tracesindust

[tracesindust]

The Observer

Part I

The first time I saw Mara, she was dissecting someone over the phone about square footage versus lease terms, her voice carrying that particular sharpness of someone who's learned that nice gets you nowhere. Three weeks ago, Tuesday morning, window seat at Groundwork Coffee on Fifth Street. She had this vintage leather satchel that looked like it had stories, and when she hung up, she didn't immediately reach for her phone like everyone else. She just sat there for a moment, rubbing her temples with the heels of her palms, before pulling out this worn notebook with a pen clipped to the spiral.

The way she wrote - it was like watching someone solve a puzzle. Completely absorbed, occasionally glancing up to observe other customers with the kind of attention that suggested she was cataloging something important. When she left, she tucked the notebook against her chest like it contained secrets.

I've been learning her patterns since then. 6:15 AM at FitLife Gym - treadmill, never weights, always wearing those same black leggings with the small hole near the left knee that she tries to cover with longer shirts. Coffee shop by 8:30, northwest corner table when available. Then the walk to Henderson & Associates Marketing, where she works on campaigns for clients who want authenticity while being anything but authentic themselves.

She has this unconscious gesture where she tucks her hair behind her left ear when she's thinking, and I've noticed she talks to herself in elevators - not crazy talk, just working through problems out loud when she thinks she's alone. There's something about her solitude that feels different from loneliness. Chosen, maybe. Protective.

But fragments aren't enough anymore. I want to understand the phone calls she takes while pacing her living room at odd hours. I want to know what she writes in that notebook, what makes her stop mid-sentence and stare out her apartment window like she's seeing something the rest of us miss. I want to experience how she moves through her world when she believes no one is watching.

Tonight, I'm going to know her completely.

Part II: Three Days Later

Mara

Something's been off since Monday. Nothing I can pinpoint - just this nagging sense that my reflection looks wrong somehow. This morning in the bathroom mirror, there was this tiny red point of light just above my right shoulder, but when I spun around, nothing. The smoke detector's battery light is green, and there's nothing else electronic in the bathroom.

Must be stress. The new Hartwell Industries campaign is consuming my brain, and I've been putting in twelve-hour days trying to crack their "authentic consumer engagement" brief. God, I hate that phrase. Nothing authentic ever comes from a focus group.

Work drags. Jenny from accounting corners me by the coffee machine, asking about weekend plans with that aggressive friendliness that means she's probably going to invite herself along. I mumble something about visiting family and escape back to my desk.

The campaign sketches are going nowhere. I find myself doodling in the margins instead - little observations about the gap between how people present themselves and who they actually are. The woman at the next table who keeps checking her reflection in her phone screen. The man who orders the same complicated drink every day but never remembers the barista's name. The small performances we all give, even when we think no one's watching.

Lunch break, I call Mom. Dad's cough is getting worse, and she's doing that thing where she talks around her worry instead of naming it. I hear myself promising to drive down this weekend even though I was looking forward to staying in, maybe finally finishing that novel I started last month. Why do I always do that? Agree to things I don't want to do just to avoid the small disappointment in her voice?

The subway ride home is packed, and there's this guy two seats down who keeps looking at his phone, but I can see from the angle that his screen is black. He's watching something in the reflection, his eyes too focused, too still. When I shift my bag to block his line of sight, he gets off at the next stop.

Back home, I heat up leftover Thai food and put on Netflix. Some documentary about digital surveillance that I'm only half-watching while I sketch campaign ideas. The narrator's talking about how modern technology can make anyone a window into someone else's life, and I find myself looking around my apartment like I'm seeing it through a stranger's eyes. The stack of books on my coffee table, the half-dead plant by the window that I keep meaning to replace, the photo of me and Sarah from college that I should probably take down since we haven't spoken in two years.

Before bed, I stand at my living room window looking out at the building across the courtyard. Most windows are dark, but a few glow with the blue light of screens. Sometimes I wonder if anyone over there ever looks back, if I'm just another lit window in someone's else's view of the city.

The red light is in the bedroom mirror now too. Definitely getting my eyes checked this week.

Part III: One Week Later

The Observer

She started noticing on day four. I was with her during her morning routine - experiencing the way she talks herself through her schedule while brushing her teeth, how she practices different versions of "Good morning" before leaving the apartment - when something shifted. She'd been looking at herself in the mirror, and suddenly she went very still. Her eyes focused on something just over her own shoulder.

