How my Nerevarine isn’t dead in a ditch already is a miracle.
The old Dwemer in the picture is Radac Stungnthumz, you see him in the mission to rebuild Nerevar’s blade. Dialogue’s below the cut in case it’s not clear in the pic.
Radac: Goodluck to you, kid. Now get lost! Shoo!
Hlaayni: Hey, you’re alright, old man.
Radac: Listen, you stupid brat - Find it in your tiny mind to follow these directions: turn around, place left foot forward, place right foot forward, follow steps 1 & 2 until you’re out of my damn SIGHT!
Hlaayni: ...
Hlaayni: I prefer putting my right foot forward first actually
"You want to talk to a Dwemer mystic? Ha! Look, I'm no mystic. Wasn't when I was alive, either. I'm a soldier, kid, plain and simple. Sure, I made weapons for my troops. No secret there. I'm no mystic, though. But you say you want to add fire to that blade?"
So, if the Dwemer all got turned into the eternally screaming cry-baby tantrum skin of Numidium then how are there Dwemer specters? Wouldn't the specters be the most important part of Numidiums pseudo-divine skin graft as they contain the memories, knowledge and will of their owners (as seen with Radac Stungnthumz in Tribunals Bamz-Amschend) and being, in essence, their "soul"? Unless they're more like echoes of the Dwemer, left behind due the abruptness of their departure.
Yep, echoes more or less. You can see a similar example of a ghostly image left behind after binding itself to something divine using Kagrenac’s tools with Arniel Gane’s shade in Skyrim.
My half of an art trade with @idiotsyncratic0 ! Vartyr and Radac have a specific kind of chaos and I’m here for it, and if you like them too go check Vartyr’s creator out!!
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Finally…Smelly man (for the efficiency of not catching on fire, but the tits are out… for body heat regulation) with his eternal plans (building shit) and Dwemer metal crocs aka my take on Radac Stungnthumz, the ghost you talk to under Mournhold! Feat. A moderately cursed pinup. I wanna see this man work a grill, both out of the impression he might grill well in a very dadlike fashion, but also morbid fascination of how fucked up he could potentially make that entire process
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