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vonvayna · 1 year

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Fall of the Nammucard Tribe: Vonvayna (Elder Scrolls Story)

Nammucard.

Their tribe was the Nammucard. ‘Nameless Kin-Wardens of the Undeparted’ for those not fluent in Dunmeri. Ironic that they had a name, but it was meant to signify their distaste with outside interaction. Their leader, Ashkhan Makan-Amat, was a stern Dunmer very focused on tradition. Their top warrior, Champion Tulvain, would soon be named Gulakhan, second-in-command, for the recent destruction of Nord grave-robbers coming to rob the burial sites the clan protected, and celebrations were in order. The Wise Woman of the tribe was going to mark Tulvain with a protective enchantment, and her apprentice, the Farseer, was close to coming up with a real gift for him.

“Farseer.” The Wise Woman began. “Yes?” The Farseer answered. The Wise Woman paced back and forth the mud hut, her blue fingers tapping away at a wooden table carved with indentations to hold alchemical ingredients. “I’ve heard your runic studies are coming along well.”

This is all the Wise Woman had to say to capture the attention of her youthful apprentice. The young Dunmer whipped around, clapping her hands together, and stepping aside so three runes could be seen at the table reserved for enchanting. “Yes!” The Farseer began, “I’m close to understanding what they mean. I think this last one means ‘Charm’ when combined with these other two-” The Wise Woman put her index finger’s nail to the tip of her thumb, approached the Farseer, and flicked her forehead.

The Farseer grunted in protest, rubbing the affected area. “Do not get distracted, my apprentice. We need something to bless Tulvain - maybe an enchantment for his sword so it glows with the burning flames trapped within Red Mountain, or a spell of protection blessed by Azura herself. None of your childish… glamours.” The Farseer frowned visibly, but slowly nodded. This was about Tulvain, after all. An Ashlander she looked up to.

---

Tulvain stood proud, his bare blue-ish chest puffed out, the netch leather he wore recently forged to replace his old outfit. A small crowd of the tribe gathered as he rose from his hut, giving his younger sister, Asana, a nod. Asana glowed brightly, clinging to the arm of her good friend, none other than the Farseer. The Farseer smiled gently, looking between the two siblings. A look of joy for Tulvain sparkling in the Farseer’s eyes. And also pride. Because he’d soon receive something the Farseer helped create.

At the end of the path the male warrior walked down was the Ashkhan and the Wise Woman. The Wise Woman silently handed a glowing, Dunmeri sword to the Ashkhan. Tulvain strided over to the two and knelt on one knee, bowing his head in respect. “Tulvain, you have long been Champion of the Nammucard Tribe. With this enchanted Blade of Storms, you will soon be recognized as Gulakhan. You may be Champion now, but as soon as your blade cuts into a foe of the Nammucard, whether it be beast, n’wah, or traitor, the blood soaked into the ebony will stain the blade, and this will mark your new title.”

The crowd cheered after such a rousing speech. It made sense - this was a little tradition instilled in the Nammucard Tribe generations ago. Officially, bloodying the blade was to be the Galukhan’s ‘final task as Champion’. Unofficially, it was to prevent the Galukhan from getting too lazy and House Dunmeri-like with their new title. Until that blade tasted blood, Tulvain was Galukhan in everything except title.

Tulvain still beamed proudly and accepted the enchanted sword, eagerness in his eyes to slay the next foe. He thanked the Wise Woman and the Ashkhan, and the crowd slowly dispersed once the elders began fussing at the crowd to get back to their duties. ---

The Farseer managed to sneak away, though. Her and Asana giggled lightly as they made it into Asana’s family’s hut, holding onto each other tight. “Did you make that sword? It looked amazing!” Asana complimented. The Farseer waved a hand dismissively, unable to take all the credit. She replied, “The smith did most of the work. I just slapped an enchantment on it-” “‘Slapped an enchantment on it’ she says, as if it’s something everyone can do.” Asana interrupted in a playfully mocking tone.

“Too bad my brother isn’t Galukhan already, though. Maybe those Nords will have friends that come to avenge them and then Tulvain can beat them back, too!” Asana spoke matter-of-factly, as if it was a simple matter. She plopped down a little too hard on a wooden chair, rubbing her lower back and sucking air through her teeth after doing so. The Farseer rolled her eyes and sat across from her, a small, circular table between them. “I hope not. The Nords your brother fought were just looking for some valuables that our ancestors aren’t even using anymore. They weren’t looking for a fight. Tulvain’s good, but I don’t want him going up against Nords actually prepared for a fight.” The Farseer attempted to be logical and reasonable about it.

