gone in town.

Yet as soon as he caught sight of me, he made a squeak and shut himself back inside.

The Count apologized and said that the boy was shy with strangers. Given that he lives with vampires, it is little wonder, really.

I had my hot bath, happy to be out of my dirty clothing and to wash the memory of that room off of me.

Not that I was out of danger, but I kept a blade with me and could at least enjoy the feeling of cleanliness.

When I was changed into a simple tunic and trousers and the servant brought me my meal, I knew it was my chance to learn the truth about what was going on here. I used my birthgift to ask the servant what is their biggest personal desire.

Happy to share, the young man said he had always wanted to visit Alcaire castle. His chipper voice was clear and the fact that his desire was not tainted by anything related to the vampires, made me believe that perhaps he was not enthralled.

So I pressed him further about the situation at the castle and learned that, true to the Count’s word, the vampires of the castle only fed off those who volunteered. That they were not only paid well for serving in the castle, but additional good pay for offering their blood as meal. Afterwards they were treated for the vampirism with cure disease potions and allowed to rest and recuperate as long as it took. That the vampires had a certain amount of time that they would wait before attempting to feed on the same person a second time, to ensure that no one’s health was at risk. And in fact, they keep other vampires that are in the area from harming their citizens.

I thanked the man for everything and told him that I hoped he saved up enough for his travels soon.

I spent some time thinking that perhaps I was rushed in my judgements. With the threat of so many things at a distance, I could tell just how terribly I had acted.

I knew I needed to see the Count, who I was beginning to suspect, was also a vampire, and tell him what he wanted to hear, since that was our arrangement. I did not know how strict or not a mer he was, so I did not wish to risk angering him. After all, he was my only hope at this point and I am all too aware of how at his mercy I am.

Finding the Count was simple enough. He was in the great hall, at a table with a bottle of red wine and a glass set at a table setting across from him. His Bosmer companion was seated further down the table, looking about as disinterested as a child made to sit through a lengthy proceeding in a formal ceremony.

The Count, Ravenwatch, asked if I was feeling any better. I answered that I was indeed, apologizing for my outbursts earlier, that they were from my fatigue at having been trapped in that dark room for a couple of days and a number of other personal factors which contributed to it. Not that it was any excuse for my behavior, they were all so very kind to rescue me, but simply I wanted to explain my rash words and actions.

Count Ravenwatch waved it off and I found that, while he was clearly Altmeri, he was not quite so difficult to talk to. Perhaps it was his mannerisms, more gracious and curious than the usual Altmer. The lack of pretentious and smug attitude did wonders. So I asked if he might pass along my apologies to his Khajiit companion, that I was very rude to her indeed and that I did not have any course to do so. It was wrong of me to assume as I did in the face of their hospitality and kindness.

Of course, Count Ravenwatch would have none of it, though he said he would inform Adusa-daro of my words.

I thanked him and asked how I might be of service in repayance of his favor.

He said he had a few questions for me and I agreed, as per our arrangement.

The first question was in regards to if I was being coerced by any Daedra. I explained briefly that I had been having some trouble with one of Nocturnal’s servants, which is why I was not entirely surprised to see the dead shrikes, though I still did not know what they had any interest in me.

Count Ravenwatch said there was a taint. A mark, even, upon me. One that dealt with Mephala and he wondered about that very greatly.

Well, that was uncomfortable enough that I had to ask about his knowledge of the Velothi people and when he claimed only a passing understanding of who they were, I had to give a brief, but positive explanation of the history and reverence of the Good Daedra. Explained, in the broadest of terms only, my being the son of a diplomat to the Velothi people and that the mark was likely from my being vessel to the Prince during a summoning day ritual that nearly cost me my life.

The Count was taken aback and asked if this was normal. I said no, it was a very bad reaction indeed and pointed to my streak of white hair, stating that since my soul had been put back into my body, I had certain remaining effects, including a greater knowledge of the secrets of others and the ability to spin silk from my fingers. I gave a very small and polite demonstration, noticing in the corner of my eye, the Bosmer trying desperately not to look as though she was paying our conversation full attention.

Count Ravenwatch seemed like he had more he wished to ask about that situation, but he did not press it, instead asking about my being able to die and yet not.

That was... that was a bit longer to explain, of course. So I made it brief. I explained about just being on a simple travel with my husband and going to take a job that turned out was a trap. About that ugly Altmer, I dare not speak his name, who sacrificed me to the Prince of Pain, and then about being a soul shriven, my escape with Tel, and my eventual rejoining the effort to stop the Planemeld. I tried to keep things as light as possible, only playing up the drama for the thrill of the story. and it was clear that the Bosmer was enjoying herself, no longer hiding it unless someone turned in her direction.

I was much less detailed when I mentioned that given my status back home, assassination attempts are highly prevalent and so I did not have my soul returned from its gem back into my body, something that has managed to spare me from death on multiple occasions thereafter.

Count Ravenwatch also asked me about my experience with the vampires I described before. So I mentioned being seduced, enthralled, and then forced to do horrible things, including killing innocent people, my dear friend, and even myself.

There was a look of grave concern on the Count’s face, but I told him not to worry, they were dead. It did seem to help.

He told me that in the interest of fairness, he should disclose that he was, in fact, also a vampire.

I told him that, I had gathered as much from everything that had happened, but since it was likely not an easy thing to share with outsiders, I was grateful for the honesty.

We talked a bit more about a few minor things. I told some other stories, mostly of the humorous variety, enough that the Bosmer ended up laughing out loud and completely gave up any pretenses. I could tell that Count Ravenwatch was pleased to see her being so openly happy. Not that anyone said anything on the matter.

In the end, Count Ravenwatch thanked me and told me that I should get some rest and in the morning we shall figure out the best method to get me back home.

This whole situation is so bizarre. I was not expecting to be suddenly whisked across Tamriel. And if someone told me that I would be getting on with an Altmer vampire, well, I would have sooner kill them than believe them.

Perhaps I am simply tired. Perhaps it might even get me killed. But at least I know that I am out of that horrible dark room.

I think I shall leave a candle burning tonight whilst I slumber. Just in case.

[changeling-rin]

Oh boy! Asking time! Which Elder Scrolls races would The Boys be if they were in that world? Also love your work btw.

Upon realizing that I don’t actually know all the races for the Elder Scrolls and promptly falling down a rabbit hole of research to fix that, I now present the following:

Gen is a Bosmer, because I can’t find another good reason for him to have a giant bird as a companion.  There is also, sadly, no good equivalent for living in the sky so you know what we’re gonna roll with it.  Also, their resistance to poison and disease seems like a good prerequisite for a healer to have, you know?

Speck is a Khajiit, and he’s so good at stealth that it’s like he’s not even there.  He can make himself shrink into the shadows until you’d have a better chance of noticing a mouse than him, and sadly this is the best I can do without an actual shrinking spell.

The Four are Bretons, who had an accident with a magic spell and ended up binding themselves together - but they’ve long since stopped caring about that, don’t worry.  They have, however, stopped messing around with magic.  It’s a bit of an odd choice, given their peoples’ natural affinity for it, but given what happened the last time it’s been decided that they should probably leave well enough alone.

Mask and Ocarina are Nords, though I did consider this for Wind because of the nautical factor.  But they seem to be rounded, jack-of-all-trade types rather than specializing like a lot of the other races do, and I like how that works with the Hero(es) of Time’s characters.

Dusk is also a Bosmer, he is an absolute master with a bow.  Plus he’s got this wolf that follows him around and would do anything he says even without Command Animals.

RGBV are Redguards, and they basically specialize in fighting as a unit.  They each focus on a slightly different weapon/style and use it to cover each others’ weaknesses.  They’re a bit odd for Redguards in that they actively choose to be a unit, but whoever said they had to follow the norm?

Lore is an Imperial, which I’m choosing specifically for their Voice of the Emperor ability.  Using your words to distract and calm your enemy sounds a whole lot like Lore’s Distraction Tactics, doesn’t it?

Sketch is an Argonian, because stealth.  He and Speck are the absolute best at what they do, even if Sketch’s brand of it is a bit different.  Where Speck relies on nobody knowing he was ever there, Sketch utilizes a ‘wallflower’ approach.  Sure, you see him, but why bother paying attention?  He’s just about as interesting as that painting he’s standing next to.

Realm is an Altmer, because they have magic for days and so does he.  Now if only it would stop acting up and depositing him in random dragon’s nests.

Wind is also a Breton, because I like how their mixed ancestry plays into his mixed ancestry of being a surviving Hylian of the flood.  Also, their magecraft is off the charts and hello, weather mage here.

Steam is an Orsimer because they’re the craftsman race.  He builds his own Train, modifies it to account for any terrain, and then plows people over with it.  I am honestly relieved that there is a craftsman race because I really wasn’t sure how to categorize Steam without that.  He’s just such a tinkerer, you know?

Shadow is a Dunmer.  Gray skin, red eyes, dark elf, are you kidding me?  I couldn’t have made a better match if I’d tried.  Also they specialize in Destruction Magic and if that doesn’t sound like a house-sized bomb I don’t know what does.

[yukiwrites]

Twin Proposal

@spacesmilodon I CAN’T STOP GRINNING AKSJDLMASD

Summary: Vilkas and Farkas. Although they were twins, their personalities couldn’t be more different, down to the way how they expressed their affection to the ones they loved. Beffudled by Farkas’ spontaneous proposal, Vilkas feels even more pressured to ask for the Dragonborn’s hand...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Vilkas had always thought of himself as a man of unshakable will. He had stood against all sorts of creatures during his life as a warrior -- as a Companion. He felled giants with the same breath as he did the most cunning of vampires; he delved deep into Skyrim's oldest tombs only to emerge victorious, no matter what perils lurked within.

He prided himself in having a steady heartbeat and a cold eye to discern any and each situation he'd find himself in; no matter the challenge, he would stand tall and overcome it.

Yes, no matter the challenge.

Vilkas took a deep, shaky breath. Why was it that after an entire life of putting his life on the line, he felt his very own soul tremble upon the eyes of a simple khajiit merchant?! Don't you dare tremble; do not tremble you fool of a hand, he yelled at his own body as he reached for his coin purse.

