#dragonborn almalexia

[angiemaniac]

WIP WHENEVER

Unfinished, and upcoming interactions for sketches and comics!

Tagged by the amazing @falmerbrook Thank you so much for tagging me! First time I'm trying this sorta thing on my main account.

Tagging: @vestigme @garzzum and @dag0th

If you already did this, or you don't want to share, that's perfectly fine!

I've been halted since I'm moving to another state, but here are a few pieces I have from a while back that I will be turning into comics when I'm all settled:

This is a wip comic based on the interaction of Almalexia and Sotha Sil meeting Dagoth Ur during their ritual to replenish their power.

This is just Nerevarine Angst. More panels are coming, but these are just the start of them.

Annnd sketches of my Nerevarine meeting my Dragonborn:

#tesblr #wip whenever #morrowind #almalexia #ayem #tribunal #sotha sil #seht #lord seht #clockwork god #dragonborn #oc #tes #elder scrolls #high elf #argonian #nerevarine #fanart #my art #skyrim #the elder scrolls #eso #oc: vakkah lah #vakkah lah #wip #im still thinking of a name for my high elf but all there is to him is that he's a himbo

[wellthebardsdead]

The tribunal + Nerevar in To Deny Godhood:

Vivec: Sweet, kind, spent the last few hundred years atoning for his failures as a living god, would and has given the shoes off his feet to someone who needs it.

Almalexia: nah she dead.

Sotha Sil: Sweet boi. Just wants to do what’s right. Held off on his ascension with vivec because he sensed Shamat would need them one day. Taught Khash to knit. Lovely.

Nerevar: Absolutely batshit insane. Cruel bastard, stinky poopy butt face.

Vs

The Tribunal + Nerevar in The Mourned and The Heretics:

Vivec: Lost his last marble, snapped completely and is hellbent on revenge.

Almalexia: Oh she mad mad.

Sotha Sil: still a sweet boi.

Nerevar: the sweetest boi. Will and has fought gods for his beloved. Will and has searched high and low for his beloved. Will grovel at his beloveds feet and worship the ground he walks on just to please him.

Conclusion. Sotha Sil is a good boi.

#sotha sil #Vivec #Almalexia #indoril nerevar #nerevar #voryn dagoth #dagoth ur #riiju lei dragonborn #shamat dragonborn

[da3drat]

Felt like my profiles were suffering so practiced a bit with my darlings and their darlings. (Who is that on the end?? My ldb that I brought up once and proceeded to never post about perhaps????)

S/o to martin for being basically only man I ever draw.

#meri #celeste #dusk #nerevarine #hero of kvatch #last dragonborn #hok #ldb #martin septim #ayem #almalexia #tes #tesblr #tes oc

[trickstarbrave]

so a lotta depictions of auriel have him in this kinda crown

which i was like "what does this remind me of" and i realized

#auriel #almalexia #morrowind #tesblr #dragonborn almalexia confirmed

[almarantha]

Aurum - A Post-Skyrim TES Drabble

“You really must take better care of yourself, child.”

Amara’s eyelids shot open at the foreign voice, sending her scrambling to get to her feet. She would forgive herself this moment of impropriety, of weakness. It was a startling thing, being spoken to when you were supposed to be dead. Reaching down, Amara placed a hand over her stomach, searching for a fresh wound that should’ve still been bleeding.

Granted, that wasn’t the only thing that seemed to no longer exist.

There was… nothing around her. No walls. No ceiling. No ground, for that matter. There was a floor beneath her, she could feel it, but actually discerning it was another matter entirely. Her surroundings were but a blank canvas. Filled with anticipation, but nothing had yet been put onto the page. No words had filled the empty void of white. No paint had given color, given life, to the environment.

“Yes, but think of the potential.” The voice mused once more, as if reading her mind.

Amara spun her head around so fast that she feared she might have snapped it. Could she even? She was already dead, right? As is, her lengthy wine-colored hair had likely slapped the owner of the voice in the face. To her left stood an Imperial man, hands calmly folded behind his back. He had a handsome look about him. Square, noble features and umber-hued hair cascaded down his neck. It was a face that could have belonged to a warrior, if not for how scholarly his posture was and how soft he wore his expression. The man smiled softly and tilted his head in acknowledgement, seemingly content to wait for her to measure him up.

His attire was familiar, although Amara couldn’t quite place where she’d seen it before. It was something an Imperial noble would wear, fittingly enough; that much was certain. Long indigo robes were rimmed with white, spotted fur. The robes covered an ornate scarlet doublet decorated with intricate gold patterns. On the whole, it looked inordinately expensive, but nothing more so than the jeweled necklace that the man was wearing. A ruby the size of her fist laid set in a gold casing, while several other, smaller, jewels of different colors rimmed the outside of the amulet.

The ensemble was gorgeous. Any Imperial worth anything would kill to be seen in such an outfit.

And yet it seemed horribly ill-fitting on such a man. Just by looking at him, Amara got the sense that he would have been far more comfortable in much simpler robes. He had that sort of priestly disposition about him. Yes, she could imagine him in a monk’s garb.

“…Who are you? Where am I?” Amara asked slowly, having become more or less acquainted with her surroundings. As much as a Dunmer in a completely foreign environment could, anyway.

The man pursed his lips, as if mulling over what sort of answer he should give. “Those are questions that won’t serve you well here. It would be more apt to ask when.”

It only now occurred to Amara that the man had never once opened his eyes to look at her. He faced her direction and seemed to know where she was, but those eyelids stayed shut. Was the Imperial blind? Amara furrowed her eyebrows at the roundabout answer. Riddles. She hated riddles. Especially riddles coming from mysterious strangers.

“When are we then?” She asked, her tone far more demanding than it used to be. Even a few years ago, that would have been unthinkable. But she’d grown up a lot these past few years. One of the first lessons she’d learned was to not take shit from people if you wanted any modicum of respect.

“Hmm…” The man hummed, contemplating her question. “The Middle Dawn, perhaps? Or maybe the Oblivion Crisis…” He lifted a hand to his chin, gazing upwards at what should be the sky. As it was though, he was staring at nothing. Or, technically, the back of his eyelids. “Ah, no. This is the Fourth Era. The Second Great War, I believe you call it. This is the fifteenth year of the conflict.”

Amara’s eye twitched. “…I knew that already.” She growled out in the most respectful way possible.

“So you did.” The stranger turned his attention, such as it was, back towards the Dunmer. “My apologies for the confusion. Such things come naturally to me, but precision can be difficult. What’s the phrase…? Ah, yes, like a needle in a haystack.” His smile never dimmed, but nor did it grow in intensity. Their entire encounter was marked by that soft, serene smile on his face. It made the stranger give off the impression of peace.

