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mareenavee · 10 months

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WIP Whenever~

Hello my friends <3 Been tagged by @thequeenofthewinter to participate in WIP Wednesday Wife Worship Wednesday! I never get to play this because Nyenna and Athis have... so, so many problems. But today we do, because Nyenna is dreaming. Having brain nonsense, really. But first, tags.

Let's go! Tagging the most esteemed @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @rhiannon1199, @snippetsrus, @orfeoarte, @inquisition-dragonborn, @the-storytellers-seer, @archangelsunited and @polypolymorph!

Below the cut, part of Chapter 28 from The World on Our Shoulders.

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She heard the wind before she felt the morning mist on her skin. Things were slowly greying, like a light after she’d hidden under her covers. The sun, maybe, though she couldn’t recall when last she’d seen it. It hid behind clouds, mimicking her own hesitation. She opened her eyes, not having realized they’d been closed before. Whatever this was, with how quickly the image changed, she was thrown off balance at best. But the mist — yes. This felt familiar. Something like Whiterun, out by the river. Yes. The tundra cotton. She could see it now. She could feel her hands and feet where they’d only been vague concepts before, and liminal ones at that. She sighed and flexed her fingers. She’d never seen Skyrim in the height of summer, but she’d always imagined it like this — warm, plenty of flowers. Even bees buzzing, working as if all was exactly as it had always been and not this odd dream-version of things. Nyenna turned her face to the sun, let herself bask in its warmth as if she was one of the scraggly trees which dotted the landscape. She reached her arms toward it, and a dusty blanket fell from her shoulders with a strange, muffled, heavy sound. “What are you doing?” came a voice. Familiar, but distant. Something ached in her chest at the sound. Athis. Gods, she missed him. Her heart hurt trying to decide if he was really here or if this was some cruel madness. Likely the latter. She turned anyway, her grey mage robes billowing in a warm breeze that cut across the plains. He was as beautiful as she remembered — all the stress gone from his eyes, none of the weariness held in his shoulders or jaw. The weariness she’d caused. “Waiting for you,” she felt herself saying, though this seemed like a lie. He accepted it easily. He ran a hand through his ginger hair, ebony mail gleaming in the summer sunlight. She closed the distance between them and crushed into his embrace, heedless of heavy layers of metal between them. He didn’t say anything, only shifted to hold her against his chest. He smelled of mead and snowberries, like he always did. The memory struck her like steel against steel. Like she’d only dreamt of leaving, and she would wake up any moment now, wrapped in his arms, skin against skin. “I waited so long,” Athis said, voice quiet and somber, incongruous with the life that thrummed through this place, like the cry of Nirnroot at the river’s edge. “I’m sorry. I was on my way back to you,” Nyenna said, and somehow, that too was a lie. She tried again, forcing the words from her throat, which still hurt. “I miss you.” “Do you?” Athis asked. Not sarcastic, nor accusatory. A question, which needed an answer. A real one. “Of course.” He accepted that, too, and kneaded the muscle of her shoulder blade as he held her. He’d looked off into the distance, eyes focused on the mountains or the clouds. Mist gathered on his beard, his armor; he seemed like a permanent fixture here, rooted deep into the soil, never to be cut down. And she loved him. The ache of it was tearing her apart. She’d do anything at all — anything — for this to be real. For this image to love her back. She looked at him and felt rootless. Unmoored. A scrap of parchment fluttering in an ethereal breeze, belonging nowhere and to no one. He took her face in his hands, expression still oddly distant, eyebrows knit in confusion. He kissed her and her eyes fluttered closed. This was was right. If she had to be lost in a dream, then she was glad it was one of Athis.

#MareenaWrites #WIP Whenever #WIP Wednesday #Athis #Nyenna #LDB/Athis #The World on Our Shoulders #tes #tesblr #skyrim #elder scrolls #writblr #fanficblr #skyrim fic #writeblr #wife worship wednesday #except this is kind of sad anyway #that's just who I am as a writer sorry lol

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wellthebardsdead · 1 year

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*Secrets Part 1*

———

Henwen: *face and body covered in heavy robes as he walks into Riften a few days after rescuing Kaidan and climbing to high hrothgar to speak with the grey beards*

Kaidan: You don’t seem to keen on heading to get the war horn. We’re a long way from morthal.

Henwen: *sighs and looks up at him* look at me Kaidan. You saw how poorly I fight. Unless it’s a bear or a troll I’m useless… How am I meant to be the dragonborn if I can’t fight beyond using a spear?… Besides, I’m running low on coin after you drank the inn out of its ale. We stay here for tonight and I try to earn us some money.

Kaidan: I said I was sorry didn’t I? And you’re not useless you just need some training. And if all else fails that’s what I’m for, it’s my job to protect you.

Henwen: You shouldn’t have to protect me though… *sighs and walks ahead a little only to jump in fright as a large brute of a man snarls at him from the shadows*

Maul: Hey! I don’t know you. You in riften looking for trouble?

