#vvanderfell

[omiramotakiart]

21 years of this game y'all, have this random look at Molag Amur and the Ghostfence

[reformed-ghost]

making yet another skyrim oc girl help

[unknownhomosapien]

Godryn Ovathur from reverse!au

Godryn Ovathur is anagram of Voryn Dagoth Ur. Yes, he is reincarnation of him. He was born and raised in Cyrodiil and moved to Vvanderfell for practice after finishing arcane university.

He had NO IDEA about being Dagoth descendant, still seeing dreams, that actually a memories of Voryn, but didn't realise that. Basically no one told him much about dunmeri culture, so he is gonna have cultural shock next chapters jkjrolkslf

Good alchemist, but still mixing coffee and fatigue potions because he can and because his migraines. Quite skilled illusionist and healer

Extremely tall for dunmer and was called gray gold tower in university lmao

Definetely has girlypop energy, imagine having FOUR younger sisters

MEAN. What do you expect from Voryn's reincarnation?

[starrythroat]

I’m crying … I’m playing redoran after hlaalu and

Average Hlaalu quest experience:

- our friends from great houses are trying to bite more than they can chew. show them who is real sugar mommy of vvanderfell

Average Redoran quest experience:

- what if hlaalu will be laughing at us. think about it. what if they’re doing it right now in the Eight Plates.

[caliblorn]

So what do you think of elves from later eras? Or Nerevar and the Tribunal

This is a very broad question to answer, but I think in general, as we're getting closer to the end of the Kalpa, elves (and maybe all of Tamriel) are slowly losing their magical element. The dissolution of the Mages Guild and the destruction of the Worm Cult are surely some of the greatest contributors to this. Then we have the end of house Telvanni and the destruction of Vvanderfell's settlements at the start of the fourth era. Lots of Dunmer refugees (which I personally consider the elves with the most widespread magical culture) that are going to eventually lose contact with their roots and magic. Strictly talking genes... Altmers, as they were known before the opening of the Summerset Isles, are probably getting wiped out, which just means more crossbreeding with other elves, which also MIGHT mean smaller magicka pools in their genes. Could be one of the reasons why the Thalmor (the straight-up white supremacist of the TES world) got more and more aggressive in their politics. I mean, we literally have people like this irl crying out "White genocide", lmao. Not less important, the death of a great number of important centuries-old elven mages, lifespans seemingly getting shorter, and the LITERAL TWO-YEAR GAP IN A GENERATION OF KHAJIITS (yeah, I do consider them elves). Don't think I need to mention what happened to the Snow elves and I'm not considering the Maormers since they live on another continent and we don't know anything about them from the first century of the third era.

tagging @saltymaplesyrup in case you have something to add (counterpoints included)

Nothing to say about Nerevar or the Tribunal that wasn't already discussed over and over again. Just an appeal to tesblr to remember that if someone enjoys producing content for a certain aspect of a character, that doesn't mean they don't appreciate or understand all their facets.

[lesbian-lorkhan]

Silence, my brother

TES Summerfest 2023 | Day 4 Mortal/Sanctuary Summary: The Night Mother calls upon Kovan, again and again.

It’s 580 of the Second Era.

Redoran Kovan is 25.

He is sitting on the table by the corner, face obscured by a hat and the shadows. A Tribunal forsaken bar in the worst part of a small town far enough from Ald’ruhn that nobody would recognize him.

Still, discretion was best when dealing with unpleasant matters.

Through the door comes a scrawny looking dunmer, about the same age as Kovan, wearing old looking clothes. A middleman for sure, someone who nobody would miss if things went wrong and the necessity to erase any traces of the job came to be. He seemed hungry. Or anxious. Either way Kovan ordered a meat pie for the two of them, for at least it would give the man something else to occupy his mind enough so he would stop looking around and making them look suspicious. Along he asked for a sujamma shot with scrib-jelly, a pleasure he often liked to indulge. 