Or maybe he was just insane from being trapped in this strange void? That boded well for her.

Sighing, Amara pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her crimson eyes, attempting to compose herself. That was another lesson. Stay composed. Stay above it all. Never let others know they’re getting to you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The stranger’s voice came unbidden, surprising Amara out of her frustrations.

She blinked. The last thing she remembered…

“I was… someplace… where was I…?” It was hard to focus in this place, but she needed to remember… “There were gears… Not the Dwemer kind, not nearly so ancient, but modeled after them.” A stoic face flashed through her mind, violet braids matted with oil. “Zamana was excited. Someone advancing her people’s technology… She wanted to see it. So we went home-“

Wait. Was it her home? She’d visited Mournhold a handful of times, but had never lived there-

Amara snapped her fingers. “Right! The Clockwork City! Almalexia told me she knew a way in and-“

For the third time in a row, Amara cut herself off as a realization hit her. However, this one was far more frantic. It was quiet. Far too quiet. It had been quiet ever since she had arrived at… wherever this was. Amara couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to realize it! There was no prideful voice whispering in her ear. No voice giving out unwanted comments and opinions at every opportunity. No analysis of what was going on, no advice on how to handle this situation.

Almalexia was gone.

“Where is she?!” Amara cried out, aggressively grabbing the stranger’s robes and yanking him forward. “What did you do with her?!” Fury and terror in equal measures danced in her crimson eyes, tinged by the light of budding madness.

Best to head this off at the pass, the man thought.

The stranger carefully placed his hands on top of Amara’s own, his expression serious but not unkind.

Was he pitying her? How dare-!

However, her thought process was cut off as the stranger finally opened his eyes. Amara slumped forward, falling to her knees in abject awe.

Staring down at her were the slitted pupils of a reptile, encompassed by the purest gold that Amara had ever laid eyes on. They were ancient orbs, brimming with power and eternity.

How foolish was she to not see the signs…?

Amara fundamentally knew who she was speaking to now.

“I have done nothing with she who once called herself Ayem.” Akatosh intoned. The smile he had been handsomely wearing was gone, but neither did the dragon god of time look all too upset. “Yet, neither is she gone.”

Amara clutched at her chest, head bowed so the man, the god, before her couldn’t see the tears freely flowing down her face. Her frame shuddered as she breathed deeply. It was as if she was in the midst of a mighty battle, and yet the dragon’s words brought such relief to her! Almalexia wasn’t gone!

But then… where was she…?

Once more, the dragon god answered those thoughts on the surface of her mind. “What do you remember, child?” He repeated the question.

Again with this? What did that have to do with anything…? But it seemed she wouldn’t get anything else out of time itself, so she valiantly wracked her mind for the details. A feat not made easier by her admittedly volatile emotional state… Something that had been becoming more and more common recently.

“We were…” Amara’s voice cracked and shut stopped in her tracks, clearing her throat before continuing. “We were exploring. We found the main chamber. We found… we found the artificial heart. We… I… Oh, ancestors…” Her hand clasped over her mouth.

She’d died.

Rationally, she knew that. She’d known that since awakening in this place. But it was another thing entirely to replay the events in her mind, to hear the grinding gears of the automatons, to remember the cries of Zamana, the blade through her chest…

Daring to look up, she found the dragon god gazing… almost mournfully down at her. All he did was give her a slight nod, confirming her worst suspicions. She really was dead, huh? Amara had never been sure what fate awaited her once her mortal life was done. There wasn’t exactly an Ancestral Tomb waiting for her, and she doubted that House Redoran would look too kindly on allowing her one anyway… She’d burned a lot of bridges, making the roll of the dice and gambling that she would succeed in forging her grandfather’s empire anew… But it seemed that it was not meant to be. She had died too soon.

That still begged the question, however… What was to be her fate? Was this… “Is this the Dreamsleeve?” Amara asked the god.

Akatosh glanced around, observing the surroundings… or lack thereof. “No, I’m afraid not. This is a dream of sorts, but no, this is not the realm of rebirth. Your ultimate fate remains unknown, and it is not my place to speculate on matters of life and death. That is Arkay’s domain, not mine.”

Her ultimate fate…?

“Wait, what do you mean? Am I not dead? Should my soul not be bound for Aetherius or Oblivion?” Amara furrowed her eyebrows, squinting in blatant confusion. “You mention Arkay. I do not worship you Aedra, yet if one were to handle my death, it would be him. I am educated on that much. Yet here you stand, the dragon god of time… Why?”

Akatosh scratched at his clean-shaven chin. On anyone else, it would have looked almost sheepish, but surely the high and mighty Aedra had nothing to be embarrassed about, right?

Why he even had a chin to scratch was another question entirely. The humans depicted him as a dragon. The mer depicted him as a great golden eagle. Was this supposed to be a form she would be comfortable with? An avatar of his will? Amara had so many questions, but frankly, that was the least of them. So, she did not voice it, even though it was abundantly clear that Akatosh could read her mind.

“You have my blood.” The dragon god replied simply.

Amara blinked. What?

“You have my blood.” Akatosh repeated. “Your grandfather was dragonborn, surely you know this. The most famous dragonborn in Tamriel’s long history. The title is named as such for a reason. He was not mine in body, but in spirit... All dragonborn are my children. So in a way, I suppose that makes you my grandchild of sorts. Or great-grandchild. I care little for mortal semantics, however.”

She… okay, that was… wow, a lot to process. The metaphysics of it all… Yes, she had known that all of this was the official Imperial line, but… Well, she’d never exactly put much stock in it.

Akatosh glanced down at her and smiled that damnably soft smile once more, now looking almost, well… grandfatherly. Amara wasn’t convinced, however. Picking herself up off of the ground, she rubbed the dried tears away from her face. To say that she was wary was an understatement.

“And do you make a habit out of conversing with the descendants of dragonborn?” Amara asked dryly. She doubted that he even talked to actual dragonborn all that much, if at all.

The dragon-man shrugged, making the motion look far more dignified than it had any right to be. “Admittedly? No.”

“Then why me?” Amara shot back immediately. “Why are you here? In this… this dream, whatever this is?”

“You are mer.” Akatosh spoke softly. “A Dunmer who once worshipped the mortals who propped themselves up as gods. A Dunmer who does not worship the Three Good Daedra like the rest of your kind. A Dunmer who is unsure where she stands among Aedra and Daedra, and so devotes herself to worldly pursuits instead.”

The dragon god trailed off, looking down at the amulet which laid flat against his chest. Clutching it in his tanned and worn hands, Akatosh lifted it off of his neck and lifted it up so that it was level with his golden gaze.

