"I was born 87 years ago. For 65 years I've ruled as Tamriel's Emperor. But for all these years I have never been the ruler of my own dreams. I have seen the Gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye may see. Behold, in Darkness a Doom sweeps the land. This is the 27th of Last Seed; the Year of Akatosh 433. These are the closing days of the 3rd Era, and the final hours of my life."
--Today is the 18th anniversary of the release of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion!
"How long before I was caught? I honestly hoped longer. I believed myself untouchable in my underground temple; I thought it was safe, that my Prince's door would only open to another faithful. Well, it turned out that was exactly the case. And I also found confirmation to some suspect I was having."
"I had already come across the person the people of Skyrim referred to as the Last Dragonborn, I just didn't know it was her back then. An adventurer in an expensive, black daedric armor who helped me and my comrades dispatch some Forsworn heretics. She did not shout that time, but she did have that Mace with her, and oh, she stole so many souls. A warrior, a mage, a conjurer. A mer, the same who had been indeed watching me at times. How was I supposed to know the subject of an ancient Nord legend was a Bosmer?"
"I did some research afterwards; I was curious and the Emissaries did share some interest in an individual capable of handling the dragon menace. I sneaked after her when she went to slay one of those beasts of legend north of Karthwasten at the Jarl's request, and I saw the armor well among the fire. I just did not expect the Dragonborn to be a Bosmer, or to be a worshipper of Molag Bal."
"I guess the Prince must have had a hand in it, or maybe it was fate. I did get to know Laessa of Malabal Tor, the Last Dragonborn, quite intimately after that rough start, blessed by our Lord. Of course, that also was a secret; the most dangerous one, because it was shared."
"You might be surprised, but I might not have been the most virtuous of the Altmer back in Dusk. I might, in fact, have shown what my family and superiors may or may not have described as worrying trends in my behaviour, or in my interests. I might have enlisted and worked so hard to become a Justiciar just so I could prove they were wrong, that I would gladly commit my life to chastise heresy and enemies of the Dominion alike, and not just so I could keep my calian intact. Except, they weren't wrong. But this is a secret."
"That autumn I hunted down Vigilants of Stendarr, If I were to stumble upon them, especially at night. Inhabitants of the Reach kept spreading rumours about vampires, but it was only me. This, of course, is a secret. What did I do with the bodies? Another secret. You see, I found this intriguing place in the bowels of Markarth. A forgotten altar, to the Prince of Pain. And the Prince actually reached out to me. I was not surprised: I was, as I said, curious, impatient, hungry, far from home and irritatingly self-assured."
"Daedra worship – a Thalmor Justiciar? Preposterous. But trust me; Skyrim makes strange mer even out of the best of us, and I wasn't one of them. I have always been an independent thinker."
"There was a strange, cursed mace on the altar when I first found it. Come winter, the artifact had simply vanished. Apparently Molag Bal had found his champion, and I was soon to find out about them."
We have some extra calendars and prints still, and we want to give them away to you guys! If you would like a chance to get them, simply reblog this post with the tag "giveaway". We'll choose five winners in six hours.
Velendomis of Dusk, Thalmor Justiciar
Skyrim, Haafingar Thalmor Embassy, 4E 201
He hates snow and really hopes that, once the Dominion claims White-Gold Tower back for the Mer, its influence reaches Skyrim as well, mitigating its climate.
"The first thing I found out in Markarth is that Skyrim makes strange mer even out of the best Thalmor. I'm not saying that we're all aprax or ousters; what I mean is that I soon started to feel the need to throw myself into a tavern after my shift. To warm up, yes; but also for the horrible food and the disgusting, flavourless wine. I even started to enjoy the childish, cave-dweller-styled music of the locals. It all helped fending off the cold."
"My comrades joined me at times, but they were more displeased than I was with the brutish, pitiful local company. In the end, even my faithful Breviarco stopped following me after work, and that was when I ended up with more alone time in my hands than I was supposed to."
"I was curious, impatient, hungry, far from home and irritatingly self-assured. And, oddly enough, I thought I was being watched."
This Oblivion scene and other funny ones (and previously my dear flatmate-of-old's Skyrim experience and some pretty hot Mannimarco and Sheogorath fanarts) got me into TES and I am so happy I am alive lul
"Markarth is a beautiful city – built by the Dwemer, of course; nothing graceful could ever come out of Man's hands, and even our renegade cousins of old were a smarter people and better architects."
"Ondolemar, my Chief Justiciar, is a fine and decent mer. He did not scorn me for my hindered looks, and simply gave me my orders. I was to stay around town with Breviarco and another soldier in order to get acquainted with it. Patrol the surrounding area when needed.
I did both things, and I was surprised by what Markarth and the Reach had in store for me."
"On my way to Markarth, I began to think the Reach was actually beautiful. Nothing like the Isles, of course, but the sunny scenery and flowery fields helped it all. I was enjoying the ride."
"That is, before my first meeting with the so-called Forsworn, a primitive type of heathen barbarians that could only be a spawn of Skyrim. That's it, I got my first scar before even reaching the city. Awful, awful place!"
"My base knowledge of restoration magic was not enough to fix it up, and now the perfection of my looks had been hindered. There, straight in the face mer, welcome to Skyrim! My comrade, Breviarco, helped me clean it up. But I was still going to introduce myself to Ondolemar like that. Ugh."
Diary of Velendomis of Dusk, 4E 201-205
3
1 (First)
"So it ends and so it begins. I start losing myself and my mind. What does it really mean to take the mantle of a god?"
"This is no legacy, but the secret shards of a breaking mirror. Divines, forgive Velendomis of Auridon. There is so much inside me, but I don't think I can keep it anymore. Remember that in this era was the Hero of Kvatch"
From the Diary of Velendomis I of Auridon, circa 3E 433
my favorite thing about Elder Scrolls is how goddamn fuckin weird it is
like on surface it's just some dnd game but like even a cursory glance shows tis fucking insane like:
The moons is the corpse of a god
the stars are actually holes in reality when alot of primordial spirits hated that mortals were becoming a thing and fucked off
The demon lord of forbidden knowledge/resident Cthulhu stand-in might also be the beta version of the entire fucking universe made sentient when it wasn't chosen to be the used reality
there are cat ppl that take the form of furrys, lions, or regular cats, so you can have a cursing Pirate legend whose an alcoholic & wanted in 5 countries but is also a like basic tabby cat
the wood elves are so pro-nature they're cannibals and also they murder vegetarians
Vampires came from the Lord of Rape doing well ya know
Werewolves came to exist bc the lord of hunt got bored and is a furry
sex is treated like a fucking ip copyright contract on what aspect of sex is happening and what god it's under. There's been many religious wars about this
The lizard ppl are part tree
the Dwarves all fucked off somewhere and disappeared bc they were so atheist they did math to break relativity and literally no one has any idea where they went God or mortal (except maybe Cthulhu and hes not telling)
Said Cthulhu stand-in treats hiding your grandma's secret cookie recipe & hiding a spell that would end the universe and slay a god the exact same and he will murder you for either
Everyone wants to fuck the Orcs but will never admit it and they got so bent out of shape that a demon god killed the og orc god, ate him, and shat him out bc she couldn't deal with everyone complimenting them all the time so now all Orcs are cursed to be hated but they're all still sexy & so is their god
And all this isnt even the tip of the iceberg
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