The Profound Mark, the Elder Scrolls Story

Orrery of Firsthold

The Orrery of Firsthold


The Ghost Choir One Fundament gazed through the aetherial orrery into the star-of-none. It's tangentials flickered but held still as it saw the truth out of sequence.

It responded to the Last Song of the Dwemer with a countdown in years, leading to the year 5E911.


It saw nothing in the star.


<Jubal sits alone in his painted Provincial House, near the Waiting Door of his fallen allies. Jenua stands frozen, reaching for something unseen.
His eyes cannot open and this is all he sees. Everything is still, save the Door.
The Door which he did not paint stands cracked but a millimeter, the locks spinning as they attempt to close the door, before a strange man slams it shut, barring Jubal's passage>

"Friend of the Fourth Tourbillon and Lover, I greet you formally in this un-time".
"But I am dead and- holy guar shit you have no legs… I know that feeling".

"I have walked every path and every way," replied Sotha Sil, "and have left my legs on the threshold of every door so that others may walk on them."

"Well that seems… why?"

"Not because I wish to, because I have to. This happens because it must happen, a result of action and consequence".

"Makes perfect sense. Who are you?"

"The Mainspring, Ever-Wound. Names have no meaning, for words are but the wire and string props of logic that separate us. Self means nothing".

"Nice, why are we talking if I'm dead?"

"My motive is what it is, yet does not achieve. Your motive is what you are, and yet might achieve. Tell me, how did you die? …Perhaps it would help to show yourself more than to show me. Paint, young Lover, and find yourself, Redemption".

<Nymaril stands transfixed, looking at the Tower of Defiance.>

"I know what I need to do now. I am the Regret of Lorkhan, Jubal, I am his failure.. Do you know why Tamriel is called the Arena??? It was made for this existence, this suffering. We were made for disease, war, famine, and slaughter. WE were MADE to DIE… so that the strongest may live on".
"Nymaril… There is beauty in the world… A strange man helped me to find that my Love for the Mundus is what drives me-"

"This world has beauty now, in the image of The Lady herself, sacrificial dog on the throne of woes that is our existence. Yet do not mistake me, Jubal Moon-and-Star, I say all of this to praise the Void Ghost, for what is limit but free will? What is self without borders? …Do what I could not, and Redeem man's king. Be the Redemption I could not".

<He goes deep below the Tower, puts his hand to the wall, feeling the memories of all that have died, and then strengthens it. He pulls from a pouch the only trinket he carried from years long past, the Definite Acorn, and slowly dismantles his own bones to form of them a Mundus-machine that mirrored existence. His body dissolves as his soul looks to Jubal, the daedric tattoos gone and tears down his cheeks, before he is discorporated and the Tower explodes with perfect unity, the tower coated with shimmering golden lore of the Ayelids, their last memory, their story ended.>



Since the dawn of recorded history, the altmer have organized themselves into tribal factions known as "kinships". These are the massive extended families of the altmer, who can trace their relations back to the dawn era.

The concept of a Kinship is similar, but ultimately incompatible, with the Imperial concepts of aristocracy, nation-states, and familial clans. There's a definite hierarchy within a Kinship, but it's more familial than feudal. The fact that a fishermer can come from the same family as a wizard or warlord leads to a unique dynamic within the Kinships.

In general, an altmer king (or "Kinlord") will treat the smallfolk of his Kinship as younger siblings, children in need of guidance and enlightenment. While the imperial system of patronage is based on this idea, the altmer take it literally. When a kinlord is cruel, he is akin to a strict, abusive parent. When he's kind, he is a wise, loving grandfather. No matter the situation, a sleight against a member of the Kinship, be they a servant or a king, is seen as a sleight against the Kinship itself, and is met with swift, and often violent retribution. This led to serious misunderstandings In the early days of The Occupation.

The concept of family has an almost religious reverence in Altmeri culture. In fact, as altmer worship their ancestors, the two are inseperable. While altmer are far more secular than their dunmeri cousins, their obsession with family hasn't waned in the slightest. The altmer place little distinction between the nuclear family and that of the Kinship.

There are hundreds of kinships, each controlling an area of land centered around a palace known as a "Kinhouse". The Kinhouse can refer to the physical house itself, as well as the nearby land surrounding it. The total land controlled by a Kinship is a Kinhold. Most altmer are insular, and prefer to isolate themselves from other Kinships. If not for the Varlines providing instant transport, few would venture beyond their homesteads at all. The major city-states of the Altmer are merely the largest Kinholds, ruled over by whichever Kinship claims the land at the time.

Altmer have often been accused of materialism, and nowhere is this better displayed than within a Kinhouse. Herein lies the collected glories of an entire ethnic group. Priceless artifacts, animated paintings, and jewel-encrusted pottery abound. The altmer freely flaunt their own extravagence, almost daring their rivals to strike against them. Regardless of a kinlord's personal taste in finery, he will make sure his people's house is adorned with the best, even if it means raiding rival houses.

Imperial scholars confuse this decadent behavior for selfishness and greed, but to an altmer, it is Honorable to compete against another house, and brazen displays of wealth and material are a form of passive-aggressive warfare. In better times, lords would often send their retainers on adventures to gather rare and priceless items, often in the posession of rival lords. With the Empire on the brink of collapse, however, most lords have little time for such frivolities.

Outlanders, and altmer from different kinships, are generally unwelcome within the Kinhouse-proper. Altmer, as a general rule, look down on other races of mer, view non-mer as intelligent animals, and view other kinships as rivals. Entering another clan's home is met with suspicion at best, and violence at worst. In contrast to the palatial estates of breton and imperial nobility, the Kinhouse is seen as a collective home for the Kinship. The lower levels are often used as lodging for the kin, and kin visiting, or living on their homstead are expected to use them. A portion of a kin's wealth is donated to the Kinhouse treasury, which is then distributed among the people based on their needs.

Technically these aren't taxes. They're not mandatory and there's no rule on how much a mer should give. However, it is Honorable to provide for your kin, and each altmer is expected to give what they can based on their income. Anything less is shameful, and many a mer has been ousted for avarice, their property seized and given to the clan.

As a result, the concept of begging is virtually unheard of in altmeri society, save for the contemptable ousters who stalk the streets of Imperial cities and charter towns. Every mer has a basic standard of living, a place to sleep, and food to eat. At the same time, a true altmer would never shame himself or his clan by asking for something he hasn't earned. If an altmer has lived an Honorable life and falls ill or lame, then it's Honorable and Expected to accept aid, living within the Kinhouse and working only as much as she can.

If a mer, for whatever reason, feels they have not earned the right to ask for aid, they would rather starve themselves or die of exposure. In the snowy mountains surrounding Eton Nir, it's not uncommon to find the frozen husks of mer, kneeling in a meditative pose as they allow themselves to return to the Dreamsleeve.

This concept of Honorable Etiquette pervades altmeri culture. There are Expectations placed upon you by your Kinship, and they take priority over everything else.

The Varlines

Kinhouses are almost always built around major nodes of the Varlines: magical lines of power that circumpenetrate the land. Made of meteoric glass and embedded in the earth itself, the Varlines provide power, communication, and transportation for the entire nation. Altmeri society is inseperably linked to the Varlines, and their entire way of life is dependent on them.

Thanks to the Varlines, the altmer need not concern themselves with petty labor and peasant work. Strange, possibly daedric, creatures are enthralled by the Varlines to obey their altmer masters. Aquiferi keep the land fertile by controlling the groundwater, and discarnates construct buildings and monuments according to the altmers' exacting specifications. It's possible this decadence led the prophet Veloth to lead his people out of Summerset, to test themselves in the lands beyond. The smallfolk of the altmer do not till the land, nor do they sweat in the sun's warmth. They typically work as clerks, servants, or tradsmer, while others directly supervise and attend to the discarnates and aquiferi. This reliance on the Varlines is both the altmer's greatest strength and greatest weakness.