Asana folded her arms and argued, “They were graverobbing, oh wise Farseer, and Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala frown on that kind of thing.” A pause was between the two, the Farseer tapping her nails on the wood idly while her other arm hung off the head of the chair, one leg crossed over the other. She smirked slightly and looked up to Asana, then asked sarcastically, “Do they, though?” Asana snapped back, “Well Lord Nerevar certainly wouldn’t be happy about it. You and your family are too… too…” “Smart?” The Farseer interjected. “Jaded.” Asana corrected, “You take Mephala and Boethiah’s teachings too literally. Their teachings are meant to prepare us for harshness and protect us from outlanders and those blasphemous House Dunmer, not to act like them.”

The Farseer slowly nodded, not really in agreement, but understanding she’d never convince Asana otherwise. “It’s a shame those ‘blasphemers’ have corralled us all the way out here, forcing us to fight for our lives every day, where our only solace is little ceremonies like the one today.” The Farseer stated. There was a look of concern on Asana's face. She reached out, placing a hand over the Farseer's on the table. "I understand, but we have to have faith. They will get theirs, in time." She assured. How sweet, the Farseer always appreciated her. There was a pause between the two women. She relished in this small touch. It lingered a little too long. Long enough to interpret it as more. Gently, the Farseer caressed Asana's hand, daring to feel her smooth skin. She had always sensed that there was more there, an attraction between them. “Asana..." She spoke, her voice softening, "You know, Asana, I have always been very fond of you. We've known each other for some time... you may simply call me by my name.” She smiled, her wandering fingers tracing along the woman's wrist. "And if you'd like, you may call me more..." Asana averted her gaze, prying her hand quickly from the touch of the Farseer. As if it had scared her. Ah. “You’re… the apprentice of the Wise Woman. You're not supposed to engage in any intimate-" Asana warned, the Farseer cut her off. “Yes, I am. But when shall I become the next Wise Woman? Two hundred years? Maybe three hundred? Magically inclined Dunmer like her live a long time, and with her attitude, I’m not entirely uncertain her ghost wouldn’t stay around a little before she retired and gave the title to me.” The Farseer joked. This caused Asana to laugh a little, but there was a hesitance. She looked around, as if to make sure no one was looking. “Yes well either way, you're not supposed to. I do not like to go against the tribe. What if someone found out?"

"Ha!" This caused the Farseer to laugh. Earning her a deep frown from Asana. She did not find this as amusing. "Please, it is not like anyone would really know. What are you going to do? Get me pregnant? One day, I shall be the Wise Woman, yes dearest Asana. I do not wish to waste my youth waiting to be an old woman... for now I am simply-..."

“Farseer!”

A masculine voice called out. His voice jarring, angered. Asana leapt to her feet, distancing herself from the Farseer. It was Tulvain, and he sounded livid. "Farseer come out this instant." He demanded in a rage, confronting her as he pried open the entrance of the hut.

Toweing over the Farseer, Tulvain stood with the sword she'd enchanted unsheathed, breathing deeply with anger. She tried her best to remain calm. On the inside, she was quite scared. What could have warrented this ire? "Give them back." "...What?" "They're gone, the relics from our ancestors. You have taken them. You, or your whore sister. Perhaps both! How dare you dishonor our tribe." This confused her greatly. It was quite an accusation, and so ridiculous that she needed a moment. “Wait, wait.” the Farseer began, “The valuables are missing and you think myself, or my sister have done this. On what grounds do you make such a bold accusation?" "Ashkhan Makan-Amat suspects you. You and your blasphemous sister - you’re both so vocal about your criticisms of our traditions. And you're both little thieves, too. We have always known that. But this is truly dishonorable." This was bad. Dishonoring the tribe could mean either exile, or death. The Farseer's heart began to beat wildly. She looked to Asana, hoping that she would defend her. "That cannot be. I was here the entire time with Asana. And my sister, yes she is impish at times, but she is harmless. We both revere our ancestors, we would never do such a thing." "You question too much, and she is defiant. You are both avaricious. It must be one of you." Tulvain spat. "No one else would have dared, and I trust the Ashkhan." "Asana, tell him. This is ridiculous." The Farseer pleaded, met with silence.