“Despite all of that,” he continued, “you chose to follow not the path of any of your mer ancestors, noble and just and clever that they were, and instead chose the most difficult path of all. The path of your grandfather. You, Ra’athim Amara, a Dunmer of Resdayn, would restore the Septim Empire. A Cyrodiilic Empire. A human empire. Did you think that you wouldn’t catch our attention?”

Amara had remained silent as the avatar of Akatosh explained himself. And when he phrased it like that…

“People need help. Someone has to do something.” She whispered quietly, mostly to herself. She looked into those ageless eyes across from her ever so briefly, which beckoned her to continue. “Ever since I was a kid… Probably before that… Everything has been going to shit around me. You called me a Dunmer of Resdayn, of Morrowind, but I’m not. My father imparted as much of our culture onto me as he could, but I grew up in Falkreath. I grew up in Skyrim, surrounded by Nords. I’m an outlander, and I worked so hard for so long to erase that stain from myself… But it’ll always be true. It’s just who I am. A Dunmer who grew up outside the homeland, because my father was exiled after the Red Year.”

Amara sighed, only now realizing how exhausted she felt. She supposed she had the right. She was dead, after all.

“The Great War, the Skyrim Civil War, the return of the dragons, the Interregnum, the Falmer Raids, the Argonian Invasion, the Second Great War… It feels like we’re all trapped in a loop of pain and suffering. Everyone everywhere is hurting. And things didn’t used to be that way; dad was always fond of telling me. Father was never fond of the empire that his own father had established, but he was never afraid to admit… Things were just better when the Septims ruled the Empire. When all of Tamriel was more or less at peace. Sure, things weren’t perfect, but the world wasn’t almost ending every few years… There weren’t constant wars with… so much dead.

“I was a healer during the first Great War, you know that right?” Amara asked rhetorically. “Of course you know that. You’re the dragon god of time. But I saw… I saw so much death. So many died in my care, I couldn’t save them…” Her expression became unfocused, her crimson eyes haunted by memories best left buried. “I did my best, I really did. And it was more… it was more than my people as a whole did. They were just content to sit idly by and let others suffer. I can’t- I couldn’t... I could help. I could help so I had a responsibility to do so!”

Her fists clenched tightly and a fire roared in her stomach, determination rising up in her throat until she felt the urge to roar. For the first time, she met the dragon god’s gaze and kept at it, refusing to let the mere glance of a god bend her into submission.

“I am the granddaughter of Tiber Septim and Queen Barenziah. I am the Anticipation of Almalexia, with all of her wisdom and training at my side. I had the ability and the means to help Tamriel, so I decided to do it. And if you tell me the way out of here, I will continue to do it. I don’t care if I’m dead, someone has to do something!”

Amara was breathing heavily as she finished her speech. In a lot of ways, it felt like justifying it to herself more than to the dragon god. How often had she questioned herself? How often had she wondered if she was just letting Almalexia convince her to do things? Well, Almalexia wasn’t here right now. This was all her.

Akatosh remained silent for a long moment more, before finally nodding in satisfaction. He held the amulet out to Amara, letting it dangle off of his fingers. “Did you know…” He rumbled, sounding more like a dragon by the moment. Ancient and all powerful. “That it used to be that whenever an emperor was chosen, they had to hold this amulet and light the dragonfires? It was a symbol of my everlasting covenant with man, that so long as a dragonborn sat on the Ruby Throne, the gates of Oblivion would be shut.” He paused. “It was more than just a symbol, naturally. Since St. Alessia, no one could light the dragonfires without my approval or consent. It is I who judged each emperor worthy. If they weren’t… they didn't tend to last very long.”

The amulet dangling off of his fingers glistened, twirling slowly as the dragon god told his story.

“No one has worn this amulet or lit the dragonfires since the Oblivion Crisis. The amulet was destroyed. The last emperor of the Septim Dynasty, a righteous young man named Martin, sacrificed himself to seal the gates of Oblivion shut forever. The dragonfires no longer have any purpose, and it will remain that way. However… perhaps I have torn my gaze from the empire I claim to patron for too long. Perhaps it is time for the Amulet of Kings to be worn once more, as a symbol of my divine providence.”

Reaching forward, Akatosh lifted the amulet over Amara’s head and settled it on her shoulders. The giant ruby thrummed against her chest, and Amara couldn’t help but wonder if this is what the legendary Heart of Lorkhan felt like?

“I…” She tried to speak, but no words came out. Instead, Amara dropped to her knees, but in a far more orderly and dignified manner than her previous descent. She knelt before Akatosh, head bowed as if she were speaking to her liege lord. “I promise that I won’t let you down.”

“I very much suspect that you won’t.” Akatosh intoned his voice more of a growl than it ever was, yet somehow felt amused. Like he was chuckling to himself. “From this moment on, you are dragonborn much in the same way St. Alessia herself once was. The covenant is reborn. Now, my child, look up.”

Amara did as she was commanded, yet could not help her mouth dropping out from under her. For before her was no man. The mighty golden dragon of time stretched out before her, infinite in all of his glory. She saw him as he truly was, not merely stretched out before her in this plane, but across all of time as well. It was enough to render her blind. Or mad. Or dead. The fact that she was only one out of those three things was likely due to the grace of Akatosh himself… And the fact that she was already dead.

“At this point, I would normally send you off. However, there is… one more thing to attend to.” The dragon forced out. His voice was far deeper than it had once been. The voice before had felt borrowed, but this… This was the voice of time echoing throughout her very being. “Tell me, child, what do you remember?”

This again?

“I died.” Wasn’t that all there was to it?

“And, pray tell, how did you die?”

“I was run through by a blade.” Amara responded automatically. But that couldn’t be what he wanted to hear. The memory was fuzzy, there had to be more to it… Who had wielded the blade? Some sort of…

Oh.

“The Clockwork City, it was being run by… some sort of ghost. Except it wasn’t a ghost. I don’t know how to explain it, but… Sotha Sil, one of the Old Tribunal, was in the city itself. And he wanted revenge against Almalexia because she had killed his body centuries ago. Zamana and I fought through his machines… We reached the chamber where his mind was being held. He had made some sort of… dwarven metal body for himself. We fought. I killed the body, but the mind still persisted, we couldn’t kill it. Then… then he had reinforcements…”

She clutched her head, trying to remember.

“I remember Almalexia screaming… She was so angry… And so terrified. I could feel it all inside me. Another Dunmer walked into the room. Seht’s reinforcements. It was… It was the Neravarine.” Amara glanced up helplessly at Akatosh. “…The Neravarine killed me.”