Most permanent settlements are built around a major or minor node of the Varlines, affectionately called a "Starwell". These wells take the form of cylindric cores of meteoric glass embedded unfathomably deep within the earth. They're typically surrounded by circular structures of marble, malachite, and meteoric iron. These structures are designed to extract excess magicka from the lines, "giving it back" to Aetherius as a symbolic gesture. When one breathes deeply into a Starwell, she becomes energized, and mentally invigorated.

In Cyrodiil, the Starwells function differently, drawing magicka directly from the stars, and can only be used once per day. In Summerset, the magic is self-sustaining, and the community "bathes" in its Light throughout the day. However, overuse of a Starwell can lead to out-of-body experiences, hallucinations, and unintentional astral-projection, so the natives have learned to use them in moderation.

The reverence given to a starwell cannot be overstated. They're often adorned with petrified insect wings or sea-shells, draped with sea-silk, and decorated by children with flamboyant, swirling graffiti. The altmer view their Starwell with warmth and affection, somewhere between an abstract god and a beloved pet. Most festivals, markets and local events are centered around the local Starwell, and children often feel compelled to dance around it playfully.

Starwells are both jealously guarded and openly shared between Kinships. It's common knowledge that altmer from different clans distrust one another, but individuals are welcome to bathe in a Starwell's Sacred Light. No altmer would dare cause harm to a Starwell, but skirmishes are often fought between kinships over their posession. The largest Starwells are surrounded by a Kinhouse, and form the foundation core of the palace.

Over many eons, the altmer have developed a physiological link to the Varlines and by extension, each other. It is Honorable and Expected for young altmer to commune with a Starwell when they come of age. This ritual is poorly understood, but the altmer believe they link themselves to the land, the Varlines, and the United Altmer Nation through this holy communion.

Altmer are known to become extremely irrational at even the slightest sign of malfunction within the Varlines. It is unknown if this response is entirely cultural, or if there's some biological component, but many altmer grow ill, delirious, and even violent when they feel the Varlines are threatened.

The Prime-Node of the Varlines is Crystal-Like-Law. Also known as the "Crystal Tower", this impossibly tall structure gathers Light from the stars. The Varlines themselves were created much later, to spread this Light to the four corners of the land.

The Varline's Affect On Religion

The Varlines are often blamed for an evolution in altmer religious thought. While altmeri society began deeply religious, their reliance on high magic like the Varlines has made them much more secular. Where once one's personal ancestors were abandoned for the greater spirits of Syrabane, Trinimac, and Auri-El, many altmer have gone back to a simple, dispassionate form of ancestor-worship, focused more on the glories of one's kinfolk than any deep religious conviction. In general, they place their faith in their magic and engineering.

This image of the secular altmer has led many mer, particularly the dunmer, to view them as godless and materialistic. While this is certainly the case for many, a great deal of altmer consider themselves deeply religious, and continue to worship their greatest ancestors in massive, baroque cathedrals.

The Generations

In altmeri culture, age is as much a state of mind as a measure of years passed. In the parlours and cantinas, political debate usually comes down to a divide between the old and the young. This divide defines altmeri political life, arguably moreso than the Kinships. It's worth noting that these mindsets are not absolute, nor are they uniform. Mer of the same Kinship may differ in their political affiliation, and many find themselves taking a moderate stance between the two.

The Elders

The old guard of ancient aldmeri culture, The Elders are the perfect elven stereotypes. They're insular, xenophobic, culturally conservative, and generally want to be left alone. They harbor no desire for conquest, nor do they see the need to deal with the outside world unless it directly affects their home. The wizard-lords, the rural kinfolk, and most of the Kinlords have an Elder mindset.—wizard-staff-warhammer-fantasy.jpg

Some of the elders were alive during the Reman Dynasty, and they believe they will be alive when the Septim Dynasty falls. They choose to accept the Empire by ignoring it. The follies of man are a passing thing, barely worth mention. A whale doesn't notice the barnacles on its back, nor the fish that clean its teeth. Still, both can be useful in their own way. The Elders recognize the Imperial Navy's role in keeping the maormer at bay, as well the redguards who once stalked their waters. While an Altmer marine is superior to an Imperial sailor, it's foolish to waste good mer on bad men. This simple fact is one of the few things keeping the peace within Summerset. If the Empire grows too weak to protect the Isle's waters, the situation could quickly change.

The Elder's see taxes as bribes to keep the Legions contained within their shoddy forts, and are content to pay them, so long as they can fullfill their Honorable Expectations.

Make no mistake, however: the Elders despise the Empire, perhaps more than the Youth. On principal alone, the concept of an animal claiming ownership of aldmeri land is nonsense. It's a paradox unto itself. In the Elder mindset, it didn't happen. The Empire has no legitimacy because it simply can't. But altmer are naturally intelligent, and they're well aware that an open revolt would decimate their home, with or without the Numidium at the Emperor's disposal.

The Elders, more than any other altmer, are driven by Honorable Expectations. Things like the law (imperial or the laws of other clans) can be ignored, but one's Honorable Etiquette must always be maintained. The most ancient Altmeri rituals and beliefs are incompatible with the modern world, both at home and abroad, but they're followed nontheless.

From an Imperial perspective, the rule of law is both fluid and convoluted in Elder lands. Imperial law is based on corruptions of altmer legal practices, further muddied by the draconian philosophy of Marukh. In traditional altmeri society, the law is entirely based around Honorable Expectations, and the Kinlord has final say in the interpretation of the law. In Imperial lands, actions that would be considered theft, vandalism, or even murder may be accepted in traditional altmer law based on seemingly irrelevant details and the judgement of the Kinlord.

Codes of conduct can very based on the time of day, the color of a rival's clothing, or even the angle at which the sun reflects off a nearby pond. Guards in Elder lands are required to arrest those who break the laws of man, but they are intentionally lax in their enforcement. In accordance with the Crystal Concordat (the treaty that ended the brief war with the Empire), a mer is sovereign within the physical walls of his Kinhouse, and imperial law has no power there. Technically, the physical Kinhouse is a state unto itself, and the Elders use this to their advantage.

In general, the Elder ways make sense in small communities that surround Kinhouses and wizard towers, but come into conflict with a globalized, modern world. This is the core conflict for the Elders. They think they can simply ignore the outside world, but the world is changing without them, and they may not be able to keep up.

The Youth

Brash, ambitious, and often loutish, The Youth see themselves as revolutionaries, the engineers of a coming altmeri rennaisance. They believe the old ways failed them, that their rulers were unable to adapt to the world, and that this folly led to the collapse of their civilization. The very fact that Man could conquer Mer is evidence of the stagnation and decadence of their people, and The Youth seek a major course correction. The urban city-folk, the revered Artists, and even a few Kinlords are known to have a Youthful mindset.

At best, they seek to forge new bonds with other races, to make their people relevant once more, to place themselves in positions of power in anticipation of the Third Empire's collapse. At worst, they're violent terrorists, actively hostile to both the Empire and what they see as old, outdtated institutions.

The Youth are curious by nature.They're by far the most common altmer seen outside the Isles, and they spend decades as adventurers, nightblades, or mercenary-wizards, eager to learn from other cultures. They don't necessarily have any loyalty or admiration for the lesser races, but seek to understand what makes other cultures successful, and how to incorporate these aspects into their own.

Unlike The Elders, The Youth are driven by active measures to improve their relevence in the world. Altmeri culture is waning, their race no longer serves any vital purpose. The Youth simply can't reconcile this notion with their sense of self-worth, and are obsessed with proving themselves to the world. Their biggest issue, however, is how exactly they should achieve this. Many collaborate with the Empire, working as beaurocrats, agents, and even legionnaires. The Empire is based on altmeri culture,and is evidence of its worth to the world. These altmer seek to take back what's theirs, placing themselves in positions of power. Many Youth see Ocato as the defacto leader of their movement, but it's unclear if he shares their ideals. Their ultimate goal is to turn the Empire into a puppet-state for their ambitions, a platform to spread their light to the world. In their own way, they're loyal to the Empire as an insitution, if not the people who run it.