Asana averted her gaze, backing up behind her brother. "I wish not to dishonor our tribe..." Asana said, quietly. A betrayal that cut deep.

The Farseer tightened her hand into a fist, took a step forward, then said with as much authority as she could muster, “Look. It couldn’t have been us. When I wasn’t with you or the Wise Woman, then I was with Asana! My sister is usually out, hunting. So unless you both want to implicate yourselves, then allow me to help with the investigation!”

Tulvain had that same eagerness in his eyes. The Farseer knew that look. It was the look he got before he ignored his parents’ advice and ran after those treasure hunting Nords. The Farseer almost thought for a moment Tulvain would strike her down then and there, but he sheathed his blade, then exhaled loudly with a groan. “Fine. But I’d start with questioning your sister. The Ashkhan has strong reasoning to blame you both.”

The Ashkhan...

The Farseer bolted past Tulvain and Asana. She was finally able to cry, letting silent tears fall as she ran. They were easy to blame, to betray. She and her twin. They were too good for the Nammucard. Too intelligent, too beautiful, too critical. Problematic for the elders who wished to maintain staunch tradition and status quo. Making them easy targets if someone else were to get greedy. Someone respectable.

The Farseer arrived at the Ashkhan's hut, with nothing but a suspicion and the desire to confirm it. “By Azura, this is such a stupid idea.” The Farseer whispered under her breath. She crouched down and slipped in, unnoticed. She began to search his belongings, looking for evidence that he'd commited the crime. His random accusation was strange, and there had to be a true reason. In a basket beneath a few discarded blankets, she found the valuables. Treasures from their ancestors. Amulets, enchanted rings; all the things the Nords had stolen. Right there, in the Ashkhan's hut. “That old fetcher-” She quietly cursed, as she plucked one the amulets to inspect it.

Just as she was saying this, two silhouettes blocked her light. The Farseer gasped, and she turned to see Tulvain and Makan-Amat. No, this looked horrible. She glanced up at Ashkhan Makan-Amat. There was a smug look on his face, as if he'd won.

"I can explain." She said, dropping the amulet and standing. "I found them here. Tulvain... it was the Ashkhan-"

“Very clever! Trying to cover up your crimes by planting the stolen relics here.” Askhan Makan-Amat exclaimed, his finger jutting towards the Farseer. “She stole it all! The filthy miramer, kill her!” He ordered. What was she going to do? Even with her magics, she doubted she could match Tulvain in combat. "Tulvain-"

Tulvain unsheathed his sword, slicing down at the Farseer. She tried her best to dash out of the way, the sword knicking her shoulder and cutting into her pale blue skin. She scrambled back, against the wall, placing a hand over her wound. She was trapped, she would have to fight him.

The Farseer attempted to use her magic. But when she extended her hands and tried to summon destruction magic, nothing happened. The Enchantment. Her magicka was drained. Tulvain grinned, his eyes filled with hatred, standing there as her blood dripped down his blade, staining the ebony with red. “Good. Finish her… Gulakhan.”

“Back away from my sister.” A new voice warned. It was her sister, Nepitah. All turned to look, and the Farseer was surprised to see her twin with her blade to the Ashkhan's throat. She held it uncomfortably close to his neck, ready to slice into his old, ashen skin. "Leave Mi-Zula alone, or I will kill him." She warned. When all was lost, it was good to know that the Farseer, Mi-Zula, could count on her sister. Tulvain was shocked, trying to assess what to do. Before he could react, Mi-Zula grabbed a nearby jar and smashed it against Tulvain's head, as hard as she could. He fell to the ground unconscious. Her sister nodded, knocking out the Ashkhan with the pommel of her dagger. She did not hesitate, she did not think twice. That was the loyalty she deserved.

The two ran to each other and hugged briefly, then looked to the two bodies. "How did you find me?" Mi-Zula asked. "Asana. She told me what was going on, then she tried to stop me. Can you believe she actually thought she could take me?" Nepitah laughed. “What now?” The Farseer began, “If we kill them, we’re outlaws. If they wake up, we’re outlaws. We- we have to leave. We can hide in one of the cities in the mainland. But the House Dunmer don’t respect us Ashlanders. They wouldn’t help us! What do we do…?” Panic overtook Mi-Zula's voice.

