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dragonchamp-moonandstar · 1 year

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Meet Áine , my (oc) Breton Champion of Cyrodiil! 🗡️📜✨

I'm currently playing Oblivion with her and I decided to post here about my rambling fanfictions (and next, time , about my Skyrim and Morrowind characters too!)

~ Áine, Hero of Kvatch

Race: Breton 🏰

Birthsign: born under the Shadow 🌑

Family/origin: She was born in a lesser noble family from Daggerfall. She is a descendant of Medora Direnni ✨from her mother's side

Class: Battlemage ⚔️🪄

Age: 22.

Physical traits:

She has a very pale complexion, and is a short, petite woman (5'1 ft / 1,54 m), with reddish lips. She has green eyes and ashen-brown hair, to her shoulders, styled in windbraids.

She prefers to be clad in her Arena armor (s), her Kvatch armor has a souvenir, and also the Dark Brotherhood's suit when on stealth missions. When not in battle, she enjoys to be clad in her purple finery obtained in the Shivering Isles.

Current Weapon: Fine Amber Sword from the Shivering Isles 🗡️ 🍯

Deities/spirituality:

Aedra:

- Áine's father, a full-fledged Mystic, worshipped Julianos, god of wisdom, so she has a bit of devotion to him as an extent.

- Áine's mother, an alchemist with some knowledge of Restoration magic, worshipped Mara, goddess of marriage & motherhood. Áine has some devotion for her, and knows about her rites.

- Because of romantic misadventures, Áine has a complicated relationahip with goddess Dibella. She prays to her after meeting someone she likes but secretly she's praying to be pretty enough for that person. She feels like Dibella has not smiled upon her yet.

Daedra:

-Nocturnal: Born under the Shadow and since having joined the Thieves' Guild, Áine respects and worships Nocturnal. She's got her Skeleton Key currently.

- Sheogorath: Áine is an aspirant to his Court of Madness and is resistant to the weirdness of the Shivering Isles. However, while she has not a bad relationship with Sheogorath, she fears that he will discover she lost his Wabbajack at the Cloud Rest Temple [[🤣 perhaps the Blades threw it away (? ]]. She fears his (probably crazy) reaction.

Strengths:

- Born under the Shadow, she has special afinity with invisibility spells and is a resourceful thief with increasing sneak skills.

- She excels using most types of swords, short and long. She is practicing her blunt skills with the Volendrung currently. Does not fear to use a short dagger.

- Has an extensive knowledge of Conjuration and Destruction spells. Is currently raising her Alteration skills.

- She's skilled at Restoration (or to be more specific) healing spells.

- Uses both heavy and light armor.

- She economizes the use of scrolls and potions in case of need (in Battle)

- Enjoys horseback riding, even on difficult terrains is very skilled on it.

- Collects and makes good use of Daedric, Ayleid and Dwemer artifacts. Or magical items in general.

Weaknesses:

- She's better fighting 1v1 or ambushing, than fighting against more than three enemies.

- She does not work a lot on her Personality. As such, she has difficulties raising people's opinion of her, since she is kind of clumsy and awkward trying to socialize with most people.

- She doesn't know how to use Illusion spells correctly. She finds them confusing or stupid sometimes.

- Enjoys Mysticism but she hasn't done a lot of Soul Trap spells. She forgets about it on battle itself, and rarely remembers.

- She's totally horrible with bow and arrow. Won't even try to get better, she simply van burst a fireball or throw Finger of the Mountain at some enemies !

- Forgets to use or activate Nighteye vision to avoid traps.

- Not a Journeyman in armoring, she still cannot repair magical items and depends on other blacksmiths.

- Strangely, even as a Breton she has difficulties using a magic staff, so she prefers to don't use them if not needed or forced to.

- She has been mistaken as a Vampire for her pale complexion.

Loves :

- Alchemy, doing potions in general, and cultivating the garden on Frostcrag Spire. She enjoys that since a child in Daggerfall.

-Buying new spells.

-Sword-fighting and Sword duels. -

Finding nirnroots and collecting them.- Amber weapons and armor.

- Welkynd stones.

- Exploring dungeons with lots of gold and magic items.

-Finding skill books or magic tomes.

- Arena duels.

- Walking around the Imperial City.

- She loves Cheydinhal's unique architecture.

- Assasination quests.

- Sneaking in castles and not being detected.

- Unicorns (her heart was broken because she had to kill one, but she kept one of his horseshoes as a souvenir).

- As a race, her favorites are Khajits. She wants to be a Khajit on her next reincarnation, if there's such thing...

-She becomes quickly smitten by a young, good-looking tall man. That has happened with a Nord: Jayred Ice-Veins, and two imperials: Martin Septim and Fadus Calidius .

- She also has a thing for Dunmers like Othrelos and Ulen Athram.

Hates:

- Ogres.

- Zombies.

-Grummites

- Ghosts

- Frost atronachs.

-Daedroths.

- Being the leader of the Fighters Guild. She just leaves almost everything to Modryn Oreyn.

-Hates to talk to counts, countesses or any noble, because of a undisclosed past event in her natal Daggerfall.

-City or legion guards getting on her way during a mission.

- Rude people.

- Fighting with Vampires.

- Running out of potions.

- Paralysis spells.

- Paying taxes or fines (she prefers to pay in her blood).

- Searching something or somebody at Bravil, it's confusing for her.

- Skooma-smelling people. Or the smell of skooma in general.

- Snobbish High Elves. Unpolite Dunmers. Violent and Illusion-magic oriented Bretons. Rude and foul-mouthed Nords. Treacherous Argonians. CRAZED BOSMER LIKE GLARTHIR.

-She really really hates sewers. Or being imprisoned.

-Getting hemophilia, because does not want to become a Vampire. Because of this she used to carry a lot of "Cure Disease" potions, and now she can can the verbal spell too.

If you made it reading up to here, I hope you enjoyed ! Please let me know if you liked it, I will upload content soon 🐝

~Dragonchamp-Moon-and-Star

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gonzalezbrandstrup76 · 1 year

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#erw pipe #erw steel tube #steel pipe #lsaw pipe

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beneaththetangles · 2 years

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Summer of SoL: Aria and Learning When to Let Go

As human beings, from the moment we are born and say “hello” to the world, we are destined to say “goodbye.” We say “hello” to our new parents with an earth-shattering cry while at the same time leaving the safety and comfort of the womb. We say hello to that new shiny vehicle while simultaneously saying goodbye to the old reliable putt-putt. We leave our planet Earth behind to become a high-ranking gondolier on Mars. Well, maybe that last one is the plot of the Slice of Life anime series Aria, but still, the soliloquy applies, and we see great examples of the need to let go and let God through our main character; our Aquamarine, Akari Mizunashi. While our ultimate undine has been enjoying the wonders and beauties of the world of Aqua, she also has to experience the wonders, beauty, and sometimes unavoidable sadness that comes with saying goodbye…or at least “See you soon.”

Let’s get some backstory out the way. Aria is a multi-season anime based on a manga by Kozue Amano. Sharp-eyed readers will remember that we discussed Amano-sensei and many other prodigious women in anime earlier this year. The series takes place in Neo Venezia, a city on the terraformed planet “Aqua” (Formerly Mars). In this futuristic city on the water, based on the actual city of Venice, Italy, the primary mode of transportation is either walking, flying a motorbike, or riding the waves on a gondola with a friendly gondolier, known as an undine. The series focuses on three journeymen undine and their gentle yet dedicated quest to become the highest ranked undine of their respective water tour companies, thus earning them the right to ferry passengers. For this post, we’ll focus on the third season, Aria The Origination. Of course, it goes without saying that this will contain spoilers for the Aria series, so consider yourself warned!

So what can female gondoliers on Mars teach us about learning when to let things go? (By the way, Female Gondoliers on Mars sounds like it would be THE most awesome 50’s horror movie ever!) Stick with me, my friends, and we’ll break this down.

At this point in the Aria series, Akari Mizunashi, the journeyman at the small Aria Company, has been trained and guided by the high-ranking undine Alicia Florence for a few years, and it is soon time for Alicia to give Akari her promotion exam. Having witnessed the promotion of both her friends to the top rank known as “Prima,” Akari soon takes her exam and, of course, passes with flying colors, receiving the moniker “Aquamarine” However, Alicia reveals that she will soon leave the Aria Company to accept her promotion to Managing Director at the Gondola Association…and, by the way, she’s getting married too. Alicia is nothing if not an overachiever. She tearfully admits to Akari that she had long possessed the skills required to be promoted but put off the promotion exam as long as possible because she didn’t want her precious time with Akari to end.

Our newly promoted Prima informs her former mentor that she also must go along her path and let go of the Aria Company. Alicia understands entirely and is given a send-off worthy of the GOAT of all Undines. The next day, before opening for business, Akari ruminates on how, once she opens the shutter, the old lingering memories of her time with her friends will blow away in the morning breeze. But our adorable Aquamarine decides it’s alright because it’s time for a new beginning. She then flings open the shutters and starts her new life as a Prodigious Prima. Now, while this sounds simple and easy-peasy lemon squeezy, it’s not. It’s the culmination of years of growth and development on Akari’s part. All those sessions of sculling her gondola with her friends during practice, all those little adventures through Neo Venezia, those moments of magic and wonder, and yes, even the few moments of sadness and parting, all make the Prima Undine that we see in the epilogue, now training her own journeyman.

Get it? Got it? Good. Time to get into the spiritual.

Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Throughout the series, Akari has had to let go of something to make room for something bigger and better. Heck, in the first episode, as she leaves Earth (known as “Manhome”), we see her contemplating her new situation; how she’s like a bird leaving the nest. As the series continues, she experiences the magic and wonders of Neo Venesia, but there are key moments where she must let things go to improve. She must say goodbye to old ways of thinking, doing things, and even precious physical things to grow and mature as an undine and as a human.

One of the first significant examples is when her training gondola, which has been with the company for years, has reached the point where it must be retired. Akari is at first sad about this, but after realizing that replacing the gondola can’t be avoided or delayed, she changes her mindset to one of celebration and happiness and spends her final days with the gondola reminiscing with her friends and eventually lets it go with a smile. She pretty much gave her gondola a goodbye party. I think we should all do that with our old vehicles; throw a big party before trading them in! You’ll get some weird looks at the dealership when you pull up with a whole party crew, but hey, as we say in Louisiana, Laissez les bons temps rouler! But I digress.