By contrast, many Youth seek to dismantle the Empire in its entirety. They're often militant and expansionistic, seeking to create a new Dominion or Ayleid Empire to protect their people. In the Niben heartland, many mer meet in secret, forming fraternities or tongs with the ultimate goal of reviving the Ayleid States. More often than not, these groups are less than serious, young folk arguing and boasting and making plans but never following through. Others are far more serious, and amidst the unrest in Cyrodiil, several riots have been violently quelled, as altmer demand one of their own be placed on the Ruby Throne. An especially violent sub-faction of The Youth, known as "The Beautiful", are disorganized cells of magical terrorists. By day, they're part of the Artistic Elite: creators of esoteric, magical, and often bizarre forms of art ill-understood by imperial scholars. By night, they turn these abstract creatons onto their enemies, liquifying beaurocrats with solid sound, using resonant spheres to topple monuments, and even creating golems in mockery of Numidium to smash charter towns. While the exact number of Beautiful operatives is unknown, many are members of a legitimate (if fringe) political tong known as The Thalmor. Whether this is a coincidence, or if one group is fronting the other, is unknown, but an alarming, increasing number of Youth are known to associate with this tong.

Through Past and Present

Through Past and Present



Jubal Sul

Sir Kael

Nexius Telvanni




<Hoon'Ding series> <Nerevarine series>


Though now twice forgotten, Hoon'Ding  comes.

Though now thrice fallen, Nerevarine comes.

Though now forever buried, Kagreduum'ingth comes.

Though now always nevermore, the Thief comes.


Through now, Auri-el's chosen, did they pierce.

Through hearts and minds of the Old Folk, did the Dominion's hold crumble.

Forgotten is the Past, Changed was the future.

Changed is the Nirn, Forgotten is the Nirn-Former.


United were the tribes, under three false gods.

Shattered were the houses, under three dark gods.

Maligned were the remnants, under one flightful prophet.

Aligned were the survivors, under one true leader.


Though the Land of Lions may weaken,

the Land of Dragons shines.

Though the Land of Eagles may weaken,

the Land of Ash shines.


Praised be the pendulum that swings only once, through nameless will.

Praised be the father who watches the children play, horrified as the children fight.

Praised be the Observer, for only he knows the King from the Rebel.

Praised be Anuvanna'si, for cloven are the multitudes, and cracked are the spokes.


Soon they will come crashing down, not with a crash, but with a click.


<innocent poem written by Jenua, circa 5E 9>

He(High King and Magistrate Euphrater) is marveling at Defiant-Wheel with disdain. He shakes his head and doesnt even look towards you. "You know not what they are, what they do. You know not what the world is, what—who will come. You know not why Loreaine had to undergo dracocrysalis. You know little, my adversaries". He seems almost regretful.
"Do you not wish for things? If you could fulfill the wishes of your loved ones, wouldn't you? "
"Do not lie to me and say you do not feel loss. I seek to end this. Surely the Dwarf can see the disaster in the Mundus, the failure of the Et'ada."
He takes a breath and pauses before changing the topic. "I know you prepare for war. Come then, let us test our nations once more, Man and Mer, Shor and Auriel, so the War of Manifest Metaphor may see it's final end"

The Treaty of Akatosh

The Treaty of Akatosh



Jubal Sul

Sir Kael

Nexius Telvanni






<meta />Hawkings Journal:

Buried.  We buried Yuken. How many days ago?  Still his face haunted me while I worked through those Pentius reports.  I didn’t know at the time why I given all those. Far too many for one man to go through.  It’s as if Ralér- Brindle knew what was coming. Good thing though. I was able to glean critical information that proved very useful; the rebellion in Hammerfell, chances for rebellion in Valenwood and Elsweyr, at least with an outside push.  I wonder what I missed that could have helped in the trouble to come.
The war Council was more like a  choice  of who gets to die and who doesn't.  To be placed in the position of weighing the death of innocents against the world.  Hard question. Harder answers. We saved four thousand. I still today treasure the four thousand and try not to think of the other thousand.  That’s wrong though. The sacrifice should be honored. If only I could have used the same power I did saving Plixto for the citizens of Kvatch.
We had no concern for the lives of the 36 Thalmor guarding the great mage Plixto.  We debated erasing them with Plixto. The war needed him though. Jubal and I quietly approached the  Thalmor camp. The new Nexius followed us without our knowledge. To save us the thought what he was to do I suppose.  The camp’s security was impressive to say the least. Invisible Deadra dogs on guard, a prison far below ground, magically sealed, thirty-six Thalmor, all on alert, magical runes littered the ground like discarded clothing at a brothel; there was no way we were getting through all this. Jubal said he thought he could get Plixo out, if I got him to the site of the prison.  Stealth was my job. I thought, “not in this reality.”
I looked to my new friend, the Duke of Crows, on my shoulder and thought of the impossibility of him being there, the things his existence suggested.  Perhaps I could ignore the reality of the guards and the camp, bend reality and slip past them. No, the Duke said. Sideways he said. I thought on that, tried to move sideways, but he said no, don’t think so literal.  Scolded by the Duke of Crows I tried again. I denied the reality of not only the camp, but Everything and with less than a step we were there at the site of the underground prison.
Jubal despaired at getting him out.  He didn’t have the spell. I thought, if he doesn’t have a solution we need another one, from somewhere.  I saw a Thalmor nearby and realized she was the key, she had the spell, in her mind. I thought on that, heard a crow cry, and I was in her mind, stealing her thoughts.  Dahlia  think her name was. She’s dead now, or gone at least. In her mind we talked. She thought, “why should I give the spell to release Plixo?” I thought back with fervor, “Freedom”.  Her thoughts welled up in response; “We all want Freedom. That’s what all the Thalmor want. What we are fighting for.” We can have the Freedom, we thought together. She gave us/I took the spell.  Jubal assisted, and we stole Plixto. We left the camp as we came, stealing past the reality that were guards. I stole Plixto out from every protection the Thalmor had without their notice.
When we were walking back to our forces, I contemplated on the power that the Duke of Crows and Nocturnal had led me to. Then I still didn’t know what else I could do, or have the strength to attempt.  I still struggle with what I should or shouldn’t do. I guess that why we stay with Sir Kale. I didn’t know at the time, but at that same moment, Nexius was erasing Dahlia and the other thirty-five Thalmor with the seven Laws of Metal.  I don’t think of it as Harmonizing, though that is what we call it.
When I wrote, we had no concern for Thalmor lives I was wrong.  We have the most concern with those lives; with ending them. I feel I should apologize to Dahlia, but I never have.
It was worth it though.  Plixto made our Legions fly.  Fly! Hardly lost a man saving the 4000.   Could have saved more, but the group decided the lives of the legionaries were more precious than those 1000 trapped in the city. Hard to argue, doesn’t feel right, but the war was not over.
When the city and Lorraine were erased… harmonized…I felt it wasn’t real.  But then what is. It did matter though. Jubal felt a message from Lorraine passing.
Days later, the Thalmor general came to us to discuss a peace treaty. I looked at him and at that one glance, it felt wrong.  That he could walk her free and alive while Kvatch and so many others did not. He gave his terms, he threatened our "after-life." He threatened Akatosh's covenant.  Despite my recent experience with the nature of reality, I found his threat to be empty, unbelievable, inconceivable even. As if this mortal, elf or not, could have the power to face Akatosh.  I rejected his threats, I threw his terms back in his face. Where was the Justice for this man? This elf who represented the cause of all the deaths of this war, on both sides faced no consequence?
The others though were tired war of war. They wanted peace, to give in to his demand of fortresses in High Rock.  I refused, but it fell on minds already decided. I didn’t want more people to die, but I couldn’t tear myself away from how wrong this was.  The Duke was silent and I’d forgotten he was there or we might at war now. As it was, my rage brought out the Werehawk as I vividly pictured tearing out this Thalmor’s eyes.  However, the ever vigilant Sir Kale threw me out of the tent and Jubal’s Clannfear kept me out. I’m glad they did. The people and soldiers of the Empire don’t need to pay with their lives to bring this elf to Justice.  The Duke and I can handle that.