The feline merchant smiled widely, her crooked teeth glistering in the sunset, making her distorted face even harder for Vilkas to ignore. "This one does not understand how you people of Skyrim court each other," she let out a hoarse laugh, though it only sounded like a snarl, as she slowly picked up the amulet Vilkas had chosen previously. "But it brings Ahkari profit, so Ahkari will keep selling."

"..." Vilkas simply scowled, using every ounce of pride he had in his body not to tremble, blush, or run away screaming as he exchanged the money for the Amulet of Mara.

"May your journeys lead you to warm sands," she nodded as she counted the money, licking her lips as she whispered, "or warm sheets," under her breath.

"... Thank you," missing the last bit of Ahkari's speech, Vilkas managed to regain part of his dignity as a person as quick as he shoved the Amulet of Mara into his item pouch. His shoulders lighter than a few moments previous, he finally managed to breathe out only to realize he had been holding his breath for the entire duration of the negotiation.

However, that feeling of relief was only temporary. Having the amulet in his possession was only the pre-requisite for the first step of a proposal, after all.

It wasn't as though he was devoid of a plan, no. Quite the opposite, in fact: he had drafted so many different situations which he could propose, his mind was flooded with dozens of scenarios and ideas. The Dragonborn was a woman worth all and any trouble -- one he would gladly fight alongside with until his heart beat the last -- so doing as much was only natural, if it meant to be with her for the rest of their days.

The problem lay on Vilkas, as expected. He simply did not know how he could give this massive step towards the change in their relationship! They were shield-siblings first and foremost, and although there was no rule forbidding romantic intercourse between Companions, the Dragonborn was so much more than that for Vilkas. She was a principled woman, bearer of one too many regrets in her life, just as Vilkas himself. They got along as kin, their shared worries and curses bringing them closer than any other shield-siblings have ever been. They shared a deep bond of friendship, trust and -- Vilkas wished most fervently for that to be true -- mutual love.

He could see in her eyes and subtle actions that they were of one mind in this regard -- it was but a question of who would give the first step to finally put a name to their more-than-shield-siblings relationship. And Vilkas wanted to be the one to do it.

But by the gods how hard it was!

He couldn't simply walk up to her, shove the amulet on her face and tell her they should marry! There had to be a proper place, a proper setting, a proper mood and a proper way to deliver his words. Everything had to come out in a satisfying way, otherwise it would be all for naught.

Absent-minded, Vilkas barely realized that he had not only returned to Jorrvaskr, but also sat beside his brother by the dining table, downing one of the fifteen mead bottles that were sprawled in front of Farkas.

Vilkas raised one eyebrow, blinking back into reality. "Fifteen-?" He heard his voice grumble, looking to his right to his brother. "Farkas, what is the meaning of this?"

The younger twin gurgled down his tenth bottle, slamming it on the table. "I just gotta." He replied in a weirdly serious tone. Since he was at the corner of the table, he needed but reach out to touch Rannah, a dark skinned altmer who had joined the ranks of the Companions a few months after the Dragonborn did. She and Aela conversed merrily, sharing their knowledge of hunting to any and all that would be unlucky enough to give them an ear to do so.

Narrowing his eyes, Vilkas observed his brother gaze longingly at the high elf -- it was no secret to the older twin that Farkas had been smitten with Rannah for a while. Smirking, Vilkas closed his eyes as he took a large sip of his mead, finding a sad solace in the fact that both brothers were suffering with love.

"Hey, Rannah," Farkas nudged the altmer's shoulder with one hand, pulling something out of his item pouch with the other.

Rannah turned to Farkas still wearing the smile she was sharing with Aela. "Yeah-oh?" She barely had time to react as Farkas put something around her neck.

An Amulet of Mara!

Vilkas choked.

"We get along well and I like that -- I like you. Wanna get married?" Farkas blurted everything out at once, sitting back after placing the amulet on Rannah.

Aela spat her half-chewed meat on Ria's face, who was sitting across her. The Dragonborn let out a soft gasp, covering her face with both hands.

"FUCK yes." Rannah didn't allow the silence to settle in, replying immediately. She climbed on the table to get to Farkas' lap, sitting on top of him and wrapping both arms around his neck.

"Let's not waste any time," Farkas snorted as he opened his mouth for the hungry kiss Rannah placed on him, his hands securely holding her behind so she wouldn't fall.

"Get a room, you two!" Aela guffawed, throwing an apple on Rannah's head. The fruit hit with a loud bonk, but it wasn’t enough to pluck the altmer's lips from Farkas'.

Coughing, Vilkas could very well be dead right there and then. He sputtered, the now happy (?!) couple blatantly making out inches from where he sat. Embarrassed and mortified, Vilkas looked from them to the cheering crowd the dining table had become, locking eyes with the Dragonborn, who also numbered amongst those who clapped and whistled.

Though when their eyes met, she, too, glanced at the couple before looking back at Vilkas, a smile sprouting on her lips as her cheeks reddened.

A thousand different thoughts sprouted in his mind as consequence to the Dragonborn's adorable reaction. Widening his eyes, the older twin felt the weight of the Amulet of Mara by his own belt, his breathing somehow distorting itself.

"We don't need to wait for the ceremony to consummate our vows, do we?" Rannah huffed in between the kisses she and Farkas shared, licking his lips lavisciously.

"Nah," Farkas gurgled a laugh as he lifted Rannah with both hands, taking her in his arms.

Any bubbling in Vilkas' chest was absolutely crushed with all that public display of affection. He groaned loudly. "Go to your room, for pity's sake! We don't need a display of- of THIS in the middle of dinner." He shoved Farkas's shoulder just as the younger twin was shuffling himself in his feet, intent on doing just that.

"No need to tell me twice, brother." Farkas smirked widely as Rannah barely allowed his mouth to be freed of hers.

"Don't let us see your ugly mugs 'till morning, you hear?!" Aela whistled, throwing another apple just for the sake of it, snorting loudly when Rannah caught it just as it was about to hit Farkas' head.

The two of them disappeared under the stairs leading to the dorms, under no shortage of cheering and booing.

"Ugh..." Vilkas dragged both hands across his face, suddenly a hundred times more exhausted than a few minutes ago. "I apologize for this crude display my brother just did." He could barely look into his shield-siblings' eyes, the shame so great he could only see them as blurs lest he self-combusted.

"Are you kidding? This was the funniest thing I've seen in my life." Aela snorted as she downed her mead. "Let us make a toast! For the happy couple." She raised her half-empty mug, being followed by every other hand that had been clapping previously. "Cheers." She said in a mocking tone, locking eyes with Vilkas. "I don't think you should go back to your room any time soon, Brother. Unless you want to find out exactly how they're going to 'consummate' their vows, ha!"

"Ughhh..." Vilkas once again threw his head back in disgust, groaning loudly. "No need to remind me of that, Aela." He got on his feet, taking the bottle he had been drinking from. "I'll be outside."

Walking at slow steps, Vilkas sat beside the shooting targets to force himself to meditate, or at least to take his mind off of the entire mess his own brother had made for Vilkas' marriage plans.

Farkas wasn't the one to blame, of course, but Vilkas had to blame something! Ugh, he felt terrible.

A familiar set of muffled steps followed Vilkas' path towards the targets, quietly sitting beside him as she engulfed the air with her lovely smell.

The Dragonborn. Vilkas pursed his lips, forcing himself now more than ever to keep his eyes closed.

She sipped her mead, the heat of her body warming his side even though they weren't even touching each other. Vilkas sighed deeply, his entire body deflating.

Taking that as her cue, the Dragonborn bobbed her head to the sides. "That was something I'll never forget."

Vilkas growled a bit inside, as though he still had the blood of a wolf in his veins. The Dragonborn found that endearing each time it happened, though she'd never mention it to him. "I did not know I could be amazed with Farkas after so many years, yet here I am." He groaned. "Don't worry, I'd never do such shameful display."

"Oh-ho?" The Dragonborn snorted, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Why are you assuring me of that, specifically?"

Vilkas cleared his throat, the embarrassment making him finally snap his eyes open. "N-no reason in particular; I am simply setting myself apart from my brother."

"Uh-huh..." The Dragonborn sneakily rested her head on Vilkas' shoulder, leaning her weight on him. "I’m well aware of that, though."

"Good." Vilkas relaxed his position, though not to the point of leaning on her -- they still weren't wed, after all! "... good." He said with a smile in his voice, which made the Dragonborn chuckle as well.

The next morning, barely one hour before dawn, Vilkas went back to his quarters after spending the night simply idle talking with the Dragonborn, appreciating the beauty of the moon, the stars and her fiery hair bathed in their light.

He had to ask her! As soon as possible! He could barely contain his own desire of simply embracing her within his arms and allowing her scent to take all of him!

"Farkas," Vilkas knocked on his brother's door. "Surely you are awake by now, come out." He called, though in a small voice for he didn't want to wake Rannah up.

A surprised 'oh,' a shuffling of bed sheets and a tumbling later, Farkas opened the door wearing nothing but the Amulet of Mara he had given Rannah the day before. "What?"

Vilkas cursed under his breath, looking up and away from his brother's jewels. "For- for the gods' sake, put something on!" 

"Oh, wait a second." Farkas gasped and laughed at his own nudity, not realizing it until Vilkas pointed out. "I'm sure I left my pants around here..." He whispered as he left the door ajar to look. "You don't wanna come in- oh wait, nah, I better go out;" he mused for half a second as he put on a random pair of trousers he found lying on a chair. "She's still nake-"

Vilkas groaned for the thousandth time that week, dragging himself to his room. "Come here instead, Farkas, lest I lose my mind."

Tilting his head to the side, Farkas followed after closing the door to his own room behind him. He sat on a chair beside Vilkas' door, helping himself to a day-old mead that had been left there by the older twin before he went to the khajiit caravan.

Vilkas sat heavily on the bed, visibly tired, though hardly due to lack of sleep. "Think of your health, brother. Don't drink this early in the morning."