That's when I realized she could sense me there.

For the next three days, she began testing. Covering mirrors with towels. Taking deliberately circuitous routes home. Standing very close to reflective surfaces and searching for something she couldn't quite name. But she didn't call police, didn't confide in anyone. She was trying to solve it herself, which made the connection even stronger.

During those six days, I was with her completely. I felt her 3 AM panic attack in the kitchen - the way her breathing went shallow and her hands shook as she talked herself through it with a gentleness she never showed the outside world. I experienced her practiced conversation with her mother, the careful way she modulated her voice to sound more stable than she was. I was there for her imaginary arguments with her boss while making coffee, complete with hand gestures and facial expressions she'd never use in the actual meeting.

The intimacy was overwhelming. I knew the exact weight of her loneliness, the specific texture of her anxiety. I understood how she'd trained herself to be hypervigilant in public spaces, always cataloging exits and potential threats. I felt her secret kindness to strangers - the way she left extra tip money when servers seemed stressed, how she pretended not to notice when the homeless man outside her building went through her recycling for bottles.

She cried during a commercial about reunited families but stayed dry-eyed through an entire war movie. She practiced saying "I love you too" in different tones, like she was preparing for a conversation she might never have. She wrote in that notebook every morning - not a diary, but observations about the people around her, theories about what drives human behavior, fragments of stories about lives she imagined for strangers.

She was documenting the world the way I was documenting her.

On day six, she found what she was looking for. I should have known she would - she'd always been methodical, intelligent in ways that had nothing to do with her job or education. I was there as she moved furniture, checked behind picture frames, ran her hands along surfaces until she discovered what I'd left behind her dresser.

Her face in the mirror looked different when she held it up to examine it. Not confused or frightened anymore. Just exhausted. And something else - a kind of recognition, like she'd been expecting this moment for longer than just six days.

She walked to her living room window - the same one where I'd watched her stand so many nights, wondering if anyone was looking back - and threw it out into the courtyard below.

Three stories down, something shattered against the concrete.

The connection severed immediately.

Now I'm back to fragments. Back to coffee shop corners and subway platforms, back to constructing her from glimpses and guesses. But I can't unsee what I experienced. I can't unfeel what it was like to be her, to know the world through her particular combination of loneliness and strength.

For six days, I wasn't just watching someone's life. I was living it.

Nothing will ever be enough again.

Part IV: Two Weeks Later

Mara

I changed my morning routine. Different gym, different coffee shop, different route to work. Not because I think it will help - I know he's still out there somewhere - but because I needed to disrupt the patterns that made me feel so predictable, so easily catalogued.

The weird thing is how little has actually changed. I still talk to myself in elevators. I still practice conversations I'll never have. I still stand at my window at night, looking out at the other lit windows and wondering about the lives behind them. The only difference is now I know what it feels like to be the life behind the window that someone else is wondering about.

I've been carrying the notebook everywhere now, filling it with observations about the people around me. The woman at the new coffee shop who orders her latte with an extra shot but never finishes it. The man on the subway platform who counts something on his fingers every morning - always the same sequence, always ending with a small nod of satisfaction. The security guard at my building who knows everyone's name but pretends he doesn't when their guests ask.

We're all watching each other, I realize. The only difference is most of us pretend we're not.

I haven't told anyone what happened. Not Mom, not the police, not even Sarah, who I called last week for the first time in months. What would I say? That someone found a way inside my head? That they experienced my life for six days and then just... left? It sounds impossible. It sounds like something that would get me referred to a therapist and a prescription for anxiety medication.

But I know it happened. I know because of how it felt during those final days - this strange sense of being doubled, of having a witness to thoughts I'd never shared with anyone. Like having a conversation partner who never spoke back, but somehow I could feel them listening, understanding, judging.

The thing that bothers me most isn't the violation, though that was horrible enough. It's the loneliness that came after. For six days, someone understood me completely. They experienced all the small kindnesses I thought were invisible, all the private conversations and careful performances that make up a life. They knew exactly how it felt to be me.

And then they disappeared.