Euphrater came to the Dragonguard under a banner of truce.

"It seems there has been lasting animosity between our peoples. I would wish that to end but it seems that cannot happen".

"I've noticed Kvatch is missing. Perhaps you need assistance in finding it?"

"Ah yes, the power of denial. The Third sort of Magic of the Beginning. I know you possess such capabilities. It seems you even have a Dwemer to boot".
"You see, the Thalmor also have Magicks from the Dawn. I'll be honest and tell you that we have infiltrated your afterlives through Crystal-Like-Law".
"We are ready to end Akatosh's Covenant. This is where diplomacy begins".

And so the Treaty of Akatosh was signed by the Imperial Battlemage and the Eighth Champion of Cyrodiil.



The Last War Begins

The Last War Begins



Jubal Sul

Sir Kael

Nexius Telvanni






In the season of life in which I shivered from the Frost's Fall, so did I find myself called upon to cast aside the notions of my destiny that I had deemed true. I left the land of my home to which I did not return for all my future days. Under Satakal's ever-changing influence, the sword-singer must do the same to achieve Mastery of Sacrifice. Though I long to see Glenumbra again, that man is a story long ended. I have chosen the common man over myself, as shown upon the Myriad Realms of Revelry.

In the season of life in which I was exposed to the Hearth's Fire, into deep contemplation did I withdraw to ponder the nature of truth, with my master and mentor, Ulms Drathen. I sharpened my mind as my blade and defined the principles I would honor for all my future days. With Tava's blessing, the sword-singer must do the same to achieve Mastery of Wisdom. To the peaks of the Valus Mountains did we climb, and across chasms did I walk. It was here I learned the six basic cuts again, though they will never be used in battle.

In the season of life in which I passed through the Rain's Hand, more than 90 duels did I face to prove myself invincible, though I search for ever more, few of these have been challenges. I learned the 38 grips, the 750 offensive and 1800 defensive stances, and the 9000 strikes that I would practice for all my future days. With Onsi's blessing, the sword-singer must do the same to achieve Mastery of Discipline.

As is written in the Book of Circles, so shall my life be lived.

Ulms Drathen said to me, after the betrayal of our old friend Moviris Sadras, that anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel it is stored in than anything it is poured upon. Honoring his words I have learned to control myself, yet the Mastery of Devotion yet eludes me.


After waiting out the Winter, to Skingrad did we march, under the guidance of OYARSA, our Dwemer-Ayleid-Aldmer-Daedra- who knows what else is inside the concocted General of ours. Skingrad and Anvil were to be the targets of the Dominion, as well as Kvatch. As we spoke with Varn after a week of waiting, tense and terrible waiting, a battlemage scout appeared from the air, shouting "Grand Marshall, commander, it isn't the Altmer attacking us, its the Valenwood Elves!"


With Varn Aquius we defended the city from thousands of Barkmen and Leafmen. As they surrounded the city, they seemed almost jovial. They encircled the city slowly on the south side, encroaching to a full circle as we waited behind our sturdy walls. , we reasoned. None have broken through these ingenious defenses.


That wasn't their plan however. Thousands of flaming arrows every few seconds arced down from the sky on top of us, coming over every wall and ballista. We had no defense against fire, after all, the river was less than a mile to the South. Yuken died in the hail of arrows, Varn being hit as he ran to give orders. Others were wounded as well, but the Ninth Legion was hardly touched, for their metal interlocking shields could not be breached by bone arrows. Jubal and I realized this and coordinated with Varn Aquius to sally forth from the walls and charge the enemy, staying in formation constantly. Varn entrusted me with his legion and we attacked the enemy and their General; Oberyn Nightclaw. After two volleys of pila(thrown spears) peppered the enemies, our shield wall met with their lightly armored and armed soldiers, and we began to cut them apart. The Imperial Legion has trained for every type of combat with every enemy in the known world. None could face us. Except Oberyn and the myth of his power.. so I challenged him directly.


Over the shield wall be jumped, ready to face me. His clerics created a swirling wall of light, a visible but not felt whirlwind around the Cohort. He simply stabbed himself through the heart, to unleash the Wild Hunt.

His flesh exploded outwards, arms and faces coming from it, his skin erupting in limbs and eyes and organs. Claws appeared, then hooks and barbs that morphed into mouths and teeth before becoming flat flesh. Not one part of it stayed the same for more than a few seconds. It crawled towards us before losing its hands and lurching closer. 

Yet I felt something inside me, a force of freedom and imperialism and riteousness that i had not felt since the Door to Bal. I dove at the monstrosity, cutting it apart in a whirlwind of blades I knew not how to control. The fury of a thousand murdered lords and a million enslaved Ra Gada flowed through me, and for every limb the beast grew, two more fell to the grassy field. 

And so I carved at the terrible beast until I was out of breath and the Bosmer could know not a finger of their fallen general.



Del and Nexius used some fowl magics from the Dwemer-the seven castoff laws of metal. Through these, Nexius caused three thousand of the enemy army to instantaneously meet a terrible fate. There was a dull humming that vibrated the ground to its core before it thundered, then stopped. The Bosmeri force simply stopped existing to the South. The army stopped fighting immediately, crying, wailing, screams of anger, echoed through the fields. They simply did not know what destructive force could do this, and I did not know a friend of mine that would be willing to do such a thing… but Nexius Telvanni was dead. In his place, a Dwemer. 


Yet it was a Dwemer that won the Battle for Skingrad. I pray to a multitude of gods for his soul.


—Sir Kael of the Dragon




((got tired of having this hidden, because its been blocking me from the next one))

Loveletter from the Fifth Era
and the Return to Mundus

Loveletter from the Fifth Era



Jubal Sul

Sir Kael

Nexius Telvanni






Those that were Marked played upon Sanguine's many realms for many years, before Wadarsho pierced the planes and allowed me to retrieve them. I went with the fury of a storm and Shouted their return to the Mundus. Some were not ready to leave, yet were coerced by the others.

The point of reentry was Eastmarch, south of Windhelm, where I was not eager to see my brethren. I am hardly Nord anymore, and they had begun a holy war with the Dunmer. The Dragonguard and I investigated this in Pagran and the Olde Fort, yet many did not wish to speak with us. They spoke to me about the glory in the Nordic Empire, about the Age of Man and it's end in the First Era.



<Dragonguard entered the Empire, got drunk with Nexius' mother, went to Nymaril's keep>