The infinite dragon nodded. “And in so doing, completed the final piece of the puzzle. You must understand, my child… Ra’athim Amara Septim is dead. She cannot come back.”

Amara slumped, her assumption shattered. Akatosh had chosen her, but she could not return. Was all of this for nothing?

But, naturally, the dragon could read her thoughts. “You misunderstand, child. Ra’athim Amara is dead. But you are not Ra’athim Amara.”

…What?

Her disbelief must have shown on her face, because Akatosh continued. “Almalexia did not have your best interests in mind, child. Ever since she became attached to your soul those many years ago, she has lived in your shadow. Feeding off of you. Whispering in your ear. Plotting. It was her intention that you were to be her avenue to resurrection. So she influenced you to the best of her ability. She trained you. Molded you. Guided you. You, who was raised to worship her since you could walk, never thought to question it until it was far too late. She made you like her. She led you into the Clockwork City on purpose, having a good idea of what was down there. She needed you to follow the beats of her life so that you would understand her, and in that understanding…”

“She wanted me to mantle her…” Amara whispered.

Akatosh nodded, unsurprised that the Dunmer before him was aware of the concept. It was only natural, when she’d had a god whispering in her ear for years.

“Indeed. You asked me earlier if Almalexia is gone and where she went? Nowhere. She has gone nowhere and is not, in fact, gone. You are Almalexia. Almalexia is you.”

“I did it?” The woman formerly known as Amara asked, utterly dumbfounded. “I mantled Almalexia? But… I don’t feel like her. I still remember being me.”

“Have you? Do you not feel like her? To mantle her, you had to become so much like her that there ceased to be a functioning difference between the two of you. That the Aurbis itself could not tell the two of you apart. Do you not know things that you hadn’t before? Do you not have memories that Ra’athim Amara never experienced? You are ALM. But there is a caveat to that.”

“…Well what’s one more earth shattering realization, right?” She quipped, not knowing how else to cope by this point.

To his infinite credit, Akatosh took it in good humor, chuckling along with her. “The mantling did not occur as Almalexia had planned. She forgot to factor in one, crucial element…” He let the moment drag out. Imagine that, a god with a sense of dramatic timing. Then again, he was the god of time…

“The mortal element. For all that she spent millennia as a god and being worshipped as one. Almalexia forgot what it was like to be mortal. It drove her mad before her death, but when she had no choice but to endure it while her spirit was stuck to you… Almalexia went out of her way to influence you, however what she failed to realize was that you were influencing her in turn. Not intentionally, mind you, just simply by you being there. The bond the two of you shared was intimate by any metric. To put it in mortal terms… You rubbed off on her. She became more like you as you became more like her.”

“So we…” ALM began, trying to wrap her head around the idea. Former divine or not, it made her mind spin.

“Mantled each other.” Akatosh confirmed. “You are one.”

ALM couldn’t help but note that he looked insufferably smug about that. But then again, he would. The Tribunal had never had the best relationship with the Aedra. She lifted her hand to rub her temple in an attempt to alleviate the budding headache, but she noticed something.

“…My hand is gold.” ALM noted dully. Because of course it was. Almalexia’s skin had been gold, the last Chimer in existence, and now her skin was gold too. Because she was her. And yet was Amara too.

By the Ancestors, she was going to need a mirror later.

“The veil is lifted.” Akatosh rumbled. “You see yourself for what you truly are now. More than a mortal, less than a god. Somewhere in the middle. A soul retroactively made dragonborn and a soul that still held a spark of the divinity it carried for millennia. The two together… It is not unlike the ascension of Talos, although perhaps not as grand. Which is for the best. I require you on Nirn for the time being.”

“Right…” ALM muttered. “I need… to lie down. And I can’t very well do that here. Do you know the way out of here?”

“Indeed. Our time here grows short as is. I have spoken all that has need to be said, and your Dwemer companion will require your assistance if she is to survive the night. Although, I must warn you… The method of return will not be pleasant.”

“Whatever you have to do…” ALM sighed one last time, before giving the dragon god a soft smile to match the one he once wore. “And for what it’s worth… Thank you. This all… It really means a lot.”

Akatosh nodded, rumbling in confirmation. “You are worthy. Never forget that, even in your darkest days.”

Then, without any warning or pretense, Akatosh opened his maw and swallowed her whole.

Because being eaten by the dragon god of time in order to return to the land of the living just seemed logical after the day she’d had, she thought as she slid down the divine gullet.

Hmm. She was going to need a new name, wasn’t she? Amara and Almalexia were dead, yet lived. They were one.

Almarantha sounded pretty good.

#;drabble #almalexia #akatosh #dunmer oc #v; 4e216 #concept; mantling #concept; alessian dragonborn #technically a repost #but I updated the visuals and edited some parts of the text #and I couldn't edit the old post #so new post it was #in case it wasn't obvious #akatosh is using martin's body as a puppet #part of me wanted to rewrite the whole thing to be less expositiony #yes that's a technical term #but I decided against it for now

[unrinconmas]

Skyrim's intro is perhaps the most misunderstood and confusing intro to any video game. Ten years later, a lot of players are still trying to figure out why the game starts with you heading north from Cyrodiil into Skyrim with a prisoner that should have been heading south out of Skyrim. Well, here are the facts and hopefully this will make things clearer! Ulfric was ambushed in Darkwater Crossing which is near Windhelm. He was then transported to Cyrodiil, likely for a trial in the Imperial City, the road south of Helgen is the only border crossing to Cyrodiil. A couple of letters during the Civil War questline reveal that the Pale Pass is closed and inaccessible due to an avalanche, this is also the excuse Bethesda uses to explain why the Stormcloaks are able to hold off the Empire, the Empire can't get reinforcements as the letters state. So Tullius makes the decision to return to Helgen which is an imperial outpost, he knows the Stormcloaks are coming for Ulfric so the safest solution is to kill him while they can to end the war swiftly. The Dragonborn gets caught sneaking past a closed border into a war zone, the decision to execute the Dragonborn isn't very surprising, you can hear the imperial captain trying to act quickly. Alduin appears in Helgen because of the time wound on top of High Hrothgar which is very close by, he is not summoned by the Dragonborn or by Lokir's stupid prayer, he is actually summoned because Ulfric fulfilled the prophecy of the Dragonborn when he murdered the king. Bethesda tried to make this clear by giving you the Book of the Dragonborn in the torture chamber in Helgen so that should be the very first book you find and hopefully read. "When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn." This prophecy is brilliant as it ties together the previous Elder Scrolls games. Misrule: imperial battle mage Jagar Tharn used illusion magic to disguise himself as the imprisoned Uriel Septim VII. Several wars followed due to this. Brass tower: represents Numidium and the genocide of Altmer as the Aldmeri Dominion was brought down in the second era. Thrice blessed: was the tribunal, Almalexia, Sotha Sil and Vivec, Red Tower of course is the Red Mountain, the giant volcano you see from Solstheim. Dragonborn Ruler: the end of the Septim bloodline (play Oblivion), White tower represents the White Gold Tower in the imperial city Snow Tower: represents the throat of the world where the time wound is, but also the center of Skyrim which now lies “sundered, kingless, bleeding” why? Because of Ulfric, why did Ulfric kill the high king and fulfill the prophecy? Because of the Talos ban, and why did that happen? Look back to the Brass Tower. All the pieces fall into place! World eater of course is Alduin, the Wheel is Aurbis and the Last Dragonborn is some cat that leads a bunch of thieves and is married to a lizard, or whatever you make of your Dragonborn. Finally, the reason the Seal of Akatosh (or as some people call it, Empire logo or even Skyrim logo) has a missing piece of the wing, is to illustrate that it is an old book. Yes, Skyrim's main cover is the Book of the Dragonborn, you really should have read it your first time around. I hope this clarifies things.