Later in the series, we see that she has to let go of two of her friends, who are promoted ahead of her to the top rank, but she still maintains their friendship and cheers for them and their accomplishments, even though their higher levels makes them too busy to hang out like they used to. In fact, Akari’s friend Aika was in tears when she told Akari that she was promoted, worried that Akari would be sad about being last. But, true to form, Akari is ecstatic that her friend finally achieved the goal she worked so hard for and is willing to let her friend go towards her dream even if she’s the last one standing.

Finally, after passing her promotion exam, Akari realizes that the last thing she has to let go of is her dependence on Alicia. While this is a painful concept to her, the series’ events have prepared her to accept that; sometimes, you have to send stuff off with a smile and a wave to grow and mature.

Sometimes we as humans want to hold onto something for longer than we should. We grow attached to it, get comfortable with it, and don’t want to upset the proverbial apple cart. This can even include things that are God-Given blessings. Sometimes, when we’re blessed with something He has given us, our judgment can be a little cloudy when it comes time to let it go when that usefulness has passed. It doesn’t make it any less of a blessing, don’t get me wrong. Still, Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “To Everything, there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven” Sometimes, even our blessings have expiration dates, just like that cheese in the back of your fridge. (If you’re reading this, clean out your fridge; the mold on that cheese is becoming sentient.)

Heaven knows I’ve been there. I’ve held onto a blessing for a couple of seasons too long. Some years ago, I once had this vehicle I inherited from my late sister, an Acura Legend. It was not the best-looking car in the world; the clear coat was peeling all over, the bumper was held on with prayer, super glue, and zip ties, and 95% of the instrument panel didn’t work, so I didn’t know how fast I was going or if I had gas in the tank, and the AC was busted, which, in the great state of Louisiana during the summer, is the definition of suffering. However, I loved that car to pieces (literally and figuratively). It was the car my sister taught me to drive in, the car that she drove full time, the car she prayed for, and after she passed away, it was the car I used to take my driver’s test. I wasn’t ready to let that history go. I held onto that car for longer than I should’ve and put THOUSANDS of dollars into it. Yes, you read that right, THOUSANDS of dollars. Fiscal responsibility? What is that?

One day, I was about to take it to the shop for yet another round of repairs, and it took longer than usual to crank, like 30 minutes. Eventually, it turned over, but the engine barely ran. I turned it off to run inside and get dressed. When I got back out, the car wouldn’t crank back up after 45 minutes of trying. I was shocked. I was about to get it towed to the repair shop when my mother called me and said, “Hey, Josh, hold up on that for just a minute…lemme see what I can do.” In the back of my mind, I was thinking, “This is it; this is the time to let go. It’s time to move on.” One hour later, my mom picked me up, and we went car shopping, starting a new, if not unusual, journey that would see me driving several different vehicles over a month (LONG story) before settling into #JeepLife, where I’ve been ever since.

There’s a moment in the OVA of the series, Aria the OVA: Arietta, that flips our outlook on loss and returns agency to us at a time where we may otherwise feel powerless. We see Alicia in a flashback, scared and afraid to assume command of the Aria Company on her own when she gets promoted to Prima and her senior, the founder of Aria Company known as “Grandma,” leaves. Grandma says to Alicia, “I’m not leaving YOU. You’re leaving ME. You’re setting out on your own now. You’ll be fine.” In other words, by letting Grandma go, Alicia can make the Aria Company her own, just like all the other Primas did before her. Time to cut the apron strings, my dear. Greatness awaits.

Even though it was painful to lose my sister’s car, even though I had countless memories and invested so much in it, much like Akari and her gondola, I had to give up that Acura, and by doing that, I firmly believe that God started me down a beautiful and wonderful path; a path I wouldn’t have gone down had I not learned how to “Let Go.” But little did I know I would receive another sharp lesson years later about the NEED to let things go.

Now it’s time to get into the deep, guys. Up to now, I’ve just been talking about the stuff that’s harmless to let go of; things that we release because they no longer can serve a purpose. However, sometimes we can inadvertently hold onto things that aren’t exactly good for us and never were. I’m not going to get into much detail on this one, guys, as it’s still a raw wound to explore. Still, there have been multiple times in my life, especially in the last three years, where I’ve held onto things that I KNOW I shouldn’t, both physically and emotionally. I held onto anger, pain, terrors, hatred, anxieties, worries…heck, as I write this, my eyes are beginning to tear up just thinking about it. To say it’s unhealthy is an understatement. That stuff was so toxic and began manifesting itself in a way that made me look and feel like I was losing my ever-loving mind.

I soon recognized that the behaviors resulting from my holding those negative feelings were making me paranoid under the guise of being “safe” and “cautious”; “if I stay on top of the situation, if I stay aloof, if I stay self-protective, if I don’t trust too easily, if I stay distant, it will NEVER happen again.” My mind was in a constant loop of toxicity that felt like I couldn’t break…or rather, I didn’t WANT to break.

Once I saw how this line of thinking affected me, I realized I had to let it go. I went to God and said, “You know what? I’m broken, and I’m tired. I can’t do this alone. I can’t keep this anymore. I need help. Please help me to let this go.” I realized that I didn’t HAVE to hold onto these things anymore once I understood that God’s purpose was to give me something bigger and better. All I had to do was let it go…

When I did, things started improving. I started getting better. I started seeking Him more and more, getting into His word, seeking those beautiful “signs and wonders,” and over time, He started putting people in place that I could talk to in the physical that could guide me where I needed to be.

Don’t get it twisted, my friends; I’m still working through some things. Recovery, I’m learning, takes a lot of time and patience, and there are still times when I have to snap my proverbial rubber band and get my focus back, but Praise God, I’m nowhere near as bad as I was, and I’m here to tell you right now, guys, prayer works. It works, it works, it WORKS.

So please, guys, remember–sometimes it hurts to let things go; sometimes it’s hard to do, and many times, it’s PRODIGIOUSLY NECESSARY.

But know that each thing you let go of, God has something much, much, MUCH bigger and better in store for you. Sometimes you have to take that first step; be it that first scull of an oar in a shiny new gondola, the first step in the computer store for that new laptop, that first admittance that “I need help,” or heck, the step away from your poor car that won’t crank over. But believe me when I say that it is SO VERY WORTH IT. So take a tip from Akari; don’t just say “goodbye.” Say goodbye with a smile and know you’re moving on to better things. And in this case, sappy comments ARE allowed.

=====

Aria the Animation, Aria the Natural, and Aria the Origination are all available for streaming on Crunchyroll (Sub Only) and available for purchase on Blu-Ray at Right Stuf.

#Anime #Christianity #ARIA the ANIMATION #ARIA the NATURAL #ARIA the ORIGINATION #Slice of Life #Summer of SoL #Articles #Author: Josh #Author: The Cajun Samurai

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thepaladincosplays · 2 years

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Do you any more info on your fantasy story cast?

Yes!

The main characters are going to be a group of four adventurers: Lotho, Serena, Crese, and Arnold. Lotho and Arnold are Human men while Serena is a Goblin woman and Crese is a Faun man. These are what they look like (roughly, used HeroForge to get a rough idea on what they look like):

Their mission is to travel from their home kingdom of Lunaria (which is in the center of Hibrush) to the queendom of Wraiven, an ally country south of Lunaria and Duri (the latter of which is between Lunaria and Wraiven) to deliver a sacred relic to the Naga family, the monarchy of Wraiven, for the King of Hearts, the monarch of Lunaria.

Arnold is a grizzled old man who's been a member of the Adventurer's Guild the longest and is the highest rank among the group as a Protector. He also happens to be their hall's drunkard as he's rarely seen without a bottle of mead or wine nearby.

Crese is the same rank as Lotho, a New Blood, and is usually more on edge than his Human allies. His best skills are with a sword and shield, but outside of combat he's a master at tracking just about anything. Animals, people, the weather. If there were traces left behind he's sure to find something.

Lotho is the other New Blood, but unlike Crese he sees adventuring as long hikes with occasional fighting. He's also one of the only members of their group not from Lunaria, as he and his parents immigrated there from Anderu, a western queendom from beyond the Great Plains (another queendom, but also the largest out of the countries). He joined the Adventurer's Guild to travel freely beyond the countries' borders.

Serena is a Journeyman of the Guild, just one step above New Blood but one step beneath Protector. She's not from Lunaria like Lotho is, hailing from the kingdom of Plianna north of Lunaria. She's also the shortest out of the group - but don't let her size fool you. She may ride around on a pony but she's unmatched when it comes to how fast she can disarm an opponent.

#thepaladinrambles #my fantasy universe #anon

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jiskblr · 3 years

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Commonplace Mastery: Second Shell

Roughly a sixth of the people of the Second Shell are crafters of various kinds. Masons, Joiners, Blacksmiths, Whitesmiths, Bowyers, Craters-and-Coopers, Cobblers-and-Cordwainers, Tailors, Furriers, Brewers, Bakers, Cartwrights, Shipwrights. About half of them pick up two related specialties - A cabinetmaker might also be a cartwright or a cooper, and a cobbler also a tailor or furrier. A third of crafters instead have farming (or less commonly, fishing or simple hunting) as their second skill instead of another craft. The remaining sixth of the sixth have two unrelated specialties, or know the basics of an adventuring or criminal profession. By our standards, even the journeyman are master craftsmen, able to make extraordinary work regularly. Barrels which are airtight moments after creation, stone roads where a wheel could ride a mile and feel no bump between any stone and the next. When the truly skilled can concentrate, or just work together with their peers, what can they make? Things that last for centuries, commonly.

Masons: the good roads were made hundreds or thousands of years ago and look like new. They suffer no wear and tear - it's virtually impossible to damage them except on purpose. When a powerful king or priest pays for it, they may build towers six hundred feet tall with brick and mortar, which withstand the winds and wars for decades - though usually not centuries, as they cannot hold back a dragon. (Wizards generally build their own towers, secured with magic, though the sensible among them still employ a fine mason to assist.) The finest walls and castles are less magnificent in scale, but often can stop dragonfire.

Joiners: Doors which can stop a charging bull, cabinets which repel pests, or in the very greatest cases, ones which have more space inside than out, folding boxes which can be stored at a quarter their size and still be water-tight when opened.

Blacksmiths: Shackles which can hold a ghost, swords which find their mark unbidden, horseshoes which never wear and never let the horse lame. Knives and arrowheads that never dull, plate armor that moves like leather. Blacksmithery is both the most fabled of crafts, through its swords, blades, and weapons, and the most unassuming, as the most common feature of masterful blacksmithery is something that simply will not break, even if it had an army trying.