Ulms Drathen was pulled from the Stone of Orichalc by Sir Kael, in hopes of training, as Moviris stared at it in disbelief. 
"Oh Azura.. where did you find that thing?" He triedwill try at first to seem nonchalant, and deceived to try and appear like he just heard a rumor about it. It finally glowed brighter and Ulms Drathen came from it and smiling kindly. 
"Ah, Varil, my boy. It has been an Era, hasn't it?" The name Varil was very familliar to each and every one of the Guard, but they mysteriously couldn't place it. Not at all. "Bit of a surprise to see me, eh? Ahah, I bet you don't need me anymore, and have already done it."
"I-I." Mov trailed off and turned to look at the Dragonborn, each of them in turn, then moved his hands to his waist. "It is very good to see you, old friend.. But they can't know… and now you'll never trust me." He looked at the group when he said the last part.
"I've been watching, when able. I understand what she told you. I wouldn't ever allow a Daedr-"
"No, Drathen. I won't allow this.. Landfall." Nexius screamed out in pain and even terror, and collapses, his eyes shut tight but glowing so bright that they were bright red even through his eyelids. Moviris drew a sword of such elegant craftsmanship that it was hard to even believe it existed in reality, and swung it with an elegance and skill they didn't know he possessed. Twenty feet down the table, the Last Dragonborn was slashed from the side to the neck, and with his other hand, Moviris Soul Trapped him. Azura's Star appeared at his waist. As did Malachite Armor all over his body, and another sword, which he also unsheathed. 
Moviris threw a powder at Nymaril, apologizing immediately and saying "The Sixth way demands this." before Sidestepping to the LDB, stabbing him through the back in a way similar to a mural seen in the temple in Kragenmoor. Only Nymaril knew truly what is happening and was gasping as he clutched at his face "NEREVARINE." Nymaril was blinded. The Dragonguard tried to attack Moviris, but this only caused his armor to flicker into sight, the armor of a Buoyant Armiger.
The LDB got out a Shout, before collapsing on the table and continuing to gasp for air and being unable, he shouts to summon fallen warriors of Sovngarde. Two appeared, standing in the doorway. Moviris immediately moved to attack one before Ulms Drathen was there, and blocked with his Shehai, and Moviris suddenly looked afraid. This was one man who had always beaten him.
The Dragonguard are utterly astounded by the events taking place in front of them, but the heroes of Sovngarde will attack all those around them, preference to Ulms Moviris, then Dunmer, then elves.
Moviris looked at Nexius and shook his head, whispering an apology. Ulms Drathen attacked him with an onslaught of unbelievably fast and surreal blows that didn't seem to follow any fighting style known, some attacks at range, others seem to vibrate in his grip, still others seemed to come from a dozen directions in the same instant. Moviris, to his credit, was defending rather well, his twin swords spinning in a strange way that seemed to block all attacks while being solid and immobile. The Dragonguard can't understand the way they fight, the Way of the Ansei. 

Ulms had a pained and horrified look on his face, when his Shehai slipped through Moviris' glass armor seemingly ignoring it, into his left abdomen, Moviris looked into his old master's eyes with a pained expression only known by those feeling betrayed, perhaps the Dragonguard feltthis. Moviris looked down and gripped his Master's wrist, smiling softly. "Been a while since I've heard the name Varil."

Jubal Sul seemingly turned upon the Dragonguard (with no consequence) using the Scroll of Daedric Intervention to wisp the dying Moviris away upon Azura's whim. Only she knows where the True Nerevarine may be.



After a period of mourning and a proper funeral for the show-Emperor, the Dragonguard took Juliek Silver to the Ruby Throne, performing the proper ceremonies before the Counts of all Cyrodiil. Those that decided to come, at least. Juliek became Emperor of the Heartlands, and would see war before the end of the year. The end of the Era was declared, and after the two-hundred-sixty-eighth year of the Fourth Era, the Fifth would begin. 

If the Empire will last that long.



The Dragonguard also went to the hidden floors of White Gold, rebuilding OYARSA and placing it in direct control of all Imperial assets, for it to win the war. They warned the Emperor that it would sometimes take extremes, but will always achieve it's goal.

They then went to the top of the tower and fought a final battle against corruption in the Empire. Against [[:vurg | Vurg]]. In the end, Nexius' blade was plunged into the stomach of Vurg, who tried to speak a fearful warning but only spit forth blood. The essence in the sword came forth and beat Vurg, hitting him thrice across the face before taking the sword and slashing his body in twain, both of them falling from the White-Gold Tower.


And so the Fourth Empire was born, in the hands of new leaders.



Juliek Silver, the new Imperial Battlemage Nexius Telvanni, and Jubal Sutch-Sul opened the door to the 1008 Cyrodilic Weapons of Rapture. Inside Jubal found a small note detailing the Dreamsleeve location of a letter. His Loveletter. 


Ald Sotha Below, 5E911
House Sul Progenitor House, duly noted under the digital house,
Whirling School Prefect Approved
Chronocule Delivery: souljewel count: 78888-00-00-00-000

My name is Jubal-*-Sul, of House Sul, whose name is known and heard throughout the Scathing Bay and the Nine times Nine Thrones. Our lord is High Alma Jaroon, of House Jaroon, whose city is the First City of the New North, where all who Went Under from Landfall settled and made peace with the Worm, when we were not Eighty and One separate peoples but One, carrying the tibrols on our back together and cutting tunnels by the light and heat that all mer wore, with equal dust in every mouth. My family’s name comes from the first child born in the Velothi, Haeko-dol-Sul, and, like him, we are salt merchants. Our crest is the tusk of the bat-tiger. Our bloodline is registered by C0DA.


The Digitals say we come from another star, but so many have forgotten. I have not, for my lineage granted me audience with Memory, and I have spoken with the Wheels of Lull. I have seen proof, as any who come Up during Landfall Season, when the winds die down enough Above that all may make pilgrimage under the banner of Vehk and Vehk. Though many Above have renounced Memory, they too remember.

I tell you now, brothers and sisters of the coming 4th, that the holy Scripture of Love contains all you need to avoid the perils of the Landfall. By chronocules granted by the ‘neers of Lull, this warning is given freely and by Love. Sermon 35 begins properly:

“The formulas of proper Velothi magic continue in ancient tradition, but that virility is dead, by which I mean at least replaced. Truth owes its medicinal nature to the establishment of the myth of justice. Its curative properties it likewise owes to the concept of sacrifice. Princes, chiefs, and angels all subscribe to the same notion. This is a view primarily based on a prolific abolition of an implied profanity, seen in ceremonies, knife fighting, hunting, and the exploration of the poetic. On the ritual of occasions, which comes to us from the days of the cave glow, I can say nothing more than to loosen your equation of moods to lunar currency.”

The C0DA broke when Twice Vehk appeared again from Aether, but they captured enough of Him to render the words stable again. In this passage, He describes the goal of the Lunar God, who some of you still ascribe the name “Lorkhan”. When stabilized, the words become proof:

















***********N SPIRIT I AM.



Snake Mount
and Light and Dark.

Snake Mount



Jubal Sul

Sir Kael

Nexius Telvanni






<the Archcanon of the Whirling School "stands" before his mass of a dozen mer. some are alive, some are dead. some on Oblivion, some on Mundus>

"Dear ephemeral transients, there is no need for this agitation". He puts his deep bronze hands in the air, and although they are slightly translucent, the commotion ceased.

"Did you not make the path clear?" a Mundial Dunmer says in anguish, "The path changes for each who Walks it!" A couple more voices agree, although their faces reveal the displeasure.

"I do not write our texts. These come from Vivec. From Boethiah. From the Void Ghost. Yet nonetheless this is true, transient.. had they Walked the Way to the Fifth in its dreadful yet splendid entirety".

The choir seems to simultaneously release a held breath; they would not have to begin the Psijic Endeavor again.

He goes on to further assuage their fears, as well as their curiosity "I will recount to you what our Prophet and Lord revealed to me, of the Dragonguard becoming Boethiah's Champions".

The Dragonguard of the Fourth Empire had each been reborn, and began on the path of removing their weaknesses to prepare for the Fifth. Cassia, our Lord's own mortal Psijic aspirant, approached them. She told them that Boethiah was inviting them to Snake Mount. They did not find this honor to their liking.

The door that was always there was opened, and they moved in a higher dimension to the Mount above. This plane beneath them, the void of Oblivion above them, sparking thunder made of Creatia. Forces in conflict abound, as if to eternally create a stronger power.

They were brought along the bridge of Snake Mount, floating off the ground. Dremora and many Daedra that are not seen outside of Snake Mount were throughout the city, as some of you have seen, and each of them bowed a nixhair length to them. They were guests.


They were taken to the center of the Mount, and thrown to the ground before the visage of Boethiah

Cassia is not permitted to know where her soul originates, so with a modicum of fear she helped Jubal to his feet and spoke "This is the honor-hall of Boethiah's Champion, where he is challenged. I pray us a painless death, but a long struggle".