Farkas was midway to downing the mead entirely, guiltily looking at Vilkas after placing the empty bottle back on the table. "I needed to recharge after last night-" he started, smirking.

"Yes, yes -- this is precisely why I called. How could you- how did you even do such an important thing as proposing so- like that?! Without even thinking things through? What about her feelings from being proposed to at such a public place-"

Farkas leaned on the backrest, sprawling himself with a confused frown. "I'm not really good at thinking ahead like this. I just followed my feelings -- I bought the amulet, drank a bit to be better at wording and asked her."

Vilkas facepalmed with both hands, digging his fingers on his own flesh. "What if she had refused you, then? Everyone would-"

"I'd drink more and move on." Farkas shrugged. "I'm happy she said yes, though; I think I'd need to drink every day for the rest of my life to be able to move on if she had said no."

"How can you accept this so readily-" Vilkas clutched his own chest as though directing the questions to himself. "There has to have a better way for these things."

"I'm married now, aren't I?" Farkas smiled widely, making Vilkas' shoulders sag. His little brother was so happy! Even though things happened so... crudely, it all fit him and his wife perfectly. "We're gonna get ready to go to Riften later, so I guess we won't be seeing each other in a month or two, brother."

"Oh," Vilkas blinked in surprise. "Do you not want me to go along for the ceremony? I feel that I should witness it, as your brother..."

"Nah," Farkas got up, the very air around him a bit lighter. "We wanna get to... know each other during the trip, like Rannah said." He laughed, forcing Vilkas to groan once again.

"Very well, then, little brother." The older twin got up, patting the younger on the back. "May your marriage be blessed by Mara and the Divines. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Farkas patted Vilkas' hand on his shoulder before retreating back to his own room, leaving Vilkas alone with his thoughts.

"Just follow your feelings, huh..." The older twin digested the words for a bit, his eyes looking around the room as though looking for clues. He saw the key to Whiterun's guard tower and something clicked on him. "That's it...!"

Vilkas busied himself during the day by going in and out of the guard barracks -- making a deal or another to be able to use the southern guard tower unhindered for one night; then making a trip or two to the market in search of high-quality ingredients for dinner and the best wine he could find for sale at the khajiit caravan.

Everything was going to be perfect and he was following his heart! Two birds with one stone!

The Dragonborn raised one eyebrow once Vilkas called her to help him with a guard shift at the tower, wondering -- with a smirk -- why he sounded so happy about a random watch duty like that.

Night had covered Skyrim like a cold blanket, forcing the two of them to wear their thick cloaks as they went up the stairs in silence, the only sound between them one of the crackling fire from the torch Vilkas carried.

Feeling his heart rising up to his throat, Vilkas gulped as they reached the uppermost room -- the one with the best view of the city as well as of the aurora in the sky -- nervously opening the door to reveal the carefully arranged dinner table for two.

The former thief pressed her lips into a thin line to hide her smirk so she could play dumb. "Vilkas?" She sat on the chair he had pulled for her, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

"I- cannot say I was inspired by my brother since I had this in my possession since yesterday morning-" He tried to pull something from his item pouch, but it got stuck just as he was taking the knee.

"’This’?" The Dragonborn tilted her head to the side, almost giving into the urge to laugh.

Vilkas cursed under his breath, pulling the amulet with a little too much force, his heart beating so fast he was barely thinking straight -- if his plan didn't go exactly as he had devised, he had nothing! What was he going to say next? Where is this thing stuck on, anyway? He had already KNELT! He just needed to pull a bit-

A thin snapping sound filled the air, followed by dozens of beads rolling around the floor. "The amulet-" Vilkas froze, watching the Amulet of Mara roll around in all directions, his hands helplessly trying to keep it all in one place.

"Pffft! Hahaha!" The Dragonborn snorted loudly, dissolving into laughter. "Oh no, this is so cute! I'm- ahaha! Pffbht... I-I'm-"

"D-don't laugh!" Vilkas hissed pitifully, using all of his concentration to look for the missing beads. The Dragonborn knelt in front of him, gathering as many beads as she could, her laughter never stopping.

"I-I'm sorry, b-but this is so- so adorable! Hrrk! Pffft!" She snorted, found the sound funny and went back to laughing, placing some beads in Vilkas' pitiful, open hand.

"What a disaster..." The older twin's back slumped on itself, the amulet now an amalgamation of random tiny objects. Before he could even wallow in self-pity, the Dragonborn placed her hand over his, covering the amulet.

Sniffling from laughing so much, she pressed her forehead on his. "Is it, really? I think this couldn't have been a better proposal." She looked at him with a genuine smile, dissolving his frown. "And my answer is yes! We don't need an amulet to get married, anyway; it's what it represents that matters." She clutched her hand in his, some beads escaping through their hold. "And I can feel it all, from the lame excuse to get to this secluded location to how you nervously have been trying to come up with ideas for the past few weeks."

Vilkas widened his eyes in surprise, but then exhaled in resignation. "So it was that obvious."

"A little," she giggled, kissing his cheek. "Won't you ask me properly even though I already gave my answer?"

"Of course," Vilkas put whatever was left of the amulet back in his pouch so he could pull her to him, finally able to let their bodies share the same warmth. "Will you marry me, my- my love? I've been waiting to ask for so long."

"Mhm," she nudged her nose on his, closing her eyes to feel his breath on her lips. "I will, my wolf. I love you." She nipped at his lower lip, enticing him to initiate the kiss, which he did with pleasure.

“I love you as well, my love.” Vilkas felt his entire body relaxing as their tongues acquainted themselves, her taste so much better than he had ever imagined! Ahh, to have her inside his arms, at last!

It was worth the humiliation. It was worth the wait.

Now that he had her in his arms like this, he knew that he would do it all over again if only it meant to kiss her again, again and again until dawn broke.

They would still actually need to do their guard duty since that was what Vilkas had promised the chief guard, but he could mention it to her a bit later. Just one more kiss...

[vampire-kaelthas]

OC Master List

Updated OC Lists (current as of 5/18/20)

Celean- ESO

He's my necromancer vestige! He's about 24 when his story starts, and he got into necromancy when he was 16! He's very much a disaster gay, so much so he becomes a stuttering mess around Jakarn and any man that compliments him. Very sweet but has anxiety.

Ravis- Skyrim

He's a Ohmes-Raht Khajiit! So hes the Dragonborn and Harbinger for the Companions, along with being a veteran for the Civil war. He came to Skyrim as a secret agent of the Empire, being hidden in the ranks of the Thalmor to spy on them. He gets discovered and spends some time in one of the Thalmor prisons which was... less than kind to him. He ends up escaping with Kaidan and goes on to join the Companions and save the world and all that Jazz. He married Kaidan about a year and a half later, with their home being a cottage in the Rift.

Lyandra- Skyrim

She's a snow elf, who lived in with the group of Snow Elves that hid with Gelabor (ok for this I use my headcanon of time traveling elder scrolls just go with it). When the Falmer attacked the Chantry, (around 4e198 for reference) she runs through the tunnels and ends up literally stumbling into a group of Thalmor. After that, for 3 years she was trained by the Thalmor to be an asset. Elenwen saw Lyandra as a daughter, and even throughout her story still saw her as one. Lyandra joins the Dawnguard and is the Dragonborn, and also dabbles with some stuff at the College of Winterhold. She tries to look for more Snow elves for a few years, but gives up when she finds none left in Skyrim. She doesn't end up with anyone, but she has a huge group of friends that basically live at her giant house in the Pale.

Astreae- Skyrim

Astreae is a Breton, and a demi prince of Light and Stars! She gets fought over by both Azura and Meridia (turns out she has one of them further back in her family tree so it's just in her blood). She lived in High Rock before she came to Skyrim to join the Bards College in Solitude. She ends up with Marcurio. She helps rebuild Windhelm, since she loves the old city (hates the racism). She really brings back the life into the city, while keeping the old rustic stone feel.

Athena- Skyrim

Athena is a wood elf who came to Skyrim with their friends and fiancee. They were ambushed by both the Stormcloaks and Imperials, and Athena watched them all fall around them. Their story is long and difficult, with betrayal at every corner. They end up nearly broken, being nursed back to sanity by Serana.

Raven- Skyrim

She was raised by ex-assassins, trained to join the Dark Brotherhood from a young age. She doesn’t know until the events of Skyrim that she’s actually a demi-prince, related to Mephala (who is confused about why their child would look more like a bosmer than a dunmer). She is in the same world as Keian, and ends up being close friends with her. She ends up as Listener, and both her and Keian are Dragonborns

Keian- Skyrim

Keian is a vampire, born at the beginning of the 4th Era. She was raised Markarth, and lived as an Alchemist in the hills. She was turned when she was out hunting for ingredients. After that, she fled Skyrim and stayed with a small clan in High Rock until 4e201, when she left to explore the world. She is obsessed with history and, along with funds donated by Raven, rebuilds most of the Chantry of Auri-El to give snow elves a home once again when they are found. 

Seline- Skyrim

One of my Half Dragon dragonborns. She was born in the Imperial City, to 2 normal Imperials. She’s dragonborn and ends up as Arch Mage. She does go through the dawnguard questline, but only because she was looking for rare books and finds Serana instead. She ends up living with Serana in Winterhold, where they rebuild the city and make it a haven for wizards and nonviolent vampires. 

Nikoli- Skyrim

Another one of my half dragon ocs, but he was born with the features instead of them coming in later in life. His mother is a Nord and his father is a high elf. He grew up with his mother, far from society until he was 12. From then on he lived at the Rorikstead Inn. When Erik turns 19, he and Nikoli leave to become mercenaries.

Kiliana Ebon-Talon -Skyrim 

She’s a pure Nord, born and raised in Falkreath. She lived with her parents her entire life. When she was 20, she came home from a weekend of hunting to find her parents murdered. She left town after that, drinking her grief away and avoiding any of her friends who would try to find her. She got her dragon looks (horns, scales, and tail) after the battle with the dragon at the West Tower! She goes on to be Dragonborn and Guild Master of the Thieves Guild.

