#faux tes lore

[nine-blessed-hero]

Feet Dusted from a Million Flowers

CW Bee & food mentions, fantasy religion Universe: Vanilla Oblivion Prompts used: 'Bees' from the 2022 @tes-summer-fest list, 'Festive Food' from @shortfictionweeklychallenge & 'Flower' from @dayundying's 'New Years Scrolls'. Title is taken from Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. Also available on AO3

[Being an excerpt of Arkved of Cheydinhal's journal, c. 3E430]

County Skingrad – gateway to the West Weald, home of wine- and pastry-makers alike. But there is another profession which calls the Weald home: the humble apiarist.

I remember that spring well. The roads from Cheydinhal had just cleared of snow, allowing the first of the new-year's post through, and with it an invitation from my some-time acquaintance, Gunder of Colovian Traders. That winter had been especially bitter, so I jumped at the chance for some Southern weather.

We spent a few warm days in idleness before his assistant, Eyja – in bringing out a tray of aperitif glasses – confessed that Gunder's invite was not as altruistic as it had first appeared. In fact, she had begged him to invite me so that she would have an unbiased test subject for her meads. As she poured samples from several bottles, she explained that the nearby hamlet of Skestead held a festival to celebrate the awakening of the bees in Spring, when the Weald begins to bloom. Part of which were competitions – she added, sliding the tipples towards me – including one to see who could make the best mead. I found myself both amused by her ploy, and honoured that she would choose me as her sampler. All her meads were very fine, but which – she needed to know – would be the one she entered in the competition? All that afternoon I sampled and compared, finally selecting that which I felt was the best of the proffered options. She, delighted with my choice and the end of her agonising, asked me to join her at the festival; a prospect to which I gladly agreed.

––

The day of the festival dawned hot and bright; if not for the nip in the breeze one might have thought it the height of summer!

Gay pennants of yellow hues, strung between the houses, flapped in the breeze. Arrayed on the village green were tables ladened with cakes and candles, mead and medicines, and all manner of other related items for sale. Children wearing crowns of columbine and yellow flax, or wings of leaf and twig, chased each other in some game with shrieks of glee.

Eyja tugged on my arm, pulling me from my awed reverie, and I followed her to the competition table so she could submit her entry. Casting my gaze over the magnificent entries in all the disparate categories, I envied not the judges; for I did not know how they would choose amongst such prestigious submissions!

We took some time then to amble along the items for sale – I filling my bag to bulging with knick knacks and gifts, Eyja chattering to those she knew – before a particular stall caught her eye, and she with a squeal, dragged me over. "These," she informed me, as she paid for two waxed bags, "are the best part of the festival." Eyja handed me one bag, and from her own plucked a golden lump, hard but filled with bubble-holes and lightly crumbling. She held it triumphantly, announcing, "Honeycomb toffee!" before proceeding to crunch off a corner with a grin. I smiled, and selected a small part for myself. It was sweet and crunchy with a slight metallic tang – a most enjoyable sweet.

Then, from the center of the green, came the rumble of a drum. We drifted over to join the crowd, as a stout, tanned gentleman – evidently the provost of this little commune – gave a speech, welcoming all to the festival. He then gave the floor to a small band and a collection of children who moved in an impressively elaborate dance – ducking and swerving and wiggling and jumping! Eyja commented to me that it was known as the Waggle Dance, meant to imitate the movement of the bees. After the children had done their part, the little 'arena' was filled with adults in green robes, accented by white feathers and furs. Again, the band struck up – but rather than a frenzied tune, now they played sedately; echoing, I thought, the movement of the wind over the heath and the call of birds on the wing.

These worshipers of Kynareth began to sing a wordless hymn as they led the crowd in a procession towards the village apiary. At first their voices were like the sway of trees and the ease of nature, but as we approached the hives they began to trill. One by one they started, offset from the previous singer, until their trilling, undulating, voices overlaid to make a buzzing rill. Then I beheld a curious thing indeed. Where the hives had been lifeless, I now saw movement – a small furred bee trotting out to look up at the priestess. Soon the choir was joined in harmony by a buzzing from the hives, as slowly the bees trickled out to surround the priestess, the singers, and mill about the crowd. I saw several children take flowers from their crowns to hold out for the bees to investigate. A few even came to me, seemingly interested in the lingering sweetness on my fingers. The priestess changed the pitch of her tone, and slowly the bees swarmed around her. While the choir still kept their buzz, the priestess began speaking to the bees in a low voice. At my tilted head, Eyja whispered that the priestess was giving the bees any news from overwinter – who in the village had died, who'd borne children or gotten wed. She later elaborated that the villagers believed the bees took prayers to Kynareth and brought back blessings for the small, sick, or elderly, and thus they must be given all the news. A fascinating concept! Especially as orthodoxy holds that birds are Kynareth's messengers.

Soon enough, all the news was told and one-by-one the singer's voices fell silent. The bees went about the business of being bees and the crowd dispersed back to the village green. A Vintner's lunch of cured meat, cheese and wine was taken in the shade of a spreading elm, as we listened to the band and watched people dance – Eyja jumping up to join in at points. The afternoon wore on with competitive hive-making and lumber trimming, until the provost once again took the crowd's attention for the giving of prizes.