The statue of Boethiah never moved, instead, it has always been in what position it wants to appear to be in. Even if that conflicts with what position it was formerly in. It reached its hands out like a king to his arena, ready to be entertained. 

"Fear is a weakness, and you know what we do with those, my kin". Cassia then drew her weapons and joined the Dragonguard.

The arena has sparking fire to the left of Boethiah's statue, and liquid ice to the right, throughout the arena are lightning chains.


The statue intoned, like a king giving a speech."You would do well to remember who set you upon this path, those-that-Guard. You would do well to reminisce upon the original world-snaked".


After a minute of waiting, the Arbiter came. A landslide of bricks brought Weer to his grasp, where the lizard was thrown at the lightning chains towards the fire. They battled the Daedroth even s his skin knit itself back together, and he used layers and layers of castoff flesh made from previous enemies to shake off blows. The Arbiter attempted to kill those that were harming it, as well as get the Champion's fight underway, but also to help the Dragonguard.

Cassia soon realized her place in the eyes of Boethiah from praying with Nexius to the Lord, which is to say as dust, and dutifully fought the Dragonguard as the true champion.

They finally used what they had learned from the Tests of the Maze of Lies to use the dirtiest tactics to their advantage, as well as the metaphysical awareness gained through this. They combined the Right Hand of Stasis with the Left Hand of Change, bringing two chiral opposites together. This is the source of all power, my transients. This is the core of the Second Way, as well as an eldritch inspiration for the First; 'keeping elder magic bound before it can change into something lesser'. Regretfully this requires aetherial surplus. Something the Ayleids understood quite well.

Through this combination they freed Cassia's soul and destroyed her bodies. The soul faded away to the Dreamsleeve to find said shared fate.


The Guard stood before the Statue, where it now always had stood, hands held behind back and looking down at them with a fraction of assent. "You are now mad-molders, pray thou become shapers, lest your quiet song be drowned in the cacophony to come".

They asked about Cal, and Josphene, and other things, to which Boethiah was rather amiable. She blatantly demanded that they do not picture her as a god. Boethiah does not see herself as a god.

Nexius spoke up, finally voicing his fear, and asked what was to come.

The reply simple. The explanation unavailable. "What is coming? Ask instead what isn't coming, for Everything is. It'll begin with Dies Irae, as Azura fears".

 The statue looked down on them, a strange expression upon its face. Perhaps guilt, regret, remorse, or hate. Princes are unknowable. "Dies Irae, when the final song of trumpets begins and all are commanded before God and judged. Those that are saved are delivered, those that are not are cast into the flames… but who is to judge the future? Azura has been wrong before".

They were gifted a Black Soul Gem, and allowed to leave the plane, and did so.

<Through a chamberpot climbs a mer, his body changing from elastic to physical>

"Greetings my fellow dead mer!" He beamed with a bright smile.

The Archcanon raised an eyebrow and the living beings seemed taken aback.

The Ayleid in front of them shook his head and smiled wider "No no, I am simply searching for a bar joke, by which I mean, a Dunmer, Breton, Imperial, Dwarf, and a Ra Gada". He laughed at his own joke before pulling a stolen monocle. Using this and some spell of detection, he found the Guard's trail and ran between dimensions to Snake Mount.

He had been there before, after all.



The Dragonguard went to Nocturnal's Evergloam, and were taken by the shadow of a being through a city filled with pristine architecture piled atop each other messily. The castoff civilizations. Here, they found the False Mirror, which is to say a looking glass into NUMINIT. They observed many visions inside it, some similar to their world, some so completely separate and random they were incomprehensible. Sir Kael (crit) and saw the Daia Vanos, the proper one. Del looked again and (crit) and saw his mother, perhaps his, perhaps another his. Jubal allied with the shadow.

The Dragonguard went to Meridia's Colored Rooms and were immediately faced with Meridia. She was a nine-foot tall perfect Aldmer, except she possessed no features. Instead of these, she had large gaping wounds which leaked pus. She was constantly sweating a white light that dripped down her body. Her arms terminated in large knives. Although it was not hot, the Guard's skin was cracking, as they were cooking in her presence. They gave her the captive Pyramid, in return for the three Eyes of Meridia. Upon telling them a Truth, they were given a Truth. The first was used to learn of a spell cast by Wadarsho to send Ysmir to Sanguine's plane, at the request of a mysterious note.

And so they had a plan to return home, although they learned it has been eight years.

The Whirling School

The Whirling School



Jubal Sul

Sir Kael

Nexius Telvanni












<meta />

Exhilarating. That is how I found it to be able to think of a place in Boethiah’s Realm and be there before I could even blink.  I am glad we followed Knight Kael to the Well in that way, for there we encountered Josephine and Cal… and saw how much they had aged.


Joesphine, torn I felt for her, trapped her, against her will, though it was fortuitous meeting her, for I learned the fate that awaits me as well.  She lingered before the well, tempted to dive in, seeing escape in the lies of release the Well promised. At first, I mockingly asked her why she did not jump, but later I told her faithfully to not jump, that it was a lie.  She still ponders it without choosing.  Perhaps she will for eternity.


[[: cal | Calesse Thilinus]], we found as well, staring over the edge. Nexius, Kael, Weer and I each talked with her. Jubal, too, though they had only just met.  Our visit brought her joy, or at least lightened her darkness.  The three hundred years had weighed on her, and even her indomitable spirit entertained surrender now.   I told her we would find a way to get her out, but she did not believe it possible.  She did give us information about Boethiah’s Realm, we will see how helpful it will be as we undertake the other Tests, the first two steps only, of the Psijic Endeavor.


Then Nexius wanted to visit the Library.  For books of course, but there also a Bosmer librarian that said amazing things. Things that I’m still pondering.  'Twas quite a shock when he learned from Jubal that he was in Boethiah's Realm.  He thought he was in Azura’s apparently.  After questioning from us, he gave us answers, entertaining but quite mystical answers.  A Mysticist I surmised, but not one like I had ever met before.  When Jubal told him to travel back down the hallway from Azura’s Realm that he took to get here, he disappeared, as did the entire library.  We watched him and his library shrink away.


Entering the Arena for The Orc-King Malac's test of the physical, we met an intriguing being. After saving us from the original trial of choking on ash for hours, he greeted us politely, and his words implied many interesting abilities and a long history stretching back to the 1st age.  HIs name or title went something like; “Multiplier of The Motions Know”  A hard one to pin down he was.  He questioned on which fighting styles we wanted to face, led us to believe he knew them all, any style in any known age. His name was Fa-Nuit-Hen, and he had no memory of anything. He had a Xivilai remember for him.


I faced a spyblade or spellsword from my age, Weer faced a skirmishing argonian like he used to be, Sir Kale a Dervisher like his old skill, Nexius a treasure hunter, Jubal an Ashlander.  Others were there as well, Ulms Drathen and Cassia.  I was surprised to see Cassia a priestess from the Boethiah temple, but she said even she had to test herself. I suppose the highest priest in a temple to Boethiah would be more adept at combat than almost any Nord.


My opponent cast a cloak spell and mockingly gestured for me to approach.  I stepped back carefully, commenting, “There’s no need for that my Lady, we hardly know each other, and the smell…”  She did not appreciate the humor.  Eventually, I defeated my opponent through the cunning application of spellcraft and dagger.  Though I think the humor helped.


Sir Kale defeated his opponent so soundly he was awarded his honors. Nexius utilized his staff to bring victory, again.  Unfortunately, we were not all successful.  Jubal and Weer lost their battle.  I believe Jubal’s fight was close, but Weer faced his weakness, a ranged skirmisher that stayed far out of reach of Weer’s weapon.


We took what soul Change we could from the victory and left to rest for the next test.  Fa-Nuit-Hen expressed disappointment we would not stay to fight more matches.  I was tempted, the sweet taste of victory still on my mind, but Nexius reminded us that we had more pressing matters.