Ran’ik Tzan -Skyrim

Very chaotic, very impulsive fire mage! She accidently ended up in Skyrim due to messing up a portal spell very badly and arrived at the College of Winterhold! She ends up as Archmage and ends up with Ancano

Eats Much Bread -Skyrim

They’re an argonian! Their actual name is a little hard to pronounce, and instead of listening to racist nords purposely mispronounce it, they just went with this instead! They join the Dawnguard

Xianna Septim -Skyrim

A lost descendant of Martin Septim, her family line has been waiting for the Empire to be weak to reclaim it. She was trained as a child at High Hrothgar to be Dragonborn. She ends up reclaiming the throne and marrying Brynjolf. 

Rowan -Oblivion

He’s a demi-prince of Meridia! He doesn’t do much with that knowledge except saying “cool.” He’s a healer, and hes an ancestor to Astreae

Citrane- Oblivion

She ends up joining the DB and falling pretty hard for Lucien, but realizes it too late. I think I’ll have her mantle Sheo, but I haven’t made my mind up yet.

Yakar- Skyrim

Yakar is one of the last Dwemer, hidden away deep in the mountains with the rest of his clan for generations. He leaves to travel Tameriel after no one doing that for generations, and uses the fact that dwemer Animunculi don't attack him to his advantage. He also ends up being wrapped up into the DB. May or may not technically share a soul with Emnoral

Emnoral- Skyrim

Hes the Son of Hircine, literally. He's a demiprince, and half Altmer. He's a very sassy, very charming asshole who only meets Yakar due to being too flirty with the citizens of Tameriel. May or may not technically share a soul with Yakar.

Quinlin- Skyrim

The child between Hermaeus Mora and Uriel VIII (the man had an interesting life), they're the demiprince of Fate. Growing up in apocrypha, the only access to Tameriel they had was through books, so they read all they could. They escape Apocrypha with Miraak and help with the take down of Alduin.

Talnori- Skyrim

She's my daughter of Vivec! She's been around since before the time of the nerevarine, and after Vivecs disappearance, she slowly traveled Morrowind and then all of Tameriel, making a name for herself as a treasure hunter. She makes her way to Skyrim after being hired to help with getting some artifacts (LOTD) when she finds out she's Dragonborn as well.

Celrin- Morrowind & Skyrim

He's a Maomer, one of the last that traveled the seas when he was arrested and sent to Morrowind. He's the Nerevarine, and does his "job" to the letter, and as soon as he's done, he leaves, going back to the seas. He reappears in Skyrim and travels with Talnori. He remembers her, but she doesn't remember him.

[myfantasyocs]

Ao3 I know this is the first chapter but I rewrote the first thing I ever written into chapter 2 since I haven’t touched it since I first started fanfiction and it wasn’t great. So want it on ao3, it’s chapter 2.  The characters of Eli and J’rakko belong to @dishonoredassassinfan and he will write the next chapter.

J’rakko admits that he enjoyed his newfound friendship with Ghi’rma, perhaps not AS much as Eli was enjoying his new friend, Reyla, but Ghi was charming enough.  The two of them shared some mead and stories of the adventures they had before arriving in Riverwood. Though J’rakko left out some of his more illegal adventures with Eli, when Ghi asked how he and Eli met he lied and said that he grew up in Bruma with him, which is so much less interesting than Eli being hired to kill the same noble he was stealing from.

Ghi was telling him about one of the Aelyid ruins she found as a teenager with Reyla when her voice trailed off. Her green scales turned pale as she stared at the guards that just walked into the Sleeping Giant inn. J’rakko eyed the black armor the three guards were wearing, J’rakko has never seen any guard armor like it.  Were they even guards? By the look of Ghi’s face, they were.  What in Oblivion did she do to look so shaken, she hardly even glanced at him as she stuttered out some excuse about wanting to show him an Aelyid artifact, that she needs to grab from her room, before she just vanished into thin  air as the men went to the bar to talk to the man running the bar.

J’rakko decided that whatever was going on he wants in, so he leaned against the bar and listened to the interrogation, as he pretends to sip on his ale.

“We are looking for a Dumner woman, with a missing left eye and a scar running down her face. Her hair was short and black the last time she was seen. She is traveling with an Argonian companion, with green scales and with lots of horns covering her head.”

"I saw a Dumner woman like that. Said she was heading to Alvor’s shop to get her sword sharpened." J’rakko told the men as he took another imaginary sip from his bottle.

“We just got back from Havor’s shop, he hasn’t seen her.”  The smaller of the Imperials responded.

“Ah, yes. I suppose it’s possible she used that as an excuse to get away from a friend of mine. Young love, am I right.” J’rakko elbowed the biggest of the three guards who was covered in scars and didn’t look very sympathetic to the plights of young love. “Anyway, the Dumner left a while ago and I would imagine the Argonian she was with is right behind her.”

“What in Oblivion are you talking about? You and her were sharing a drink together just a moment ago.” The damn tavern owner, snitched.

“Oh yeah, um, that was another Argonian.”

J’rakko risked a glance at the guards and the scarred one didn’t look like he believed him. Actually he looked quite mad. So J’rakko did the only thing he could think of and slammed his ale bottle onto the angry man’s head.

Reyla sighed as she heard Ghi calling her from outside the room. She flung on her clothes and rushed to the door, hoping Ghi’s knocking won’t wake Eli up.  She suppose after weeks of running she shouldn’t be surprised she ended up in someone’s bed, she tends to do that when stressed but she still wants to kick herself for the idiocy of it all.  She should be running, not lying in bed.

Reyla opened the door and stared down at Ghi, ready to demand why she was waking her up only to be filled with dread as she saw her friend hugging the entire reason they got into this predicament against her chest.

“They found us. I don’t know how but by the nine they found us. Unless, do the Skyrim guards wear similar armor to the Penitus Oculatus? What do the guards wear? ”

“The Penitus Oculatus, it seems you ladies did something very naughty.  But it will be okay. I’m here.” Eli stood before them bare and holding a sword causing Ghi’rma to make a small squeaking noise before looking up at the ceiling as Reyla didn’t remove her gaze from the altmer.

 “That’s great our savior is a man who can’t even figure out how to put on pants.” 

Eli dropped to the floor and as he scrambled to find the clothes he threw off last night. “First off you know I’m more skilled taking off my pants, secondly I am an expert on breaking the law and evading it. I’m the perfect hero.”

“A real knight in shining armor.” Reyla’s voice sounded deadpanned as she watched the man she slept with struggle to put his pants on.  “Can you get us out of here, without being seen?”

“Of course, just let me find my shirt and…” The sound of something crashing outside interrupted Eli causing Ghi to peak outside.  “Um, guys someone is fighting the Oculatus.”

Eli gave a small chuckle, “ By Syrabane what drunken dumbass is dumb enough to pick a fight with them.”

“Um, weeeelllll, I think it might be that Khajiit friend of yours.”

“Ah, my dumbass. Well I might not be able to sneak you out but no worries, I will get you two to safety.”

Eli pushed the door open allowing Reyla to see Eli’s friend.   A black khajiit who was being choked and lifted off the ground by a burly Oculatus, who was covered with scars. “Where are they?”

Reyla threw a paralysis spell at the man who was strangling the khajiit as Eli summoned a bound sword and attacked the smaller of the guards. Leaving Ghi alone with the daggers she always has strapped to her body.  She charged towards the last Imperial who swung his sword towards her head.  Ghi ducked under the swinging sword, Ghi swung her leg towards the guard causing him to collapse on the ground.  Ghi clambered onto the man and drove her dagger repeatedly through his heart.

“Ghi! What did I say about killing!?!” Reyla threw a calm spell at the guard who Eli was fighting, Eli let released his sword as the guard’s sword clattered to the ground.

“It was necessary Reyla, they are trying to kill us.” Ghi retorted as she plunged the sword into the guards chest one last time. “Why are they allowed to try to kill us and I can’t stab back? Most of our problems would be solved with stabbing.”

“And a new problem called a murder charge will follow.”

“Not if we don’t get caught.”

“As much as I agree with Lady Stabby Stab’s points we need to leave or we will get that murder charge, Buzz Kill mentioned.” Eli dragged the Khajiit off the ground who was struggling to stand as he coughed his lungs out. 

“BUZZ KILL! SHE LITERALLY JUST!”

Eli slapped a hand over Reyla’s mouth muffling the sounds coming out of her, “First rule of escaping consequences, Buzz Kill don’t scream the crimes you commit.” 

“Now Killer, wrap yourself with that blanket, so people don’t see the blood. We’ll say you caught something and were taking you to a priestess.”

“Yeah, we already used that blanket to hide something, and if they saw what it was, there would be no way they would believe us. Why can’t we just climb out a window? We wouldn’t have to rely on the gullibility of every patron here. “ Reyla bent down and scooped up the blankets as she waited for Eli to answer.

“Well, the reason why we can’t use the window is simple… it’s very simple. The window could be a… trap.”  Reyla started to walk towards the window at the end of the small halfway, they wasted enough time and that calm spell  will wear off soon.  And there was obviously no problem with climbing out of the window.  The inn was only one story and the window was big enough making it incredibly easy for a human to climb out of it.  Reyla walked to the front of the inn to grab her and Ghi’s horses.   If Ghi bent over far enough on the horse and if they rode fast enough maybe know one will notice the blood.  Ghi can change her clothes and they can go to Winterhold, which probably won’t have the information but her first choice would be The Mage’s College in Cyrodil but that wasn’t an option anymore. 

She was surprised to see the Khajiit behind her when she grabbed the reins of a white mare and red stallion as he grabbed the reins of two black steeds.  “Eli and Ghi are packing our bags, hiding the body in his room.  Also Eli tied the other two up. So we got time. So, Eli wants to know if you need help getting somewhere quickly, we know this land like it’s the back of our hand or if you need to sell some illegal goods because we know people.”

Reyla has to admit that spending time with a man she only planned to have a one night stand with doesn’t sound appealing at all.  But she knows that Winterhold is far away and she has never even stepped foot in this country before.  Her best chance to get there without being caught was to follow these strangers. 