Eyja and I listened and clapped politely as the categories were announced, and the winners given prizes of money or tools. "And finally, but by no means least," the provost said, "the meads." Eyja gripped my arm, her eyes riveted. "Honourable mention: Jeannie Idolus." An older woman with white hair accepted her prize of a demijohn valve. "Third place: Renwic Lort." A merry young man, flower crown a-tilt, accepted his prize of a pack of isinglass. "Second place: Eyja of Skingrad." Eyja gave a small squeak, shaking my arm. With a nudge, she practically skipped towards the Provost for her prize of an empty firkin cask – while I clapped loudly, of course. Skipping back she handed me the firkin to examine, exclaiming it had been used to brew Colovian brandy. "First place: Lig gra-Dush" Eyja surprised me by whooping and hollering loudy for the orc dame collecting a cash prize along with her own firkin and pack of isinglass.

"You aren't disappointed you didn't come first?" I asked, as the setting sun chased us down the road towards Skingrad amid a pack of other revelers. "Not at all," said she. "I only got an honourable mention last year, so I'm happy to have placed higher. That might be because Master Lort has been sampling too much of his own faire to brew straight, but a win is a win." "Indeed." "Missus gra-Dush really does deserve first place though – her meads are truly excellent and have won the past few years. Beating her next year will be difficult, but," Eyja raised her fist, "I'm up for the challenge." She flashed me a grin, and I laughed with her exuberance. The sandy road passed under our feet for a time, when suddenly Eyja said, "You know, there's another festival in a town halfway along the Orange Road where they use sugar maple sap instead of honey. I've always wanted to go." I laughed again. "Would you like someone, perhaps a tall man with golden skin, to accompany you to said festival?" She flushed. "Am I that obvious?" "A little," I teased, jostling her shoulder. "But, fortuitously for you, I happen to quite enjoy eccentric little festivals and would be most pleased to attend with you." She beamed, bright as the lowering sun behind us and took my arm. "Then it's agreed!"

––

Sitting now back in Cheydinhal, I'm crunching on a block of honeycomb toffee as I write – this time from the town's confectioner, who was thrilled to receive news of a sweet he could replicate. Small though it was, the Skestead Bee festival was a joyous time; and, remembering well the ceremony, I have not only planted a small flower patch, but whenever I see a bee I relay to it any town news I think it may have missed.

And of the Maple festival? Methinks that is another tale to be told anon…

[lilarus]

Another wildly belated post but presenting you with:

✨TES Fest '24✨

Day 7!

C O M P A N I O N OR 🄵 🄰 🄻 🄻 🄴 🄽

(i skipped day 6 bc i have a really cool idea but i couldn't get it done in time)

[alt text: Drawing of a Redguard (oc: Achest) on a faux fur lined funeral barge/"viking funeral", simple physical model of a canoe on top of plastic sheets with fake flowers and pressed plants, wave emulating light]

This is 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 one of Misunmar's partners! This is Achest Dhovta, an older Redguard. I'll drop some lore about them below !

plus progress pics

This is Achest ! They are Sunny's 4th partner, and the last one to join the polycule. She is a transwoman that uses she/her and they/them. This is the first instance into what she looks like and I kinda stumped myself by wondering if I should make her old in this, like she possibly actually would be in this scenario, or if I make younger her to see what she looked like in her prime. As you can see, I went for the latter. The ghost of Sunny possessed me. I had to do it.

At some stage I'll probably actually introduce Misunmar and his partners properly but for now you get random little crumbs 🫶

progress pics below

[twistedminutia]

just read chapter 29! fire, as always.

i was wondering how you were gonna go with the religion aspect of twst, because yeah hades (a greek god) exists, but te fiti (island goddess) might also exist bc she's from moana, which is based off of hawaii, i believe.

So TWST canon has more of less confirmed that gods have existed, as they seem to portray the Great Seven as actual historical figures. I don't know if it's ever been confirmed (at least in English) that Hades is a known god, though. He's referred to as the Ruler of the Underworld, not the God of the Underworld, and I don't know if anyone directly references him as a god. However, given that there was an Age of Gods, and that we, as readers, know Hades was a god, we can assume gods have existed.

We also don't know how canon later Disney movies are to Twisted Wonderland. The only non-2D-animated movie in Twisted Wonderland lore is The Nightmare Before Christmas, and that's still a relatively old movie. We have no computer animated 3D movies as canon in Twisted Wonderland, so it's possible Te Fiti is non-canon.

That being said, my own personal headcanon for Twisted Wonderland is that there are religions (I personally don't think it's possible to have people and not have SOME religious practices) but religions are often more personal, focused more on spiritual practices than explicit deity worship, and are often extremely local. Some people still pray to the gods from the Age of Gods, but not everyone does, and there are relatively few proselytizing religions. Most people consider spiritual beliefs to be something you have to cultivate yourself, and attempting to convert other people is a bit of a faux pas. (Sebek's borderline worship of Malleus and his attempts to get other people to do the same skirts the line here, since it's not clear if he worships Malleus religiously or is just VERY dedicated.)