Later when we gathered at the Test of mental weakness, of Sheog, again Cassia and Ulms Drathen were there.  When it started and the horrors began to assail our minds, Ulms sat motionless, eyes closed and not even appearing to breath.  Cassia threw her swords away, explaining she didn’t want to kill someone.  “This is not the best test for me,” she said.


We did not share the same visions, but we shared the horror.  We each had our own personal nightmare, even later when it seemed we all shared the same visions of madness.  As Cassia said; "You cannot overcome suffering if you refuse to look at it". Trying to stay calm  watching the visions for many, many hours, I began to doubt this was the right path, and changed to a Werehawk to try to escape.  This proved impossible.  I took a hint from the others and attempted to sleep.  The sleep was peaceful, but we each awoke to the same place we left.  Thinking now that I needed to embrace the madness to escape, to use madness to defeat the madness, I began “killing” the apparitions in my visions.  This did not prove to be the right answer for afterwards, after the test ended, only confusion filled my heart and mind. Succumbing to the madness would not save me this time… I will need to ponder the meaning of this, when I have a moment.  If I could get one in Oblivion I'd be amazed.  Kale survived the test exceedingly well, though meditating on himself and his learned strength of mind and will, but Weer and Jubal were affected like me.  Nexius, I’m not sure. He seemed at peace, but too much so. Of Cassia we saw no sign. In the end, a note from Haskill of Sheog said that Sheogorath did absolutely nothing, and the madness we saw was our own superstition and fears. He was "simply showing us the madness within". Bullshit. I say Oblivion is just messing with our minds again.


With the change gained from this encounter we now had almost enough.  I suggested a trip to the casino, and with a bit of luck and charm, we had more than enough for new Animi.  With nothing else to hold us back we went to the Shrine , the Shrine where we could enact the ritual to get new lives, new souls, in part.  The Whirling School.


In the Whirling School we were asked what was important to us, what we loved and hated, by a man who was half there, for the Whirling School existed both in Oblivion and upon Mundus. "According to the Codes of Mephala, there is no difference between the theorist and the terrorist. Even the most cherished desire disappears in their hands. This is why Mephala has black hands. Bring both of yours to every argument. The one-handed king finds no remedy".


We approached the Altar of Boet-hi-Ah  and we were to offer something.  "This is our gateway to the Drowned Lanterns. The Sacred Flame, for us all to covet wrongly" He intoned; "I have crushed a world in my left hand, but in my right is how it could have won against me. Change [sic] is under my Will, only". We each saw visions of what we hated and were desperate to Change of ourselfves, but these were symbolic of what we were trying to do and decisions were required that struck at the very core of who we were, who we wanted to be.  And we began to Change. Nexius said simply he cut away a piece of him he did not want. A dwarven piece. Sir Kael told me not to ask again, but to be thankful he saved Daggerfall. Weer was whooping and cheering that he had killed a Thalmor General, but seemed stressed at some consequence for this I did not see. My vision was deeply trying, personal, and I struggled down to my core deciding what to do.  In the end, I allowed the slaved aboard my father's ship vote whether to hang him for breaking the law, or to let him free with nothing. I killed my treacherous father.


The man from earlier and the entire School began chanting. He first said; "Let the tears flow, let thou old world die, only then, as a newborn, can thou see the world with eyes Anu. This is the promise of the PSJJJJ: egg, image, man, god, city, state. I serve and am served. God,  Man or Beast, a Star. This is the Psijiic Endeavor". The School reverberated and shook us to our cores, except we did not lose our footing, for it was only inside us. The plane seemed to speak to us as they chanted;




…and we were reborn.



Ulms Drathen spoke to us, soon after. His words always felt like a calm ocean breeze.  "In the book of circles it is written that when you forgive, you set a prisoner free, except that prisoner is yourself. This is not the Way of the Ansei. I am who I am, and Change is not my Way.. Speak to me upon Mundus when you return, dear Dragonguard". He would not Change.


Jubal soon Changed himself in this way, wishing he could save what he loved, and keep his world the way it was. He wasn't in the best state of mind, he admitted himself. He had just lost Galyron, seen the despair in the Well, lost to his own people, and had madness take him. In the end, he did Change successfully, anon PSJJJJ. Upon his right palm was a swirling palette of colors, and he continued to close his eyes and use his left fingers to draw in the air with it.


Jean was a battlemage. His story is a strange one, admittedly. He is rather calm about being in Oblivion, perhaps he has been here before, for he holds the title of Battlemage to the Empire. As Yurg did. As Maera does. As Galyron did. They all changed the Empire with their power, I hope Jean is moreso on our side. Jean also was said to overcome the Tests. He Changed as well. He wished to be able to save the fallen, and was whispering something about an Ash Titan. His hands sparked with ice, and he could shock people's heart's back to life, restoring their body with ice. It appears it isn't totally reliable, but it brought Kael back from the dead


And so we went on, and were invited to Snake Mount.

Attribution's Share
and the House of Troubles...

Attribution's Share


They came to the Principality of <Sedition>, anon Attribution's Share. Upon an ebony tower they stood, the sky churning and sparking bolts of lightning over the horizon. Two lunar figures were held aloft in the sky, the clouds behind them.

Below, the Maze of Lies. Partially invaded by mountains, but infinite. Above the maze yet impossibly distant was a mountain, more beautiful than any other.

Winged snakes darted above the maze, a hundred meters long and rows of teeth. Three snakes surrounded the Dragonguard, lightning frothing from their skin like liquid, staring into them before returning to the sky.


The Dragonguard then descended in the tower, hoping to reach the maze. They encountered hundreds of beings, primarily Dunmeri, standing agape, staring at nothing and whispering distantly. Their minds were elsewhere. Some were having conversations, some were thinking aloud, but none of them purposefully. They had all already died, and come to <Sedition's> afterlife.


A single revolution had passed before the Guard were separated and were each viewing something they loved being destroyed by Mehrunes Dagon in some form. Jubal Sul saw NUMINIT home being destroyed by an Ash Titan, a Daedric dragon. <Nexius Telvanni> saw <Ninian Redoran> dying upon Oblivion, and an Ash Titan burning houses in the Imperial City. <Delysaurus> sees an army of <Northpoint> marching on Daggerfall, and his father causing his mother's death. Weer sees his mother dying to an Ash Titan, because he instructed them to flee to the Imperial City. <Kael> sees Camlorn's wall falling to the army of Northpoint, and his duke serving as a trophy to the Duke of Steel.

They were then shown their past failures, the Third Legion's death, every wife and child left alone, <Weer's> parents, <Del's> parents, Nexius' family, NUMINIT, Daia.

Lying on a ground of ebony they were surrounded by graves to Dagon, before a single shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. Many Gear-turns later they found the strength to persevere, and defeated the Trouble. It is said of the House of Troubles that Mehrunes Dagon tests thy will to continue.


The moons did not move, yet time passed. Deeper in the Maze, Hungers came and tasted each of the Guard, knowing their weaknesses. They returned with five Xivkyn, Daedra with the martial prowess of the Dremora and the magicka and intellect of the Xivilai. They had marks of Molag Bal, yet they were covered with marks of Boethiah. The Second Trouble.

Through nearly dying to this Trouble they learned of the Chimer, before they were Chimer. The Velothi. The Velothi followed their Prophet Veloth in running from the Aldmer, for they followed the teachings of Lorkhan. A being akin to all that is unholy and terrible in this world, to the Aldmer. They only way the Velothi survived is through the guidance of Boethiah and Mephala, teaching them the ways of Secret murder and Sedition. Through this they weakened the Aldmer and fled to Resadyn. Through this, the Dragonguard used foul traps and guile to destroy the Xivkyn, turning the dangerous Maze to be their ally. It is said of the House of Troubles that the preeminent Molag Bal tests thy will to resist domination.