The Drunken Orc

#games #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #lore

[milfmorrowind]

Mega TES OC Ask Meme

hi!~ I have decided to make a long ass post with a collection of developing/general information questions for elder scrolls OCs. This is formatted as an ask meme, but feel free to use it however you want! I have not played daggerfall or arena so there will be no questions pertaining to either of them. However, if anyone would like to add questions for protagonists of those games, by all means do!

General Information

Name

Associated game/era

Age at beginning of game/relevant time period

Race

Sex/gender (bonus points if there's a cool answer)

Sexual orientation/preferences

Class (or a general description of their skillset)

Background

Is this character from their race's home province/territory? If not, what is their relationship with the region? Do they feel a connection to it?

Where did they grow up? A city? A village? Isolated, in the wilderness? What was it like to leave?

What was their childhood like? Who raised them? Do they have siblings?

If they are an adventurer, why did they choose that life? Did they choose it at all?

Do they worship any gods? Who? How do they feel about the gods in general?

What are their interpersonal relationships like? Are they close with many people?

What's their relationship with their family like? Do they have one?

What guilds do they join? Are they committed to those guilds, or are they mostly in them for the benefits?

Are they a vampire/lycanthrope? Did they choose to become one? Would they reverse it, given the chance?

For Nerevarines

Why were they sent to Morrowind? Were they truly guilty?

Do they trust Caius? How much?

Do they align themselves with any great houses? If yes, why?

Do they know/feel that the Empire is using them as a pawn? What do they do about it?

What's their relationship with the Ashlanders? Does it vary by tribe?

Do they believe their self to be Nerevar reincarnated? Do you?

Who do they think killed Nerevar?

Do they feel sympathy for Dagoth Ur?

How do they feel about the Tribunal in general? Do they trust them?

How much do they interact with the Anticipations and the House of Troubles? Do they do any of their quests?

If they travel to Mournhold, do they side with Almalexia and the temple or Helseth? Why?

How do they feel about Almalexia? Do they see her as sympathetic?

If they joined the East Empire Company, who did they side with? Do they regret ever getting involved?

Which aspect of Hircine did they fight?

Where do they go at the end of the game? Do they leave Tamriel?

For Heroes of Kvatch

Why are they in prison at the start of the game? How long had they been there?

Do they go straight to Jauffre? Do they feel any responsibility to do so?

What's their relationship with Martin? Are they coworkers, acquaintances, friends, partners?

How much do they interact with the Blades?

How much time do they typically spend closing an Oblivion Gate? Do they like to explore Oblivion, or do they get the hell out?

Which daedric quests do they do? Which artifact do they give Martin?

How do they handle Martin's death? Who do they lean on for support, if anyone?

Are they the Divine Crusader? Why did they do it?

Do they keep/use the Artifacts of the Crusader? Which ones?

Mania or Dementia? Why?

Do they mantle Sheogorath? What exactly does that mean, in their case?

Do they stay in the Shivering Isles? Is it by choice?

For Last Dragonborns (awkward phrasing)

Were they trying to cross the border? Why?

Do they follow Hadvar or Ralof? Why

Do they pick a side in the Civil War?

How do they feel about Tullius and Ulfric on a personal level?

Do they kill Paarthurnax? Why?

How do they feel about Delphine and the Greybeards?

On a scale of 1-10, how much do they hate the Thalmor? The Empire?

What do they do at the war meeting? How does it go? Do they maintain neutrality?

How do they feel about their position as Dragonborn? Do they embrace the role? Does it terrify them? Do they take advantage of it?

Who do they marry? How did they meet?

Do they kill Cicero? Do they regret their decision?

Do they return the Skeleton Key? What are the consequences?

Saadia or Kematu?

Which daedric quests do they do? Which artifacts do they use? What's their favorite?

Dawnguard or Volkihar Clan? If they choose the Volkihar, do they ever reverse their vampirism?

What's their relationship with Serana? How close are they?

Thoughts on Valerica? Thoughts on Isran?

How do they feel about Miraak? Is he a villain to them, or a tragic figure?

#ask meme #tes ocs #morrowind #oblivion #skyrim #writing

[orbitaldropshocktroopers]

New TES theory just dropped: Every Shezarrine has a Dragonborn and the reason for this is so that the incarnations of Auriel and Lorkhan can reenact convention.

"...any liturgical time, represents the reactualization of a sacred event that took place in a mythical past, 'in the beginning'" - Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane.

Eliade is describing the existence of what he dubs 'sacred (or mythic) time'. This is the basis of religious events and rituals from his view. Where ritual might be defined as “an act or series of acts regularly repeated in a set precise manner” or “a sequence of activities involving gestures, words, actions, or objects, performed according to a set sequence." And Eliade argues that ritual takes place during this sacred time and that is how we access this "primordial mythic time made present."

So in TES, Shezarrines are created at times when creation and/or Lorkhan's heart are in imminent danger. In response to the creation of the Shezarrine, Auriel creates his own incarnation in the form of the Dragonborn.

There are 3 "confirmed" Shezarrines: Ysmir Wulfharth, Pelinal Whitestrake, and (arguably) Nerevar. Each one of them coincides with a Dragonborn (see the Dragonborn Almalexia theory). And each of them is betrayed by the Dragonborn of the time, or Akatosh himself. Often, it involves heavy symbolism with a heart and the peircing of it.

This betrayal is the ritualized reactualization of Convention. It's this reenactment that spawns, through Lorkhan's influence in the situation, new gods and religious movements alongside a new empire, and through Auriel's the maintanence of the status quo.