Whitesmiths: Workers in tin, gold, silver, and other pliable metals, intricate marvels are a signature of the master whitesmith. One of the most famous creations was the bell-box of Helorion, which if opened a crack and whispered into would hold the sound inside until the next time it was opened, whispering the message in the speaker's own voice. Jewlery is a common medium for master whitesmiths, and fine engraved panels which have more apparent depth than they could fit, or which serve as powerful aids to memory about the state of the location pictured.

Bowyers: Virtually all bowyers also are fletchers, and masters are known for crafting bows with the flexible draw of a composite bow from a single piece, making arrows which fly straight and true despite strange special additions which allow them to trip, drag, or disorient those hit, and make the true greatbows which can fire nearly as far as a man can see.

Craters and Coopers: The ordinary masterwork for a cooper is to make airtight barrels and crates, but true masters can make them so tight that even time itself can only penetrate weakly; when the lid is sealed on, even raw meat will have barely aged even if opened a year later. Other tuns commissioned by brewers make the ale or spirits inside age much faster while leaving the angel's share no larger. And of course ordinary durability for things packaged for long and stormy voyages is popular.

Cobblers: Many master's boots cushion the feet so well that even if they walk a dozen miles soaked, there will not be a single blister or sore on the feet. Others making softer shoes find they slowly heal scabs and sores from the past, clean the feet and leave them healthy, even with flat feet or turned toes slowly healing to the proper shape. Some help their wearers dance, never misplacing a step, or to run through a dark wood without a trip or sprain.

Tailors: The most common features of a master's tailoring are pockets deeper and more secure than an ordinary crafter, and clothes so wondrously beautiful that they shape the view like an illusion. Certainly anything a king wears, when it is not for war, will shift its appearance in the light, seeming to move like a live thing.

Furriers: The finest works of master furriers have the same beauty of a master tailor, in many cases. More practical masterworks usually focus on the warmth and comfort of fur, managing to preserve the wearer in the cold while being no worse than a bare body in great heat, or even to assist in both heat and cold.

Brewers: Perhaps the second most legendary of masters, after the smith, fine ales, wines, and spirits can conjure to mind very specific memories, nostalgia, camaraderie, or other such mental motions. They may restore the drinker to health, wake the recently dead, induce the pain-free frenzy of a berserker, or do any of a great many things for the body. Darker tales say an evil master brewer may make a drink which is pleasant to all except one, who finds it deadly poison.

Bakers: While less notorious, master bakers have many of the same tales told of them as are of brewers. Bread which heals the wounds, strengthens the body, brings those who break it together in fellowship, sustains over a heinous journey, or recalls distant days as if they were now.

Cartwrights: One of the most visible products of master crafters in most people's life is a wandering cart; these roll back and forth along the roads connection a town to its villages, not losing speed when boarded, without a horse to pull them. The standard wandering cart is lightly enchanted by a spellcaster, providing a slight motive force that speeds it up each time it turns around, but the fundamental device is a master cartwright's work in most places. (Wizards occasionally duplicate the effect purely with magic, but they are rarer and their time precious.) Other carts may have impossibly gentle rides even on rough terrain - common for coaches - or keep heat in or out preternaturally well.

Shipwrights: Ships which cut through the water like an arrow in flight are the most common request of master shipwrights, as well as durable ships which withstand fire and monster attacks. Some are crafted for great merchants with the ability to keep all their contents stable despite high seas. Master ships like these are usually sailed for centuries, as the coordination required to make them arises only every few decades, even in the biggest shipbuilding ports.

#jisk worldbuilds #divine shells

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skyrim-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

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Dragon Priests: Vahlok

Oc/ Priest template answer thing

Basics

Birth name: Freyja Fire-Veins

Other known Titles: Vahlok, Vahlok the Jailor, Dragon Priest, The Guardian.

Race: Nord/Atmoran

Gender: Female

DoB: 4th is Sun’s Dusk, Merethic Age.

Birthsign: The Atronach

Occupation: Dragon Priest, Leader.

Appearance

Face Claim: Sophie Turner

Height: 5’7

Weight: 175

Body Type: Stocky with a slight curviness to her hips.

Eyes: Stern appearing, Blue eyes.

Hair: Long and as bright as flame.

Demeanor: Stoic

Hand Dominance: Right

Personality

Alignment: Lawful Neutral/Good

Strengths: Loyal, Consistent, Logical, Analytical, and Devout.

Flaws: Rageful, Apathetic, Gaurded, Cruel, and Narrow-minded.

Motivation: Duty

Hindrance: Inflexibility

Likes: Structure, Peacefulness, Candles, Reading, and Cheese.

Dislikes: Spontaneity, Change, Being Manipulated, Secrecy, and overwhelming environments.

Biggest fears: Conspiracy, Ironically- being burned alive, and drowning.

Soft Spot: Sweet Foods.

Spells and combat

Class: Mage

Weapon/Spell of choice: Incinerate, Fire Breath, and Her Staff.

Secondary Spell/weapon of choice: Fire ball, Flame Cloak, and Stoneflesh.

Master: Destruction, Heavy Armour, and Alchemy.

Expert: Restoration, Archery, and Alteration.

Journeyman: Illusion, One-handed, and Speech.

Apprentice: Sneak, Block, and Conjuration.

Novice: Two-Handed, Lockpicking, and Enchanting.

Inept: Pick-pocketing and Light Armour.

Other skills/hobbies: Lute playing, Poetry, and Horseback riding.

#vahlok #vahlok the jailor #skyrim #dragon priests

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drabblesforsanguine · 4 years

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Elder Scrolls OCs:

Vasärus Troll-Hammer // The Harbinger

Basics

Birth Name: Vasärus Whitemane

Other Names/Titles: Vas, Harbinger of the Companions, Champion of Hircine

Race: Nord, lycanthrope(werewolf)

Gender: Male

DoB: 10th of Last Seed, 4E 170

Birth Sign: The Warrior

Occupation: Warrior, Companion

Appearance

Face Claim: Clive Standen/Rollo Lothbrok(Vikings)

Height: 6'6"

Weight: 210lbs

Body Type: Brawny, muscular

Eye: Hazel brown

Hair: Oak brown, soft & wavy, hangs down to his lower back,

Demeanor: Intimidating, towering

Gait: Heavy, determined

Hand Dominance: Ambidextrous

Personality

Alignment: Neutral Good

Strengths: Loyal, trustworthy, courageous, selfless, good-natured

Flaws: Stubborn, hot-headed, self-critical

Motivation: Helping people

Hindrance: Self doubt

Likes: Hugging, fighting, mead

Dislikes: Liars, murderers, vegetables

Biggest Fears: Failure, losing those he loves, heights

Soft Spot: Those who cannot defend themselves

Skills & Combat

Class: Warrior

Weapon of Choice: Steel longsword

Secondary Weapon: One handed axe

Master: One-handed, two-handed

Expert: Block, heavy armor, unarmed

Journeyman: Archery, light armor

Apprentice: Smithing, sneak

Novice: Lockpicking

Inept: All magic, pickpocket

Other Skills/Hobbies: Battle strategy, horse riding,

#the elder scrolls #tes writing #original character #tes oc #not my gif

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thevioletscout · 3 years

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Erato - OC Meme

(I’m doing this with all three of my Dragonborns in my AU. I borrowed this template from @skyrim-drabbles-n-stuff . Picture was made on artbreeder and is a mix of Erato’s in-game model and a photo of the actress AnnaSophia Robb.)

EDIT: The picture will be removed and replaced eventually due to me no longer standing by AI generated images in any capacity.

Basics:

Birth Name: Erato Nyrvu

Other Known Titles: Hero of Kvatch, Champion of Cyrodiil, Dragonborn, The Gray Fox, Listener, Savior of the Dark Brotherhood, Thane of The Rift, Qahnaarin

Race: Bosmer/Lich

Gender: Female

Date of Birth: 12th of Sun’s Dawn, 3E 409

Birthsign: The Lover

Occupation: Adventurer, Assassin, Vampire Hunter, Thief

Appearance:

Face Claim: AnnaSophia Robb

Height: 5′6″

Weight: 129.4 lbs

Body Type: Petite, nimble

Eyes: Red (formerly), Silver

Hair: Light Ginger, upper back length, wavy, keeps one part of her hair braided around the front

Demeanor: Stand-offish, unfriendly

Hand Dominance: Right-Handed

Personality:

Alignment: True Neutral

Strengths: Determined, intelligent, romantic, caring, courageous, loyal

Flaws: Stubborn, naïve, hot-headed, spiteful, impulsive, submissive

Motivation: To survive

Hindrance: Naivety

Likes: Gold, flowers, bones, her family, pleasing voices

Dislikes: Being talked down to, being threatened, arrogance, imprisonment, the soul cairn, spiders (she had a rough time being around Lis)

Biggest Fears: Having nobody in the end

Soft Spot: Martin Septim, Miraak, family, children

Skills and Combat:

Class: Assassin

Weapon of Choice: Daggers, sparks

Secondary Weapon: Swords, conjuring

Master: Destruction, One-Handed, Light Armor

Expert: Archery, Sneak, Lockpicking, Speech

Journeyman: Conjuration, Enchanting, Heavy Armor, Pickpocket

Apprentice: Alchemy

Novice: Restoration

Inept: Illusion, Alteration, Smithing, Block, Two-Handed

Other skills/hobbies: Horseback riding, assassination, foraging, parkour

#TES #The Elder Scrolls #Elder Scrolls #Skyrim #Oblivion #Erato Nyrvu #Dovahkiin #Dragonborn #lbd #Hero of Kvatch #Champion of Cyrodiil #OC Meme #OC Bio #my post

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luninosity · 4 years

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Opening scene of a story I haven’t written (yet?), if you would like it...

The envoys from all six neighboring countries had begun arriving for the Winter Banquet, so, of course, the youngest prince was dead again.

Cinnabar Lyle glared at the royal messenger, grumbled, “I’m only a journeyman, let me call Master Horatio—” and tried to shut the door to the College of Necromancers in the young woman’s face. The messenger, being experienced at this, stuck her foot in the crack before he could.