Once the man’s stomach had been filled and his mind calmed, he took from his pocket a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Kovan. Had Redoran Kovan been older, he would have hesitated. He would have questioned the need for such a level of precaution.

He didn’t know who the Telvanni he was doing this for was. No name or face attached. Just kill the Redoran Councilor as asked, and Kovan would be rewarded with help getting a higher position on the House hierarchy. 

Had Redoran Kovan been older and wiser, he would have hesitated at the idea that a faceless and nameless House Telvanni member was hiring his services through a middleman, who knew nothing about the job, whose only purpose was to deliver to him a note with further instructions to murder a Redoran Councilor.

But it was 580 of the Second Era. Kovan was 25 and foolish.

He read the note, drank his shot, and left the bar to do as told.

It’s 582 of the Second Era.

Kovan is 27.

His hand bears the mark of an exile, and he can’t step foot in Morrowind ever again for fear that a Morag Tong spear will pierce his throat in broad daylight. He is hungry, and tired, and sleeping on the streets of Anvil. The Three Banner War is raging on, but he could not care less. 

He has no money, he can’t find food, he is on his breaking point when he decides to break into a noble’s house. 

It goes wrong, as it often does. As it did back in Vvanderfell. So he finds himself standing over a body, blood in his hands, a knife on the noble’s chest. The guards don’t see as he flees the scene. They never suspect anything. 

It’s 582 of the Second Era

Initiate Kovan is 27.

The guards did not witness his act, but Sithis did.

He wielded the blade in the name of the Dread Father, as the Night Mother demanded.

And as the war and the Daedric Crisis spilled blood all over Tamriel, so did he. A promising assassin, that he was. The contracts kept coming, the streets were painted crimson.

In the Sanctuary he found his family. A new one to fill the hole left by his exile. He helped Hildegard with her lycanthropy. Drank with Kor and Cimbar. Trained with Tanek. Heard Mirabelle and Green-Venom-Tongue’s stories. 

Until Cimbar was dead on a torture table.

Until Mirabelle was killed by the Black Dragon

Until Green-Venom-Tongue succumbed to his wounds.

He was young, and foolish, and none the wiser.

He couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the memories. As Lyra betrayed the Dark Brotherhood to become the Black Dragon. Kovan understood the pain of losing his family, but the Dread Father ordered the purification, and Sithis’ word was law. 

They survived. His hands were stained with Lyra’s blood, but what remained of his family was alive. 

Until the Daedric Crisis finally caught up to him, and with a dagger to the chest, Kovan found himself in Coldharbour.

It’s 433 of the Third Era.

Kovan thinks he is about 800 years old.

He isn’t sure.

Time passes differently in Oblivion.

The first days out of Coldharbour are the hardest. His skin is still returning to its normal dunmer gray. Instead of dead, soulless gray. Eyes are still sunken, but now they are red again, though a bit dull. His hair never went back to being black.

He looks old. He feels old.

Martin understands him. Martin sees him. He can never tell Martin of what he has done through his life, but Martin is aware enough to sympathize with his dark past.

Mehunes Dagon looms over the horizon, haunting every second of their days. Kovan won’t be a hero, but he can help. 

In Martin’s arms, Kovan finds his redemption.

In his embrace, he finds peace.

In his quest, he finds purpose.

On his death, Kovan’s world crumbles.

The portals are gone. Dagon has been defeated. The statue of a dragon stands in the temple.

Five days later, they find him again. 

They track him, disturb his sleep, give him the same blade he wielded before.

In the Dark Brotherhood, Kovan finds purpose again.

In the Blade of Woe, he finds the extension of his very being.

In the Sanctuary, he once more finds family.

In the words of the Night Mother, he finds solace.

It’s 434 of the Third Era

Silencer Kovan no longer cares about how old he is.

The blood of his family drenches his clothes. Their bodies lay cold on the floor. Dead. Every single one.

The Black Hand is no more. Their lives taken by him.

Lucien hangs from the ceiling of Applewatch.