Essentially, there is religion, but it's practiced in a different way than we usually see it in America/the global west. Or that's my headcanon anyway.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

T'es probablement entrain de dormir (du moins j'espère, même pour toi il est tard lol) mais euhhhh j'ai finis Dites-le avec des fleurs ^^" c'est absolument génial, je crois avoir vu que cette fic t'as converti à kylux and well... moi aussi 😭😭 si t'as d'autres reco pas trop longues (100k ça commence à faire beaucoup pour moi), je suis preneur 🙏🏻

Par contre juste cette fic m'a fait me rendre compte qu'il me manque beaucoup de bases au star wars lore mdr, le gars qui dit "kriff" (je crois que ça s'écrit comme ça), apparement il y a une page fandom entière dédiée à ce mot (wtf). Pareil pour le métal qui fait l'obsession de Hux et que Kylo détruit tous les 4 matins, enchanté 🫡 Il y a du travail à faire avant que je puisse comprendre tout ça sans chercher des definitions en continue (j'ai l'impression d'apprendre une langue entière absbdndn)

En parlant de langue, je n'avais jamais lu de fic en français, ça faisait bizarre, surtout voir de l'anglais sur ao3. À chaque début de chapitre mon cerveau faisait un petit lag de "what is... what's this langua- oh. yeah ok switch. français activé." c'est fatiguantttt. Mais bonne expérience et agréablement surpris, tout ce que je connaissais du monde francophone de la fanfiction c'était les extraits cringe wattpad que des potes me forçait à lire lol

Brrrref j'arrête de bavarder byee

J'étais en train de m'endormir oui je crois, après j'ai pas une sleep schedule de ouf non plus donc bon. Je suis trop contente de t'avoir converti aussi bienvenu au club <3 je pense que je vais faire une reclist de fics en anglais dans le weekend, je suis très très fan de multichaps et de longues fics perso mais y en a pas tant que ça de ce que j'ai vu pour le Kylux donc tu devrais pouvoir trouver ton bonheur aussi.

Ah oui ça on s'y fait super vite mais c'est vrai qu'au début c'est un peu chelou lol. De têre, kriff/kark c'est fuck, transparisteel c'est genre du verre mais renforcé, plasteel c'est du +/- plastique il me semble, flimsi(plast) c'est le papier, caf c'est café, sonic c'est une douche mais sans eau genre juste avec des ondes ou je sais pas trop quoi, et le reste est moins important. Je trouve ça extrêmement charmant perso, comme le faux alphabet que des gens ont inventé, et j'ai tellement l'habitude je fais plus gaffe, mais j'avoue que la page Wookieepedia elle est pas incroyable incroyable haha. Ceci dit en terme de langue, funfact, mais quand ils parlent anglais dans les trucs SW, c'est vraiment la langue qu'ils parlent! C'est pas une traduction genre Tolkien, au niveau watsonien c'est la langue qu'ils parlent, même si ils utilisent l'aurebesh pour écrire et pas l'alphabet latin. Je trouve ça mignon hehe

Ouaaais les fics en français je suis rarement séduite après 5-6 ans de lecture et ça me perturbe grave mais y a des trucs biens dans le tas. Je vais pas pouvoir te convaincre sur du Snarry mais y a genre deux trois masterpieces dans chaque fandom en français. Je les ai lues sur FFnet ces Kylux là mais je préfère linker AO3 parce que FFnet franchement bon. Voilà quoi.

Un plaisir franchement <3

[francostrider]

My Elder Scrolls Online Wishlist

I’ve been playing a lot of Elder Scrolls Online over the past couple of years. There’s a lot of good about it and there is also still some potential. We can go on and on about how to “improve” it, but that basically comes down to taste. I love that it has not raised the level cap. I love that it has level scaling, dismissing the irritating factor of “deadzones” in RPGs. The combat is far more about ability usage than level, and that puts it, for me at least, so far above World of Warcraft.

So, I decided to a small wishlist of what I personally want. Without more preamble, let’s get to it.

- PVE Cyrodiil.

Okay, I know there’s a ways around the PVP stuff if you just want to explore the various delves in dungeons. That said, it is still, at best, an ungodly hybrid of PVP and PVE if you do not care about competition. I could try to sneak around, but that’s not really fun for me.

So, in the same vein of having multiple PVP arenas (basically different versions of the Cyrodiil area to accomodate more PVP without over crowding), I propose that one of them just be PVE.

- Harder difficulty options

This is a tricky one. See, in a typical Elder Scrolls game, like Skyrim, you can adjust the difficulty at will. This was especially helpful when I was completely OP and wanted to keep the game from being unchallenging. But that’s a single player game, which does not have the obstacles of an MMO.

Now, there are higher difficulties for Group Dungeons, and the world bosses are still pretty hard. But what I’m focused more on is the Overworld/Delve/Story stuff. You can’t get cartoonishly OP in ESO like you can in Skyrim, but a lot of enemies become a little too easy at the standard difficulty. There are big world ending threats in Tamriel, but for some reason they’re far less potent than some random crocodile in the middle of Morrowind with his own spot.

“Use less powerful stuff then!” The problem is no one else is bound by that adjustment. You want to have a hefty challenge, but then someone who had maxed out everything charges in and makes the fight trivial.

And I’m not looking for Dark Souls level groin punching. More on the difficulty of the Public Dungeons. How to accomplish this? Maybe have different versions of the zones available, similar to how they do PVP? Just food for thought.

- The option to name your home made gear.

No idea why this isn’t a thing already. It’s pretty self explanatory. We can name our mounts and pets, but not our weapons? That is a basic joy of TES, guys.

- More Fighter-centric guilds.