“Cinn,” Master Horatio observed, appearing in the corridor behind him, “you know you’re only a journeyman because you keep avoiding your final masterwork, now go and help the nice young person.” Dressed in casual black—trousers, shirt with rolled-up sleeves, silver master’s pin crooked as usual at his throat—he propped a shoulder on the wall, let it hold him up, spun a pencil in one hand, and lifted eyebrows, only lightly grey over cheerful brown eyes.

“You go,” Cinn said. “I��m busy. Testing the first-years on Caelian funeral runes this afternoon.” Most of the first- and second-year apprentices remained in awe of the masters and their supposed power. Cinn, who’d grown up on the grounds and who’d deliberately remained a journeyman for three years, had once seen Master Horatio consume an entire Renewing Day fruitcake sculpture in one sitting, and had acquired a rather different form of awe in that direction, mostly regarding gustatory capacity.

“No you’re not,” his Master said. “I’m taking your class, and you’re waking up our recalcitrant prince.”

“Soon would be nice,” said the messenger, to Cinn. “The banquet’s in two hours.” Her expression suggested fast-eroding patience regarding collegiate bickering, balanced with the awareness that the necromancers were also suffering similar emotions regarding Prince Hyacinthe’s penchant for escape from uncomfortable social obligations.

“You just don’t want to go to the palace and deal with him,” Cinn said to his Master, accurately.

“True, which is why I’m sending my favorite and most skilled journeyman,” Horatio agreed serenely. “Young person, would you like a roasted pumpkin seed? They’re delicious.”

The messenger’s expression now contained quite a lot of doubt about the casual consumption of pumpkin seeds in a hallway that almost certainly led to dead bodies. Cinn felt this was rather unfair; they had excellent kitchens and brilliant cooks.

He inquired, “What happened this time? Riding accident, doing a terrible job at fighting an ogre, impressive ability to drown in his own new shower-bath twice?”

“Boar hunting, I think.” The messenger ran a hand through blonde curls, above royal livery. “Something about tripping over his own spear. Er…you are good at this, aren’t you?”

“The best,” put in Master Horatio, encouragingly. “Naturally gifted. Quite rare, really, that level of innate talent.”

Cinn sighed. Heavily.

He knew perfectly well that he did not precisely fit traditional assumptions about necromancers; he’d never been tall or imposing, and he looked even younger and distressingly skinny in formal black robes, so he mostly didn’t bother. His hair, fortunately, tended to look good in messy pale waves over dark blue eyes, but it was the sort of good that attracted men in certain establishments rather than intimidating them in rooms of power; he did not mind the former, but occasionally, especially when faced with ingredients on tall shelves, he wondered what having actual height and breadth and shoulders would feel like. At least announcing his profession often helped as far as being taken seriously. Assuming the person listening believed him, of course.

That morning he’d thrown on battered grey trousers and a knitted scarlet jumper he’d picked up in the market, and he still had chipped rose-pink nail varnish on because he’d never bothered properly removing the color after fellow journeyman Melody’s birthday celebrations and the pubs, plural, the week before; and then he’d been sticking his hands into various bodies and recuperative ingredients and magic and student ritual-language quizzes all week…

He sighed again. “You owe me.”

#original fic #fic in progress #tenebrae #my fic

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ostrichmonkey-games · 5 years

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RPG Highlights: Troika! Numinous Edition

Next up on the list is one of my current favorite games, Troika! Numinous Edition.

Quick Summary: Troika! is a science-fantasy, relatively “rules-lite”, random character creation-driven, wild ride of a game. d66 out of 10 stars. Play it.

Longer-Form What It Is: Troika! (the exclamation is important) is an excuse to go wild and explore a gonzo-weird science-fantasy, plane-hopping maelstrom of a game. I love it. I’m going to just quote the entire introduction, because it does some very heavy lifting in setting your expectations and welcoming you to the game.

“You are reading a tabletop role-playing game (RPG) in which one player takes the part of the games master (GM) and prepares the world and controls the people and peril in it while the other players create characters on a journey through that self same world.

You now have the context and key terms to explore the medium independently and nothing I say here can fully instruct you on what is a deep and rich form of entertainment on par with cinema or fly fishing. Treat it like you would any new hobby.

Beyond that what you have here is Troika!: a science-fantasy RPG in which players travel by eldritch portal and non-euclidean labyrinth and golden sailed barge between the uncountable crystal spheres strung delicately across the hump-backed sky.

What you encounter on those spheres and in those liminal places is anybody’s guess — I wouldn’t presume to tell you, though inside this book you will find people and artefacts from these worlds which will suggest the shape of things. The adventure and wonder is in the gaps; your game will be defined by the ways in which you fill them.”

Lovely.

At its core are a few pretty straightforward mechanics. You have some numbers established at character creation that you add to skill rolls to roll under that skill total with 2d6. So, if you have Skill 4 (base stat) and 5 Gambling (a skill) you need to roll under a 9 to succeed on a gambling check. In combat or in contests, each party involved rolls using the same procedure, but the win goes to the higher roller. Pretty straightforward.

There are some extra rules you can layer on top, as well as an explicitly stated expectation that you will be creating your own rules as you play. The “chassis” for Troika! just begs to be hacked, and it really does lend itself to that. Skills in particular make up a big part of this. The given skill list is limited, really on purpose, and you get to come up with more skills as you go.

Another part that makes Troika! unique is the initiative system. Instead of rolling for an initiative, you assemble a pool of tokens representing both players, enemies equal to initiative scores, and an “end of round” token. You then pull at random from that pool to see who goes or when the round ends. Its, admittedly odd, but it works surprisingly well and adds some randomness and tension to initiative orders.

The highlight of Troika! is undoubtedly the backgrounds. Backgrounds function like a class or playbook, they come with a set of starting possessions, skills, sometimes spells, and a short description. Skills and spells help define what your character can do, and offer all sorts of implied hints as to the “lore” of that background. But what does the most heavy lifting is that description. Individually they’re filled with potential hooks and stories, but if you read all the included backgrounds as a unit, it creates this wildly flavorful setting without having an actual setting section. It’s fantastic and more games should do the “implied setting” thing.

Some backgrounds you can pick from (or roll for) include;

Ardent Giant of Corda

Claviger

Gremlin Catcher

Journeyman of the Guild of Sharp Corners

Parchment Witch

Sorcerer of the Academy of Doors

Vengeful Child

Yeah. It’s great.

Quick tangent, but Troika! is also just a great design space to tool around in. You might recall I dabbled in some background making, if you want to get a sense for the flexibility that this system allows for.

Anyways, lastly, I would just like to wax poetically about the art in this book (you can see some examples in the image at the start). There are several artists in this book, and all of them do a real fucking good job. Poetic.

Final Verdict: You should 100% get Troika! Do it now. I’ll wait. If you ever wanted to experiment in systems outside of dnd (and you should do that, there are multitudes out there and chances are one will fit you better than dnd might), Troika! is a great place to start (or end, but really, go on a ttrpg journey. it’ll be fun).

You can pick up a pdf here, as well as check out the free SRD it has all the rules in it seriously. If you prefer dead tree versions, you can pick up a physical copy here. The quality of the hardcover is great, and it definitely feels sturdy and like it wont fall apart at the bindings like certain hardcovers of certain systems. Also, the pdf? Fully hyperlinked. Not even paizo does that for you.

#rpg highlights #play troika!!!!!!!!!!#troika rpg #expect some fitd stuff up next

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thesportssoundoff · 5 years

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10 Under The Radar Free Agent Options (for when the Yankees decide to get cheap again)

With free agency getting closer and closer, Yankees fans are dreaming about Thanksgiving dinners headlined by Gerritt Cole signings, Anthony Rendon level flirtations and a Francisco Lindor level trade. The reality figures to be a TOUCH smaller than that unfortunately. The Yankees may make one big move and go "all in" but the idea that they're going to open the floodgates and turn into the Yankees who spent to win in the mid 2000s is probably off base. What's most likely is that they'll make a big splash early (Paxton in 2018, Stanton in 2017) and then calmly tiptoe through the offseason making sound decisions and occasionally flirting with a big name here or there. Remember that the Yankees two best signings, at least offensively, were financially sound and prudent depth moves that paid off big time in the long run with Gardner (1/10) and DJ LeMahieu (2/24). The Yankees do not have a bushel of needs to be filled outside of a starter, maybe another bullpen arm and some sort of solution on the infield. They do have some wants though and maybe these players will prove to be affordable wants who wind up filling needs down the line.

1. Cole Hamels, Chicago Cubs Will be 36

7-7 3.81 ERA 141.2 innings pitched 117 ERA+ 1.391 WHIP 9 H/9 3.6 BB/9 9.1 K/9

Why: Was apparently the back up option if the Yankees couldn't secure a deal with Toronto for J.A. Happ in 2018. Hamels has a proven playoff pedigree, has the prototypical fifth starter make up (gritty innings eater who survives with declining stuff) and the Yankees tend to prioritize left handed pitching given that the Redsox tend to be historically loaded up on lefties. The Yankees just lost CC Sabathia who clearly had a role as a veteran left hander who was capable of getting a competitive start each time out. Seems open and receptive to a one year deal.

Why Not: I mean they DID choose J.A Happ over him for a reason. Hamels, like Happ, was somewhat inconsistent in the juiced ball era with elevated contact rates (despite a lower home run per 9 innings than the four years prior) and elevated walk rates. Hamels has not thrown for 200 innings since 2016 and went for under 150 innings pitched in two of the last three seasons. Soft tossing (by today's standards) flyball pitchers tend to not do so hot in Yankee stadium.

2. 1B Eric Thames, Milwaukee Brewers Will Be 33

.247/.346/.505 25 HR 61 RBI 51 BB 140 K's 117 OPS+

Why: The Yankees have a potential opening for a platoon 1B who can mash righties and Thames had that going for him (.254/.348/.529 slugging for a 131+ OPS). He's got a sweet swing for NYS and would help balance a Yankees line up in serious need of a masher from the left side. Veteran lefty pop for a small fee would be insanely valuable for a Yankees team in need of more power from that side (with Didi likely gone). Has made spot appearances as an outfielder as well.

Why Not: Is he too much of a three outcome hitter (K, BB or HR) for a team loaded up with three outcome hitters? A nonstarter vs left handed pitching limits his appeal. Not a good fielder in the slightest. A poor defensive fit for 1st base or the outfield so he values more as a lefty DH type. Isn't this Mike Ford's job to be for a smidgen of the price?