“We need to get to Winterhold. But it will be dangerous and I doubt I could pay you enough to compensate for that.”

“Doesn’t matter, as far as I’m concerned the danger is part of the payment. I mean The Penitus Oculatus.  This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”

“Fun?”

“Yes, and I owe you for saving my life.  Thanks by the way.”

“Okay, but the only time I have seen either of you help, is when you were strangled and Eli not knowing how to put pants on.”

“Yes but, the fact that you are considering it means you have no idea how to get there.  If you ask every tavern owner where you’re going, you might as well surrender yourself to the Oculatus. They would find out where you’re going before you even got out of Whiterun hold.  Me and Eli could show you short cuts and know places to hide all throughout Skyrim. Me and Eli may be dumbasses but we’re dumbasses that you need.”

“Okay, fine!”

“Yes! I promise Reyla you won’t regret it.”

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Anyway, finally the game is stable, and I’ve finally gotten my core followers, time to flesh out what will be hopefully be my Dragonborn for the foreseeable future.

Ayerin the Perplexing.

She’s a Altmer Mage, or at least that’s what she claims to be, Goth-Coded, and I’m gona write her on the Autistic spectrum cause I’m on the spectrum so that’s basically half the work done, and the second she learns she’s a dragonborn she’ll start experimenting on her dragon blood, discovering a way to taint it, strengthen it and her soul so that she’d be able to do the impossible, bear both Molag Bal’s and Hircine’s curses at the same time. The way to do so, however, is still long and distant, and necessitates of a third curse, to balance the two, and allow her to survive both Vampiric and Werewolf transformations, by rendering her mortal if long lived mortal shell, immortal and undead first, before even ascending as a vampire.

She’s a Seeker of the Arcane Arts and a Mage. Her dad is a follower of the old Altmer pantheon, specifically Syrabane, the God of Magic, an Aldmer ancestor who ascended to divinity through his own efforts, and has transmitted to his daughter the same devotion to the so called Apprentice God, whose favor is obtained by the constant and tireless research of magical knowledge. He used to be a lecturer for the Arcane University, but after the war the faculty decided they didn’t exactly need his services anymore. They moved to Bravil, where he became a lowly illusion tutor in the local chapter of the mages guild, his career effectively put to a halt.

Her papa, on the other hand, doesn’t care much for gods. He’s a soldier, a legate for the Imperial Legion, stationed in Cyrodil, or at least he was. He lost a arm during the great war, as he attempted to stop the atrocities the Aldmeri Dominion, their own people, were committing in the Cyrodilian Countryside, missing the siege of the imperial city as a result. He’s bitter and angry, but he’s glad he and his loved ones are still alive as a result, even if they are being ostracized for being different, as if they didn’t just fight a war against people who were ostracizing others for being different from them.

Ayerin grows interested in magic as a result of her dad’s influence. Under the supervision of her dad, she tried to gain access to the Arcane University, but was found too curios, too interested in... forbidden lore and knowledge, even expressing some perplexity over the banning of necromancy, a now time honored tradition of the mage’s guild.

That’s when she gets her moniker. The Perplexing. Or maybe, more fittingly, the Perplexed. Always searching for knowledge she ought not to search, for powers that better be left alone, in all 5 schools of magic, baffling and perplexing her peers as much as their “irrational” reactions baffle and perplex her.

The local politics also confuse her, perplexed over why should wizard start squabbling over petty court politics. She never really understood politics in general really, she took from her Papa that way, everything had always been very straightforward for them, always a black and white issue, no matter how much people tried to paint it otherwise, and she didn’t understand why other people couldn’t see it that way.

It was only logical after all.

Her dreams are weird, black voids with white smoke, filled with still images of people, monsters, beings, objects, a weird voice, probably belonging to a old man, giving her advice, some times good, some times just weird, talking about events before her life, as if he was there, as if he knew who was there, mentioning the gods, and talking about the divines and the daedric princes as if they were old chums... or bitter enemies some times.

It’s weird, but strangely illuminating if she managed to decipher his rants, a constant companion of her nights, and she assumes it must be a Daedra working for Vaermina, or maybe one of her demiprinces, especially given how... weirdly fond he seemed to be of the nightmare mistress when he talked about her, but still, she wasn’t that worried about this, it wasn’t like a major daedric prince had decided to set up camp in her dreams after all, she could handle some minor heckling mixed in with some genuine good advice or history lessons about the history of Cyrodil, surprisingly well done and serious in tone, as if they were 2 completely different persons.

At 25 years of age, abandoning her attempts to join the Mages Guild, she decides to move north, to Skyrim. She has heard of a long forgotten cult, attempting to create a true lich for themselves, and also that the college of Winterhold seemed more open to the prospect of its members researching forbidden lores and crafts, no matter how blasphemous they might seem, and she’s all for that, finally, a place where her genius will be recognized!

So, with her blessing of her Dad and her Papa, sad to see her go but glad she’ll be able to leave the nest and follow her dreams, with enough magical research to allow her to cast at least 2 spells for every school of magic, if still really novice ones, she crosses the border into Skyrim...

And gets captured in an Imperial Ambush.

It’s almost mechanical what happens next, going with the flow as if it has happened countless of times already. She’s almost executed, but a Dragon saves her (Usually, it’s the knight that saves the princess from a dragon, not the other way around).

She flees the fort with the awkward soldier who tried to be nice to her, and failed miserably at doing so. She might have hold against him mistaking her for a Thalmor spy (And she spits on the ground at the thought, startling her new companions as they watch her give her daily prayers to Syrabane), but she always considered herself as a excellent judge of character, and of the two men that offered to help her flee, one was simply running for his life, the other had almost given his life to save a young child from the drgaon’s breath, as most other imperial soldiers were doing at the moment.

Which meant only one of them was noble enough or dumb enough to position himself between her assailants and her sparks, and that was the dumbass thought sending her corpse to a country she had never set foot in would have comforted her in her final moments.

At least he was easy on the eyes.

They leave the fort, she finds some junk, a rusty old ceremonial sword among them, and contemplates just how competent those Stormcloaks actually are if their armor and weaponry consists in some strings of leather and scraps of metal barely held together with spit and hope, she even manages to find some spiffy new robes for her, still no boots tho, forced to wander the place just with some wrappings at her feet. It hurts like hell, but she’d rather wear that than... ugh... light armor, uncomfortable and itchy as it always made her feel.

They flee the fort and he offers her to give her shelter to the near Riverwood, Hadvar’s, that’s the hot dumbass’ name, home town. It’s pretty close, and along the way they find the so called guardian stones, old pendants hidden in the hole within them. She was born under the sign of the mage, so she activates the according stone, but Hadvar mentions that unlike her birthsign, the stones do not bind her to just one sign, much to her befuddlement. She doesn’t press him, noticing his barely veiled... judgement at her choice of stone, and notices a door down the slope the Stones are perched on, embed in the mountain as she leaves, wondering what it must have been.

What follows is a whirlwind, she meets Alvor, Hadvar’s uncle, and finds herself almost stealing all the food he had offered her, starving as she found herself, eating chicken eggs raw and stockpiling potatoes for the incoming trip. She’s supposed to got to Whiterun, warn the local Jarl of the dragon attacks...

Gennarino tells her to go to Falkreath instead. It’s as close as Whiterun, and she needs to find someone there.

Gennarino is her oldest and most devoted friend. A traditional Direnni name according to her Papa when she mentioned him, it also happened to be the name of the assistant of a great Aldmer sorceress, during the war against the Sloads, obsessed with gold, who ended her days living in a remote island, at the foot of a slumbering volcano, her name lost to time.

Gennarino also happened to be a Raven. Her Raven. Who oh so happened to be invisible to anyone but her.

Or, well, almost anyone but her. She was pretty sure other animals could see him just fine, as could some of the kids she used to play with, before she was considered too “weird” to be played with, as well as one (1) drunk Argonian in the Imperial City, green and sad and screaming against the heavens in the rain, complaining about friends dying or disappearing after becoming gods and leaving him behind with all the golds and riches that he’ll never be able to share with them, while also complaining about the loud crow giving him a headache.

Still, invisible Raven, followed her all her life, his advice has always been followed by her, how would she not, he’d always been right, even more so than her, and she might be stubborn and curious but she also know the old stories, the old fairy tales about strange little creatures following strange advice to be followed to the letter, a clear, easy way for the player and the author to justify her sudden detour in the middle of such a important situation.

Anyway, she leaves for Falkreath before long, apologizing to Hadvar and the others, who take it better than she expected, before trying to buy some more spell tomes from the local trader, delighting herself in the sudden new variety in the new land (”Uh, death hound, never heard of that conjuration summon, and what is this? “Lamb of Mara”? Is this a religious spell?”). On the way, she visits the door she spotted, finding alarge, sprawling room, filled with altars to anything but her god.

She pledges herself to be a follower of her own mind, something Syrabane would probable appreciate, before inspecting the other altars. The Hermanus Mora one (Already whispering sweet knowledge to her starved mind, as she resists to its pull... for now) has a variety of books as offerings, among them a spell she had never seen before.

She prays for her god there, and leaves for Falkreath. She finds no trabel along the way, only corpses and a traveling bard, with whom she concludes her journey to Falkreath.

There, she finds Lucien, an Imperial, so easily flustered, so eager to follow her to their death, a fellow seeker of knowledge, as they say. He asks her to become his bodyguard, she who can’t even defend herself, and she accepts, both for the money he’s offering, and for the prospect of her research to gain something from their sudden collaboration...

Also because despite everything she really needed a meat shield. And something tells her that if her crow has told her to go for that one, inexperienced and incompetent as he might seem, there seemed to be a reason for that.

She’s not eager to test this concept, and decides to leave for Whiterun this time, as Lucien also suggests, to warn the Jarl of his impending doom...

Except then Gennarino grabs at her Map, a gift from her dads, that she managed not to lose in the ambush, and tells her to go to Riften instead, where another valuable assets lies. Its very insisting, more so than when he told her to go to Falkreath, so she leaves, resigned, Lucien puzzled at her sudden change of destination midway, and there, finally, meeting Inigo.