Sneaking has Thieves and Dark Brotherhood, Mages have Mages and Psjicc Order. And the fighters have... Fighters. The is the one dungeon guild, but that’s not really what I’m talking about. I would just like more Guilds for fighters. Which ones? Well, something from the lore, obviously.

- A more readable crown store.

Alright, look. Everyone knows that the crown store is a disorganized mess, especially when it comes to bundles. More to the point, everyone knows why it’s a disorganized mess: To confuse buyers. Buyers are not sure how many crowns to get, so they will buy a larger bundle of them to make sure they have enough.

I don’t think I’m alone when I say we’ve had enough of this shit. This is, without a doubt, the worst part of ESO.

I like the idea of DLC. More stuff to add to an already complete game. I love expansions and the like, and often welcome them more than sequels. I’ll even say a monthly fee is fair for a game with constant consumer-developer feedback. But this confusing faux-value token buying bullshit has got to go. Want to sell an expansion? Or a new class? Just cut the crap and give a straight forward online store. We’ve had enough.

And... that’s all I can really think of at the moment. This probably won’t be for the last time, but I hope this comes through to someone.

[mazurah]

Clockwork City Main Quest Discussion

WARNING: Contains Spoilers!

Okay! The Clockwork City in Screenshots is completely posted, so it’s time to get into the lore! Here are my thoughts on the main quest.

The Good:

The graphics, the design, the art deco aesthetic; visually, the Clockwork City is everything I could have hoped for!

Kireth and Raynor are the most adorable siblings! I haven’t encountered them in the main game yet, but apparently they’re recurring characters. I look forward to finding them.

The Blackfeather Court is hilarious. I love them all. I also love that Nocturnal basically got defeated by a bunch of talking crows who got to Seht’s metal city and were just like, everything here is shiny! We must have it! And then went off to do their own thing.

Speaking of Nocturnal, I really liked the depiction of the Evergloam. We rarely get to see ingame depictions of the realms of Oblivion, and when we do, it’s always great. Nocturnal’s realm really seemed to fit her. It coulda been darker, but I understand why the game devs decided to make it twilight instead of straight up night for playability reasons.

Shadows as souls or pieces of souls is an interesting concept, and I wonder if it has something to do with Shadow Magic, like what Nightblades (the character class) use. I’m looking forward to doing some more research into the topic and cobbling together a more full understanding of what exactly shadows are in the TES universe. It’s not really something we get from any other game other than ESO, and I actually really like this contribution to TES lore.

Varuni has such a good character arc! She starts out as a fervent believer in Sotha Sil, and ends up being forced to confront her questions about him and grow as a person! Honestly, she has the best writing in the entire DLC, and she’s my favorite character! Here’s one of my favorite pieces of dialogue and an example of actual good writing in the Clockwork City:

Varuni: "He's gone, isn't he?"

Player: "Sotha Sil? Yes."

Varuni: "I knew it."

Varuni: "I never got to speak to him. Can you believe that? A hundred years of loyal service and then, poof. Gone."

Player: "What would you have said to him?"

Varuni: "Ha. You know, I spent years rehearsing exactly what I would say. I stood in front of the mirror, saying it over and over. Lord Seht, I stand before you as your loyal servant. Prayers of thanks, supplication... on and on."

Player: "And now?"

Varuni: "Now? Now I have nothing but questions.”

Varuni: "Why do we study in the basilica while people struggle on the streets? Why can't we have birds like the exodromals? How could Daedra break through our unbreakable walls? Why can't we leave?"

Player: "Do you think he'd have answers for you?"

Varuni: "I did yesterday. Today? I'm not so sure."

The Bad:

Oh my gods, what did they do to Sotha Sil? They’ve turned him into a faux-deep douchebro! This is my main problem with the Clockwork City DLC, and it’s a major one. They got him all wrong. I mean, he’s hard to understand because he’s Mystery, but at the very least Zenimax shoulda asked some of the original Morrowind lore writers for input or something, because it’s very obvious they had no idea how to handle him. In fact, this is so much of a problem that I feel the need to expound on the point. Here are a couple of excerpts of the most egregious writing:

I asked Sotha Sil about those persistent rumors—the ones about how he and the other Tribunes murdered Indoril Nerevar, the Dark Elf king. According to Marilia, the topic is strictly taboo. Even so, Sotha Sil answered my questions with a quiet grace that surprised even me.

"Why do you think things happen?" he asked. I told him I didn't understand the question.

"Why are we sitting here talking? Why does young Marius exist? Why do I reign over this place, while you convalesce within it?"

I sat quiet for a moment, then replied: "Because that's just the way it is."

His cold face melted into one of his solemn half-smiles. "Exactly."

I can't be sure, but it seemed like relief in his voice. His shoulders relaxed, his tone shifted—he had the look of a man at peace with his sins.

— Proctor Luciana’s Journal, Volume 1

Player: “What is all this for, anyway? The Clockwork City.”

Sotha Sil: “I sometimes ask myself the same thing.”

Sotha Sil: “May I confess something to you?”

Player: “Of course.”

Sotha Sil: “I suffer from a peculiar ailment. Shall I describe it?”

Sotha Sil: “I bear the cruel weight of certainty. Total, absolute, relentless certainty. People rarely comprehend the luxury of doubt... the freedom that comes with indecision. I envy you.”

Player: “Didn't you just say that you question whether the City is worth the effort?”

Sotha Sil: “Indeed. But such questions are flaccid—cursory indulgences that come and go in an instant.”