3. (S)RP Drew Pomeranz, Milwaukee Brewers Will Be 31

2-10 4.85 ERA 104.2 innings pitched 88 ERA+ 1.433 WHIP 9.1 H/9 3.8 BB/9 11.9 K/9

Why: Completely rebuilt himself as a specialist out of the Brewers bullpen, racking up a cool .141 average against and a sparkling 2.39 ERA out of the pen. Could be a lefty specialist weapon to save the likes of Britton from making an early appearance. Reinvted himself in Milwaukee as a power pitcher out of the bullpen and curtailed his walk rate with a new pitch mix. Has been AT TIMES a successful starting pitcher in a pinch.

Why Not: Are you willing to invest 5-10 million dollars on 32 some odd innings of work? Has struggled in the past with walks although it was slightly less of an issue as a bullpen piece. Pomeranz has a continued issue with home runs even out of the bullpen (17 home runs in 77 innings as a starter, 4 in 26 innings as a bullpen arm).

4. C Alex Avila, Arizona Diamondbacks Will Be 33

.207/.353/.421 9 HR 24 RBI 36 BB 88 K's 100 OPS+

Why: Avila is an established name at catcher who has settled into a back up catcher role. Big OPB bat with a 17% walk rate last year for the D-Backs. Another lefty who hits righties well (near .800 OPS). Could provide a reliable back up and a mentor for Gary Sanchez. Not Sanchez-esque with his arm strength but has proven to be tough to run on.

Why Not: Has been on a steady decline since around 2016 both on offense and defense. Doesn't hit for much power or average. A step down from former back up Austin Romine.

5. IF Wilmer Flores, Arizona Diamonds Will Be 28

.317/.361/.487 9 HR 37 RBI 31 BB 15 K's 118 OPS+

Why: Across the last two seasons, he's played 2nd, 3rd and 1st. Has played shortstop in the past as well. Coming off a career year in Arizona with a career high 118 OPS+, average and slugging. A high contact hitter who could potentially alleviate the overreliance on mashers/deepen the line up at the bottom of the order. Already used to the platoon infielder role with limited starts so there wouldn't be an adjustment period. Also let's not forget that Flores was a Met for five seasons and understands the demands of playing baseball in NYC.

Why Not: Has not played shortstop since 2016 and that would probably be the only spot he would see consistent time at. Flores has not been as good defensively as he was in the past and may be on the decline from a defensive standpoint. How much of his offense is courtesy of the juiced ball era and if they deaden the balls, will he turn back into a below average hitter?

6. IF Eric Sogard, Tampa Bay Rays Will Be 34

.290/.353/.437 13 HR 40 RBI 38 BB 63 K's 116 OPS+

Why: Another versatile all contact bat who can pinch hit across a variety of locations. Could provide a more experienced version of Tyler Wade in terms of versatility and the ability to play for contact. Was really good with consistent playing time for the Rays. He's coming off his career best offensive season which when combined with his versatility and ability to chip in at a number of spots, the Yankees would be wise to poke around. Also it's another lefty bat who could balance this lineup that right now features righties Giancarlo Stanton, DJ, Aaron Judge, Gleyber Torres and Gary Sanchez.

Why Not: Primarily a contact guy with a career high 13 HRs this season. He doesn't hit for much power and doesn't really walk much either, painting a similar picture to what the Yankees have with Thairo Estrada. He's never been necessarily reliable for a full season. He might actually go from affordable to expensive for his skill set given that bad teams are going to try to sign him so they can flip him in July.

7. SP Brett Anderson, Oakland A's Will Be 32

13-9 3.89 ERA 176 innings pitched 1.307 WHIP 9.3 H/9 2.5 BB/9 4.6 K/9

Why: If the Yankees are god fearing about flyball contact then a guy with top 10 groundball rates might be of great interest to them. A left handed pitcher who could bounce between a long relief role or a spot starter job for this team. He had a 3.22 ERA away from Oakland so maybe leaving the Coliseum can further unlock Anderson's value.

Why Not: Always be wary of the dudes who are coming off career years that aren't THAT impressive. As such, Anderson with his somewhat questionable stuff coming off a career year might be a risky venture. His 176 innings were a career high and he's been oft injured since 2016. Is he any better than J.A. Happ as a #5 guy? Do you want to progress stop on Jordan Montgomery?

8. IF/OF Ben Zobrist, Chicago Cubs Will Be 39

Why: A reliable professional hitter who doesn't K much and draws plenty of walks. Outside of one season, he's played in 125 games or more for eight straight seasons.

Why Not: Approaching 40 years of age off a shortened season and has an OPS+ under 100 in 2 of the past three years. You figure at some point he is bound to decline and lose value. While he's versatile, it is worth noting that Zobrist doesn't play SS or CF aka the two spots the Yankees figure to have the most available PT at.

9. IF Brad Miller, Philadelphia Phillies Will Be 30

.260/.329/.565 13 HR 25 RBI 15 BB 45 K;s 125 OPS+

Why: A super versatile handyman who can play across a variety of spots. Has seen time at shortstop where the Yankees could use some help. Coming off a really great September where maybe something unlocked for him offensively.

Why Not: I mean the Yankees had him once. He was in their farm system as a veteran hand in case of emergency to start 2019 and then they dealt him away once Gio Urshela proved to be legitimate. He's a career journeyman type who bounces around and is wholly unreliable to stick. Most of his damage as a hitter was done in September (.327/.339/.800 (!) with 8 HRs) so he's probably just riding a hot streak as a hitter. Has been all downhill offensively since 2016 when he hit 30 home runs for Tampa.

10. IF Brock Holt, Boston Red Sox Will Be 32

.297/.369/.402 3 HR 31 RBI 28 BB 57 K's 101 OPS+

Why: Another chess piece who plays a variety of spots and another left handed bat who can add some depth to a righty happy Yankees lineup. A consistent .275 to .290-ish hitter if batting average is your deal. Lauded in Boston for being a big community guy and clubhouse glue type.

Why Not: You probably have to pay a Yankees tax to get him to leave Boston. Has truly no pop whatsoever and in terms of impact, he's a long ways away from his cameo as an All Star back in 2016. Has had issues with injuries recently.

#Yankees #MLB #Thames #Hamels #Anderson #under the radar

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lordnelson100 · 6 years

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Abundance (Nerdanel) - Fëanorian Week 2018

For @feanorianweek Yes, I am early for Nerdanel day.

Read or comment on Ao3 here.

Summary: Of artistry, women's bodies, and loss.

I. Journeyman

On a summer day, she began the work that would become the most famous of all the creations of her hands— except for one.

It began as if from nowhere (or so it seemed to her at the time).

True, by then she had spent many years as her father’s apprentice, praised for her skill and her industry, her patience and her delicate touch in shaping surfaces.

Also true, that when she had turned from forge work to creating likenesses— when she had found her own proper gift in sculpting the faces and forms of her people, and of the living animals and growing things— then she had begun to win great praise. Then the Noldor rejoiced in her work, and passed her figurines from hand to hand, and set them upon pedestals and hearth-mantels.

They began to say that Mahtan’s daughter had his spirit in her fingertips. A few, even, whispered that now they understood how she had caught the eye of the prince, her father’s master student (thought they managed to sound as if it were Fëanor’s achievement, discovering her hidden worth, more than it were her own merit for having it).

But this new work: this was different.

She had returned upon the eve of summer from a long ride at Fëanor’s side in the distant wild edges of Aman. There lay in her studio an enormous length of wood, hard, dense and richly colored, with a scent redolent of warm far-off forests far to the south. It was the huge bole of a mighty tree, split and stripped and dried, and brought here as a gift by a travelling friend of her father’s.

Till now she had had no idea what to do with it.

But on this day, with the golden treelight just rising, and the air promising summer heat to come yet still slightly chill, so that she had wrapped an old shawl about her shoulders when she came out to her workshop—

On this day, she took up her tools and began to carve, and worked as she had never worked before. With axe and adze, she roughed out the form that took shape in her thoughts. Before the light changed, a great figure had begun to spring forth from the wood, as if it— as if she — had always been there.

Yavanna strode forth, in the woman’s body in which she cloaked herself in Eä. In Nerdanel’s shaping, the noble body, twice as tall as an Elf, walked amidst her meadows, a long robe in graceful carven folds swirling after her, which yet did not obscure the curve of a mighty hip, the generosity and delicacy of her broad bare bosom, the merry roundness of the belly, the vulnerable, powerful cleft between her legs. Her curling hair flowed in a river over her shoulders, with flowers all among her endless, wild locks.

Nerdanel’s own cloak had long been dropped into the sawdust and shavings on the floor; her red hair was damp and tangled with sweat; her arms ached. She was half aware of sending several people away with abrupt words, when they intruded into the corner of her vision. Water was left at her elbow, and she drank it; bread, and she put it into her mouth. But she did not cease.

When nightfall came for second time, her mother came and urged her to take rest; and sometime later, Mahtan followed. He watched his daughter at her work in silence for some time, without comment; and then at last said, “Not as your father, and no more as your master, do I speak: but as your fellow artist. Only you may say how the hours of your inspiration run: when to take up and when to cease. But you are making my wife, your lady mother, worried.”

Abashed, Nerdanel laid down her tools at last, and went into the house, and embraced her mother, and her father too, and allowed them to bring her food and send her to the bath and bed. But the next day she rose early and fell at once to work, and the next, and the next.

After some weeks, the as yet-nameless work had grown in size till it stretched for many yards down the enormous slab of hardwood. She had begun in the very middle, with the centering figure of Yavanna. Now on either side, as if emerging from the wood in the Vala’s wake, were laughing maidens and youths with their arms full of fruit, were tree boughs swaying laden with blossom, and meadows full of ragged wildflowers. With chisel and mallet she refined each figure in minute detail; hollowing the space between until the figures seemed all but ready to leap from the background. Deer paused among the shadows of the woodland, shy and fleet. Small plump birds cocked their tiny heads and gave a sideways look. Rabbits ran among tall grass, throwing up their hind legs in saucy pride at their speed.

At some point, Nerdanel realized that Fëanor was standing in the studio; his arms folded and his gaze intent. She had not seen him in — some time, and yet: he was in everything, in all of this. He gave her a very small smile and cocked an eyebrow at her. She did not say, “I am working; I must do this; this is the best thing I have ever made, and it is the most important thing right now.” For she saw that he saw; it was one of the reasons she loved him.