Henwen: I- no I’m j-just here for work.

Maul: *pushes off the post he was leaning on to get a closer look and try to see under the elf’s hood* Work huh? What’s a shifty looking guy like you do for w- *immediately backs up as Kaidan steps forward*

Kaidan: Ay! Asshole! *grabs Henwen gently but firmly as he tucks him behind his body to keep him shielded* This one. Is under MY protection and I will seperate your head from your body faster than you can blink! If you, interfere, with us.

Maul: *visibly intimidated by the giant warrior* easy there big guy- I don’t want any trouble. *backs away and walks off*

Kaidan: *grunts at him as he leaves before looking back at Henwen* You alright?

Henwen: y-yeah. Just, caught off guard…

Kaidan: You best learn to keep it up… Especially around this place…

Henwen: aye… *walks ahead and into the tavern*

*a few hours later*

Henwen: *finished playing his lyre and singing for the lunch time crowd as they began to filter out and return to work, only to spot a handsome and well dressed man staring at him by the door* … *Nervously looks away and tucks his earnings into his concealed pocket*

???: All of skyrims songbirds are certainly envious of your voice, lad.

Henwen: *spins around and nearly jumps out of his skin seeing the man leaning against the wall next to him now* I-!?

???: I take it by how lite in the pockets you are that you’re looking for work yeah? I have an opportunity available right now suited for someone with your, nimble fingers. *gestures to the lyre in his hands*

Henwen: *stupidly thinks hes offering a music gig* oh? It depends if there’s coin involved.

???: heh, do this right, and there’ll be more gold in it for you then you could ever imagine. The names Brynjolf by the way. Follow me, I’ll show you what needs doing.

*A few moments later*

Henwen: *staring at the stolen ring in his hand, blood boiling as he looks at the poor unsuspecting dunmer he’s supposed to plant it on* … *disappears into the crowd downing an invisibility potion as he goes* trick me into trying to get an innocent person imprisoned, I’ll teach you a lesson you prick… *creeps up to Brynjolf and slips the ring into his pocket before hurrying away and reappearing, giving the red headed thief the signal of a job done*

Brynjolf: *nods and smirks thinking things are finally going right as he watches the guards accost and harass the dunmer into turning out his pockets… only to look concerned and confused as said pockets come out empty* what?…

Henwen: *suddenly points at Brynjolf* HELP! THIEF!!! HE STOLE FROM THE ARGONIAN JEWELLER!!

Brynjolf: *face a mix of shock and rage* I?! Exu- how dare you accuse me of something like that?!

Madesi: he what- don’t be ridiculous how could he o- *freezes seeing his strongbox missing the ring* I- GUARDS!

The guards: *secretly thieves too, now looking very nervous as they walk over to Brynjolf and turn out his pockets revealing the ring* Erm? Yep, there. There it is…

Henwen: *yoinks it from their hand and glares at Brynjolf, his smug little grin hidden behind his cowl as he walks off and returns the ring to the argonian* I saw him grab it when the crowd disbursed.

Madesi: *takes the ring back and gladly hands him a bag of gold* Thank you so much. I knew he had ties to the guild but they really must be desperate to pull a stunt like that. *watches as the guards lead Bryn off supposedly to jail, and the look on his face as he glares at the shrouded snow elf* You best watch your back though now… I have a feeling he’s not going to let this go easily…

Henwen: *looks back at Bryn meeting his gaze one more time* I think you’re right…

*That evening*

Henwen: *playing and singing for the tavern again. Watching Kaidan get drunker and drunker with concern, but staring at the numerous shady figures around the inn with even greater concern as they all stare back at him* Thank you all! I’m going to take a short break-

Drunkard: oiii you can’t stop now you haven’t played Ragnar the red yet!

Patron: yes he did you twit you made him sing it twice!

The tavern: *erupts with laughter and chatter as they turn their attention away from the bard, everyone except the shady figures*

Henwen: … *walks over to Kaidan quietly and hands him the money he earned* Ere, I’m going to go have a piss, don’t get too pissed while I’m out, we’re leaving early in the morning remember?

Kaidan: Aye, I remember, don’t you be getting into -*hiccups* trouble now, alright? Riftens dangerous at night.

Henwen: I know. I’ll be careful… *smiles nervously at him before walking outside, and slowly moving around to the back of the inn as if he’s casually off to do his business, only to be met face to face with Brynjolf, dressed openly in thieves guild armour, flanked by two other thieves* shit.

Brynjolf: I’m impressed lad… it’s one thing to plant a ring on some unsuspecting fool. It’s another thing to plant one in the pocket of a seasoned thief… You’ve more than proven your worth to the guild, and can’t let you slip out of our grasp now can we? Especially since you owe us a debt now.