Now, they are here, a Mage who has just started her journey into the mysteries of the unknown, a Half Naked Khajiit that mistook her for someone else, a inexperienced “Milk drinker” donning imperial armor in a rebel stronghold filled to the brim with bloodthirsty Stormcloaks (Why, she just witnessed their lot violently suppress a small Imperial assault, barely 4-5 soldier, that’s where she got one of the armors before the city guard stopped her from looting the other corpses by tossing them in the river), her talking, maybe there maybe not crow, cawing at her that now, yes, she can go to Whiterun, finally...

And who knows what their future holds for them?

[vosh-rakh]

ogash’s fire and faith, p1

NOTE: i’ve edited the ending of this fic slightly bc i’m going to be continuing it in a slightly different direction soon. i’ll leave the original cut material struck-through for posterity’s sake.

- - - - -

The researchers were guided to the ruins by a Redoran they had hired, not only for his knowledge of the landscape, but also for protection from the wildlife of Vvardenfell. They were three rather scrawny individuals who had devoted their lives to academia rather than any practical pursuits: Ogash, who despite being an orc was short and frail; Caromascius, a portly imperial whose sagging arm betrayed his innocence with the sword they’d been given as protection (but the grip on his flask of Daggerfall wine betrayed anything but innocence); and Falion, their Aldmeri “friend,” which actually meant “supervisor,” whose mastery of magic was mostly limited to spells of convenience and comfort rather than defense. 

The Redoran’s name was Samhreth. Falion had immediately whispered to his two companions once out of the dunmer’s earshot, “What a horrid dunmeri name.” 

“I’ve heard worse,” said Caromascius, after a swift swig from his flask. “I’m just going to call him Sam. You know, like from Samuel. You elf fellas have ‘Samuel,’ right?”

“No,” Falion said, his voice dripping with the usual contempt, “us ‘elf fellows’ do not use such a hideous half-mer name.” He paused for a moment, then conceded, “But it is preferable to ‘Sanhereth,’ or whatever the savage called himself.”

Ogash did not need bother wonder what Falion and Caromascius thought of his own orcish name. Falion had remarked upon it as soon as they were introduced. Caromascius had feigned sympathy for Ogash, but laughed at Falion’s comment regardless, saying with a pat on the orc’s back, “He’s not wrong, you know.”

Ogash did not know, but had learned long ago to not bother arguing the point.

- - - - -

They had almost arrived at the tunnel entrance supposedly leading to the ancient dwemeri citadel Kherakah. According to the first era maps, it was once located here, in the shadow of Red Mountain, but in the years since the eruption of 1E668 it could not be found. But it was Ogash who suggested that the more recent eruptions of Red Mountain may have revealed a network of old flow tubes in the volcanic stone that could lead to the fabled city. He supported these claims with evidence from recent geological surveys as well as explorations of the subterranean networks by returning dunmer exiled by the Red Year, and took them to the Board of the Imperial Historical Society. It had taken some convincing, supported by his colleague Caromascius, as well as his own slowly developing powers of persuasion, but the Board eventually granted his request to send an exploratory mission to the site.

On one condition: Ogash and Caromascius will be the ones to go, overseen by one of the Society’s Dominion watchdogs.

On the trip from the mainland to Vvardenfell, Caromascius whispered to Ogash between heaving over the side of the ship, that the Board likely thought it a suicide mission. “They’re probably just tired of us - you - asking for all this dwarf nonsense. They expect us to find nothing and die while we’re here.”

“But why send Falion with us?” Ogash tried to look away from Caromascius, himself fairly seasick. “They must have some faith in us, to send us with a Dominion agent.” 

“They probably expect me to die, too,” groaned the altmer from behind them. “I think they want to replace me, anyway. They refuse to admit my value.” He pushed Caromascius out of the way and leaned over the edge of the ship himself. Ogash sat down with his back against the railing and shut his eyes tightly, trying to drown out the commotion of the ship and its crew, as well as the anxiety - and eager anticipation - that grew as they drew closer to Red Mountain on the horizon.

- - - - -

“Here,” growls Samhreth in his ash-choked voice, typical of the dunmer of the island. He points his three charges towards a slightly sunken part of a nearby ashmound. “Wizard. Blow away the ash.”

Falion, obviously miffed at being bossed around, steps forward to cast a spell. He stiffly recites some incantation and gestures with his hand, directing the wind to pick up the intrusive ash and uncover the hole beneath. It works, but then the wind returns to its natural direction, throwing all the ash on Samhreth, Ogash, and Caromascius. Samhreth merely covers his eyes with his forearm, not unfamiliar with ashstorms. Ogash and Caromascius, on the other hand, both had their mouths open, panting from the long journey uphill through the uneven footing of the ashlands. They both set to hacking and coughing. Falion turns back and for a moment almost looks like he might apologize. But he simply says to everyone, “There.”

Once the orc and imperial have mostly evacuated the ash from their throats, they step forward to appraise the unearthed opening. “Looks tight,” Caromascius remarks. He glances down at his rotundity. “I don’t think I could make it.”

“I refuse to crawl through a dirty hole in the ground,” Falion says, covering his face with his ornate Summerset silk scarf.

“Fine,” Samhreth says. He turns to Ogash. “Orc. You will fit. I will lead the way through the tunnels, and you follow.” He reaches into his pack to retrieve something. “Altmer. Human. Come.”

Falion and Caromascius approach Samhreth. “Hold out your hands,” he says, something hidden in his palms. The two comply, but yank back their hands after Samhreth quickly pricks their fingers. 

“‘Talos, Sam!” cries Caromascius. “What in Oblivion was that for?”

Falion casts Caromascius a scathing look. The imperial realizes his mistake and shrugs, smiling meekly. “A joke, of course, I was caught off guard is all.” But Falion has already forgotten in favor of sucking on his bleeding finger.

Samhreth slaps Falion’s hand from his face. “Stop. Need that.” He produces a stack of sixteen scrolls. “This is why I charge so much. Telvanni charge a fortune for these.”

Falion squints his eyes to divine what the daedric on the scrolls implies. But Ogash has already figured it out. “Mark and Recall?” Samhreth nods.

Falion’s face contorts in shock again. “Those magics are outlawed, by the Levitation Act -”

“- by the Mage’s Guild,” Ogash interrupts, “over two hundred years ago. They’re not around to enforce it anymore.”

The Redoran has already begun to stamp scrolls with blood, taking drops from himself and Ogash as well. “There,” Samhreth says after he’s done distributing them appropriately. “We use the first Mark now.” The three oblige, Falion begrudgingly so. 

To Caromascius and Falion, the dunmer continues, “Use the second - not the first - Recall after about ten minutes, once we get inside and use your second Marks. The scroll won’t work at all if we haven’t used the Mark yet, so just try again a few minutes later.” Samhreth gets down to begin crawling inside the tunnel. “We’ll use the first Recall to leave when you are all done. Understood?” The three nod, and Ogash matches Samhreth’s movement, ready to follow him. “Good. See you on the other side.”

- - - - -

The tunnel is dark, but the two manage it well enough, most mer having eyes that adjust well to darkness. Yet another reason Caromascius likely could not have followed, even if he could have fit in the hole to begin with.

After what Ogash feels must have been hours, but knew was only a few minutes, of scraping his knees and elbows on the rough porous rocks that line these veins of the mountain, he sees a faint light peeking from in front of Samhreth, growing as they continue forward. Finally they climb out of a wall into an ancient room.

It is dimly lit by the strange tubes of light the dwemer used for illumination. The walls are carved from stone, banded with brass braces decorated with what Ogash recognized as the dwemeris script. The room hums with the strange steam power of the dwarves, singing from the pipes and machines that litter the room. Not all seem to be functioning, and some pipes look burst, but whatever system they see seems to have been cleverly designed with redundancies and failsafes, keeping parts of the mechanism running even despite these flaws.

As soon as they plant their feet on the plate metal floor, both Ogash and Samhreth set to coughing from the dust kicked up. 

“Worse than the” - cough - “Three-damned” - cough - “ash,” Samhreth says.

Once they compose themselves, Ogash responds, “This dust hasn’t been disturbed in thousands of years - likely not since the dwemer vanished.” He slowly approaches and places a hand on some thrumming floor-to-ceiling machine, before jerking his head back towards Samhreth. “That means there’s no automatons here.”

“That’s a relief,” the dunmer responds, having just finished using Farion and Caromascius’s other Marks and stepping away. “Tell the truth, not sure I could have protected you from a centurion or spider.” He gestures at his sword. “Useless on a metal beast, you know.”

Before Ogash could properly express his dissatisfaction with the comment, Caromascius appeared in the room with a pop. He immediately empties his stomach on the floor.

“Oh, for the love of …” Ogash looks away from the mess but gestures vaguely at Caromascius. “All over everything?”

Caromascius pants as he wipes his mouth. “Wait until it’s your turn. You’ll do the same. Damn teleportation.”

“Wait, where’s Falion?”

“Oh, haha. The idiot.” Caromascius takes a big glug from his flask. “Used the wrong Recall. Just teleported a few feet away.”

“Stupid n’wah. Good thing he didn’t use the other one, then,” Samhreth says. “Would’ve been stuck down here.”

Caromascius comes up for air from another pull of wine and tugs at his shirt. “Just me, Sam, or is it real hot in here?”

“We’re pretty deep in the volcano, Caro,” Ogash says.

“Yeah, I guess.” He wipes some sweat from his forehead. “Well, let’s get this over with. Lead the way, Oggy.”

- - - - - 

After about an hour of exploring, they enter the next room in their exploration, but by the time Ogash reaches up to cover his eyes, it was too late. “Shit.” One of those tubes of dim yellow light was flickering fast and rhythmically, casting the room into darkness and then light over and over again every second. He could feel it in his head, sucking the weight from his bones and placing it all behind his eyes. Even in the darkness behind his eyelids the world spins like a top.

He knows it’s too late, but he tries to run away from it and this damn room anyway. 