She went back to work, and he went away. But he came again and he brought with him apprentices carrying many trays and vessels. “I had an idea,” he said gruffly. “It is an experiment. You need only use them if you like!”

The workmen set their trays on the side table, and wiping the sweat from her brow, she came to gaze at the array of bowls and jars before her. Colors in dense, rich liquids, opaque as milk, were found in some jars. Red ochre she recognized, and yellow orpiment — but here were shades of pigment she had never seen in any artists’ work, even among the most cunning Noldor artisans. In one jar, gold was made liquid. Scarlet bright as winter berries pooled in another, while a blue as of a living iris-flower filled its neighbor. Yet again, a translucent glaze like the delicate skin of wrist wherein the blood gives faint color to the surface. Beside this, in other samples, rich powders of crushed crystalline minerals glistened; when mixed with oil, they smeared into a hundred subtle gradients.

Delight swelled within her.

Fëanor was talking now, half nervously: “The greens and blue were difficult: that one is copper acetate, and that one, azurite — you must wear gloves, and mind you do not bite your brushes —”

She threw her arms around him, tucking her head into his muscular neck, and he fell quiet. She took in his scent: chemical buzz of the laboratory and warm work damp of his skin and ash of the fire and the good plain linen of his work-robe. She held him tightly, saying little, but she felt his heart beating within his broad chest. Soon she returned to her work, but Fëanor went smiling when he left.

The great sculpture went on towards its final form. Now Yavanna’s cloak in its swirling folds was edged with gold, and the silver stars sprinkled on it were picked out against a background of deepest blue. Now each fruit was touched with glistening red, or bright yellow tinged with green, or wine-dark purple, and tree-blossoms were dressed in frothy white just tinged with pink.

She had a brush in her hand — sable fur, just freshly dipped in gold flake— touching the tracery of jewels around the neck of a dancing handmaiden — on the day that Mahtan came to her and said, “Aulë has come to our house, daughter.”

Of course she gave it to them, to Aulë and Yavanna, without their need to ask. In all the time of working on it, she had never stopped to think what or who it was for, only that it come to be. And the Giver of Fruits and the Smith set it up in a great plinth amid her own meadows, the ever-verdant gardens of the Kementari, where it could be visited by all who came that way. Often in the days of festivals, the Elves would come and raise their voices in song at this place, and children would run and play near it and shyly touch the wooden figures in their lifelike joy.

In later years, Nerdanel was to make statues of all — of most — of the Valar, as well as of the famous and the great among all the Eldar kind. She worked in those later eras in many noble materials — marble and bronze, truesilver and alabaster, ivory and basalt — for wood came to seem a material rather humble for the splendors of Aman at its noontide.

And yet the image of Kementari, Queen of Earth’s flowering, made in the very freshness of Nerdanel’s heart in its first youth, remained her most famous and beloved work for many a long age.

II. Innovation

Down at her waist, right over each hip, nodes of a curious warm tenderness bloomed, almost but not quite painful. Her breasts grew sensitive to the touch: they felt as they were swelling, like buds on the tip of a branch in springtime. Even her walk changed, she felt: It was far too early for any real weight to belong to the small form inside her, and yet she planted her feet differently, as if she carried in her hands a vessel that she must not spill.

Many months later, when her time drew near, her belly swelled out before her like a ship in sail; her back ached, and other parts, and it was wearisome to sleep or to rise from sitting. Sometimes cramps and pains ran through her like a hot knife: her own body stretching and rolling in its new, unpracticed art, in which her own self was the material from which an experiment was shaped. Inside her the coming child moved and shifted, a stranger and yet an utterly known and familiar companion.

Despite these ills, never had she felt as strong: she was as full of satisfaction as a feast-cup overflowing with wine. At her side Fëanor was both joyful and tense, prideful to the point of arrogance about his coming fatherhood, and strangely timid as he touched her rounded belly. He ran to fetch her tea, a silken cushion, sandals when she would walk: shouted at the servants to quiet the least sound of their work; came back again and again to the house from his own workroom, still smeared with soot, to see if she were well.

Her mother took her to the warm springs to rest in the water, on a time. There came suddenly about them the feeling of awe and strangeness that presaged the goings of the Valar. Suddenly, Estë and Irmo were there among the Elves who bathed amid the mossy rocks, and their attendant Maia with them. The mists of the hot springs swirled into shapes of half-seen winged forms and ghostly hands, which caressed the two tall beings as they passed, and faint silvery bells and sighing chants were heard as if at a great distance.

With gentle hands, Estë reached down to Nerdanel from her own great height, and touched her shoulders and then her swollen belly. At once, her aches and tiredness lifted, and she felt the child within her leap and play as if in response. And Nerdanel to her surprise saw that there was a sort of wonder in on the strange, fair face of Estë, who reached out a hand in turn to Irmo beside her. With a look of sorrow, the Lady of Healing said to her spouse, “But this pain to come — must it truly be so?”

The Lord of Dreams, as ever, walked with with his face shrouded in shadows under his deep hood. If he shared his lady’s emotion, they could not see it. But he bowed his head and answered in his strange cold voice: “So it is with the gifts of Ilúvatar in Arda marred. Great works are achieved through pain and labor proportionate to their excellence; and abundance creates the potential of absence, as an object brings with it its own shadow.”

When they had gone away, Nerdanel said this aloud to her mother, surprised: “Surely Estë has seen many Eldar bear their children, in the ages since we came came to Valinor, and knows the workings of our bodies? The pangs of childbirth are hard, you all say, but I am strong and ready!”

“You see,” said Nerdanel’s mother, whose face was troubled: “They do not themselves give birth. Bodies are as garments to them: a thing which may be cast off or altered, and are not in essence themselves. And seeing children is not like having them. They who have always been, and always will be, how can they understand what our children mean to us?”

“I suppose,” said Nerdanel, musing,”we Eldar are like unto their children, in some senses.”

“It is not the same,” said her mother with finality.

Soon after, Nerdanel’s labor began: the pangs that tore a shout from her, the gush of fluid and blood, the hours-long striving that drenched her in sweat and made her grind her teeth and clutch her mother’s hand. And then in her arms and Fëanor’s, at last the small, warm, and well-made child, a fine red-gold down on his head: he peered at their faces with enormous eyes, his spirit reaching out wordlessly, instinctively, to touch their own.

“Look what we have made!” she said to Fëanor.

III. Masterpiece

On the road between Tirion and Valmar, there was an unlovely place where the road passed through a narrow, rocky valley.

On a morning when the heat of the Sun beat down and the air was like the fiery breath of a forge door opened, she took her chisel and began to carve.

Week after week, she worked at it. Her hands were worn and bruised, the skin dry and cracked with stone dust, her nails broken. Her boots and leggings were covered in a thick paste of slurry, and even her tunic and other clothes were frankly unclean. Her hair was stuffed carelessly into a rough cap, from which it escaped in ragged ends.

Figure after figure, body after body, began to take form.

She made no portraits: scrupulously, she did not shape the image of a warrior one-handed; or single out a figure with a harp or a hunting hound; she did not make a king with a seven-pointed star on his armor, a son beside him as like as a young tree to a mighty oak; she did not add a pair of twins.

It was not her own emptiness alone that she made visible.

First, she carved a file of tall warriors with high-crowned helms and swords in their hands; grim faces, glimpsed beneath, fell and fair. And at the feet of the striving warriors, other figures, fallen; pierced, dying, broken.

But she was not done.

Dark forests of trees twisted and infected she carved, and between their rotten trunks the figures of swollen spiders and slinking wolves. And she did not forbear to add amidst them torn and twisted bodies, dragged away as prey.

But she was not done.

Out of the rock she brought forth the images of Morgoth’s thralls: their bodies attenuated to near-skeletal thinness, loaded with chains, surrounded by leering, monstrous guards, who mounted with triumphant lust over dishevelled captives.

Rivers of flowing fire rolled down from grim mountaintops. Fell winged monsters sped aloft. Fragmented skulls and the shattered bones of once-lovely bodies were scattered before broken towers.

Nerdanel had never seen the Aftercomers, the Children of Men, or Aulë’s people, the skilfull Khazâd, but she used her artist’s eye to guide her hand. Her tools worked out the shapes: there in stone the younger peoples fought their hopeless war against the Imprisoner, amid a sea of raging foes. Little villages burnt away, and helpless beasts of the field ran distraught, and children raised their hands to an empty sky.

On a time, her father came to her. “Daughter,” said Mahtan. “What are you doing?

“They said,” Nerdanel replied. “That this land of bliss has been fenced against those across the seas, so that even the echoes of the Noldor’s lamentation should not come to our ears. And so they raised up the mountains to these terrible heights, and set their nets of dark enchanted seas to bar all comers. They call me the Wise, and yet I am confounded: for it seems to me, Father, that they have walled out repentance, if it comes, as well as guilt — and shut out as well the screams of those who never saw a Silmaril as effectively as those who went forth to avenge Finwë.”

She threw down the weighted hammer she had in her grasp, and wiped her dusty hands on her cloak.

“But there are tears and cries of anguish closer than Middle-earth, if They have not stopped their ears. You know as well as I the dark tidings that have reached us, ever bloodier as the centuries pass. Would you know what I see of my sons in my tormented dreams? The great towering mountains do not keep those out!” Her father made a sorrowing gesture, as if he would bid her to peace, but she clenched her fists defiantly. “Praise I was given — I did not ask for it — because I did not join in Fëanor’s rash rebellion, because I bid patience to my people to wait on the Valar’s acts when we were foundering in a sea of dark that Morgoth created. I would ask you: how was that patience rewarded? If the Valar do not like my grieving — well, I would remind them that they were not the givers of all I have lost.”

She took up a fresh sharp chisel. “I ask nothing of Them, but that if They pass by, They may look — or close their eyes, if They will. Some are skilled at that, methinks.”

Mahtan went sadly away.

At first she labored alone. And then one day, she found some women standing in a knot behind her on the edge of the road, looking upward. Ladies of the Noldor: once she had known them, though not well, when all her own hours were overflowing with children and mate and her art.

There stood a tall matron whose own husband had gone with Fëanor: and with them went her sister and brother, also. She lived now all alone in a tall white house, where a single lamplit room was visible in the evenings to passersby.

There was another, a fierce politician and mistress of a weaving-guild, who had been a partisan of Fingolfin. Yet she had stayed behind, a tiny babe clasped in her arms, when her haughty grown sons had marched out of Tirion with their father. It was whispered that her spouse and children alike had been shades in the halls of Mandos before ever the new Sun rose, dead among the salt waves of Acqualonde or on the grinding ice of the crossing.