Sometimes I catch myself missing it. Missing being truly known, even by someone who had no right to that knowledge. There's something devastating about going back to being unknown after being so completely understood, even if that understanding was stolen.

I've started leaving my notebook open on coffee shop tables when I go to the bathroom. Small experiments in visibility, in choosing to be seen rather than just observed. Yesterday, I wrote "I know you're watching" on a page and left it face-up while I ordered another coffee. When I came back, someone had written underneath: "We all are."

Tonight I'm standing at my window again, looking out at the other windows, at the other lives glowing in their separate spaces. But now I'm also waving. Small gestures to whoever might be looking back. Not because I want to be watched, but because I want to acknowledge that we're all here, all visible, all secretly hoping someone sees us for who we really are.

The red light is gone, but the feeling remains: something is watching. The question is whether we're brave enough to acknowledge each other back.

Epilogue: Six Months Later

The Observer

I see her sometimes at the new coffee shop on Meridian. She changed her routine completely, but the city is smaller than people think, and patterns reassert themselves eventually. She still writes in that notebook, but now she leaves it open, occasionally glancing up to make eye contact with other customers. Sometimes she nods at strangers like she's acknowledging something they share.

I don't follow her anymore. Don't need to. The hunger is gone, replaced by something I can't quite name. Satisfaction, maybe, or completion. For six days, I achieved perfect intimacy with another human being. I knew what it was like to be someone else entirely.

But I also learned something I hadn't expected: being inside someone else's life, even uninvited, changes the person doing the experiencing as much as the one being experienced. I understand now why she threw whatever she found out the window instead of taking it to the police. Some violations are too intimate to explain, too complete to prosecute.

She's different now. More present, more deliberate in her interactions with the world. I changed her, but she changed me too. The compulsion to watch, to catalog, to possess other people's private moments - it's faded. Not gone, but manageable. Replaced by something that might be empathy, or might just be exhaustion.

Last week, I saw her wave at someone in the building across from her apartment. A small gesture, but intentional. She's choosing to be visible now, on her own terms.

Sometimes I think about approaching her, having a conversation. But what would I say? That I'm sorry? That those six days meant something to me too? That I understand now how terrifying it is to be truly known?

Instead, I'm learning to experience differently. The world is full of people performing small acts of courage, tiny gestures of connection, moments of unexpected kindness that happen when they think no one is watching. The difference is now I know someone always is, and maybe that's not entirely a bad thing.

We're all being observed. The question is whether we choose to make that observation meaningful, or just another form of consumption.

I'm still learning to tell the difference.

[tracesindust]

Omnimancer

Though your childhood was similar to that of other Breton children, you knew, at age 10, your father thought you were ready to begin learning thieving skills. You spent many happy hours in his workshop, practicing initially the ancient arts of assassination. Your skills developed slowly at first, and your father seemed to have to suppress his impatience at times. You applied yourself to your training more diligently than ever. It gradually became apparent to both you and your father that while you certainly would become a competent thief given time, you would never achieve his level of mastery.

While you were studying archery techniques with your father, your mother began to teach you, in her quiet way, the use of magicka. It did not take long to determine that you had some definite potential. You discovered that you could use both sciences together, using the discipline from your archery and racing training to accelerate your development of destructive spells. Your mother introduced you to some unusual, non-human creatures, mostly the daedra from the plane of Oblivion. You learned not only not to fear them, but also some of their language. One in particular, a female named Mazken took a liking to you and trained you further in spells of alteration than your mother ever could.

One night, your father brought you into his shop, a serious expression on his face. He explained that an agent of the emperor himself had approached the heads of the local Thieves and Mages Guild. He had told them that the emperor had heard rumors of a robber baron named Lord Varis who was supposed to have been allied with the imperial traitor Jagar Tharn. The emperor dared not act against Lord Varis without proper evidence to verify his illegal actions. Your father suggested that, as a pair, you two were just right for the assignment. Excited about the chance to impress your father as much as the emperor's reward, you agreed at once.