"Hence sacred time is indefinitely recoverable, indefinitely repeatable... It is an ontological, Parmendean time; it always remains equal to itself, it neither changes nor is exhausted."

Special thanks to @ayem and @morihaus for helping me figure out the lore to back this up

#tes #i just rlly like religious anthropology

[boethiah]

so in my current skyrim playthru i obliterated the dark brotherhood bc my dragonborn (totally not a reincarnation of almalexia) can't stand that nonsense. anyways so the emperor's cronies (ugh) gave me their thanks or whtever and i went upon my way. but i have legacy of the dragonborn installed and so i was randomly woken up by a penus ocular agent going "the emperor gives his thanks for your service" and i was like ugghhhhh maybe i shouldve joined the dark brotherood and the dude continues "the emperor wants to give you this artefact as thanks" and just. hands me goldbrand. fucking goldbrand?

[skyrim-forever]

The Dragonborn's Inferno

Another One! This one will take us through the realm of Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of Destruction, destroyed by Martin Septim thereby ending the Oblivion Crisis

Tagging: @greyborn2 @kookaburra1701 @lucien-lachance @throughtrialbyfire @abstractredd @alpha-centauriiae @akaviri-dovah @your-talos-is-problematic

The air is thick and hot The smell of molten lava Encompasses my senses

I awaken in fear, for I have the legends Of this land

The Deadlands The plane of Oblivion Dedicated to the foe of Mortal races

The Daedric prince first beaten back By those false Gods, Almalexia and Sotha Sil The one then defeated by That trickster sorcerer Who they called Chimere Graegyn.

The one that was slain By Akatosh’s divine avatar, Mehrunes Dagon

“Fear not of him young Dragonborn, For through Akatosh’s will we are safe” I must confess I was still afraid

Afraid I was until my emperor spoke Speak he did to that one He had defeated at the end of an era

“Dagon” He calls out Into the plane of rock and lava A thunderous step rocks the plane

He is massive, four bulking red arms Extending out from his body

The Daedra of Destruction, Taunts my leader, For that is all he can do

“Have you come for another round, Akatosh’s chosen? I will not underestimate you as I did before.”

He is unfazed and glowing Bathed in the divine He offers wisdom even to such a foe

“I come not to fight Dagon, Though do not be mistaken” His eyes are full of light amidst the fire

“Had I been put back there, In any life, in every life, I would give myself up again”

The last Septim moves me How grateful I am, To be blessed with such divine company

Dagon does not address him, For what does a being like him, Known of divine order?

Instead the Prince of Ambition, He who brings forth change through destruction Sets his sights on but humble me

“You, the one who walks Nirn, The one named Dovahkiin Listen not only to the light

For there is birth to come from destruction, Destruction to one is revolution to another From the debris can empires be born.”

I cannot bring myself to thank him, For I know too much of what he has done. Yet I notice my Emperor

In his divine wisdom, Hard earned at that, He offers Dagon parting words

“Though your nature is fixed, Even the Prince of change Cannot beat fate

I will pray for you Dagon, Of what I am unsure But I pray you heal what aches you”

Overwhelmed by his kindness, My knees weaken, Until I fall onto the rock

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes #tesblr #oblivion #Martin septim #dragonborn #dovahkiin #Dragonborn's inferno #the divine comedy parody #skyrim fanfic #tes fanfic #fanfic #fanficition #Daedric princes #morrowind #mehrunes dagon

[maybemanyskeletonhats]

How do the elves react to the hero's allergies?

To show some love for fellow allergy ridden people. (I know your pain.)

We are using the vestige for Vehk. Dragonborn for Neloth and Mannimarco is more like his daggerfall character.

Sotha Sil hears their sneezes break the silence of his workshop. He tilts his head at them slightly, a question in his crimson eyes. 'Are you alright?'

Vivec's trance is broken by their sneezes. They murmur a small 'sorry' and he only shakes his head lightly... "Are you ill?"

Almalexia gives them a slightly concerned look as they sneeze into the crook of their elbow again. "I can call for a healer if you'd like?"

Voryn Dagoth jumps when they sneeze. It had been so quiet he barely saw it coming. "Oh. Have you gotten ill?"

Mannimarco gives them a look. Hands them a cloth to assist them. It's almost too friendly for the lich but who are they to complain?

Neloth grunts when they sneeze for the fourth time. He glances back to their teary eyed face. "Are you well?" He's scowling but they don't miss how his eyes search for causes of them sneezing.

Divayth Fyr starts loudly counting their sneezes as he looks for tissues. He's concerned but he's also amused. "Breaking a record are we?"

Teldryn Sero first casually excuses them then they keep sneezing. And of course he finds that funny. So the dragonborn is just being followed by this laughing Dunmer.

Nerevar quietly excuses them at first...and when their eyes become teary and red he looks over at them with a concerned expression. "Do you need aid?"

Vanus Galerion tries to figure out what set their allergies off then he starts sneezing as well. So they're both sneezing uncontrollably...perhaps it's the pollen in the air?

#the elder scrolls #sotha sil #eso #vivec #almalexia #neloth #divayth fyr #teldryn sero #voryn dagoth #vanus galerion #indoril nerevar

[wellthebardsdead]

Sotha Sil: Why do you choose to be referred to as male? When you so desperately want it known that you are both and everything.

Vivec: look at Ayem, Seht. Even now as a goddess, her voice is silenced by that of men. When people seek knowledge on their enemies, they find you, despite her being a diplomat amongst us. When they seek comfort. They find me, when she is the mother to all morrowind. And when conflict arises, her priests choose to coddle her behind barred doors, while they come to us to resolve it through words or bloodshed. And when I do lay with another, they degrade me when I allow them to use my womb to their whims… it was no different when I was a mere pleasure tool kneeling at the feet of my betters. If I sire a child made from my love, they will be born like me. With both… and I can only hope the world will be kind enough to spare them the cruelty I faced as their mother, so they will not feel the need to mask themselves to their children as only, father.

Some 190 years later:

Olfina: it’s not easy being a woman in skyrim.

Vivienne: from my experience it’s not easy being a woman anywhere… it’s why I present as a man despite having well, everything… less people hurt me this way…

#vivienne dragonborn #vivec #sotha sil #almalexia #she really just spent her whole life being screwed over

[sylvienerevarine]

WIP Wednesday: Bloodmoon Edition

I was tagged by @dirty-bosmer and therefore present a bit from Land of Ash and Heart, the upcoming fic about both the Dragonborn and the Nerevarine's respective Solstheim adventures!

