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elderscrollsconceptart · 1 day

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Saint Jiub's Browser History

>What is a Morrowboomer

#the elder scrolls #tes #jiub #saint jiub #saint jiubs browser history #tes ponderings

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renthari-from-telvanni · 1 month

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„ I am a hunter. I am a redeemer. I am Jiub.

The tale of my rise to glory begins in the ash wastes of Morrowind... ”

— Saint Jiub's Opus

#jiub #saint jiub #dunmer #morrowind #the elder scrolls #tes #fanart #theelderscrolls #elder scrolls #vvardenfell #cliff racer #dunmer art #my art

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muscariii · 5 days

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Heeey guys °_°

I finished this thing. Finally. I had fun but it was also really exhausting. I'll probably do more though -w- Sorry for the blood again.

I'm not that experienced in making comics so sorry if it looks a bit awkward.

So yeah! Anyway! Here's this comic thing with Rasha. This is basically how I think the story would go with her. I'll be adding a lot of stuff for my own pleasure so sorry if some stuff later will end up different from the canon story!

I like to imagine that Nerevar's spirit shows up when Rasha arrives to Morrowind but I also figured that it would be too easy cause he could just tell her everything in that situation. So... I decided to take away his face at the start of the story. It makes sense because Rasha has absolutely no idea who Nerevar is. He'll regain his face when Rasha learns a bit more about the whole situation she's in.

#i dont know how often i will make stuff like this #it took a lot of time #i definitely had fun making it #but still it takes a lot of effort #anyway i hope you guys enjoy!!!#the elder scrolls #tes #morrowind #indoril nerevar #nerevar #nerevarine #tes oc #saint jiub #cw blood #muscariart

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igorlevchenko-blog · 2 months

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Jiub wrestles cliff racers at Arkngthand. Digital painting. Made in Krita. Feel free to repost. Always looking for a commission to paint.

#digital art #morrowind #dunmer #tes fanart #elder scrolls #vvardenfell #tamriel #tes morrowind #elder scrols online #gaming #krita #crpg #rpg #digital portrait #noai #dwemer #cliff racer #saint jiub #morrowind fanart

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ambarys · 3 months

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Feel free to ask any questions about Skywind btw, having a blast testing it

#the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #tes morrowind #tes 3 morrowind #morrowind #saint jiub #jiub #guar #funny #funny memes #meme #memes #elder scrolls memes

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theguartist · 11 months

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Jiub meme

#jiub #saint jiub #morrowind #tes #the elder scrolls

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lotsstuf · 1 year

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No matter what anyone says, I love them...

#the elder scrolls #morrowind #the elder scrolls morrowind #tes #tes3 #eso #the elder scolls online #vivec #tribunal #dunmer #sotha sil #molag bal #saint jiub #jiub #voryn dagoth #dagoth ur #I died while I was posting hashtags...

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thatforestprince · 4 months

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The Death of Aventus Aretino circa 4E 201

#skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #aventus aretino #jiub #saint jiub #morrowind #gmod #garry's mod #matt speaks

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aladaylessecondblog · 21 days

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Red Mountain Waffle House Pt. 1

A job, the skooma-head (or sugartooth around here) had said. But she'd have to come up with some cover by doing some favors for the Fighters' Guild and Mages' Guild. And collect some information from them, too...honestly, it was such a load of shit and the guy looked so crazy Sadara could only make quick excuses before rushing out the door.

A spymaster for the Blades? That guy was crazy, and obviously lying. And that package, who knew what was actually in it. Probably she was just made into some kind of drug mule, and she wasn't eager to get into THAT business, however profitable it might be. That business about the Emperor was obviously some kind of front.

Why the port at Seyda Neen had insisted on giving her those papers and what they meant - it wasn't going to be HER problem any longer. She'd find her own way just like she always had.

Emperor my ass, that was probably a smuggler taking a lofty title.

Guarshit. Absolute guarshit. She didn't feel the least bit bad about lifting a couple cigarettes from Caius's stash--not like he was using them anyway, not from how dusty they were and how blistered that spoon under his bed looked.

Jiub, she had to find Jiub. If that man was good at anything it was finding a way to land on his feet. Murder charges - what did that really matter, he'd been charged with murder before and gotten off every time.

Sadara found herself mainly hunting cliffracers for awhile, remembering Jiub saying now and then in a skooma-induced haze that he had a dream to eradicate them. Not that she would herself, but it was a profitable venture, even if it did result in a few new scars. Between Balmora and Ald'ruhn she'd trek, selling the plumes and anything else she might have found on the way there.

Not a glamorous living, but she'd see Jiub every now and then in Ald'ruhn and a friend she saw now and then was better than nothing. He was pursuing a similar course of action on a different track, though when she mentioned she'd like to have an actual job and not just live by freelancing, he promised to keep an ear out for something.

In this cycle did she live for several months before finding that, on a new visit to Ald'ruhn, Jiub wasn't where he'd usually be.

A letter waited for her instead.