Others there were, both young and ancient, all soberly cloaked and solemn. And one came forward bearing a lamp and said to Nerdanel, “Sister, the shadows grow long here, and your eyes must be weary. Let me light your work.” Another lady came with a jug in her hands and begged her to ease herself with a draught of wine. Yet another, a brawny maid with the arms of a smith said, “Mayhap you do not remember me. I was in Mahtan’s shop when you were a little red-haired thing still playing at carving with an apple. An you give me the task, I would help you with the rougher work.”

Father and brothers, sons and nephews: men came too, mostly Noldor: and they spoke or sang of the brothers and sisters, the betrothed maid or the the beloved student, who had rebelled and gone into Exile unrelenting with their Kings and lords. And even, to her shock, there came a few from Olwë’s people. “We have not forgotten Alqualondë,” they said grimly. “But what of our kin and cousins long parted? What of the Woodland Elves who tarried on the journey, or lingered in the ancient forests east of the Ocean, or cling to the last seaside havens of its shores?” And so she added these, too, to the unfolding tale of stone.

And so the work went on faster.

And one day, they came. Yavanna as she paced slowly down the road had a crown of winter thorns in her hair, and a sober robe as of snow; Aulë had his great golden beard and long locks closely bound, and had put off the beautiful jewelry of craft and wonder that once he had rejoiced in.

The crowd of Elven men and women moved quietly aside, as the Vala approached.

Yavanna ran her hands over the stony trees of the sorrowful forests, and touched the carven forms of children amid their ruined homes. Aulë, his brow drawn, put a great work-roughened finger to the place where she had shown small, brawny warriors, beards flowing, as they lifted carven axes in defiance. They both lingered over the panel in which she showed a fallen king in the dark pit, torn by wolves, and a pair of lovers bravely striving to overcome a cruel foe amid the broken world.

And they turned to her with sorrow and sympathy in their eyes.

“Someone is coming,” said Yavanna. “He is on the road even now. The salt wind of the wide ocean stains his cloak, still, but now the white dust of Aman gathers on his shoes as he treads the empty highway to Valmar. And in his hand he bears a treasure that you know of old — for in your home dwelt he who made it.”

Her heart raced, and she turned to them with a question in her eyes. The Great Smith saw it, and shook his head. “He who bears the Silmaril is a stranger, in more ways than one. Alone among all the mortals of the world he has been permitted to alight on our shores. Out of love for all the Children of Iluvatar, the Eldar and Men, he has come to call out pity and aid from the Lords of the West.”

“The world is changing, and a new era dawning,” Yavanna followed in her sweet ringing tones. “The cry shall be heard at last: for pity, pardon for the exiles, and succor beyond hope for those who suffer in the darkened lands, ere Morgoth ascends to final and lasting victory over all. And it will be given! War against the Enemy who has despoiled the world — it is coming!”

Then Aulë said, with pity softening his craggy looks: “But lady, the tale is not yet all told. For I foresee that this jewel that comes back across the sea is the only one of the Three that shall ever come here. But of those who were your own treasures, they have soiled their claim in blood unjustly shed, falling from noble war against the Enemy to needless crimes against their own kin. A choice still lies before the few who remain, ere the close; to choose a path of repentance or despair. But a dark cloud lies over their end, and little hope, I ween. My guess is that none of your own shall come among us again, unless first they pass through death and the halls of Mandos and win release. And maybe that will not be until the world is remade.”

Yavanna had tears in her eyes, and on her sun-burnt cheek. “Perhaps it would have been more merciful to you if such sons had never been, then the fates to which they have come. To have them and to lose them all, ending in such evil downfalls: perhaps it is worse than never having — “

“No,” said the sculptor with finality. “Would you rather your Trees had never lived? Or that they grew, and once were happy, but were destroyed? And it is not for myself alone that I have been laboring. A million mother and fathers have lost their sons and daughters since Morgoth passed over the seas. And all is all: if a mother had only a single child, and lost them, then she has lost her whole joy, as much as I who have lost seven. My poor Fëanor could not bear it — to make and to love and to lose. But love in full brings with it the risk of losing and parting, as all things in the world cast their own shadow.”

She swiped a grimy hand across her cheek: ”If something is to be done about all this, at the last — good. Now I will finish.”

Then Nerdanel put down her tools and rested.

Link on Ao3 here. Comments and feedback loved and welcomed. And sharing!

#feanorianweek #feanorianweek18 #Nerdanel #silmarillion #birth is messy #creation is messy #bodies #motherhood #blood #dirt #art

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forged-through-trials · 3 years

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Just when I was feeling good about finally overcoming my vampire troubles, I stumbled upon the answers to the case of the missing dead wife... and those answers knocked me for a loop. Rather than investigate Grayrock Cave right away, Ruin and I took a few days off. I’m sure, Gentle Reader, you might think that foolhardy, but you’ve never had to fight vampires before. It’s not something one normally does... but on Skooma, it is. Skooma; not even once!

I just needed some time to recover and detox, so I was laid up in bed for a few days before Ruin and I could hit the road again. But once we did, we made a beeline straight from Skingrad to Grayrock Cave. Boy, oh boy do I have to thank Kud-Ei for the Illusion lessons. They’ve just really improved my dungeon diving experience, and likely made cave-diving trips a lot more visually interesting for you, Gentle Reader. The cave was large, and sprawling, with at least two visible levels. Sheer ledges over looked a steep drop into a small valley, and the place was sparsely populated, mostly by animals.

...and skeletons. Lots and lots of skeletons. Oh, boy, is that a lot of rattled bones. What the heck was going on in here? As Ruin and I searched, we came upon a tunnel, behind a chest... which opened up into an area that glowed with red ambient light, lined with pikes decorated with skulls. Well, if they’re gonna roll out the ‘welcome mat’ for me, guess I oughtta come on in and check things out, eh?

Amid bonfires on opposite sides of cavern, we were jumped by an ogre. To think that not too long ago, getting jumped by an ogre would be a pretty big deal... but now, I was Forged-Through-Trials; Vampire Hunter. And I had a big friend with a big sword able to help me out. We two made fast work of the ogre, and were free now to explore the rest of this cavern. Near where the ogre was standing was a shelf, and upon it was some Suspicious looking meat. Gentle Reader, you know me; under normal circumstances, I find free meat, I’d be stuffing that stuff into my pack without a second thought. But to find meat in a dank cave, especially meat that looks this sketchy? Yeah... I ain’t touchin’ that stuff with a ten-foot pole. On the opposite side of the cavern, there sat a simple potion lab. Sharp-looking bottles littered the table and the shelf behind it, along with a globe with an unusually large rendition of Tamriel on it. Kind of a crap-globe, because I couldn’t find Akivir, Yokudan, or Atmora on it. It only had one huge Tamriel on it. A strange book sat on the table, with a few more up on the shelf. I tried to give it a once over, but the stuff was written in some kind of chicken-scratch that I couldn’t read. Hoping that this wasn’t some child’s imaginary scribbling--or worse, that the Skooma had brained my damage--I held onto the assumption that the writing was, in fact, a discernible language, and plucked up the book, and two more off of the shelf, stuffing them into my pack. What we found in there only raised more questions. So Baldor Varian was seen going in and out of this place frequently, but what ever for? And how would he get past the ogre who guarded it? Perhaps I’ll learn those answers when and if I can find someone to translate these books?

Once back in Skingrad, we legged it over to the Mages Guild, where we had the ‘pleasure’ of speaking to Adrienne Berene again. I found her... carrying a riding crop and calling for Erthor. Trials: “...” I groaned and shook my head. “Hey! Uh, sorry to interrupt... whatever it is you’re doing. And please, don’t explain, but I found some books written in a strange script, and I need them identified and translated.” Adrienne: She gave a jump, and quickly hid the riding crop behind her back. “...sure. On one condition; you didn’t see anything, just now.” Trials: “Oh, trust me, I will be trying to unsee everything related to you for the next week!” I passed her the three books I’d pinched. Adrienne: She inspected the books, and gave a thoughtful nod. “Ah, these appear to be written in Ogrish.” Trials: “...wow, ogres have a written language? I wonder what they write about.” Adrienne: “Mostly, they write about onions. But these books look considerably more complex, and I only know about three phrases in Ogrish; ‘this is my swamp,’ ‘it’s all ogre now,’ and ‘Malacath is love, Malacath is life’.” Trials: “...huh, not the most articulate of species, are they? Well, know anybody who might know a bit more Ogrish and could translate these books for me?” Adrienne: “I can think of several people, but your best chance would be Boderi Farano, at the Arcane University, in the Imperial City.” Trials: “Thanks! ...oh, and go easy on Erthor. He bruises like grape.” Adrienne: She blinked, and narrowed her eyes. “How do you kno--that cheating little son of a--” She drew her riding crop again and resumed searching for the Wood Elf. Trials: “...” I sighed and shook my head. “Time to repress another memory.”

So we had our lead; Ruin and I would be heading back to the Imperial City. By now, the heat from that Mages Staff job has probably died down, so it’s safe to return to the IC. But before we departed Skingrad, its Chronicles book mentioned a trainer of the bow, so I sought out the man, “Reman Broder.” Finding him near his home, I chatted him up about some training. Trials: “Hey, I know it’s late, but I’ve heard you’re ex-Legion and know a thing about how to use a bow. Think you could teach me?” Reman: “No, this is perfect. If you can hit something at night, you can hit it in the light.” Trials: “Huh, I never thought of it that way.” Reman: “If you don’t think of it that way, you’ll never think of it that day.” Trials: “...what’re you doing?” Reman: “I’m just practicing my poetry. I’m retired. What? There’s no hurry.” Trials: “...” I rolled my eyes at him. “Can we cut the rhymes and shoot some bows?” Reman: “Rhymes and bows have much in common, so saith this ex-lawman. “There’s a rhythm to each. That’s not easy to teach. “If you hope to hit the broadside of a barrow, you must master a cadence with your bow and arrows.” Trials: “...” [Speechcraft skill increased.] “...I’m not paying for that!” Reman: “That one’s for free. Now get down on one knee, take aim, and shoot an arrow or three, with me.” We practiced into the night, and after a few lessons, Reman congratulated me on my progress. I’d apparently learned all he could offer, so he offered me a recommendation. Reman: “I can teach you no more. And while it might be a chore, “Seek a Wood Elf in the wilds, a master of the bow she’s styled. “’Alawen’ was her name, and in the forest east of Anvil, she hunts game. “From you, a master of the bow she’ll make, assuming you’ve got the Drakes.” Trials: “...great, now do it in Haiku!” Reman: “...” He sighed. “Alawen, master, “East of Anvil, South, Kvatch “She’ll teach you, for gold.”