Henwen: I owe you nothing… *backs up, reaching for his spear only to be grabbed by two rough hands from behind, one on his throat, the other on his wrist* Gaghh!! *grabs at the hand on his throat, clawing at it violently only making it squeeze tighter*

Brynjolf: Don’t damage him Dirge, he owes us a lot for making us look like a bunch of fools today… *slowly moves forward grabbing at fabric concealing the elf’s identity* and he can make his first payment by showing us what he’s hid- *goes quiet as the bloodied point of a blade stops seconds from meeting his eye*

Kaidan: Let him go. Or I’m taking your friends other arm too…

Dirge: … *slowly looks down to see his arm had been sliced completely off* … *looks at Brynjolf* …Ow… *wobbles a little before letting go of Henwen and blacking out*

#things got off on a rocky start between Brynjolf and Wendy #skyrim #henwen dragonborn #Kaidan skyrim #falmer dragonborn #Brynjolf #ocs

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vivifriend · 3 months

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Almost

It is OC Kiss week! And it really got me excited to take screenshots of two of my favorite werewolf oc's, Sarlfi and Elilia. And then I wrote a little too, because... that's just who I am I suppose. I'll collect the writing onto AO3 at the end of the week, for now, it's under the read-more. ^_^

Skyrim: OC/ OC

Sarlfi: Falkreath Hold

The Vigilants of Stendarr claim the forests of Falkreath are infested with werewolves. A fact that Sarlfi, a Nord werewolf, finds hard to refute. But there are no Vigilants or Silver Hand this deep in the woods. It's idyllic here, peaceful. A refuge he enjoys every chance he gets. And yet, his retreat to this corner of Falkreath has another motive today. It has been three months since he last saw his betrothed, and here is where they promised they'd reunite.

The pine he leans against is sticky with sap, the scent of it heavy in his nose. In his opinion, it's what marks the true transition from spring to summer. Twisting slightly, wincing when it tugs at a half-healed injury, he reaches a hand up to press lightly against an amber droplet glowing in the sunlight.

A breaking twig draws his attention across the clearing, and he smiles, bracing his arm on his knee, watching his betrothed, a Reachwoman named Elilia, step fully into the clearing.

"Not rising to meet me?" She teases.

"What can I say?" he says. "I'm a lazy wolf." He reaches a hand toward her, grinning when she picks up the pace. "Come soak in the sun with me."

Laughing, she pulls her pack off and drops it next to the tree, letting him pull her into his lap, casting a healing spell when he winces, erasing his pain.

"I missed you," she says, violet eyes bright with truth, her scent heavy with it.

He smiles, tugging her hair tie free, running his fingers through silky grey hair. "I wish I could have gone with you."

Her smile slips. "Your father's reluctance to let you leave Skyrim troubles me."

"Add it to the list," he suggests, amused when she tugs the leather strap out of his auburn curls.

"Later," she says, resting her head on his shoulder, running her fingers lightly against his beard.

Leaning in close, he kisses her gently, soaking in the peace.

"When do you need to go back?" she asks.

"Not for another day or so yet. I'm 'hunting.'"

"Oh? What are you hoping to snag?"

He laughs, kissing her hair, holding her close. He doesn't bother trying to think of a witty response, he knows she doesn't expect it. "Thought I'd get a goat. I could use the horn."

"Making something?" she wonders.

Flushing brilliantly red under his freckles, he nods. "Thought I'd make some candle holders for our bedroom."

She smiles, closing her eyes. "It's hard to believe our day is almost here," she says, twining her fingers with his. "Are you nervous?"

"For many reasons," he says honestly. "You?"

"Yes. I think it's normal."

"Well, let's worry later. For now..." He leans back against the tree, pulling her with him, turning his face toward the sun. "Let's just enjoy this.”

#ockiss24 #skyrim ocs #skyrim fanfic #werewolf ocs #skyrim screenshots

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archellpelago · 9 months

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RUADHÁN BRECONRIGG, THE LAST DRAGONBORN

nobody knows where he comes from. well, everyone knows he’s a Breton and from High Rock, but no one knows how he gets into Skyrim’s borders, not even himself. he thinks it’s a skooma induced blackout with a TON of sujamma and next thing he knew he’s being carted off by the imperial soldiers. a traveling scholar, writer and spellsword, he has spent most of his time studying the history of Tamriel, including Dovahzul and the falmer language ( this is a challenge, however ). the dwemer has been a prominent interest for him, and can always be found venturing around Dwemer ruins ( sometimes running away from bandits that made their camps there. he has a strong feeling against killing people ). a pacifist at best, and all killings so far are pretty much against his will. though he will sometimes have a craving of blood……. that’s an unspoken heritage. he likes to pretend he never has these thoughts and sticks closely to a vegetarian diet.