“Ogg! Where you going?” Caromascius calls after him.

“Gotta … go,” Ogash says, but his lips feel so soft he’s sure nobody heard him.

He’s out of the room now, so he opens his eyes. But the darkness lingers a moment before evaporating too slowly to the edges of his vision, not quite going completely away. The open-eyed blackness scares him and he screams. He hears the footsteps behind him, the Redoran and Caromascius, he supposes. 

It’s coming and he’s running through this ancient maze of pipes and machines but there’s nothing he can do, and he is afraid. He tries to hold his eyes open as wide as he can, but the darkness is closing in and not stopping. He trips on something he can’t see, and on his way down he catches a glimpse of something coming alive in the corner. But then his head hits the floor with a thunk and he is gone.

- - - - -

He opens his eyes and he sees a corpse.

He stares, unknowing, for a moment. But then he becomes Someone again, and he recoils from the sight. It is Samhreth, covered in blood, his sword in his hand, useless in the end.

He sits up and backs away from the body. Every muscle in his body screams to him but he is too shocked to listen. His chest rises and falls erratically, and a forbidden thought reminds him that breathing is a luxury not afforded to all, and he wishes he didn’t have it.

He squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his head. He feels warm wetness and pulls his hand down to peek. It is shiny with blood, blood like Samhreth’s, but his own. He gently probes his own head and finds the wound near the back. His eyes accidentally catch the small patch of blood on the metal floor near where he woke, and he begins to remember.

Ogash’s body groans with pain, and forces his throat to do the same. But the moan becomes a whimper as his eyes catch a glimpse of Samhreth again. Suddenly he can barely see again and almost panics before realizing it is not the blackness - it is tears. 

Then he hears the clacking of metal on metal in a six-footed gait and covers his mouth, smearing blood on his face. The tears roll down his cheeks and mingle with the blood as he tries so hard to still his breathing, even his heartbeat. The bloodstained brass spider strolls through the room, neatly stepping over Samhreth’s corpse, and moving on without noticing Ogash.

When he feels safe, he finally inhales a broken sob. He weeps for a moment, his entire body shaking, before the ache suffusing his bones brings him back to his mind. 

Why didn’t it kill me earlier, when it killed Samhreth? he thinks. The only answer he can come up with is that it didn’t see a need to kill such a frail thing convulsing on the floor.

It was the best answer he could come up with, so his mind shifted to the task at hand. I need to get out of here. He forces himself to crawl over to Samhreth and search for the Recall scrolls. He tries to not look at the killing wounds, but he sees them anyway and nearly loses his fortitude again. 

He finds the scrolls, but they are soaked in blood. Unusable. Useless, just like that sword. 

He didn’t fancy his odds trying to find his way back through the tunnels by himself. Without the scroll, he was trapped here, with that murderous mechanical spider. He collapses over top of the dead dunmer, sobbing.

Then he remembers: Caromascius. Where is he?

Ogash pushes himself away from Samhreth and tries to stand. He almost falls over in his first attempt, but manages to rise to his feet, despite his sore, shaky legs. He starts to shamble towards the door opposite where the spider went, which he recognizes now as the way he came in during his mad dash to escape his seizure. Caromascius has to be that way. Maybe he made it out.

(Ogash wanted to believe that was possible, but he knew it couldn’t be.)

He slowly makes his way from chamber to chamber, clutching his throbbing head, and wanting to clutch his entire body to make the extensive pain go away. On the bright side, his head has finally finished clearing up. On the dark side, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Caromascius.

He is lying there, his head propped up against the wall, his hands clamped over his stomach. Ogash thinks he is dead, but as he approaches Caromascius opens his eyes. “Ogash,” he sputters, “you’re … alive. How? Where is …” He goes into a coughing fit. Ogash kneels down next to his friend. “The elf?”

Ogash tries to speak but his throat is tight and dry, his tongue fluttering in vain. Instead he just shakes his head at Caromascius.

“I … told you. Suicide ... mission.” He smiles faintly, but blood drips from his lips and sets him to coughing again. 

Ogash shuts his eyes for a moment. He massages his throat as he tries to speak. “Pack?” he rasps.

“What?” Caromascius manages to get the word out before continuing to cough. He answers by shifting his eyes to his left. Ogash looks in that direction and spots it, unbloodied, sitting next to the sword Caromascius had brought with them. He crawls towards it and rummages through it. All the notes and recovered dwemer documents are here, right where they should be. 

Caromascius says, “We didn’t bring any … potions. Remember?”

Ogash looks back to Caromascius. “Yes. I know.” He stands, his weakened body buckling under the weight of the bag. In one hand he grasps a scroll. In the other, the sword.

“Oggy?” Caromascius says, his eyes closed. “The scrolls. Falion could … maybe heal us.”

Ogash stands over Caromascius. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You couldn’t have made it.”

The imperial opens his eyes and only sees the sword as it slides into his throat. His hands reach up, grasping for air, letting blood from his stomach gush up. He convulses for a minute before falling still, his eyes empty.

- - - - -

Ogash returns to the surface with a pop, his knees and stomach giving out, the latter emptying into the ash. Whether it was because of the seizure, a reaction to the gore he had seen, or simply from teleporting, he did not know, or think important to know.

“Ogash! Ogash?” It occurred to Ogash, once he finished, that Falion must have been speaking to him the entire time. “What happened? You’re covered in blood! Where’s Caromascius and the dunmer?”

“Dead,” Ogash says after wiping his mouth. “Automaton killed them. I barely got out with my life.”

“By Auri-el’s beard …” Falion tentatively reaches out to Ogash to help him up, but Ogash waves him off. 

“Just. Give me a minute.” He tries to erase the sight of Samhreth’s body and all of Caromascius’ blood from his mind, but he can’t make it go away.

Eventually Ogash lets Falion carry the pack as they make their way in the direction of the closest settlement. Falion even has the decency to not ask too many prying questions about what happened under the mountain.

Ogash knows he will have to explain everything to the Board once they get back to the Imperial City. But he will have time to come up with the story while they travel home. 

The sailing from Vvardenfell to the mainland is so quiet. Despite himself, Ogash appreciates it.

[dunmeri-bitch]

thank you @forevervobla for tagging me! I've never written something in this format before, so i hope i can get it right XD I'm tagging @iamthekingofsass ***

Name -> "I'm Volmasie Matdel, nice to meet you!"

Are you single? ->  Volmasie smiled and chewed on her lip, twiddling her fingers together. "Sort of? I have feelings for someone, and i suppose i have a bed-partner, but it's not official yet." she smiles and blush "Also, don't tell him I have feelings, please" Are you happy? -> “yeah I suppose so. a little stressed with the dragons and the war, still not over what happened in Helgen," she looks down for a moment and shakes herself out of the bad memories, "But I've had worse, so i suppose I'm okay"

Are you angry? ->  “no, not right now. I can get angry pretty quickly. Valtir says I make my feelings too obvious" she smiles a little and rubbed the back of her head

Are your parents still married? -> Volmasie shook her head, "No, my biological dad was never in my life, I don't know who he is, I've never met him. My mother and stepfather are happy together, despite the lack of a wedding ring"

NINE FACTS Birth Place? ->  "I was born off the coast of Tear. My mother moved from Morrowind to Bravil when she was pregnant, and i was born a little earlier than expected. she used to say that's why I've always been short for my age, and for a dunmer" she grins widely

Hair Colour? ->  "Ginger, or well when it's grown out. right now it's shaven so it practically looks dark brown" she runs her hand across her head and shrugged a little.

Eye Colour? ->  “snow-berry red, well maybe a little pinker than that"

Birthday? -> “5th of Sun's Dawn“

Mood?-> “little nervous, not sure what you'll ask me, but It's fine"

Gender? ->  “Female, I don't see why this is important though, unless you want something specific from me? know that I don't work for free, the fact that I'm letting you be so nosy is already more than I'm comfortable with"

Summer or winter? -> Volmasie shook her head, "neither of those, I like Spring and Autumn, I love the colors" she smiles and thought for a second, putting her index finger to her lip "although i do love swimming during the summer, so i guess every season besides winter. way too cold for my comfort"

Morning or afternoon?-> “afternoon, I love watching the sun set and seeing the inns fill up with life. that usually means septims for me"

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE Are you in love? -> “I don't know to be sure. I've been in love a few times, one in particular was during the war with the Thalmors, this Altmer, Runiel, saved me from- from some imperial solliders, and we slowly fell in love with eachother. sadly his family didn't approve of him being with a dunmer, much less a prostitute, so they forced him to come back to summerset.” she shrugged, looking down a bit, "I've had flings since then, but nothing like that" Volmasie looks up and peeked out the window where her companion was stood "Although... maybe something new is growing... if he'll return the feelings"

Do you believe in love at first sight? ->“not first sight, maybe second or third? i believe in quick love, but never firsts”

Who ended your last relationship?-> Volmasie thought for a moment and pursed her bottom lip "none of us did actually, we just drifted appart, and I haven't heard from them in ages, I honestly don't know if they're even alive still"

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? -> “not intentionally no, but sometimes costumers have taken too much liberty in how they view me. just because they becvome a regular doesn't mean I'll want to marry them and have their children” she shudders and frowns, crossing her arms.

Are you afraid of commitments? -> “gods, yes!" Volmasie groans and leans forward, holding her forhead "it scares the living daylight out of me"

Have you hugged someone within the last week? -> “Does hugging for warmth count?” she smiles a little "because if it does then i pretty much hug someone, at least once a day" she laughs and smiled widely, showing off her little tooth gap.

Have you ever had a secret admirer? ->  "Not sure which one you mean? I've had stalkers, yes" she grimaced and took a little sip of ale "but the romantic kind? not that i know of"

Have you ever broken your own heart? -> "would it upset you if I said that's what I'm doing right now?" she looked out the window and sighs

SIX CHOICES Love or lust? -> “why can't I both?"

Lemonade or iced tea? -> “Flin”

Cats or Dogs? -> “cats, definetly cats” she smiles "I think dogs are cute, but I don't want one of my own"

A few best friends or many regular friends? -> "again why do people always assume you can't have both at the same time?!"