The following morning, Ruin and I ‘borrowed’ a horse, and made for the Imperial City. Ruin: “...you own a horse?” Trials: “Not exactly... but I know the guy who owns this horse.” Ruin: “I see. And they will be alright with you taking their horse to the Imperial City?” Trials: “Trust me. We’ll never hear any complaints about it.” All technically true. I know most of the major players in Skingrad, so I ‘know’ the person who owns this horse. And ‘we’ll never hear them complain’... because he’s never going to find out it was me! With my pack loaded down with loot, we rode to the Imperial City. If I was going to schlep it all the way there, I was going to make some Septims off of this trip.

First real stop, after arriving, was A Fighting Chance. Even though I have the Light of Dawn, now, I still wanted one of those replica sword from Mercator. If anything else, Ruin could use it. It still cost quite the pretty Drake, but I managed to acquire one of those marvelous swords, and... well... this replica is actually slightly sharper than Light of Dawn. Hmm... [Light of Dawn seethed with jealousy.] Nah, nah, I’ll be sticking with LoD for now, hehe. But this beauty will look fabulous on my mantle... too bad I don’t have a house! After that, I turned around to Rohssan to sell off a little more loot, and take a few lessons in Smithing. I don’t plan on becoming a professional smith or anything, but if I can keep my gear in tip-top shape, well that would just be one more thing that could help keep me alive, now wouldn’t it? Rohssan: “Well, what’re you hoping to learn about Smithing?” Trials: “How to swing a hammer without breaking my thumbs.“ Rohssan: “You... just tuck your thumb in before you swing.” Trials: Revelation. “Of course!” [Armorer skill increased.] Rohssan: “...that’ll be thee-hundred gold.” Trials: “...by the Nine!” Well, that lesson apparently pushed me into the category of ‘Expert’... which makes me fear for the poor Journeyman Smiths. But now that I’m at this level, I’d need to seek out a Master to get any better. So Rohssan referred me to a local Master; “Gin-Wulm.” With recommendation in hand, I sought out Gin-Wulm, and found him in the Market square. He was... less than enthused with my request. Gin-Wulm: He groaned, and crossed his arms. “Ugh... fine, if you care so much about learning the art of Smithing, then you should be able to pass a simple quiz.” Trials: “Uh... sure. Lay it on me!” Gin-Wulm: “Alright. What does the name ‘Hazadir’ mean to you?” Trials: “...” I blinked. “...dammit, a quiz I haven’t studied for. This is just like that dream, only I’m not in my underwear.” Gin-Wulm: “...uuuuuuhh.”

Trials: “...” I yelped and covered myself as best I could. “AHH!?”

Retreating from the Market square, I... first found my clothes. Then, I decided to hit up the First Edition bookstore. While I ran from the square, Gin-Wulm had mentioned a book, “The Armorer’s Challenge” as a hint to the answer to his riddle. The gist of the story is; during the reign of Empress Katariah, she proposed that an ex-slave, ‘Hazadir,’ design armor and weapons for troops going into Black Marsh. He was to compete with Sirollus Saccus, the greatest smith in the Imperial City at the time, for the contract. Long story short; Hazadir won the competition, by knowing the environment of Black Marsh well, and designing simple, cheap, effective armor made for the climate and conditions. Huh, and here I thought studying for this quiz would be boring? It was actually kind of fun learning about an Argonian, a former slave at that, who won a competition through wit and wisdom. Now, armed with both pants and answers, I returned to Gin-Wulm to answer his quiz. Gun-Wulm: “Ah, I see you remembered your clothes this time. So, can you now answer my question?” Trials: “Sure can! ‘Hazadir’ was the winner of the Armorer’s Challenge.” Gun-Wulm: “So, you do know a thing or two... Hazadir was my father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former roommate.” Trials: “...what’s that make us?” Gun-Wulm: “Absolutely nothing!” Trials: “Alright, now will you teach me what you know about Smithing?” Gun-Wulm: “Alright... do you know about tucking your thumbs in?” Trials: “...I’m not paying for this.”

#the elder scrolls #oblivion #modded #let's play #roleplay #ask blog

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junker-town · 3 years

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Jake Paul is caught between boxing’s next big draw and another sideshow

Is Jake Paul saving boxing, or making a mockery of it?

Jake Paul is a great many things: YouTuber, influencer, Disney Channel star — now boxer. Well, kind of. Paul won his second fight on Saturday, knocking out retired NBA player Nate Robinson in a messy bout that achieved its goal of getting people to watch. Being the showman he is, Paul capped off his night by stepping beyond simply donning gloves against untrained fighters. He boasted he was “the next Floyd Mayweather,” in an attempt to do what he’s truly gifted at, gaining attention.

The intrigue following the fight wasn’t the knockout itself, unless you like the idea of roasting Nate Robinson. It was whether Paul’s fights are making a mockery of boxing history and turning the sport into a sideshow, or if his arrival on cards is introducing boxing to a new generation of fans, and saving it in the process. Mike Tyson, who was also on the card Saturday, made his feelings known, saying that he felt Paul’s arrival was integral to the future of the sport.

“Boxing was pretty much a dying sport. UFC was kicking our butts, and now we got these YouTube boxers boxing with 25 million views. Boxing’s going back. Thanks to the YouTube boxers.”

We’re left with a delicate balance. It’s unquestioned that boxing has moved to being a niche sport in the U.S, survived by its purist fans after mixed martial arts took younger viewers. Is it worth trying to recapture that former big fight glory in the hopes boxing will rise again, or is putting people like Jake Paul front and center damaging the integrity of the sport itself?

Scott Christ is the manager of Bad Left Hook, SB Nation’s boxing blog. He believes that while a larger conversation is taking place about whether Paul is boxing’s devil or savior, in reality he doesn’t think Paul will make a long-term impact.

While there is unquestionably interest in seeing people like Jake Paul fight, boxing hasn’t managed to convert these newfound viewers into full-time fans. “They bring with them an audience that doesn’t normally watch boxing, and also isn’t very interested in the more “legitimate” boxing on the rest of the card,” Christ says. There’s a novelty factor in tuning in to see whether Paul can fight, or whether he’ll fall on the canvas — but little of the attraction is about boxing itself. Even with an influencer involved the only influencing seems to come from building Paul’s own brand, not lifting up the sport itself.

The only influencing seems to come from building Paul’s own brand, not lifting up the sport itself.

Christ doesn’t see Paul hurting the sport with fights like this, because more eyes are better than less, even if they’re curiosity viewers. However, if he’s going to have an impact on the sport there is a potential path to making Paul into something beyond a sideshow: He’d need to learn to be an actual boxer. This doesn’t mean putting on gloves to fight other YouTubers and former NBA stars, but legitimately training in a way where he could hang with professionally trained fighters. This isn’t outside the realm of possibility, considering Paul is only 23 and has the time to learn, but his willingness in this regard might be another story.

“Would he really have the desire for that? The focus for that?” Christ says, “Is boxing truly going to become his life? He might think that it already is, which is where I wonder about sincere delusion compared to salesmanship, but there’s really no way he’s actually been at that level of dedication.”

There are a few things that hint at Paul having some skills, but Christ calls him a “white-collar boxer,” a hobbyist who exhibits more skill that someone with zero training, but who can’t be compared in any facet to a trained fighter. “You watch his footwork and compare it to a genuine pro, and it’s not the same world,” Christ says, “You watch the way he lets his punches go, the angles he comes from, and it’s the same thing. You’ll beat opponents who don’t know what they’re doing, which he has, but guys who have trained for years, since they were kids, probably another story.”

Everything comes back to one key question: How much does Jake Paul want this? Nobody can answer that question except Paul himself, because any public answer he gives will be obscured with layer, upon layer of carefully orchestrated spin and tantalizing answers to keep people on the hook.

Despite claims he’s the next Mayweather, or calling out Conor McGregor, Paul isn’t ready. Not by a long shot. Christ mentions journeyman lightweight Tommy Karpency, a 34-year-old fighter who has had success, but never really become a serious contender. In his eyes if Paul were to step in the ring with Karpency he’d get toyed with. “It would take Jake years more to be able to hang with that sort of professional, and that’s well before we’re getting into the actual elite fighters out there.”

At its core boxing has always been about two forces working in concert: fighting and promotion. In 2020, there’s perhaps nobody better than Jake Paul to bring attention to sport.

Paul’s arrival in the boxing world is polarizing. There’s a general disdain towards any kind of celebrity boxing from actual fighters. This is a dangerous sport, where people put years of training, and also their lives on the line. A YouTuber setting up exhibition fights and calling out trained professionals is an affront to those who have gone through the rigors and sacrifice it takes to actually become professionals. However, despite this general dislike of any celebrity boxing, it does bring attention to lesser-known fighters who might otherwise not compete on a card with this many people watching. It also seems to be far more of a problem to be waxed poetically about, rather than for professionals taking a date on a Jake Paul card. “Devin Haney and Billy Joe Saunders are world class fighters who were on the KSI-Logan Paul undercard in November of 2019,” Christ says, “and boxing fans and fighters who weren’t those guys seemed to be far more insulted than either of them were.”

“You can’t help but wonder if those who currently loudly protest might change their tune if they were offered the slot and a good payday,” says Christ, and really that’s one part of the issue. How much is the backlash against Paul boxing because he’s competing, and how much is a perceived insult because someone is bringing attention, and money to the sport — and there aren’t enough slots on the card to go around?

The only certainty in this situation is that Paul will continue to ride this buzz until the wheels fall off. Whether that ends in a few months, a couple of years, or if, by some bizarre twist of fate, Paul decides to dedicate himself to boxing and becomes the kind of fighter who can make bold challenges without it seeming like a joke. At its core boxing has always been about two forces working in concert: fighting and promotion. In 2020 perhaps there’s nobody better than Jake Paul to bring attention to sport, but as one of the world’s kings of self-promotion his influence might only extend to how it enhances his personal brand, at which point he’ll be off to chase the next new thing, and boxing will be left to return to its equilibrium.

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