SIDE NOTES :

despite the lack of spears in the game i really think he uses a spear in combat aside from magic and archery. pls give us spear mechanics i beg.

the spear was made by Balimund, whom he instantly rizzed. the sapphires and wilted flowers are both from his daughters, lucia and runa fair-shield. he does value his family.

what’s the equivalent of tamriel sign language ? he doesn’t speak. only shouts. and even the latter is only when necessary ( like flexing……. sometimes. has used Call Dragon if only just to pull off a date of a lifetime with Balimund. a great view of the night sky on the back of a dragon. Odahviing was best not pleased. what a waste of gifts. ). could be considered mute by choice, or the fact that his throat was injured in a battle. thank the divines for restoration magic, right. the only people who had heard his absolutely destroyed voice are Balimund and his daughters, and maybe a few other people he trusts. would have joined the greybeards but one thing he noticed immediately was that they all had grey beards and he can’t grow a decent one and at this point he was too scared to ask.

moon sugar is used only to commune with the gods. or so he tells. ‘religious use of psychedelics’, to put it lightly. it does however gained him some daedric experiences so he doesn’t do this too often. which is what he believed what happened prior to the events of skyrim. good at alchemy if only just to make these ‘prayer psychedelics’.

steals books. we don’t talk about that.

follows akatosh. at first he doesn’t know the significance of anything but at this point it’s a little bit awkward for him. “what is my situationship with akatosh wtf”

rarely talks of his heritage. house breconrigg was disgraced and for a good reason. some believed they had connections with an unknown daedric deity, and therefore hunted down — one by one.

his travel buddy sometimes is an alfiq. often they talk for him when people don’t understand sign language. more often it becomes snarky when interpreted, which he would groan about ever so often. “you can’t just say that !” “but that’s what YOU said !” “you KNOW i meant it in a DIFFERENT way.”

more to be added…. maybe……

#tesblr #the elder scrolls #tes #skyrim #skyrim oc #dragonborn #dragonborn oc #original character #oc #my art #dovahkiin #infodump

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wolvesofodin1963 · 3 days

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SKYRIM THE GREY BEARDS MASTER ARGEIR - VOICE ACTOR THE GREAT CHRISTOPHER PLUMMER

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archangelsunited · 8 months

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WIP Two Hours Late

tagged by @orfeoarte and @mareenavee Tagging everyone else for WIP Thursday! Because I am late and can't find my list.

Two weeks into his training, Ulfric stood in the Grey Quarter, and announced he would offer citizenship to anyone who completed Stormcloak training, and served for two months- or the end of the war, whichever came first.

The day after, Tyre sits under the fur with an ax on oneside and a crossbow on the other. There are few dark elf recruits, who wish to be able to travel Skyrim without the tax. Several Argonians come up from the docks.

There is also a Khajiit, called kitten. They called themselves Sarta. When they first entered the training field, Tyre had tried to dismiss them, but fifteen was just above the age to start as a journeyman. Ears back, head barely to Tyre’s chest, they gave a stuttering argument on why they should be allowed to join the troops.

Tyre put them in front of the group, where he could keep a close eye on them. He had to stop twice, leading to general churlishness among the recruits. Once, he had to replace their two-handed iron sword with a smaller grip, and the second was to shout a Nord clear across the field.

He had been having problems with Vulwolf Snow-Shod. The very best equipment, the very worst attitude. Snow-Shod had been with the Legionares, but had not been stationed near Tyre- nor had he been impressive enough for Tyre to have heard him.

He was a passable hand with the glass sword strapped to his belt. The man tended to take hits with his armor, rather than dodge or block with his sword. It was a bad habit Tyre had been trying to break him of, sending him towards speed and endurance training. Armies ran on resources, and it didn’t matter how rich you were, when the resources were gone, they were gone. If Snow-Shod lost his armor, or it became unrepairable, there was always a chance there would be weaker armor or no armor at all.

The man had started showing up to Tyre’s lessons drunk. Tyre took one look at the man, red- faced with red eyes, and sent him to the alchemist.

Snow-Shod didn’t show up the second day.

On the third day, he replaced drunkness with a paranoid contentiousness. He questioned Tyre’s every order, until Tyre had him running laps for every question he asked. The grumbling continued.

Sarta’s position, right next to Snow-Shod, increased the grumbling. Tyre kept his temper until the session ended, but he was going to go to Galmar with complaints of an elder mistreating an apprentice. Tyre knew his complaint would be taken seriously, and to be mistreating an apprentice was as shameful as stealing coins from a beggars bowl. Apprentices of Ysgamor built Skyrim, and they would keep it long after Tyre and Snow-Shod were dead.

Sarta, trembling from the workout, stumbled to the ground. Their tail curled around their torso as their knees drew up against a heaving chest. The cat made a wheezing sound and Tyre winced. He was about to get up and help, when Sarta stumbled to their feet. Legs unsteady, they fell right back into Snow-Shod’s back, grabbing the mail to regain balance.

How Snow-Shod even felt the tug was beyond Tyre. But the man spun around and smacked the cat across the face. Sarta flew backwards, into one of the straw dummies.

This is when Tyre stood.

“You brazen sneak-thief.” Snow-Shod took two steps forward. His beard glowed white in the sun. His hand went to his sword.

“Snow-Shod.” Tyre’s voice croaked in warning. He saw the man glance at him, nose wrinkled and mouth twisted. But his eyes swung back towards Sarta, a deliberate deaf-ear. Flora, one of the guardswomen, stepped forward as well.