I think everyone I would usually tag has already been tagged, so I hereby tag YOU, the girl (gender neutral) reading this

--

She was back in the Clockwork City, surrounded on all sides by intricate bronze-and-gold machinery and the grinding of gears. Almalexia stood before her, beautiful and terrible, her golden eyes blazing. “Did you think you were special, sweet Nerevar?” she asked with a mocking smile. “That you were meant to save the world? You’ve got to face it, my dear–there’s never been anything very special about you. Without the rest of the First Council, without Azura’s special little ring, what are you? A charming fool with nice hair.” Sylvie tried to speak, to move, but something was holding her fast. In her peripheral vision she could make out an elaborate harness of wires that twisted around her limbs like vines. “Poor Nerevar,” Almalexia sighed. “I was head over heels about you once upon a time, you know. But I’m afraid you’ve outlived your usefulness. Again.” She drew the flaming sword from her belt and lifted it above her head. Finding her voice at last, Sylvie screamed at the top of her lungs, even as she knew no one would ever hear her… “Oy, elf girl, wake up!” A firm hand shaking her shoulder jolted Sylvie awake. She sat up, blinking in confusion at the figure in front of her. “You’re not Almalexia.” Svenja laughed. “‘Course I’m not Almalexia. If I was some Dunmer god-queen, you think I’d be managing a mead hall on Solstheim? I’d be living in a palace with a dozen handsome concubines.” Her smile faded as she looked down at Sylvie. “You were screaming fit to bring the roof down. I wanted to come check on you, make sure that drunken lout Erich wasn’t harassing you.”

#morrowind #oc: sylvie #tes #my writing #almalexia

[trickstarbrave]

heyyyy im making a pinned post as that is a feature and seems good to keep info all in one place esp for ppl on mobile

❤️im brave!! or rua works if u want to but brave is by far the most popular name i go by. he/him pronouns

❤️art commissions/art trades are NOT on the table rn sadly. i used to offer commissions and did art trades with friends but for the most part im really busy with work/health conditions. if i have a bit of free time i may change this or make a few exceptions on a case by case basis depending on my schedule. for the most part tho i just want my art to be a stress relief activity

❤️art requests i do take from time to time now, but there is no guaranty i will take it. please do not spam requests hoping i’ll do it and please do not get mad if i don’t do it. they’re requests for a reason. if i am particularly inspired i’ll be happy to get around to it if life lets me

❤️technically multifandom blog i would say, mostly i have been focused on the elder scrolls series lately. you will probably see me rb stuff from like, a bunch of series. if this changes i’ll prob edit this post LMAO (i do not control the special interest)

❤️not just an art blog but also personal. my art can be found in my #my art tag. wips can sometimes be found scattered on my twitter if they arent on here. and writing that i publish can be found on my ao3 (though i have like a million wips that dont get published and be warned much of my ao3 is rated E and not for everyone)

❤️ been doing a lot of oc posting so i can do a run down of them currently for anyone that wants to follow along/know the lore:

/// OCS ///

(under cut)

🌟 Eyja: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. past life incarnation was konahrik, alduin’s head priest, murdered by miraak. uses a bow and magic primarily. story can be found here

🌟 Senna: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. proud two handed weapon user and leader of the companions. fought and lost to the world eater who took her back to his den and make her his partner. proof prophecy can be a complicated thing. story can be found here.

🌟 Baldur: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, he/him. grew up on the streets stealing to survive, and certified trans of gender. fought and lost to the world eater who decided to force baldur to be his champion. helps him take over skyrim. story not yet published but will prob contain a lot of mentions of transphobia as a cw :(

🌟 Ansa: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. orphaned at a young age, and just a weird, feral child. learned to steal, and ended up joining the thieves guild. killed mercer and turned the guild over to karliah and is helping rebuild it when she finds a weird rock that turns out to be a dragon egg. story not yet published

🌟 Ahkrinaak: general elder scrolls oc, he/him/any pronouns. he is based off me as a sort of self insert/persona character purely for comedy, not a serious au. dragon/god who was corrupted in the war with lorkhan/shor and became more so an agent of lorkhan. he spends most of his time pretending to be a mortal and causing problems. he’s just sillay. looks like a falmer/snow elf and nord hybrid making pretty much everyone just in general uncomfortable. dragons dont have gender he just likes tits. divorced with alduin

🌟 Lyre: not a skyrim oc (yet) but my beloved dnd character i have made a million aus for, including one that has turned into a full on novel lmao. will update everyone when i start uploading the novel (its not gonna be too serious just a fun lil webnovel that is pg rate) and you can see me post illustrations for. depending on the AU uses either he/him or she/her. i just think theyre neat

🌟 Anthial: nerevarine bosmer, tired, angry, nb spellsword. he/them pronouns. just wants to cover their entire body until you cant tell what gender they are. vivec never got them the drink he owed them. was convinced as nerevar that voryn never liked them back all that much. had an open marriage with almalexia. this incarnation was emotionless and lacked a moral compass due to the betrayal in their past life.

🌟 Steren: nerevarine, technically. not actually the reincarnation of nerevar, but the reincarnation of nerevar’s son. nerevar never reincarnated bc he was too busy haunting his descendants, too upset to move on. steren has a couple of aus but mostly its him with vivienne the dragonborn who belongs to @mulberrycafe. calls voryn “ata” and nerevar “dad” because he technically grew up in cyrodiil but remembers his first lifetime in bits and pieces where voryn raised him for the first few years.

feel free to send asks abt my ocs i love answering them

[archersartcorner]

Replaying TES made me wanna remake references for my primary OCs… so Sven first!

Here's a link to Po, my HoK!

And a link to Val, my LDB!

IDs under cut!

[ID: Two character reference images, both for the same character, done digitally in procreate.

The first image shows the character, Sven, from the chest up. He's a dark elf, with dark, muted, purple skin; muted, dark red hair, that's jaw-length and swept back; red eyes; a hooked nose; and a light beard. His skin is dotted with golden "freckles," and there are some bigger blots of golden skin in some areas, will mention explicitly in the second reference. He's wearing a dark, sleeveless turtleneck with a chest window, and a red, half-sided robe covering his left half (viewers right). His left hand is raised to his chest, showing a ring with a moon and star. Notes around the portrait read: "Sven Moon-and-Star (as he appears by 4E 201) / The Forgotten Nerevarine, despite the name. / House Telvanni Master, officially lives with Neloth during the time of Skyrim. Somehow tolerates the mer. / Master Conjuror. Maybe can bear Neloth because Neloth knows he's better than him at just this one magic school, just the one. / With most others, Sven is quiet and humble about his past. He still remains humble, but opens himself more to Valerio when he's revealed to be the Last Dragonborn, as Sven remembers how lonely and overwhelming it was to be prophecy-stricken."