The whispers of the Night Mother echo inside his head. She knew. She recognized him. She called for his soul to work by her side once more.

With negligence and deceit, she recalled the only living person who saw what Lyra went through. She allowed a rat to infiltrate the Brotherhood. She allowed for Kovan’s hand to wield the blade that wiped most of the Brotherhood off the map of Cyrodiil.

It was all planned, of course. 

Everything went as she wanted.

Kovan screamed into the void that was the night sky. The tears ran down his face, his throat hurt, his voice stopped. 

With disgust, he held the Blade of Woe in the same hand he used to kill.

With hate, he threw the blade into the sea.

It’s 201 of the Fourth Era.

Sheogorath walks through the forest that surrounds Falkreath. The mist is dense, the air is heavy.

He approaches the door, runs a scarred hand over the skull that decorates the door.

The whisper is clear inside his mind.

What is the music of life ?

“Silence, my brother.” The Daedric Prince answers.

[umbra74]

Here is my dunmer character Reylson, Nevar's trusted companion and 'brother-in-arms'. :D Age: 30 years old Race: Dunmer (Dark elf) Gender: Male Birth: 3E 397, 11th First Seed Birthsign: The Lord Birthplace: Ald'ruhn, Vvanderfell - Morrowind Height: 5,7 ft Affiliation: House Redoran Parents: Valena (Mother), unamed ashlander father (deceased) Personality: Dutiful, confident, stoic, caring Qoute: "Duty and family... that's hwat I have learn as I take my first sword." Trivia: - Reylson was most of time as outcast in his House due to being half-Ashlander. - Scars on his right shoulder was gain in his fight with Clanfear

Art by me Reylson belongs to me The Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda

[mjrkime]

I love TES series. Especially Morrowind, Oblivion and Skyrim.

Cyrodiil is comfy. Almost fairytale-like.

Warning: a long and unreasonably emotional post about a videogame

I always find myself being quite bitter whilst coming back to TES IV: Oblivion despite being overall nostalgic. Morrowing felt different and it still does. The emotional baggage that I have for TES III usually relates to my unbearable wish for an escapism which this title provided. Yet, TES IV has a significant flavour to it.

The home of pristinely clean streets, white towers, wine and beautiful pastoral scenery, it hides and nourishes bloody cults, horrific murderers, undercover intrigues and tragedies. Vvanderfell is grey and it's grey in every sense of the way. The morals, the people, the story. It's hard to be and feel heroic when you find yourself amidst a thousand years-long intrigue. Skyrim is bloody. It shows its guts to you because it can. It wants you to bathe in blood while crossing this cold and harsh land.

Oblivion doesn't want you to bathe in blood, it doesn't throw you into the web of intrigues. It gives you a simple story about a hero who finds themselves at the end of the old man's wish. Emperor Uriel Septim gives you his amulet before his inevitable demise. And after that it just goes as it always does.

Cyrodiil hides its very essence under everyone's nose. It pretends to be an idyllic place. In fact, I can absolutely feel the need to slow down and take a stroll through the beautiful cities. Together with the soundtrack, the atmosphere brings you a taste of Tamika's fine wine. Going through the vast landscapes I felt like I finally understood why sometimes we just need to stop and just stare at the sky while the sun sets. Everything feels perfect But it's oh so far away from being perfect. There's, in fact, a necromancer living under that hill. A dangerous cult of ritualistic murderers prospers under the guise of Night Mother, housing their cozy hideout in the middle of the city. A menacing entity is plotting against the mages guild, the mercenaries and bandits watch the roads, thieves are spreading their curiosity amidst the city streets. There are dark mysteries in the ancient ruins and ugly secrets among the people of Cyrodiil. The daedra shrines await their chosen puppet to fulfill their sinister purposes. Also, there's a gate to the literal daedra hellish realm right there.