“I’m going to peel the skin from your carcass, cat.” Snow-Shod took another step. Unlike Snow-Shod, many of the other recruits were stepping back, eyes looking warily at Tyre.

“I’m sorry. I just tripped.” Sarta’s voice came out at a squeak.

“Snow-Shod, she is an apprentice. Step back.” Tyre’s voice became firmer. An ache, firey and wild, was coming from his chest. It charred the edges of his reason, until only rage remained.

“I don’t take orders from a-”

“You do take orders from him.” Galmar’s voice came from behind Tyre. He must have been coming to fetch him for supper. “Back away from the apprentice.” Galmar walked up next to Tyre, and frowned at Sarta’s body, rolled into a ball. The tail was starting to thrash back and forth.

Galmar glanced at Tyre from the corner of his eye. “A bit small, isn’t it?”

“They claim to be fifteen.” Tyre turned his head, slightly, but not enough to miss Snow-Shod attempt to kick the apprentice.

The rage came back as quickly as it had been doused. Tyre threw his arms back, letting the fur fall away. He stepped forward with his left foot. His hands were talons, his teeth were razors.

Fus.

#measure for measure #tag game #wip wendesday

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acaplaya-musings · 2 months

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Voiceplay Visuals: The Dragonborn Comes

("Wait, you're not doing The Greatest Showman Medley?" Nope, sorry!)

The Dragonborn Comes was released on the 5th of February, 2022, and features Omar Cardona! I've never played Skyrim (The videogame this song comes from), but apparently parts of this cover are not actually in the original song, but are in fact taken from a different song in Skyrim, called "Song of the Dragonborn", or "Dovahkiin". Mortius, The Charismatic Voice (Elizabeth Zharoff), and What It Do Dave are all big fans of the game apparently, and did some great reaction videos for this. But if you still want my "visual insight" on the video as well, keep reading!

Eli, Layne and Geoff are all credited with set design, and honestly they all did an amazing job! (Geoff is also credited with the arrangement, the video overall, co-direction, and costuming, good lord my dude).

Oh hey I think this video is in a slightly different aspect ratio to most of Voiceplay's videos?

👉👈

His grey streak of hair looking particularly prominent here (you know I'm a fan), and also shoutout to Rick Underwood and Renette Feren for the makeup in this video!

(Yeah they can all get individual shots for costume/appearance appreciation for this one, they deserve it)

Love the elf ears, and also Cesar's beard looking particularly crisp here! (Makes makeup easier if it's neat I suppose)

May be one of the heaviest/boldest eye makeup looks I've ever seen, dang

(Also note how Eli's beard is looking a bit thicker/fuller here? We're moving away from the videos/covers of 2017-2019 in more ways than one!)

Omar looking almost completely unrecognisable here tbh. Is it the elf ears? The hairstyle? The makeup? Not sure but he looks like 25 at oldest, despite apparently being like ~32 (give or take) when this was filmed? Dude.

(I really do love the makeup design on his face, so very cool)

Layne back in a fur cloak/cape! (After My Mother Told Me)

Also it's not just the lighting - Layne apparently did in fact colour his hair a very vibrant blue for this video!

More outfit appreciation! Apparently what Cesar is wearing is like legit chainmail or something and was fairly heavy. Go big or go home I guess?

Cool smoke-breath (dragonbreath?) effect!

(Shoutout to Eli, as per usual, for lighting and visual effects on this one!)

I can't help myself, don't @ me

Even more outfit appreciation! (Also cool sword, Layne!)

"FUS RO DAH!"

(It's very fun to watch the Skyrim-fan reactors get surprised by this moment 😄)

Genuinely quoting a reaction video here: "take that mallet/hammer and hit me over the head with it!" (mood)

Very cool 👌

I may not play Skyrim, but this cover is in my Voiceplay/Geoff Spotify playlist, and I love singing/conducting along with it - it's actually so fun! And as I am typing this, on the 16th of February, I am eagerly awaiting the release of another videogame song cover from Voiceplay, also featuring Omar Cardona! (The music video drops early morning tomorrow for me.) Don't know anything about that one either, but if it's anything like the quality of this arrangement/production, then it's gonna be amazing regardless! (And I guess I might even make a Voiceplay Visuals for that one too! (UPDATE: I did!))

#voiceplay #acapella #the dragonborn comes #the dragonborn comes skyrim #geoff castellucci #eli jacobson #layne stein #cesar de la rosa #omar cardona #acaplaya analysis #voiceplay visuals

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raezinhell · 6 months

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Starting Skyrim over again for the millionth time. It's just so good! It seems every winter I come back to it, it's just my cozy winter game. I got mods of course, to make it different every time. Tell me why, I'm just finishing killing the first dragon walking back to Whiterun, and have a big ass scary looking ash dragon (Diversified Dragons mod) attack me as I'm walking in the city gates! That was too fast! I had to lower difficulty cuz I got scurred. Then I also noticed when I killed that very first dragon he yelled "Dovakhiin! NOOOO!" Which made me feel horrible for killing a dragon that was attacking me! I never noticed he said that before. Well, back to my band of black haired beauties, I've assembled. I'll post pics soon. Oh and one more funny thing. I have Sofia, a mod follower and she's snarky. Well we get to the grey beard on High Hrothgar, and she goes "Hey, tallest mountain in the world, unrelenting force shout, you thinking what I'm thinking? Let's go get our dear friend Lydia, and see how she likes the view!" LMAO I died. This girl does not like Lydia at all.