The second image is a full body picture of Sven with selective coloring, a reference of where Sven's scars and marks are located, at least on the front of his body. The image also shows Sven is rather muscular, if a little thin. Notable marks (viewers perspective) are the yellow freckle-like marks dotting most of his body; bigger yellow splotches on his upper left head, lower right jaw, right shoulder, left pec, right wrist, left hand, left hip, right thigh, left calf, and right leg; red scars, a small one on the left of his lip, two on his right ear, four in a downward movement on his right shoulder, one on his right arm, one on his left arm, a smaller, circular scar below his left pec, two bruise-shaped marks on his left and right hip/waist, five horizontal scars on his left thigh, and two scars on both of his legs where they meet the feet, a smaller one on his left foot, and a bigger one on his right. There's a purple, crescent-moon shaped mark on his right pec, covered by a yellow star-shaped mark. There are many notes surrounding the image, the first read: "Scar Reference for Sven / Info: / The small yellow dots are from the Corprus. When it was healed, the smaller bloats turned golden. Look like freckles. / The large yellow blots are also from Corprus, from larger bloats that shrunk and left golden skin behind upon healing. / Red is scarring from battle. / Purple is a birthmark." Pointing at the four scratches, reads: "These four scars came from Dagoth Ur and his fucking claws." Next to the birthmark, reads: "The purple moon shape is a birthmark. The star came after "curing" Corprus." Next to the arm scar on the right, reads: "This scar and the one on the other arm are from Almalexia." Pointing to the small scar below his left pec, reads: "From Vivec, post-Red Mountain." Pointing to the two large bruise-like scars, reads: "These two big ass chunks are from Hircine." Next to the five horizontal scars on his thigh, reads: "Self inflicted." And finally, next to the scars on his lower legs, reads: "After becoming Hlaalu Hortator, he was captured and interrogated by Ordinators for weeks. It was a traumatizing experience, but these particular physical scars haven't gone away. Limits his mobility, but he levitates 99% of the time, so it's mostly unnoticeable." END ID.]

#tw: self harm #tw: self harm scars #tw: scars #just wanna make sure i get those before tagging whatever else #my art #oc: sven #morrowind #elder scrolls #described #nerevarine #gay af to be a conjuror. what are you conjuring? other men? #he does do that actually... his favorite summon is his dremora lord friend. gay boy #the quest where folks in sadrith mora mention that neloth cant possibly be summoning ghosts in the hotel cus he Sucks at conjuration #is one of the funniest with the added impact of neloth in skyrim LMAO this why you like enchanted rods huh. cant cast a conjuration spell. #taako voice kind of a shitty wizard #YOU ASK NELOTH ABOUT IT AND HE GETS ALL DEFENSIVE. LIKE NO ITS NOT HIM BUT HE CAN DO THAT IF HE WANTED TO DONT GET IT TWISTED- #also yes sven gave himself that last name. also yes vehk tried Foul Murder 2!!!!!!!!!! and failed #for the most part tho sven isnt so heavily scarred. usually hes able to heal himself up - the ones that linger are the ones he didn't have- #-the magicka to put back together. or ones that also correlate to emotional trauma. cus im a sucker for that #just atronach things: NO MAGICKA??? OUT OF MAGICKA??? CANT RECALL OR INTERVENE????????? /NO POTIONS???????/

[mareenavee]

Hello, I give you Fire for the dragon-themed game! 💖

Dragon Themed Ask Game for my TES Fic: The World on Our Shoulders.

Game is here.

Fire: share a snippet with some dialogue you’d like to show off.

Hi <3 Thank you for asking! Dialogue is my favorite part to write so I have a lot of it to pick from hehehe.

Here's a tiny segment between Geldis and Teldryn from the upcoming Chapter 21, maybe not exactly final. Enjoy! :D

“Let’s go, outlander. It’s best to get an early start in case of ash storms,” Teldryn said, as he knocked on Nyenna’s door. He heard her grumble in protest, and walked away to get breakfast for them both, as well as some provisions for their trip. It wasn’t past six in the morning yet, and Geldis hadn’t finished prepwork for the morning rush. It was the perfect time to bother him.

“I can’t believe she hired you,” Geldis said as he stirred a pot of porridge over the fire pit. He shook his head in dismay and didn’t bother to look up at him.

“You know how well I can fight. If she’s as good as I think, finally I’ll have a patron worthy of my skill,” Teldryn said simply, rummaging around the pantry. “Plus I’ve been sitting around for ages. It’ll be fine. I needed the work.”

“I’ll say it again and as many times as you need to be reminded – you never can keep things professional for long, and I doubt that has changed,” Geldis snapped. “And after only speaking to her for a couple evenings now, I can tell she’s troubled. She doesn’t need more from the likes of you.” Teldryn and he had been friends for decades at this point. Geldis knew him well, and he was probably completely correct about the situation, despite his attitude both times he’d tried to warn him. Not that any of it would deter him. Not now, knowing what he knew.

“We spoke at length yesterday, Geldis. She has troubles, sure. But…people like us generally do,” Teldryn said with a sigh. “Azura forgive me if I misread our meeting as some kind of sign.”

“Oh, let me guess. You didn’t tell her, did you?” Geldis said, crossing his arms.

“She doesn’t need my trauma on top of all she’s dealing with – and no. There’ll be a right time to tell her…it just isn’t now. This first job…I’m thinking it’s more of a trial. I may part ways with her after that, I may not. It depends.” Geldis raised an eyebrow, catching him in his lie. Of course he wouldn’t leave her service. Not willingly, regardless.

“Fine. What do you mean by ‘people like us,’ anyway? What is she, Almalexia reborn or some other madness?” Geldis asked sarcastically, throwing his hands into the air and waving his dish towel around wildly. Teldryn recoiled.

“No! Gods! Don’t even say something like that,” he said in utter disgust. He glared at Geldis angrily and shook his head. “No, she’s the Dragonborn, or so she claims.” Geldis looked stunned. Teldryn threw him a knowing look.

“It can’t be. That’s Nord superstition. She is not a Nord,” Geldis said, almost dumbfounded. “Too short compared to the stories.”

“Suppose it doesn’t matter. What if she really is another hero of legend? Tell me then, what are the chances?” Teldryn insisted.

“You may be right,” Geldis conceded. “But it doesn’t mean she needs your brand of nonsense. It’s a big job. You know best of all.”

“That I do. There’s something here. I’m not sure what else it could be if not…fate,” Teldryn said. He shook his head. “As much as I hate that word.”

Geldis simply shrugged and said, “Get out of my kitchen, now, with your mention of fate and other idiocy. Breakfast will be ready in a minute. And no matter who she is – remember what I said.”

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