Sotha Sil: “The truth is that my actions, both good and evil, are inevitable. Locked in time. Determined by chains of action and consequence.”

Player: “So... you were forced to build the Clockwork City?”

Sotha Sil: “Compelled.”

— Game Dialogue with Sotha Sil

Okay first off, nothing is ever certain in the TES universe. There is no such thing as an omniscient god in the TES universe. Not even Hermaeus Mora, the Prince of Knowledge and Fate knows everything. Just look at how the Skaal managed to hide knowledge from him for generations. No god can predict the future with absolute certainty. Just read Azura and the Box, and you’ll see what I mean. In it, Azura, a god of prophecy who asserts that her knowledge is absolute, fails to predict what is in a box. Azura’s assertion that she knows everything is in character for her because she is also a god of vanity, but not so for Sotha Sil. Sotha Sil is not generally characterized as vain. As a person with godlike powers, he should be very much aware of the limitations of his knowledge and power, so the assertion that he can predict the future with absolute certainty is preposterous, and completely out of character.

If he knows everything, why the heck doesn’t he do something? He seems to have been taken by surprise by Nocturnal’s attack on the Clockwork City (as well as by all the events that took place in the Morrowind DLC with Vivec and stuff), so that doesn’t add up, but some of the dialogue from Aios implies that he realizes that Almalexia is a threat to him and he is taking countermeasures of some sort! It doesn’t make any sense! Gaah!

Anyway, moving on. More bad stuff:

It’s explicitly stated in multiple lore books that Sotha Sil and Almalexia are sexually involved. It’s also stated that Almalexia is Vivec’s lover and consort. That would seem to imply that Vivec and Sotha Sil were more involved than just “brothers” since they don’t seem to have any sort of jealous rivalry over Almalexia going on, and yet “brothers” is how Sotha Sil describes Vivec. That... doesn’t really make sense to me. At the very least they would be metamours, and quite likely more than that.

Sotha Sil does not just "quietly" admire Dwemer stuff. He’s blatantly copping and improving on the Dwemer’s inventions. That’s not bad btw, I like how they did that. The bad part is that Divayth Fyr, someone who supposedly knows Sotha Sil better than almost anyone, describes Sotha Sil as “quietly” admiring the Dwemer. He obviously has no idea what he’s talking about.

Sotha Sil’s feet. They gave him mechanical arms but not mechanical feet? Come on you guys! Get it together! He has mechanical feet in Morrowind, why not here? There’s so many great fan theories floating around about Sotha Sil’s feet, one of my favorite being by @boethiah, which speculates that he was injured as a child, and had to have his legs replaced so he could walk. Why not go with something like that? The lore strongly implies that Sotha Sil bypasses Vivec’s path to “true” godhood via CHIM and tries to find perfection through mechanical means. It stands to reason that he would have all mechanical limbs even if he didn’t have some sort of childhood accident requiring him to get prosthetics.

Slag Town. One of the things you can gather from the 36 Lessons and by listening to Almalexia talk about Sotha Sil is that Sotha Sil is an idealist when it comes to people. He thinks the best of them, and he is very hurt when people’s darker nature shows itself, which is one of the factors leading to his self isolation. (I wish I could remember specific sources for this, if anyone remembers something related, please post it.) With that in mind, I think he wouldn’t stand to have slums in his city. He cares about people too much. He wants them to succeed. If you read this lore book about Slag Town, it basically states that some of the people born down there don’t even know how to read. Sotha Sil, being the idealist he is, would obviously have a public education system in place. I don’t understand how writers who have read all the official resources available about Sotha Sil could think otherwise.

Why is Sotha Sil so obsessed with CHIM and Amaranth? That’s Vivec’s thing I thought. If he knows so much about it, why didn’t he achieve CHIM? He’s supposed to be taking a different path than Vivec, but his dialogue seems to be referencing back to Vivec’s path all the time. This would be alright if they added some Almalexia content as well showing her contribution to the Tribunal’s god-philosophies and uniting the Tribunal into a whole, but as it stands it just looks like Sotha Sil is a Vivec fanboy.

This is pretty unimportant, but Dunmer keep calling other Dunmer "dark elves". Just, why...? Only Men ever refer to mer as elves! This isn’t just a problem with the Clockwork City, but with ESO in general. Elves referring to other elves as elves instead of mer is just... weird.

I’m probably being pedantic, but why does everyone pronounce it "Sotha Seel" instead of "Sotha Sil", and "Div-AAAY-th" instead of "Div-EYE-th" or "Dee-VAH-yth"? It just irks me, almost as much as how they pronounced “Nerevarine” in the Morrowind DLC.

The Neutral:

Sotha Sil’s height. Sotha Sil is a giant in comparison to everyone else, even Altmer. He can’t possibly be this tall naturally. He’s probably just making himself appear taller because he thinks he’s supposed to, or possibly because he’s insecure about his height. It’s a strange character choice, and not one I really agree with, but also not one I disagree with either. So... meh?

Divayth Fyr was just... adequate. They got his friendship with Sotha Sil right, as well as his flaunting of authority, but they didn’t give him the booming, larger than life, generally genial-and-magnanimous-if-insensitive personality I’ve come to associate with Divayth Fyr (Dunmer-Brian-Blessed as @chameleonspell put it, click here if you haven’t seen Brian Blessed before.) So it’s just kind of... okay. They also established that Divayth Fyr was friends with Sotha Sil before Sotha Sil’s apotheosis, which would make him old enough to remember being Chimer. However, I was under the impression that he did not personally remember the War of the First Council, but I don’t really have any evidence to back this up, so if somebody has some Morrowind dialogue to help me out, that’d be great. It’s quite possible that this is a lore contradiction.