Wild night out or romantic night in? -> "depends on who's asking?" she smirks a little "I'm very open for both options"

Day or night? -> “Nights, you'd be suprised at how much life there is during the dark hours, It's so beautiful in it's own way"

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS Been caught sneaking out? ->  "Oh deffinetly, so many times, which got me grounded and led to me sneaking out again” she snorts and shook her head "I was a restless kid, there was no chance of keeping me in one place"

Fallen down/up the stairs? -> “Weeeel i did slipp quite far down the steps up to the Greybeards.... don't tell anyone though”

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ->  “ugh, yes, so many times.” she groans and pouts, crossing her arms "It's unfair, honestly"    

Wanted to disappear? -> “next question please”

FOUR PREFERENCES Smile or eyes? -> “Smile, not only is dental hygiene very important in my line of work, but a smile tells so much about a person.”

Shorter or Taller? -> “well I'm pretty short myself, but it has it's perks. Have you ever been lifted up by an orc sailor? experience for life” she grins "also makes me the perfect size for cuddling"

Intelligence or Attraction? -> “not sure actually, both are very nice”

Hook-up or Relationship? ->  "both have their ups and downs, it honestly depends on my mood"

FAMILY Do you and your family get along? ->  Volmasie nodded a little and smiles. "I do," she leans back in her chair "I was never an easy kid, so I may not always have given off that impression, but I love my mother and stepdad dearly, they've helped me so much during my early years. i miss them" Would you say you have a “messed up life”? -> “Depends on how you choose to view it. I'm an exotic dancer, sex-worker, and I don't have much wealth, and I can't read. but on the other hand, I'm traveling with friends, I get to see corners of the province people have long since forgotten, I've held ancient artifacts in my hands, and I get to see the immense beauty this place has to offer. I have enough money to go to bed with a full tummy most nights, and I'm traveling with someone with an appetite you barely can describe. I may have made stupid choices, but I'm quite happy"

Have you ever run away from home? -> "I've run away a few times as a kid, ended up kidnapped by gobblins once and got into bad groups other times, but it never took long before I found my way home again, one way or the other"

Have you ever gotten kicked out? -> “you mean from taverns, right?” she snorts and nodded "Let's just say me and Valtir aren't welcome at the bannered mare before we replace that bed we broke"

FRIENDS Do you secretly hate one of your friends -> “I have a few friends i wanna punch sometimes, but I don't hate them” she laughs "But then again i reckon they want to punch me too sometimes"

Do you consider all of your friends good friends ->  “yes!” she nodded and smiled widely

Who is your best friend -> “hmmm Dahika is a dear friend of mine, things are never boring when she's around, and Valtir is a dear friend too."

Who knows everything about you -> “well you are very close, but i supose Runiel or Dahi would be the ones with the most blackmail material on me" she smiles and giggles

[lumi-klovstad-games]

I have entirely too many OCs and I won’t ever stop

So, I will list all my OCs here, active or not. I couldn’t just keep reblogging my earlier masterlist with updates because, well, wall of text much?

I try to make sure I have at least 1 character representing each race. Not all of them are canonically Dragonborn, but I’ve marked those who are with (DK) after their name, short for Dovahkiin.

And yes, this is just my Skyrim OCs. Mostly because I play it the most (hi, endless supply of easily installed mods!), and because if I added my ESO, Oblivion, Morrowind, Daggerfall, and Arena OCs, this list would almost literally never stop.

Feel free, nay, ENCOURAGED, to drop asks about these characters because I live to blab about them to anyone in earshot (why else do you run a TES blog?).

First, the actives.

Dunmer: Radene Valos. Great-granddaughter of Queen Barenziah. Nords call her “The Red Wolf” because of how ferociously she fights, usually out of a fearful and begrudging respect. Staunch revolutionary; real Magneto/Lenin red-ragger type. She’s out to improve the lot of the Dunmer in Skyrim by any means necessary and woe betide any who stands in her way or fails to help. Member of the Morag Tong and champion of Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. Worming her way through the Stormcloaks so she can engineer a situation where all the rotten eggs of the Stormcloaks are in one basket and then blow up the basket. Also steadily poisoning most of the Black-Briar family in slow motion.

Altmer: Tarwen Verenandes (DK), a former Thalmor battlemage during the Great War. Disgusted by the violence on full display during the conflict, she resigned after the war and became a priestess of Auri-El. Her devout piety led to her being chosen by Auri-El/Akatosh to be the Last Dragonborn, and she was also gifted with being able to use Auri-El’s divine light as the basis of her spells.

Khajit: Sonn-Ja Sableclaw, an expert martial artist and assassin. Works for the Dark Brotherhood and is utterly loyal to Astrid. Prefers fisticlaws to weapons, and is absolutely lethal with them. Keeps a massive collection of knives and daggers anyway. Chose to be best friends with Arnbjorn purely for the irony. Worships Rajhin and Baan Dar.

Argonian: Murders-For-Cash, who is exactly what it says on the tin. Also Dark Brotherhood, and a Shadowscale like Veezara, who he treats like a brother. Willing to supervise children and surprisingly good at it but charges exorbitant rates for it. Worships Sithis.

Nord: Lady Gwendolyn Triggs (DK), a knight and thane in the service of Elisif the Fair and also her companion and lover. Noted for her bravery, loyalty, strength, skill in battle, and being steadfastly impossible to kill. Not part of the Imperial Legion any longer, but assists them in their operations during the Civil War anyway to both safeguard Elisif’s claim as High Queen and further her own political standing so that marriage can be an option for them. Worships the 8 post-Concordat Divines, but gives special devotion to Stendarr.

Redguard: Akivasha, an ancient Yokudan vampire Witch Queen who has awakened in the modern era. Practically a physical God. Hangs with the Dark Brotherhood because it’s the only group that has Gabriella in it. Far and away my most overpowered OC and in no way does it make her less fun. Worships Mephala and Boethiah, and begrudgingly acknowledges Molag Bal as the forefather of all vampires.

Imperial: Yezka of Vabonne, an OC who began as just a Rule 63 Geralt of Rivia. She’s a Witcher*. Like Gwendolyn, she’s easily picked out of a crowd due to her pronounced Warrior’s physique and tapestry of battle scars (I have a type). She dislikes political games, roundabout language, beating around the bush, social injustice, marginalization of the vulnerable, and has come to have a steady slow-burning hatred for humans as a general category because of the way she’s been treated over her six decades of monster hunting (she’s 93, but Witchers age super gracefully no matter the timeline). She fits in far better among Orcs, Elves, and the Beast Races who have also been so often mistrusted and ill-treated and has a lot of contacts in those communities. Oddly enough, she has a friends-with-benefits thing going with the vampires Hern and Hert at Half-Moon Mill in Falkreath because they only prey on humans and she’s never been hired to kill them. Worships Reyman Ebonarm, The Divine Black Knight.

?????: The Marked Cinder (DK), a mysterious figure completely shrouded from head to toe in rusty mail and plate that totally obscures his appearance, hiding the fact that he is essentially a charred and withered husk given new life by The Nine Divines. Doesn’t know it, but is no stranger to saving the world as the previous life of that body came to be known as The Eternal Champion during the events of Elder Scrolls Arena. Doesn’t really like or dislike anything, essentially serving as a walking meat grinder with a hunger for the forces of evil. Is closest to Arkay and Akatosh, but tends to regard the gods with equal authority and reverence.

* In my headcanon, Witchers were a kind of Spartan-II-esque initiative by the Vigilants of Stendarr to create “Super Vigilants” that could basically handle anything and everything. Thanks to the systematic alterations done to their physiology, the Witchers proved too difficult to control and due to the body count that arose whenever one went rogue it was a short-lived initiative. Yezka is among those that stayed loyal to the mission, if not to the Vigilants themselves. She’s easily my tallest character, towering over most fellow humans and slightly edging out a fully grown female Altmer due to the mutations she underwent.

Rest in Pepperonis: Inactive Characters I ran out of story for

Bosmer: Vynna the Magpie, a highly talented thief and general renegade with a fiercely vengeful streak towards the Thalmor, and Elenwyn in particular, thanks to their purge of Vynna’s family and village. Married to vengeance, will sleep with everyone else. Best archer of her era. Despite her gruff and macabre bearing and demeanor, plays the organized crime game well enough to be called the Queen-In-Shadows. Worships Y'ffre and Hircine.

Dunmer: Ineria Resvalyn, a Telvanni-descended blood mage and necromancer (her magic is big on total recycling) hailing from House Sadras. Scholar and surgeon first, adventurer second. Eccentric and catastrophically bad at dealing with normal people but makes up for it by having an indispensable skillset. Probably Asperger’s. Can Dunmer even have that? Big on Azura worship.

Breton: Fynnic Ironverse, privateer and bard by trade, full-time Casanova and pain the the ass insufferable know it all by nature. As quick with a blade as he is with his wit. Known far and wide for being the Troubadour who brought the Chicken Dance to Skyrim, for better or worse. His major at the Bard’s College was probably leaning against lampposts at night while taking long drags from his cigarette. Atheist, but his lifestyle aligns neatly with Sanguine’s domain.

Imperial: Alessia Laguardia (DK), former centurion in the Imperial Legion. now a top-tier monster Hunter. Big muscles, bigger scars, even bigger prey. Lives a largely solitary existence except for her dog, Flavia. Fond of impossibly gigantic swords and bows. Largely averse to what most would call decent clothing. Worships Kynareth.

Orc: Khauma Relaadri (DK), winner of Skyrim’s Unluckiest Parentage Award. Half Orc, Half Dunmer. Spat upon by both. Found acceptance in the Imperial Legion, and fights for the unified Empire she feels it represents. Her greatest goal is to be a hero, as it would both please Malacath and serve as a positive role model and example to other put-upon people throughout Tamriel that they can rise, no matter their circumstances. Worships Malacath.

There’s a ton of other characters that I’ve played as over the last 8 years, but above you’ll find the characters I was attached to enough to actually care to remember or keep playing.