The realm of Mehrunes Dagon feels like a cruel joke, an attraction in the house of horrors. There are spikes everywhere, the small islands of soil are surrounded by lava, the blood of countless victims soaks the walls of menacing towers and even the damn flora wants to murder you. It mocks the heavenly peaceful land of Cyrodiil perfectly.

What's that? Oh, a sudden realisation.

Cyrodiil seems... Stereotypical. Oae wae!

But the stereotype or not, I quite enjoy this heroic fairytale which is, in fact way darker than it may seem at first.

Every time I come back to this land I can feel the underlying bitter sweet feeling. I know and love these characters, this story and this land. But also I know how each string ends. And it hurts. Sitting in front of Martin while he reads inside the Cloud Ruler Temple, training next to Agronak in the Arena, resting and enjoying the stay inside the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. It all brings me as much misery as it does joy, because I KNOW that the ending is inevitable. I might delay it, I might never become a Champion of Cyrodiil, Arena Grand Champion or a Speaker, but it's only a fool's relief. Reading the interpretation of what might've happened to the Hero of Cyrodiil, honestly clicks to me. In my mind, my protagonist lost a good chunk of people she cared about no matter where she tried to go and what she tried to do. Strolling through Cyrodiil after the main plot always felt excruciatingly lonely and bitter. It's only logical that she would lose herself to a maddening corruption.

Every time I ride through the Colovian Highlands or stroll through the Nibenay Valley, I feel at ease and comfortable. But something inside me aches and feels like crying. Alone.

P.S. I know this feels too melancholic and d33p for a game that's basically a meme now, but I'm a person who cherishes videogame experiences way more than the real ones. Also I can't deny the emotional baggage that I have attached to it. However, I genuinely think that people kind of forgot how nice it felt to play this game. The memes are funny, yes, but I genuinely feel that the province of Cyrodiil holds way more depth than just that.

[wispstalk]

Local vvanderfell resident upon seeing a horse: what the fuck is that

*npc voice* saw a horse the other day...terrible creatures

Some in the know would also see a horse and know EXACTLY who to rob. this bitch is wearing a spidersilk riding outfit and importing oats. time to invent a foyada toll

[pyro-the-kin]

The Elder Scrolls II / IV / V - The Agent of Daggerfall | The Champion of Cyrodill | The Last Dragonborn

I'll be trying to resume three lives in one post, since they are all related:

I'll be trying to resume three lives in one post, since they are all related:

First, there was some random dunmer, ailing from mainland Morrowind, who for some reason was acquainted with the Emperor Uriel Septim VII, and promptly sent to Daggerfall to deal with local political matters.

That dunmer did so, following with the events of TES III: Daggerfall, eventually gifting the tokem of Tiber Septim to someone. That act proved a disaster for said dunmer, who by being at the centre of all events, was wiped out of existence by a Dragon Break.

Well, Akatosh remained very apologetic about that, and promised that dunmer a second change to correct his error.

Then there's another dunmer, this time a lad by the name of Verlo Santri of Vvanderfel. Inspired by the tales of the Nerevarine, he decides to become a hero himself and travels to Cyrodill. Where he is immediately jailed after getting into a fistfight with some off-duty guard.

That turns out to be the key to success, and he is met again (unknowingly) with Uriel Septim VII. Thus begins the events of TES IV: Oblivion. Until finishing with the main questline, Cyrodill and the Empire. But still mourning the sacrifice of his friend Martin Septim, Verlo leaves to another place, crossing a mysterious gate into the Shivering Isles.

Thus goes the events of the Shivering Isles add-on. Verlo meets with Sheogorath, daedric prince of madness, goes on his quests and eventually mantles the daedric prince. Now, such act of apotheosis isn't easy, and he finds his soul getting replaced by the prince's, until being completely driven out of the body.

Again Akatosh appears. "This time didn't count", he paraphrases. Promises a third chance, a final to finally deal with this.

And a small kajhiit is born, in some distant land many decades later.

Raised by caravan merchants, Ta'zir eventually crosses the border into Skyrim at the wrong time, being captured by Imperial soldiers. This begins the events of Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.