Sotha Sil’s depression. The way he’s depicted, he exhibits a lot of symptoms that make me think that he has some very profound depression going on. That honestly seems accurate to his character. It’s not necessarily a good or a bad thing, but it’s an understandable character choice.

The ‘I don’t know how to interpret this’:

The very short depiction we get of Nerevar just seems... off. @saltrices mentioned that there were some speculations going around on tumblr that Nerevar could have been part Ayleid or some other non-Chimer elf, and...

That’s the hologram of Nerevar, and the projection of the last Ayleid king. They’re wearing the same armor. Why? I have no idea. I don’t think the armor suits him. His height in comparison to Sotha Sil is certainly not accurate, but again, I think Sotha Sil is probably making himself appear taller because he thinks he should or something. In life, Nerevar was almost certainly the same height or taller than Sotha Sil. The height difference has more to do with how Sotha Sil is choosing to depict them both, and the armor choice could be as well, but I don’t think so. Sotha Sil is likely to depict Nerevar in armor he actually wore, which is why the armor choice is so strange. I’m not sure what to make of it.

TL:DR: I enjoyed the DLC. I disliked some of the writing, especially regarding Sotha Sil, but I like other parts of the writing. I had a lot of fun, and I found the DLC to be visually appealing, but I think that most of the “deep” lore that the DLC tried to add should, in general, be completely disregarded.

That’s my take, now I wanna hear everyone else’s! Reblog with what you thought was good, bad, neutral, or perplexing!

Many thanks to @talldarkandroguesome​ for running through the Clockwork City 1.5 times with me and for being my sounding board. 

Tagging those who were interested in participating: @ladynerevar @kapycta @sharmat-dreams @ratwhisperer @spoopy-eneko @kee413 @king-helseth @kagrenacs @annachibi @jurvektheblogsmer​ Anyone else who wants to is welcome to join as well!

[inkedberries]

beanpots’ viktuuri fic rec list

a lot of you’ve been asking for a fic rec list after the rules for lovers and beside the dancing sea so here we are!!

Blue Roses by @fennec-faux​—first fic I have ever read from this fandom!!! It’s a soulmates/royalty/ abo fic!!!!! (I don’t usually read abo fics but this writer handled the abo dynamics so well) as you may now know I LOVE royalty au fics and the way the world here is described is just! I envision it!! And I really love how the writer showcases how viktor and yuuri’s relationship develops over the years  (complete)

Beside the Dancing Sea by @omgkatsudonplease​– do you know how hard it is to find a selkie au fic??? Very hard!! And I am so glad I found this when I did!! It’s in a modern setting but the lore and the mythos and all that magic stuff is not misplaced at all and that kind of stuff is very hard to come by.  (complete)

Pas de deux by interwingular– yo. I love this au. The “what if yuuri was a ballet dancer instead of a figure skater and helped choreographed yuri’s sp” it’s such a genius idea and I love it with all my heart. (incomplete)

And then, your heart drops by sassively– OH MY GOSH. This is just such a delight to read!! The premise is basically at the end of The Banquet where viktor helps a very drunk yuuri back to his room. The conversation viktor had with a very drunk yuuri is the greatest thing. I have read this a bunch of times already it never gets old for me (complete)

Kings of couture by @forovnix​ – a devil wears prada au. Come on. That is all you will need to read this fic. (incomplete)

For your time (I’ll give you this smile) by Liana_Legaspi – hahaha of course I’ll put a fic based on my au. I really love this one because it captured the world that I see in my head and it’s just such a good??? You should read. this is a link to all the other fics inspired by my au omg read these too (complete)

 Do you know that moment when you read a fic with the ideal characterizations of your otp and then proceed to read all of the writer’s work?? I had two.

cityboys/ @ablations -- hnnngggg I don’t even know where to begin!!! This writer’s work reminds me of soft and warm afternoon light and thin, fine lines on paper. They handle the dynamic between yuuri and viktor in such a delicate light and so so well??? And the way the writer narrates the character’s thought processes too oh my gosh It’s just so!! You cry from how beautifu.l and reading their work is so refreshing you gotta  

Lie to make me like you – I cried

Dear true love – not yet

Sight of the sun – I got teary-eyed

Your love is my turning page -- criiiiiiiiiieeeed

Another girl in another time -- not viktuuri but it’s still beautiful

(Notes: Basically just everything. Everything this writer has ever written)

ADreamingSongbird/ @adreamingsongbird – THIS GUY. Dudes it’s like this writer knows me because everything she has ever written is what I always look for in a fic. She handles emotion so well????? She really makes me empathize with the characters in her stories. Like I get swayed with every emotion she sets in her work and it’s just magic. And everyone is so in-character I love it.  again, you will cry from how beautiful she writes.