Nepitah looked around the room, her eyes locking onto the Ashkhan's stolen treasures. "I can think of one thing the House mer respect..." Gently, Mi-Zula gasped. Of course, they could run away. Mingle in with the other dunmer, explore Morrowind. They could start over and get lost in a sea of faces. Leave it all behind. She walked over to the amulet she'd dropped, pocketing it on her person.

They needed these things more than their deceased ancestors did. “If they’re going to call us miramer, then I guess we’ll have to be miramer. Take the treasures, then meet me at the Wise Woman's hut." "Why? Splitting up sounds like a bad idea. And shouldn't we just skip the hut and go now?" Her twin asked. "I'll explain there. And we must not be seen together, if we are both captured then we are doomed." "Okay, but I hope your plan is sound." ---

The Farseer said a short prayer to… whatever god was listening at this moment. Preferably of Daedric origin, but still. She hoped the Wise Woman would not be there.

And her prayer was answered. Or perhaps she was simply lucky. The Farseer scrambled, looking for the runes she was studying. She was close to the translations. ‘Charm’... and the first two runes words were on the tip of her tongue. If she could put them into an enchantment, they’d stand a chance sneaking out of Vvardenfell before being gutted by their own warriors.

It was the fastest the Farseer had ever studied an enchantment. Her twin arrived, surprised to see her hunched over a book. “Sister this is hardly the time for reading-” She said, the Farseer putting up one finger. “Hold on - I got it. Beauty Shadow Charm. The name of the enchantment." "Huh?" Her sister cocked her head, “I like the sound of that but what is it…?”

"Our way out."

Channeling magic into the runes, and putting the runes on a pair of cloaks, the ancient runic language chanted out loud to the two.

“Von.”

“Vay.”

“Na.”

---

On a ship enroute to Blacklight, the Ashlander twins quietly sat together and watched the horizon as they left the Vvardenfell. Nothing to their name but the humble satchel of stolen treasures from their fallen ancestors. "So here we are. Two exiled Ashlanders without a tribe. We are dishonorable." Mi-Zula sighed, lowering her head. Being exiled was the last thing she'd wanted. Her future was ruined. She could never become a Wise Woman now. She was homeless.

“Zula?” “Yes, Nepitah?” her sister placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Listen, they left us with no choice. Shame on them for blaming us. They have dishonored us. Do not think of this as a failure... we're better off without the Namm-" “Don't. I don't want to hear their name anymore.” Mi-Zula groaned. "How about we make our own tribe? A better tribe. Then, we'll never be exiled, and never have to listen to stupid traditions." Nepitah smiled. She knew how much her sister suffered through loneliness, bound to rules. Mi-Zula couldn't help but smile. "Yes, we'll do as we please. We'll stop pretending we don't want refinements." "We'll make sure we never have to struggle... or suffer!" "Or eat disgusting food..." "We can marry rich House mer and become ladies!" Nepitah exclaimed. "We'll do better than them. And I think I know what we will call our tribe..." "What?" "Vonvayna."

#my writing #fanfic #fanfic writer #elder scrolls #fantasy #morrowind #ocs #dunmer #ashlanders #story

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omiramotakiart · 2 years

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Midnight sketch. I just think it's funny the first thing Manirai does is jump to murder, casually plotting murder with your Wise Woman, as you do.

Proceeds to watch Han-Ammu have a meltdown and self deprecate while casually unpacking daddy issues. Mood

#morrowind #ashlander #nerevarine #erabenimsun #erabenimsun tribe #han ammu #manirai #ashlanders #dunmee #elder scrolls #the elder scrolls

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dandelyle · 1 year

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ashlander enjoying some time with his scribs

#cc.jpg #tes #morrowind #teso #eso #ashlanders #dunmer #scrib

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expended-sleeper · 2 years

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Summerfest Day 2: The Final Words of the Urshilaku

@tes-summer-fest // Prompt: Storms

You want to hear how the world ended? Come, listen to the dying words of a dying people. Our task was always to keep the lore, among those who lived in the ash: our words united tribes that had little else in common. The Nerevarine, too, was meant to bring us together. How foolish we were! How gravely we misread the signs! Nibani Maesa is dead! Yes, I speak of our Farseer that set the cursed outlander down the path of Seven Trials. Do not judge us too harshly, young one. Prophecies can be misread.