Some nights later, you and your father broke into Lord Varis's study and began searching for evidence of conspiracy. A noise out in the hall nearly caused you to drop the stack of papers you were carrying. Quickly, as agreed before, you moved off to the exit route carrying Lord Varis's materials while your father headed off to provide a distraction. He gave you a wink and disappeared. You left the castle and followed the escape route to your home. There, a portly mage and an Imperial courier examined the materials, and from their reactions, the evidence damned Lord Varis. You sat with your mother, fretfully awaiting your father's return. The hours turned to days, and you numbly realized that you would never see your father again. The receipt of the emperor's reward seemed a small consolation for your loss. Some weeks later, a letter bearing the Imperial seal arrived at your house. You were summoned to the Imperial City immediately.

[tracesindust]

Indeed

“Freedom is being you without anyone’s permission.”

— Unknown

[tracesindust]

Well someone recently liked my first post on here so I'll say to the four that liked it chapter five is out.

[tracesindust]

Chapter 5, out now

One transmission, four perspectives, and the realization that the XVII Legion has become the center of a much larger game.

Justiciar Ancano sends what he believes is a routine intelligence report, confident in his manipulation of the Legion and dismissive of their political sophistication. But his magical transmission triggers alarm across multiple intelligence networks. A Dominion relay station recognizes the confederation concept as a continental threat that could inspire similar movements everywhere. Imperial intelligence realizes the northern garrison has become a strategic wild card that could destabilize the succession crisis. The Legion's own battlemage discovers that Ancano's communications are part of a pre-planned Dominion operation with contingencies already in place.

By dawn, four different assessments are being prepared based on the same signal, none agreeing on the implications but all recognizing that an isolated mountain garrison has somehow become the focal point for a struggle over Tamriel's future. The Northern Confederation is about to face forces that have been preparing for exactly this kind of challenge.

The signal has been sent. Now everyone discovers what it has awakened.

[tracesindust]

Chapter 4 is out!

General Quintus realizes the XVII Legion has walked into a Thalmor trap. Justiciar Ancano wanted to be captured and has been transmitting intelligence about the Legion's growing independence back to Cyrodiil. The Legion's isolation over the winter wasn't a coincidence—multiple parties have been maneuvering to control them during the Imperial succession crisis.

The manipulation runs even deeper. The chaos in Skyrim has been orchestrated, with moderate Jarls systematically eliminated to leave only extremists. The entire Imperial collapse may have been planned to create a weakened client state dependent on Dominion protection.

Quintus responds with a radical strategy: instead of trying to restore the Empire or pick sides in the succession, he proposes awakening ancient traditions of voluntary confederation that predate Imperial rule. Rather than hierarchies imposed from above, build networks that people choose to join for mutual benefit.

The plan begins with confronting Ancano directly, offering him a choice between open diplomatic exchange or having the entire Thalmor network exposed to all affected parties. The Northern Confederation is about to announce itself to a world that thought such possibilities had died with the old kingdoms.

[tracesindust]

Chapter 3 has been posted.

The XVII Legion faces an impossible choice in the frozen Pale Pass as the Empire crumbles around them. With Skyrim in chaos, three claimants fighting for the Ruby Throne, and Thalmor envoys moving boldly through Imperial territory, General Quintus and his four thousand legionnaires must decide: restore the failing Empire, abandon their posts, or forge something entirely new from the ashes.

In this latest chapter, the Legion makes their choice and begins planning audacious operations that could reshape northern Tamriel—from detaining Thalmor diplomats to forging alliances with House Redoran, and even attempting to contact the missing Dragonborn in Apocrypha.

What started as a military crisis has become a revolution. The question now isn't whether the Empire will survive, but what will rise to take its place.

Your commentary and insights help shape where this story goes next Let me know what you think of the Legion's bold new path!

[tracesindust]

Next week is Friday the 13th

[tracesindust]

Okay, I know I originally said the next chapter would be released on Saturday, but that was because more people would be entering the Discord server. I plan to host my polls here, so I'll have the chapter out by tomorrow. After tomorrow, all chapter updates will be weekly. I appreciate your understanding.

[tracesindust]

Since no one is joining the Discord I'm going to write the chapter a day early

🗡️ THE PALE PASS GAMBIT - Interactive Elder Scrolls Story 🏔️

What You Need to Know:

- Setting: Post-Skyrim, pre-TESVI

- Main Character: General Marcus Quintus and the XVII Legion

- Current Crisis: Empire fracturing, Skyrim in chaos, Thalmor moving

- Your Role: YOU decide what happens next

---

📖 Where We Are Now (Quick Recap)

General Quintus commands 4,000 legionnaires trapped in the Pale Pass as the Empire tears itself apart. Three claimants fight for the Ruby Throne, Skyrim is leaderless after both Tullius and Ulfric died, and Thalmor "diplomats" are openly moving through Imperial territory.