Sadara,

Remember how you said you wanted a steady job that didn't involve freelancing? I've got something that might suit you. They just opened up a Waffle House in the Red Mountain region. Shithole neighborhood, but it's steady work and they'll take basically anyone, even if you've got priors. Lucky for me, huh?

Anyway, I told the manager I had someone in mind and they're willing to hold a job for you. Just show up, try not to be too drunk, and the job's yours. (I'll be honest, I'm looking for someone to split the rent on my new place with too, and it's not a good idea to live alone here anyway.)

P.S. I included some gold, buy me a pack of Balmora Lights before you head up here.

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

There weren't that many houses and such on the outside of the Ghostfence...as if civilization just stopped at its border. The silt strider stop was covered in graffiti, and someone was asleep underneath the bench at the foot of the stairs.

"Has the tower fallen?" a male voice called out. He lifted his head. "The red tower! It burns!"

Oh, so not asleep just yet.

"Tower's fine, man, go back to sleep."

That seemed to satisfy the mer, and he went quiet again. Sadara headed on to the Ghostgate entrance itself, and after being warned about the blight winds for what had to be the millionth time so far since she arrived in Morrowind, she pulled her turtleneck up, tilted her hat down, and tried to keep her eyes on the directions on her phone screen.

It really is just like home.

Now she was on the road to it, though, she was at leisure to think about why the Empire would put a Waffle House in the Red Mountain region anyway. Sure there were other restaurants, but mainly hole-in-the-wall type places catering to the ebony miners and buoyant armigers. Local places. A Waffle House was an Imperial thing, and it seemed like this was the LAST place they'd want to have one. This wasn't exactly Hlaalu territory.

It was a Hlaalu kind of move, though, to put Imperial stuff where it wasn't--

The building appeared in her sight when she rounded a corner. The blight winds didn't ease up a bit, but it was hard to miss the glaring yellow of the sign overhead -

WAFFLE HOUSE

A lighthouse in the red fog of this absolute wasteland.

Sadara struggled forward, thinking only of getting out of the dusty wind, and--

--nearly fell on her ass.

Groaning, she looked down, noting a brief glitter among the red grit at her feet. She reached down and picked up...a ring? Pretty polished silver with a moon, a burned bronze star, and a small diamond (or a fake, it was hard to tell) set in the middle. It looked valuable and she couldn't figure why it would be out here. Maybe someone was stealing it and just happened to drop it here while on the rung?

It slipped so nicely onto the ring finger of her right hand, too.

She decided to consider it a gift from above, and headed on into the Waffle House before she wasted any more time out in the storm.

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

Jiub was right. The manager, a thin elderly Dunmer woman, seemed fairly reasonable about her application.

"My name's Nibani Maesa, I'm the manager here. You didn't show up drunk or blasted out of your mind, that's already a point in your favor. Have you waited tables before?"

"Yeah, a few times. Once for a place in Bravil and then a couple different places in Leyawiin."

"Have you got priors?"

"A few bar fights." Sadara paused when the woman gave her a look. "Being drunk in public...possession."

"Can you handle yourself if you're attacked?"

"I lived on the Waterfront in the Imperial City for two years, I can handle anything with my fists."

That seemed to satisfy her and after a few questions more the woman gave a nod. "You've got the job. Whatever Jiub told you, though, we've got rules. Don't fuck in the freezer, don't sleep in the storage, and if you absolutely HAVE to smoke skooma, do it in the bathroom like a civilized mer. We clear?"

"Yeah, but...people fuck in the freezer?" Sadara's hands came up as she laughed.

"Don't ask. So long as..." Nibani's exasperated tone faded off rather suddenly, and her gaze was directed at Sadara's right hand. "That ring, where did you get it?"

"Huh? Oh, is it yours?" She held her right hand out. "I found it outside...looks nice, doesn't it?"

She started to take it off, but was surprised when Nibani stopped her.

"No, no, it's not mine, but you might want to be careful showing it off around here, especially if the buoyant armigers drop by."

The woman muttered something else under her breath, something Sadara was certain she wasn't intended to hear.

"Azura preserve me..."

"What about the corprus monsters everyone keeps saying are all over the place?"

"Oh no, the corprus monsters are easy by comparison. Lesson one - put something on the jukebox that's catchy with an easy repeating beat, and they'll forget what they were mad about."

"What about, uh...the smarter ones? I've heard there are..."

"Be polite and they're fine. And try to ignore the religious proselytizing they're doing, no matter how nice the pamphlets are or how much you might like the painting on the covers. Seems every year they get an artist to add another set of abs to the picture of their god on the front."

"They WHAT."

"Rule number two," Nibani lit up a cigarette, "Don't ask anyone that follows him about the devil of Dagoth. They'll keep you at their table half the night and do nothing but say how glorious you could be in his service and how we're all meant to serve a higher power. Some nonsense about dreams, that sort of thing. You understand."

"Suppose I accidentally get roped into the conversation?"

"Be polite...but noncommittal. And don't get your hands too close to their mouths - the ones that still have a mouth, anyway. They'll bite you and you'll catch corprus. We've got gloves for when we need to serve people that've got it."

"Why not just stop them coming in?"