We are all united, now, Velothi and city elves—we choke on the same ash. We all fear the Blight and fall together under its crimson winds. Legend says that the Sharmat promised mercy for his own kind, but Akulakhan's breath knows no distinction between n'wah and Resdayn's true children. Perhaps it is simply that Voryn Dagoth recognizes no kin, any longer. Perhaps there is no such thing as mercy, when you wield such godly powers. The false Tribunal certainly knew nothing of restraint.

Not much time, left. A storm is coming.

What happened to the rest of the tribe, you ask? Find our burial caverns, if you dare. Sul-Matuul is loyal to his people. He did not allow them to change, as many have. The winds took countless lives. All of our oldest, and wisest. The Urshilaku will not end up like so many of the city folk we saw stumbling towards the Mountain, their faces already cratering, their noses and mouths slipping inward—we will not join the cursed dream of the Sharmat!

Remember, young one, that there is always a choice. Sul-Matuul and his warriors brought peace to the last remnants of the true Velothi. I hope to join them soon, if you will help me. The Sharmat cannot touch us in our ancestral sleep. Not yet.

But enough about that. You want to hear how the world ended, yes? I will tell you: it was a matter of friendship.

Hold back your questions, and listen! The Nerevarine disguised herself as a pilgrim of the false gods. She went to the soul-built gate, that ancient barrier between the forces of the Enemy and the rest of Resdayn. So easy to judge, now. Shall I curse the name of Vivec's order, the Buoyant Armigers, for their lack of vigilance? We were all so blind.

The false pilgrim was let through, just as a messenger arrived from the city of Ald'Ruhn.

The false god Vivec, found dead! At any other time, this would have been cause for celebration among Velothi's people. Not so with the Nerevarine on the wrong side of the Ghostgate, with the cursed tools of the Dwemer in her grasp.

None of the Farseers ever imagined the Nerevarine might find common ground with the Sharmat. Yes, yes, call us fools. We have all been brought as low as the kwama foraging for scum.

You want to know why we are bound for death? They were friends. Voryn Dagoth, and Indoril Nerevar—they were friends! But now you turn away from me, in bitterness. That isn't what you wanted to hear, is it? You cannot accept that friendship doomed the world?

How can you deny it, when storms of magic are now spreading across Resdayn to turn us all into loyal monsters? Akulakhan walks, n'wah! The island is crumbling under the feet of a machine god, and yet you look on me with doubt.

Let me see that coin, yes. Your Imperial Septim. Soon there be no Empire, but no matter. You see, everything under the stars has two sides. Even something like friendship contains sinister depths in its most dire implications.

Would you die for your friends? Yes, many would. Would you kill for them? This is another treasured mark of loyalty.

Lord Dagoth died for his friend, more than once. The chains of friendship bound these two souls together. At the most critical moment, at the apex of their destiny, the Nerevarine found themselves unable to break these chains. Anyone can boast of their resistance to evil. Of course, evil is easy to resist when you can recognize it.

The Sharmat wrapped his gift of corruption in a shroud of love. Lord Nerevar wanted his friend back. He wanted it too much. Be careful with that scorn in your expression, outlander. The Nerevarine chose falsely, yes—but can any of us fathom the difficulty of the choice? You can stand here and claim you would have gladly slain your friend to save the world. Perhaps you have a stout heart, and you speak truly.

As for me...b'vek, I don't know. Your Empire's faithful speak of absolute virtues and certain sins. The people of Resdayn find ourselves engulfed in shades of gray, as always. Perhaps the next incarnation will know better than to trust the devil's words. Neither you or I will live to see such a day.

Yes, I see the signs of corruption in your face. The Sharmat and his minions would say you have been divinely blessed by Akulakhan. I say you are doomed.

Don't weep, now. This world is not ours to mourn, or to save. Lady Azura is ever watchful. My heart is at peace. Lord Nerevar will return again, you see? I hope he will be wiser, and that his heart will be made of stone. We will not survive his mistakes. Nonetheless, he has learned from them. Many will die before Nerevar faces his old friend again.

What are you babbling about, now? Stop with that drivel about Akatosh and Mara. Get up off your knees. In this land, we pray with our feet on the ground. Rub some ash on your hands, n'wah, and speak to Azura with me.

I pray that Nerevar will face his old companion once again, and that he will not turn his back to the devil. I pray that he will bury Voryn Dagoth deep enough, next time.

Outlander, wait! One last prayer, before you plunge your dagger into my heart. I find myself as weak as the Nerevarine, in the end.