#raezinhell #Skyrim #Modded #PC

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boethiahsboytoy · 2 years

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Quick doodle of Varla so I have a vague ref for him. Not sure if I want his hair 2 be a lighter shade of purple or not so he may look a bit different the next few times I draw him. Snelf insert time babey!!

IMAGE ID: A digital drawing in a cartoony style of an old, slightly chubby Snow Elf from the Elder Scrolls smiling kindly at the viewer and set against a dark green background. He has pale blue-green skin with the tips of his clawed fingers tinted a dark green, green eyes, nearly black scleras, shoulder-length lavender hair with streaks of grey-green, bushy eyebrows, and a thick beard also showing signs of graying. He is wearing ankle length robes all in pale green, a dark red undershirt, a dark red belt, and brown boots. In his right hand he is holding a deep blue cane decorated with glowing blue designs, and his left hand is raised in greeting. To the right side of him there is information written about him in gold, transcribed below:

VARLA

Snow Elf

Champion of Mora

He/Him

??? Years Old

Funky Wizard + Scholar

Can and WILL Fuck You Up

END ID.

Not pictured is the fact that he's actually a fucking BEEFCAKE. This is basically how I'd want 2 look as a funky old wizard in Skyrim I think. I dont Think I want to make Varla LDB but that could be fun. He'd definitely fight Miraak but ultimately refuse to kill him, only because Mora wants him alive even if Miraak is no longer His Champion. If ur OCs and self inserts need a chaotic vodka dad tho, Varla's ur man!!

Do not repost or delete caption ★ Do not tag as kin/me/etc.

#my art #OC Varla #tes oc #skyrim oc #snow elf #ancient falmer #varla fucks good and hard btw. if u even care.

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incorrectskyrimquotes · 1 year

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So, there's this one parallel shot in Into The Spiderverse

And I could see something like it with Eryn and a statue of Talos

Eryn, right after she learns she's the dragonborn (and only sort of what that means) looks up at the statue in Whiterun. He was mentioned as a dragonborn (though, not the first one, nor the one before her). And the well polished statue reflects herself back.

And she doesn't quite fit. She's not sure of herself or her power or her destiny or her ability to face any of it. Dragonborn, hero of Skyrim, is such a daunting title, one that looms over her.

But time passes. And she does pray to Talos a fair bit. But not like her fellow nords seem to do. She doesn't ask him to bless her battles, to turn the tides of war for her, she can deal with all of that on her own.

But she can't learn about being dragonborn on her own.

The Blades believe the Voice is the ultimate dragonslaying weapon, a thing to be used only for violence. Eryn has no aversion to violence, but her Voice is too powerful to use it in only anger or to cause suffering.

The Greybeards believe the Voice is the ultimate canticle. They learn the Voice, the words, the shout, the languages, the meanings, and they use it to praise Kyne, to praise all the divines. They speak only for True Needs. Eryn talks far too much to ascribe to that philosophy.

Ulfric Stormcloak believes it's a different type of magic. He was never a mage, and this is the closest he gets to understanding the aetherial gifts. Even if The Voice is not such one. He believes you can use the Voice for a variety of things, just like any magic. But it is even more emotionally reactive than magic is. When he uses a shout like Unrelenting Force, he has to tap into an emotional mindset where he needs to push everything away. But it takes work. Years, to both learn and understand the word, and to find the emotions you need to be feeling and connection to the word to use it. For him, with Unrelenting Force, that feeling is anger.

To Eryn, Ulfric sounds like the Blades with more philosophical jargon. She's not sure any of them are right. But still, she tries to hold her tongue when she can.

But she has to admit, using her Voice feels nothing like using her magic. Even her most powerful telekinesis spell just doesn't tap into the draconian energy she has for her Voice

She must find her own way. And she does. She wins the civil war, goes to Ustengrav, goes back to Riverwood, picks up Ralof to follow her along the way, she gets in and out of the embassy with no shouting, and when she finally gets back to Riverwood for her stuff, she's barely shouted at all.

She takes the break to go see the Grey Beards for their wisdom. She may not agree with their overall philosophy (hiding away from a world in trouble is selfish, to her), she does agree that she needs to give them back the horn, and see if they can answer anything else.

They welcome her as a dragonborn, and offer to answer questions she may have. She has so many, but she knows no one can answer them. Hermaeus Mora himself probably doesn't know. But, still, in spite of her lack of knowledge, she presses on, now carrying the final word of Unrelenting Force, and knowing she has to go meet Delphine down in Kynesgrove.