The Rules for Lovers – I cried about five times (and this fic isn’t even halfway done yet)

#bffs4lyfe – not viktuuri but still cried at the end because how can you not

Non te ne andare – BAWLED LIKE A PATHETIC LITTLE BABY OH MYGOSH

Solidify the echoes – I got teary-eyed

(also see above notes)

 *oh man I think I have to mention this I just want you guys to know that I am a very emotional person and things that makes me cry are either very beautiful things or very sad things. But don’t worry!! The tears I shed on these fics are all from how beautiful they are so!! Yeah lmaoo

Hmmm. … Now that I think about it this it looks like a pretty short list but these are the fics that I think about first and just really really love!!!

Don’t worry!! This will eventually get longer hahaha

[nine-blessed-hero]

A Light in the Darkness

Universe: TES IV: Oblivion (Vanilla) CW: Alcohol Words: 619 Context: Written for the @tescheer prompt "Lantern".

[Being an excerpt of Arkved of Cheydinhal's journal, c. 3E431]

The month of Morning Star is a drear and dreadful one. Even Anvil, jewel of the Gold Coast, is not immune to winter-tide storms filled with freezing rain and howling gales. The Abecean grows bitter and cruel under leaden skies, goaded by the winds to make rubble of the docks and soak through even the toughest oilcloth. The desperate weather, however, could not deter me from attending a most interesting event with my good friend, the painter Rythe Lythandas.

Attired in our glad rags and oilcloths, we ran through the sheeting rain from the Count's Arms to the Great Chapel of Dibella; for what better time than this dark and dreadful month to bring the light and cheer from a celebration of the Arts?

And cheer there was, in plenty! The church's main floor had been rearranged, with great trestles down the center and pews becoming seats at the feast table. And those pews were filled bursting with painters and playwrights, weavers and tale-spinners, artisans and lutists. The raucous crowd rhapsodized with animate flailing of limbs. Snatches of song, as took the players' fancy, filled the air. Laughter danced, sprinkled between lines of poetry.

The Sybil welcomed us in, bade us relax and find a place in the myriad company. I found my hand filled with a cup of mulled wine and with Rythe gayly beside me, took my time in admiring the chapel. It may surprise you, dear reader, that despite this chronicler's wide travels, I had yet to be inside this very chapel.

The chapel is a vast space, with arching hights – velvet-dark on this night of revelry – decorated in sheets of dainty lace. Planters of sunrise-coloured flowers adorned the altar, but what most struck me were the garlands of sacred lotus flowers. They hung suspended on threads of gold between the chapel pillars and, like joyful lanterns, glittered by some magical fancy. Under their soft incandescence, as if the hand of the goddess was laid upon my brow, I was filled with peace and awe at the marvels and wonder of our world. At my side, Rythe nudged me. "Committing it all to memory, eh?" "Indeed," said I, my gaze lingering upon them, "They're extraordinary in their holy beauty." "Take good note then, my friend. You can describe them to me anon, and I shall paint them for you." "Oh! You're the painter with the 'magic' brush," Rythe's neighbour cried, and Rythe turned away to converse with them, while my own – on hearing I was a scholarly adventurer – implored me to tell of my travels. And thus the night was spent in amiable chatter and the trading of stories; but ever did my eyes find those most sacred of blooms…

–––

Several months later, Rythe invited me to dine with he and his Lady wife, and bade me recount the glittering lotus blooms to her, her delighted smile widening as I spoke. As we were saying goodbye, he handed me a small rectangle, wrapped in cloth. I should not open it, said he, until I was at home. Dutifully I did so, and found to my most pleasant surprise a portrait of myself, gazing up at the golden blooms, my face dusted with buttercream light. It hangs in my study, mere feet from where I write now, lending me the joy of that night.

Although… I would swear to you, gentle reader, there is something otherworldly about it. On nights most foul, when winter has his firm and frozen grip upon the world, the painted blooms will glow with an echo of the revels in Anvil, dusting my room in Dibella's golden light.

[nine-blessed-hero]

Of Garlands and Gladness

(8:15 min; 11.3 MB)

CW: Fantasy Religion

Summary: Researcher Arkved of Cheydinhal spends some time in Bravil and recounts his experience of a summer's festival to Mara.

Podfic version, read by me.

Original: Tumblr || AO3 Podfic also available on AO3

[nine-blessed-hero]

Now Available on AO3

A Light in the Darkness

Universe: TES IV: Oblivion (Vanilla) CW: Alcohol Words: 619 Context: Written for the @tescheer prompt "Lantern".

[Being an excerpt of Arkved of Cheydinhal's journal, c. 3E431]

The month of Morning Star is a drear and dreadful one. Even Anvil, jewel of the Gold Coast, is not immune to winter-tide storms filled with freezing rain and howling gales. The Abecean grows bitter and cruel under leaden skies, goaded by the winds to make rubble of the docks and soak through even the toughest oilcloth. The desperate weather, however, could not deter me from attending a most interesting event with my good friend, the painter Rythe Lythandas.

Attired in our glad rags and oilcloths, we ran through the sheeting rain from the Count's Arms to the Great Chapel of Dibella; for what better time than this dark and dreadful month to bring the light and cheer from a celebration of the Arts?

And cheer there was, in plenty! The church's main floor had been rearranged, with great trestles down the center and pews becoming seats at the feast table. And those pews were filled bursting with painters and playwrights, weavers and tale-spinners, artisans and lutists. The raucous crowd rhapsodized with animate flailing of limbs. Snatches of song, as took the players' fancy, filled the air. Laughter danced, sprinkled between lines of poetry.