In an unprecedented move, Quintus has asked his soldiers—not just officers, but the sergeants and prefects who know the troops best—what they think the Legion should do. Three factions have emerged:

🛡️ THE RESTORATIONISTS- March south, back a claimant, restore the Empire

⚔️ THE INTERVENTIONISTS - March into Skyrim, impose order directly

🔥 THE REFORMISTS - Break away entirely, build something new

---

🎯 YOUR MISSION: Choose the Legion's Path

(actual poll on Discord ends in 4 days so if you join on Discord you get an extra day of voting)

---

💬 Want to Go Deeper?

Beyond the main choice, share your thoughts on:

- How should Quintus handle the Thalmor envoys?

- Which province should the Legion prioritize protecting?

- Should they try to contact the Dragonborn in Apocrypha?

- What role should the surviving Great Houses of Morrowind play?

Every comment matters! Even if you're new to Elder Scrolls lore, your fresh perspective could lead the story in unexpected directions.

---

📅 Timeline & Community

- Chapter timing I have a busy schedule so it's somewhat arbitrary, but I'll try and keep on a consistent schedule

- Voting closes: Saturday 6/7

- Discussion continues: Join our dedicated Discord server for deeper strategy talks and lore discussions: https://discord.gg/vnWrHUmg

---

🏷️ Share & Tag

Help grow our interactive community! Reblog with #pale pass gambit and #interactive elder scrolls

New to the story? Start with [Chapter 1: Weight of Crowns](https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/the-pale-pass-gambit-an-elder-scrolls-fanfic.143531/#post-35236730) - no deep ES knowledge required!

---

🎮 Join the War Council

Want to dive deeper into strategy discussions and lore debates? Join our dedicated Discord server: https://discord.gg/vnWrHUmg

Real-time discussions and community world-building happen here and on SV! You are welcome to join and comment on either platform, but all voting happens in the server since I can't get a hold of SV's tally system.

---

Remember: This isn't just my story—it's OUR story. Your choices shape not just what happens next, but how the world itself changes. The Empire's fate lies in your hands.

What will you choose, citizen? EDIT: I want to keep track of my votes so I will keep a vote seret from the rest of yáll, keep it in a notebook and subtract one from my vote.

[tracesindust]

what if you could literally walk through tamriel irl

okay so hear me out. i've been obsessing over this game concept and i need to share it with fellow scrolls nerds because i think it could actually be amazing???

the concept: mundus mover 🗡️

imagine pokemon go but it's actually a proper elder scrolls rpg. like, PROPER. not some simplified mobile trash.

the magic: tamriel gets overlaid on the real world using GPS, but here's the genius part - land only touches land, water only touches water. so when you're walking through whiterun hold, you're actually walking on real grass. when you hit the sea of ghosts, there's actual water there.

your neighborhood becomes cyrodiil. your morning jog is a quest through the jerall mountains. that park you always walk through? congrats, it's now the great forest.

---

why this would be incredible

✨ actual elder scrolls depth - full character creation, skill trees, crafting, the works

✨ gesture-based combat - tap/swipe mechanics that actually require skill

✨ see your character - not sprites, actual 3D models with your gear

✨ all races free - no paywall bullshit, everyone gets to be their favorite race

✨ constellation system - pick your birthsign OR choose the serpent if you want privacy

✨ religious diversity - worship according to your race's pantheon, claim shrines

---

the absolutely wild parts

orsinium is DYNAMIC 💪

the strongest orc player in the world controls orsinium's location. want to be chief? better start training. get your stronghold raided? someone stronger takes over and orsinium moves to their neighborhood. with all the damage you took.

dark brotherhood sanctuaries move when discovered

just like in skyrim! get found out too much? time to relocate and rebuild

khajiit caravans randomly appear

because of course they do

shrines move until someone claims them

find a shrine to your favorite divine/daedra wandering around? better grab it before someone else does

---

the dickensian twist

this is where it gets interesting. i want something that captures that victorian social mobility vibe - where hard work and virtue can elevate anyone, where communities depend on each other, where your circumstances don't define your potential.

but make it inclusive. the f2p model means real-world wealth doesn't matter. multiple paths to success mean different play styles work. accessibility options ensure everyone can participate.

it's oliver twist meets tamriel meets your daily walk to work.