After Eryn takes down Sahloknir (whose name means phantom hunter of the sky), she heads back up to Windhelm. She is right there, after all. She'd love to see everyone there. She stops at the Talos statue that overlooks Windhelm.

Her Voice is hers to decide. Now she is ready for the rest of her destiny.

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late-nite-scholar · 2 years

Text

TES Shiptober Day 28-31- Wedding

And here we are, the last prompt (courtesy of @hombrediablo) of TES Shiptober. It’s been great, and I’ve had the chance to deep dive into some characters and write some really fun pieces. So let’s end it off with a wedding, and of course, with Besharat and Farkas. This is an idea that I had for them getting married. Sure, they did in Riften, but Hammerfell is right there, and to slip down to Elinhir? Only makes sense to me. I have no idea what Redguard vows would be like, so I just made some up. The date of them getting married is the 25th of Morning Star, 4E 202 (in game it was the 25th of Frostfall).

Anyway, enjoy and thanks for coming by for all the fun!

Length- 1800 words or so

Warnings- none

(Left/top: an approximation of how they look like in their Redguard outfits. Made with https://meiker.io/play/14045/online.html . Right/bottom: The actual dress Besharat wears)

***

It was all so surreal; here I was, back in Hammerfell and readying to be married. But, at the same time, it was so good to be here. The fact that Farkas wanted to do this warmed my heart. It’d been his suggestion, in fact, to make a quick trip over the border from Falkreath to Elinhir to the Temple of Morwha. It was only us and the girls and Vilkas, but just being here was more than enough.

I shook out my clothes and began to dress. I’d bought this outfit in Solitude, but never had a chance to wear it. It had just reminded me so much of home, of festivals and parties in Bergama. The underdress was a soft cream, thickly embroidered with gold in swirling patterns. Belted over this was a light robe bearing matching embroidery; soft and silky in rich fuschia. Long, filigreed earrings nearly brushed my shoulders, and I hoped they wouldn’t get caught in my hair.

Now dressed, I began to fix up said hair. I shook out the curls and pulled back the front half, securing it with long, golden pins. I lined my eyes with black, making them even brighter, and colored my lips a dark plum.

Just as I finished, I heard a knock at the room's door. I opened it to Vilkas, who gasped. "Ysmir's beard! I hardly recognize you, Sister! I can't wait to see Farkas' face when we arrive!"

"Is everyone else ready?"

"They are. I was asked to come collect you, as it were. And I am honored to be your escort. Farkas and the girls will meet us at the temple."

I stepped forward, and crushed him into a hug. "Thank you. For being here."

"Of course, Besharat. To me, you are already family. And now we will declare it so. I know we had a rough start, you and I, and I’m glad that’s over. But come on, we shouldn't be late!"

It was a nice day, warmer than it had been in Skyrim when we'd left, but not nearly as hot as if we'd gone all the way to Bergama. Which was fine, given I was the only one who could deal with that kind of heat. Vilkas offered me his arm, and we made our way through the streets together. People watched, gossipping, but I paid them no mind. I was too focused on our destination.

The statue of Morwha towered over the market square, smiling down at all who passed under her gaze. She held one of her four hands out, inviting us into the temple behind her. My heart sang. It had been too long since I’d been in a temple to one of my own gods.

As promised, Farkas and the girls were waiting by the door. As I got closer, I gasped. The girls were dressed in the finery they'd brought from home, the same as Vilkas. But Farkas wore a Yokudan long, sleeveless tunic of dark grey that split up the sides to show matching loose pants beneath. The keyhole neckline and down the front was embroidered with rich blue, matching the color of the loose robe he wore over top. That was embroidered in silver and green and belted like mine. I stood speechless for a moment, until the girls noticed us. Lucia grinned, and Sissel clapped, jumping up and down.

"Mama, you're here!" They cried. This made Farkas turn, and he stopped to stare just like I was. Or at least, until I got closer.

"Eshi…that's….wow."

"I didn't expect this…" I stammered. My hand reached out to rest on his chest, noticing the fineness of the fabric beneath my hand; a soft light linen with a silk robe over top just like mine.

"The girls and I were in the market, and they thought maybe I should get something to wear that would match you. If we're having a Yokudan wedding, I should dress for it, right?"

"You look perfect. Thank you, my heart."

The door opened behind us, and we all turned. A priestess poked her head out, and smiled. "Ah, I thought I heard our lovely couple outside. We are ready to begin whenever you are."

Vilkas and the girls headed inside to take their seats. The girls were chattering, talking a mile a minute about how we’d looked upon seeing each other. They were even trying to pull Vilkas into their conversation, who, for his part, played along gamely. The door shut behind them, leaving Farkas and I alone.

I looked up at him. "Are you ready?"

"I am. Never thought I'd be here, gettin’ married. Never really had anyone interested. Guess I was just waiting for you." He reached out and brushed my cheek.