The Sybil welcomed us in, bade us relax and find a place in the myriad company. I found my hand filled with a cup of mulled wine and with Rythe gayly beside me, took my time in admiring the chapel. It may surprise you, dear reader, that despite this chronicler's wide travels, I had yet to be inside this very chapel.

The chapel is a vast space, with arching hights – velvet-dark on this night of revelry – decorated in sheets of dainty lace. Planters of sunrise-coloured flowers adorned the altar, but what most struck me were the garlands of sacred lotus flowers. They hung suspended on threads of gold between the chapel pillars and, like joyful lanterns, glittered by some magical fancy. Under their soft incandescence, as if the hand of the goddess was laid upon my brow, I was filled with peace and awe at the marvels and wonder of our world. At my side, Rythe nudged me. "Committing it all to memory, eh?" "Indeed," said I, my gaze lingering upon them, "They're extraordinary in their holy beauty." "Take good note then, my friend. You can describe them to me anon, and I shall paint them for you." "Oh! You're the painter with the 'magic' brush," Rythe's neighbour cried, and Rythe turned away to converse with them, while my own – on hearing I was a scholarly adventurer – implored me to tell of my travels. And thus the night was spent in amiable chatter and the trading of stories; but ever did my eyes find those most sacred of blooms…

–––

Several months later, Rythe invited me to dine with he and his Lady wife, and bade me recount the glittering lotus blooms to her, her delighted smile widening as I spoke. As we were saying goodbye, he handed me a small rectangle, wrapped in cloth. I should not open it, said he, until I was at home. Dutifully I did so, and found to my most pleasant surprise a portrait of myself, gazing up at the golden blooms, my face dusted with buttercream light. It hangs in my study, mere feet from where I write now, lending me the joy of that night.

Although… I would swear to you, gentle reader, there is something otherworldly about it. On nights most foul, when winter has his firm and frozen grip upon the world, the painted blooms will glow with an echo of the revels in Anvil, dusting my room in Dibella's golden light.

[nine-blessed-hero]

In case anyone was curious about how the painting from Rythe might look, I pulled out my tablet and drew this:

(as ever, recall I do the art.txt not art.jpg. Yes I did take that one cat pic as inspo)

A Light in the Darkness

Universe: TES IV: Oblivion (Vanilla) CW: Alcohol Words: 619 Context: Written for the @tescheer prompt "Lantern".

[Being an excerpt of Arkved of Cheydinhal's journal, c. 3E431]

The month of Morning Star is a drear and dreadful one. Even Anvil, jewel of the Gold Coast, is not immune to winter-tide storms filled with freezing rain and howling gales. The Abecean grows bitter and cruel under leaden skies, goaded by the winds to make rubble of the docks and soak through even the toughest oilcloth. The desperate weather, however, could not deter me from attending a most interesting event with my good friend, the painter Rythe Lythandas.

Attired in our glad rags and oilcloths, we ran through the sheeting rain from the Count's Arms to the Great Chapel of Dibella; for what better time than this dark and dreadful month to bring the light and cheer from a celebration of the Arts?

And cheer there was, in plenty! The church's main floor had been rearranged, with great trestles down the center and pews becoming seats at the feast table. And those pews were filled bursting with painters and playwrights, weavers and tale-spinners, artisans and lutists. The raucous crowd rhapsodized with animate flailing of limbs. Snatches of song, as took the players' fancy, filled the air. Laughter danced, sprinkled between lines of poetry.

The Sybil welcomed us in, bade us relax and find a place in the myriad company. I found my hand filled with a cup of mulled wine and with Rythe gayly beside me, took my time in admiring the chapel. It may surprise you, dear reader, that despite this chronicler's wide travels, I had yet to be inside this very chapel.

The chapel is a vast space, with arching hights – velvet-dark on this night of revelry – decorated in sheets of dainty lace. Planters of sunrise-coloured flowers adorned the altar, but what most struck me were the garlands of sacred lotus flowers. They hung suspended on threads of gold between the chapel pillars and, like joyful lanterns, glittered by some magical fancy. Under their soft incandescence, as if the hand of the goddess was laid upon my brow, I was filled with peace and awe at the marvels and wonder of our world. At my side, Rythe nudged me. "Committing it all to memory, eh?" "Indeed," said I, my gaze lingering upon them, "They're extraordinary in their holy beauty." "Take good note then, my friend. You can describe them to me anon, and I shall paint them for you." "Oh! You're the painter with the 'magic' brush," Rythe's neighbour cried, and Rythe turned away to converse with them, while my own – on hearing I was a scholarly adventurer – implored me to tell of my travels. And thus the night was spent in amiable chatter and the trading of stories; but ever did my eyes find those most sacred of blooms…

–––

Several months later, Rythe invited me to dine with he and his Lady wife, and bade me recount the glittering lotus blooms to her, her delighted smile widening as I spoke. As we were saying goodbye, he handed me a small rectangle, wrapped in cloth. I should not open it, said he, until I was at home. Dutifully I did so, and found to my most pleasant surprise a portrait of myself, gazing up at the golden blooms, my face dusted with buttercream light. It hangs in my study, mere feet from where I write now, lending me the joy of that night.

Although… I would swear to you, gentle reader, there is something otherworldly about it. On nights most foul, when winter has his firm and frozen grip upon the world, the painted blooms will glow with an echo of the revels in Anvil, dusting my room in Dibella's golden light.