Take my hand, n'wah, and make certain your aim is true. Hear the final words of the Urshilaku. Azura curse you, if you ever write them down.

I pray for the death of friendship.

#tesfest22 #elder scrolls #morrowind #dunmer #ashlanders #the nerevarine #dagoth ur

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delemis · 1 year

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#tes #tamriel rebuilt #elder scrolls #ashlanders #tes3 #dunmer #morrowind

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darkelfguy · 4 months

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Morrowind - Lights of the Urshilaku

#Morrowind #The Elder Scrolls #TES #Screenshots #Ashlanders

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badasserywomen · 14 days

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With Ashlands on ptb ive been valheiming again

#valheim #its been nice just playing the game #ashlands is insanely chaotic thou

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tastesoftamriel · 1 year

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Ju'rohn sera Talviel,

Pardon our poor writing skills.

It is rare among our kind to even speak an understandable language for n'waah.

We are curious about your knowledge. Each thing to know is better learnt than left, is it...

We do come from the Ashlands, deep inside the desolated lands of Molag Amur. We do remember dances, clashes, traditions, war, but merely feast and drinks from those times. We left decades ago, and only music helps us remembering how life was back then. Music and body paint.

Have you ever met an Ashlander, from the Erabenimsun maybe, that did not want to cut your throat at sight and accepted to share with you the words and secrets of his tribe? Mephala taught us the benefits from discretion, we may be asking for something dangerous. If you never had, then proceed carefully. Withdraw at sign of bothering.

Part of us talks about smells, spices and hunt, and I would appreciate to give him a piece of the past through meals he may have already experienced as a child.

We know it may be complicated.

We will be thankful and draw your name in the ashes when dawn arises.

Yours,

- Sangre

Under sun and sky, warmest greetings, friend!

While many outlanders are cautious and are treated as hostile by Ashlanders, I have worked hard over many years to create bonds of trust, respect, and friendship with those who are willing. Namely, I am on cordial terms with the Urshilaku and Mabrigash tribes, and while I am (and likely always will be) but an outsider they treat with caution, I have made solid bonds of friendship with these two groups.

I cemented our bonds of trust with trade of both goods and news from across Morrowind and Tamriel, and in exchange, I have been offered a glimpse into their ways of life, culture, and food customs. In particular, I have offered what I can in the way of aid to these tribes, who after many years still feel the effects of the Red Year. I bring medicine, ingredients, fabrics, weapons and tools, and more in open solidarity, expecting nothing in return. However, I have gained worlds of wisdom, hospitality, and Nirn's best roast guar recipe in return- far more than I could ever have hoped for.

Regarding a meal befitting Mephala, served in accordance to traditional Ashlander customs, I would recommend a traditional ceremonial nix-ox stew, due to the glory that comes with bringing down such a tough foe, and the slow and deliberate process that comes with cooking this dish (not recommended for novice cooks). You will also have to gather cliff racer eggs, now found predominantly in the Blacklight region, a handful of ash hoppers, guar milk, blood, and fat, and forage plants like fire fern, saltrice, any mushrooms of your choice, and ash yams.

Firstly, boil the fire fern with a good amount of Bitter Coast peppers, salt, and dried scuttle powder (I also recommend adding any favourite herbs and spices, wrapped in sedge grass packets). When the stock is thick and red, add the nix-ox meat and chopped ash yams, and bring the flame down, leaving the pot to simmer for two hours.

Fry together the mushrooms and ash hoppers in guar fat until crispy. Set aside as topping for your stew.

Whisk together the guar milk, blood, and cliff racer eggs until frothy, and slowly pour into the soup while stirring continously. Again, leave to simmer for another hour, then add the saltrice, allowing the stew to thicken. Add guar milk as needed if it starts to dry out. Pour in a good measure of shein until the stew is a deep, dark red. Bring the stew to a boil once again for thirty minutes, before finally serving.

Serve the stew piping hot and top with crispy mushrooms and ash hoppers. Best eaten with wickwheat or saltrice flatbread.

I hope that this long-winded message has not bored you. While we may not be well-acquainted thus far, I hope that I may pass on my sincerest wishes for peace and friendship with your tribe, and that if ever you desire it in the future, my company and expertise is yours. ~Talviel

#Asks #Ashlanders #Morrowind #Dunmer #Tes #The Elder Scrolls #World building #Worldbuilding

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