"That makes two of us. But I was the one who wasn't interested. Guess I was waiting for you, too."

"Well, let's not leave it any longer."

Holding hands, we walked into the temple. I didn't notice the empty benches we passed; the only important one was at the front where Vilkas and the girls sat. All three watched with rapt attention as we made our way to the front together, their smiles bright enough to illuminate the whole place. But we didn't slow down until we reached the beehive-shaped altar at the front where the priestess waited.

She smiled at us both, pulling us around gently so we were facing each other. Farkas immediately claimed both of my hands, squeezing them. I almost couldn't meet his eyes, his expression too beautiful. I didn’t want to start crying before we’d even begun and I was already teetering on the edge.

But the priestess didn't let the moment linger long. "Ah, but what a joyous occasion we have come to celebrate today! Two souls have found one another, and have come to declare that love and proclaim their commitment before Mother Morwha. It gives me the greatest joy to have you both here, and to stand as intermediary between you and the gods as you make your vows. Do you come both of your own free will, and enter into this marriage without coercion?"

"We do." We said together.

"Ah, good. We are required to ask. Now that we have settled that, let us continue. The love you share is a gift, a reflection of the love between Ruptga and his favorite wife, Mother Morwha. It is this love that you will carry between you, through this life and onward to the Far Shores. It is this love that will see you through the greatest of joys and the deepest of sorrows. And it is this love that we celebrate here today. Let me ask you in turn, to speak your vow to uphold and honor this great gift."

She turned to Farkas first. "Farkas of Jorrvaskr, of the most esteemed Companions, will you stand honorably with this woman? Will you love her without condition? Will you lend your sword to hers in whatever battle stands before you? And will you honor the gifts that result from this union?"

"I will," he declared. He looked down at me with the softest smile, eyes filled with tears.

I couldn't pull my gaze away from him as she addressed me. "Besharat Earth-Breaker do Bergama, will you stand honorably with this man? Will you love him without condition? Will you lend your sword to his in whatever battle stands before you? And will you honor the gifts that result from this union?"

"I will."

"Then let it be known that this couple has declared themselves before Mother Morwha as married. May she bless your union now and forever, and may you both prosper together. Here are the rings that you have chosen as symbols of your bond. Take them now, and seal your vows."

She handed us our rings, and we slipped them back onto each other's fingers. I'd missed the feeling of it on my hand, even for those few short hours. The priestess smiled again.

"Congratulations, my dears. Go forth now, as husband and wife."

A cheer erupted from the bench. The girls were on their feet, and Vilkas grinned.

"You'd better kiss her, brother!"

Farkas turned red, and the heat in my face told me I was no better. That didn't stop Farkas from taking mine in gentle hands and leaning down to meet my lips. For a long moment, everything else faded into the background. When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless.

This earned us a chuckle from the priestess. "Morwha certainly smiles on the two of you."

That made Farkas' face turn even redder, but we both laughed. Then the girls launched themselves at us, and we were all hugging. They even managed to pull Vilkas into the fray, despite his protests.

Eventually, Vilkas was the one to be the voice of reason. “All right then, we’d better get going. We don’t want to miss the feast waiting for us. Come on, girls, let’s get back to the inn and make sure everything is on schedule.”

He herded them out, leaving Farkas and I alone again. We followed them out the door, but lingered again beneath the statue.

"Married…" Farkas marvelled at the word, "It doesn't feel like I thought it would, but I'm happy."

"How did you think it would feel?"

"I dunno. You always hear that 'everything changes when you get married'. But it hasn't. I don't feel any different."

"I've heard that too. And you're right, I don't feel any different either." I laughed. “I mean, what more could there be? I already loved you with all my heart.”

“And I love you, too.” He grinned. "Well, there is one thing that's changed.”

"Oh?"

He pulled me close, brushing his lips against mine. "Now I get to call you my wife."

The thrill that went through me was enough to pull a small gasp from my throat, which melted into a giggle. "That means I get to call you my husband."

"That's the best thing I've ever been called." His silver eyes shone with tears. "Right up there with gettin' called papa by the girls. Speaking of which, we should go catch up with them.”

“Before they talk poor Vilkas’ ears off.” I agreed.

He offered me his arm, and I laughed as I took it. “I walked here like this with Vilkas. I’m sure people thought he and I were the couple.”

Farkas laughed too. “Yeah, but we match!”

Every step was light as air as we made our way back. We would celebrate tonight with Vilkas and the girls, and tomorrow head back to Skyrim. It would only be a quick stop at home in Whiterun, before we and a much larger group would head down to Riften so we could do this all again at the Temple of Mara. And then, unbeknownst to Farkas, I had one last surprise planned when we returned to Jorrvaskr. I looked over, heart swelling at the joy in my husband’s smile. I couldn’t wait for that surprise, to finally say to him those words that would mean more to us than either temple vow we would make. That I’d wanted to say for so long, because they were what I felt with every fiber of my being.

I would stand at his back, that the world might never overtake us.

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