"Because their gold spends just as well as anyone else's...and if they bring in one of their amulets, we take those too. They're symbols of that devil but they're valuable enough to pay your rent for a few months."

"So..." Sadara paused, a a little awkwardly. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow," Nibani replied, "You're rooming with Jiub, right? How do you feel about the night shift? Would be safer for you to go back and forth in this neck of the woods if you've got someone to go with."

"Night shift's fine...and thanks. For thinking about my safety."

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changelingsandothernonsense · 6 months

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Wip whenever or whatever

I'm tired, had a hell of a (two) weeks and then I worded like...7000 words in a day then I drew the descriptions.... And throwing in some other art stuff I'm bouncing around XD That's it really XD tagged by @mareenavee and @saltymaplesyrup

~Art and Writing~

And that writing I was doing under the cut!

Jiub's POV

Your brow furrowed, the faded, violet tattoos that framed your face creasing with the movement. I had worried about covering this part in my memoirs. Talking about the last six years often upset you but I wanted your opinion on it. I wanted your thoughts on everything, really. It was you who had inspired me to take on the winged menace after all. On that one fateful day in the Ashlands. A raging ashstorm and a flock of the things had taken you down by the old Redoran estate at Bal Isra. I had heard your cries as I made my crossing on my silt strider, my destination, Ald’ruhn, where you had been travelling from. I had shot every last one of the things, though the fight was a difficult one. Then I offered you my hand…and a ride back to Maar Gan.

It was out of my way, in the opposite direction to my destination but there was that look in your eye that I recognised from our first meeting on that prison ship. Fear. Fear made you combative, made you lash out. Though that time, you let me console you. You let me help. You even took that leftover lunch I had offered you. You had been so concerned over the loss of the gift you’d carefully prepared to give to that Velothi. The one your superior had charged with guiding you to that Ashland camp. I couldn’t just let you walk into that potential snake pit with nothing to show. I had grown fond of you during our brief interactions, though that was often a habit of mine. I always form attachments too quickly.

Though the truth was there was little to worry about. That Velothi would become more than a hired guide to you after all. He was your champion, your right hand through the ordeals to come. I supposed I had always been a little envious of your late husband. How you had taken to him, the stories I’d overhear in Vvadenfell’s corner clubs and tradehouses of the Nerevarine and his champion. The rumours of your exploits, as the two of you gathered armies and favours and… I wished I could have been a part of it, but fate would not have our paths cross again until four years later and my dear, you always knew how to make an entrance.

It was an evening, not unlike this. A storm crashing through Kvatch, winds raging and the loud, rambunctious jeering from a mer who had way too much to drink in the alley below. When the crashing came from the alley and not from the storm, I resolved to go check. It was not an uncommon occurrence, my apartment sat behind the local tavern after all. Drunks were a common sight but there was a certain, potent distress to the cries that had been coming from the alley that night. Odd, considering that night was meant to be one of celebration… well, amongst the Dunmeri diaspora anyway. The fourth anniversary of the defeat of Dagoth Ur and his minions. An end to the Blight that had decimated our homeland for centuries and counting. A festival to honour Morrowind’s great protector. I had chosen to stay in that night, to work on my memoirs, as I often did but the commotion from outside, the yelling the- I had come outside to tell you to piss off somewhere else. That you were disrupting my concentration! How could I tell the world of my own brilliant exploits when there was some drunken fetcher screaming profanities about the Nerevarine at the top of his lungs?

I always said you knew how to make an entrance, Sero and an entrance you made. I found you passed out alone in that alley. A large gash to your head where you had struck a barrel of gods know what and a curious, expensive dagger laying by your side. There was blood everywhere, I couldn’t make sense of it all. You were lying alone, crumpled and small, shivering half naked in soiled clothing. A bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy smashed into a thousand pieces against my wall.

It was sad, to see how far you had fallen in such a short time. I had seen the paintings of you throughout Morrowind and later, the reproductions in Cheydinhal. You always looked so regal in them. So strong, like the hero everyone expected you to be. The legend from the stories. The mer with a fire in his eyes. He who had stared death in the face and sent it screaming into the jaws of Oblivion.

It was a stark contrast to the mer who lay passed out cold from drink and grief in the alley beside my apartment in Kvatch. Small, shivering and horribly scared from all that had happened in these last few years. I felt a sense of compassion I supposed, you always showed up in the strangest of circumstances. I gathered you into my arms as you whispered a name that wasn’t mine and I chose not to correct you. I took you inside and placed you on the daybed in my study. It would be easiest to watch over you from there. I had cleaned you up, changed you out of those filthy trousers and left you to sleep off your bender in the warm quiet of my study. It was as I was cleaning you up that I found the source of the bleeding, a series of deep lacerations around a ring too small for your finger. The one that told everyone who had heard the tales exactly who you were.

You told me when you had awoken that you had tried to remove the ring. That you had resorted to trying to amputate the entire digit when the band wouldn’t budge. As it tightened around your finger. As His taunts swirled like a sickness in your head. You wanted to be rid of it all, to forget that the last few years had ever happened. That you always broke like this whenever this day came around.