---

why i'm posting this

honestly? i think this could actually happen. mobile gaming is huge, gps games work, elder scrolls has massive appeal. the technology exists.

but i'm just one person with a vision and zero programming skills.

so tumblr hive mind - what do you think? would you walk through tamriel? any features you'd want? know anyone in game development who might be interested in making this reality?

blaze if you'd play this 🔄

reblog with your thoughts 💭

tag your scrolls-obsessed friends 👥

---

mundus mover: your real-world tamriel journey

because why should pokemon trainers have all the fun?

[tracesindust]

[tracesindust]

[tracesindust]

ive suffered from a lot of these

if you have ever suffered from…

• depression

• anxiety

• eating disorder

• self-harm

• ocd

• bipolar

• feelings of guilt and hopelessness

• suicidal thoughts

can you please reblog to show support for people who also suffer.

you are not alone.

[tracesindust]

reblog if you want anonymous opinions of you

[tracesindust]

🗡️ THE PALE PASS GAMBIT - Interactive Elder Scrolls Story 🏔️

What You Need to Know:

- Setting: Post-Skyrim, pre-TESVI

- Main Character: General Marcus Quintus and the XVII Legion

- Current Crisis: Empire fracturing, Skyrim in chaos, Thalmor moving

- Your Role: YOU decide what happens next

---

📖 Where We Are Now (Quick Recap)

General Quintus commands 4,000 legionnaires trapped in the Pale Pass as the Empire tears itself apart. Three claimants fight for the Ruby Throne, Skyrim is leaderless after both Tullius and Ulfric died, and Thalmor "diplomats" are openly moving through Imperial territory.

In an unprecedented move, Quintus has asked his soldiers—not just officers, but the sergeants and prefects who know the troops best—what they think the Legion should do. Three factions have emerged:

🛡️ THE RESTORATIONISTS- March south, back a claimant, restore the Empire

⚔️ THE INTERVENTIONISTS - March into Skyrim, impose order directly

🔥 THE REFORMISTS - Break away entirely, build something new

---

🎯 YOUR MISSION: Choose the Legion's Path

(actual poll on Discord ends in 4 days so if you join on Discord you get an extra day of voting)

---

💬 Want to Go Deeper?

Beyond the main choice, share your thoughts on:

- How should Quintus handle the Thalmor envoys?

- Which province should the Legion prioritize protecting?

- Should they try to contact the Dragonborn in Apocrypha?

- What role should the surviving Great Houses of Morrowind play?

Every comment matters! Even if you're new to Elder Scrolls lore, your fresh perspective could lead the story in unexpected directions.

---

📅 Timeline & Community

- Chapter timing I have a busy schedule so it's somewhat arbitrary, but I'll try and keep on a consistent schedule

- Voting closes: Saturday 6/7

- Discussion continues: Join our dedicated Discord server for deeper strategy talks and lore discussions: https://discord.gg/vnWrHUmg

---

🏷️ Share & Tag

Help grow our interactive community! Reblog with #pale pass gambit and #interactive elder scrolls

New to the story? Start with [Chapter 1: Weight of Crowns](https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/the-pale-pass-gambit-an-elder-scrolls-fanfic.143531/#post-35236730) - no deep ES knowledge required!

---

🎮 Join the War Council

Want to dive deeper into strategy discussions and lore debates? Join our dedicated Discord server: https://discord.gg/vnWrHUmg

Real-time discussions and community world-building happen here and on SV! You are welcome to join and comment on either platform, but all voting happens in the server since I can't get a hold of SV's tally system.

---

Remember: This isn't just my story—it's OUR story. Your choices shape not just what happens next, but how the world itself changes. The Empire's fate lies in your hands.

What will you choose, citizen? EDIT: I want to keep track of my votes so I will keep a vote seret from the rest of yáll, keep it in a notebook and subtract one from my vote.

[tracesindust]

reblog to blow up aphobes and arophobes

Banner credits to @/januscorner