Now, what's really special about this one, is that Ta'zir is specially sensitive about things. Perhaps it's the dragon blood, or perhaps something related to the khajiit, but he is very aware of having had some past lives. And promptly freaks out when meeting with certain individuals again (Being, Mehrunes Dagon and Sheogorath).

Luckily for him, the dragons and the Greybeards don't really care about it, so life goes on, eventually leading with the events of the two DLCs Dawnguard and Dragonborn.

Ta'zir eventually finds his demise at the end of his life, ending this cycle of repetition cast upon him by the Divine.

[omiramotakiart]

Already have an idea of what character I wanna use as an arcanist for Necrom, her name is Diz and she's the sister to this little shit of a man, anyways, she also comes from Vvanderfell, Erabenimsun born and raised, though had some conflict with the tribe and left, ended up trying to join the Mabrigash of the mainland and rejectect from the start. One time her brother told her to never do as he did and mess up with Herma Mora. You can guess how that ended

[genericswordsmaiden]

Using this picrew to give a face to some of my male ocs! I love the style so much! (but I wish there were more accessories, skin colours, eye shapes and clothes...)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gregor McEwan - v1 and v2

Captain Radke - v1 and v2

(in their second versions they have matching outfits 👀)

And, as part of the Past Cast there are:

Luka Sniegowski (b e s t b o y !) and Sam Campbell (*''Cool'' by Troye Sivan starts playing*)

Kwon Byung-Ho (the lilac locks are a reference to a certain episode that happens to him) and Shin Hae-Seong (who blushes upon meeting a certain girl...)

Simon McFarlane (I plan on making him appear in every single one of my novels as an easter egg, or maybe as a testament to the fact that this man probably defies the laws of space and time, to me he's kinda like Tom Bombadil tbh) and Carl Richardson (best cop ever istg, and he's the most patient man - having Simon as a work partner is like managing 3 raccoons on drugs. Btw i used a filter to give his face the right colour since the original was literally gray lmao - like, he was a Dunmer from Vvanderfell XD)

[unknownhomosapien]

Godryn felt a strange tremble inside the amulet. Or it was his own hand? Could have sworn that there were voices, but it was hard to understand what they said.

He also remembered, that masked man gave him the same one in the dream few nights ago. It was a type of situation, when Godryn had no idea what to do.

His foresight powers got unusually stronger since arrival to Vvanderfell.

He got too much attention from the people, like they afraid of him.

Masked man actually helping him to understand, who is he really are.

And damn amulet, that was thrown away, because voices are too loud in his head. Because its new question with no answer.

Au, where everything was the same, except Voryn and Nerevar got different endings in the battle of Red Mountain. Godryn Ovathur, the incarnation of Voryn Dagoth, decided to start a new life in Morrowind, a motherland of his ancestors, but he did not expect WHO they were.

•Nerevar being sharmat, but he is not identify himself as god actually, more like being blessed to save people of Morrowind from traitors

•House Dagoth actually awake only because Dagoth' descendants. Its them being capable to spread coprus

•Nerevar "recruiting" only Dissident Priests and ashlanders. Instead of nightmares he shows what could be if Tribunal and Empire wasn't in rule. Yea, basically roasting them, lmao

[starrythroat]

Turns out alchemy as a major skill breaks the game in very funny way. It’s not only fast level progression and insane money but potion making itself. I feel like there’s no threat in Vvanderfell for this man

It wasn’t my goal and it’s hilarious because I’m ignoring main quest so it’s just random guy with god mode

Least strong Redoran be like

[artanisartworks]

Almsivi

The Almsivi, a.k.a. the Tribunal: Almalexia, Vivec and Sotha Sil. This is my first attempt to draw the Three living gods of the dunmer of Morrowind. Let me know if you wanna see a translation of the Daedric runes: I think I’ll make a new post with the translation of each image. ^_^

[beautyk-nice]

table with a map of Tamriel

blue plates beautiful, but brown will last longer