Content Not Found: cass spoke to them suddenly, the first Whisperer to do so. She told them of the Gate to Limit, and how Boethiah's plane is structured similar to the Aurbis. Eggshells within eggshells. Transcending is possible, but the Snake Mount is barred to those protonymic.

Instead, she led them below, to the Gate to Limit.


Three levels lie below, the Outer City, the Deeper City, and the Well. The Guard here were incandescent, for their souls were still living.

 In the Outer City, there is jovial and selected crime rampant, followed by polite applause. It almost felt like <Dragonstar>, a home for adventurers and wayfarers, full of shops and temples for those that would Test themselves above, to one day ascend to Snake Mount.

In the Deeper City, the true afterlife of the Dunmer was found, for those who Test themselves not, and seek a peaceful existence until discorporation.

In the Well, those that are damned to Attribution's Share are found. <Cal> and <Josephine> were encountered there. Below the reversed spires was the Cerulean Sea, the replacement for the Dreamsleeve for only the Dunmer, as named by a Mysticist.


After discovering some lore, the Guard returned to their bodies and sought after the Right Hand. The Stasis to the Change.

One must conquer themselves before the world.


Here, each made a choice, and then knew what they wished to Change of themselves. 

<Knight Kael>, after seeing his homeland of Bretony and the more noble land of Hammerfell, chose the latter.. but wished to bring what he loved with him.

<Delysaurus> chose to pursue justice, but keep his hands clean.

<Nexius> chose knowledge and Change over his family, to finally become something.

Jubal chose to walk away from Azura's lordship and seek his own answers.

Their Change is accounted.


May the world below make them, and the worlds above take them, should they continue on this path.



Those that Guard the Dragon are registered by         


Chimera of Desolation
and how Jubal learned true Conjuration...


Chimera of Desolation


Being left upon <Principality known as Apocrypha>, the <untranslatable> known as Jubal Sul was consulting the Dreamsleeve for help from his allies upon the Mundus.

Gear-turns passed. Order invaded, platforms from beneath the briny liquid of the plane(t) surfaced, and the Army of Order attacked. The sane-shaper known as Ulms Drathen cut their physical forms.

Through the platform, the outer plane known as Certainty.


The <untranslateable> and his allies saw everything perfectly in it's place. The avatar-dominated known as Haskill of Sheogorath came to them, offering a gift from his Prince. It was a spell, or an offering of the mind, that would allow Jubal to throw his body and soul through the planes. Planar Dance.

Using this spell of randomized component and magicka, those that Guard the Dragon and the Dragon Emperor departed Certainty.


They apperated upon Adonea, the plane of journey and destination. Every path leads somewhere, the plane connects to all places. They attempted to move in the third, but could not, for only those who move in the sixth can travel upon Adonea.

Hell Hounds sent by Content Not Found: yurg came upon them, capturing <Nexius Telvanni> and nearly consuming Jubal. Their mundial magicks were contorted here, when Hawking attempted invisibility, ten thousand Hawkings were upon the plane. 


They escaped to the Fourth Sinus of Takubar, a collective realm of the Cold-Fire Atronachs.


They quickly left, but a failure in the spell sent them between the planes. To Dagon of the <JS-38>. There were pockets of un-space as well as areas of un-time. Nexius stumbled upon subjects of un-thought, where his mind could not comprehend the lack of subject matter.

They could not depart this plane, and so they traveled by accident to the Door-Key-Cage of old Dagon.

Here they met the Leaping Hare, and took it with them when they went hidden into the Door-Key-Cage.


They found a foggy inlet island, infinite for those of lesser minds. They met Old Man Chimere, the founder of Conjuration, who soon killed himself with three cups of Deathbell. Before the death of his body, he taught Jubal for one hour of Planar Migrant, in return for a soul gem of an Ash Zombie. 

Chimere was from <JS-38> as well as Dagon and the Leaping Hare. He had been trapped upon this plane for <uncountable>.


They then departed through the superior magicks, to the Principality known as Attribution's Share.



The Dragonguard have been registered by


and how Dagon triumphed.



Sul the Hunter's Chronicles of Super-Mundial Principalities


Authored by: NUMINIT

Co-Authored by: Jubal Sul



Author's Note


My name is [[NUMINIT]], a Battlemage working for none save himself. A damn good one, I would hope. One that holds the lost art of memospore, which is the very fabric of the manuscript your [untranslatable] now lie upon.

The Dragonguard and I returned to Oblivion, and it was outside our designed home where we glimpsed horrors unimaginable.

It was there that Sir Kael of the Dragon died.

It was there-here-that I may now apperceive my existence and all that it has begat.

It was and is here, where I am no longer. 



Part 2 of 4, Chapter 1



I am quite ahead of myself.

When we reentered Oblivion, I was confident we would follow the same paths as those we did previous. I was not aware of these paths being tampered with, not once, but twice. When we travelled backwards, we did not go to Mephala's Spiral Skein. We were shunted to the Deadlands.

Choking on soot, we looked bewildered at a dozen Dremora Churls surrounding us. Although barely clothed and of the lower caste, all Dremora were usually quite restrained and intelligent. I attempted to introduce myself, yet instead of listening, they all charged with feverish abandon, attempting to surround any one of us and butcher them with some sort of oily scaled shortswords.

Although they purposely did not hurt Nexius Telvanni, the situation was unfortunate, considering we were quite possibly in the most feral, chaotic, and physically dangerous plane known to the Empire.


Separating ourselves from the majority of the Churls on the bridge above a lake of lava, J noticed bars of moonstone and magical scrolls, arranged as if we were expected. The Churls clearly did not expect us to fade in from outside the plane, though. Sir Kael battled with Churl after Churl, attempting to parry aside every blow and managed to dismember at least two of the ferocious beasts, before a Caitiff came at him. Spikes looked riveted across his face and hw twirled Ebony maces about his head like they were weightless, and they fell upon Sir Kael much too quick and heavy for him to parry. We dragged him to safety, barely, yet he fell unconscious from the pain of being hit squarely in the chest with one.

The only thing between us and the Dremora remaining was a two meter gap in the fragmented bridge. The stalemate didn't last long, as a Dremora Xivilai began gripping the bridge with chained talons from the sky itself, tearing it asunder nearly perfectly. Then we fell.


3dead. It was disastrous, surely. Our fragments of stones served as temporary rafts in the molten fire, but they did so for our enemy as well. The battle continued as we rode them closer towards a Dremora fortress, arrows beginning to rain on us as a beast bounded across the top of the lava as if it were water-walking, and dueled with Nexius and the recovered Kael both.

One Dremora simply did not move, and was adorned differently. His skin was hued slightly darker, and possibly a shade purple. He simply watched.

Erupting from the lake of fire came a snake of bone, which spat fire across our rubble and threw the Caitiff which nearly killed Sir Kael into the lava.. as well as myself. I survived for a few seconds due to wearing my Ebony armor, which protected from the heat, yet the Caitiff would not release me as he was boiled alive.

It was Jubal that saved me, this time, sacrificing his Clannefear to pull the Caitiff beneath the surface of the lava. I flew away after that, and returned to my allies soon after, away from the river.


They me later of how the Dremora that watched called off the archers, and we later saw him far away, upon a mountaintop. Enigmatic.

We soon came upon, strangely enough, a Dunmer pacing a mound of dirt. He identified it as his own burial mound, and after some pressure, himself as an Ansei.

Surprisingly, Sir Kael was not offended by this. For anyone but a Ra Gada to even invoke the name of the old order would be an insult to it, to any Ra Gada. I do not know Kael very well.

This Ulms Drathen ULMS told us of a group of rogue Daedra, and due to Sir Kael's eagerness to learn more of his birth-people, he remarked that training Kael would not be impossible. Perhaps if he were to devote himself to such a task. The first step on this task was to carry a package. Ulms named it a Stone, and it was wrapped in cloth. We did not know what was inside.


The Dragonguard set out to meet with these rogue Daedra, believing them to be led by their old… ally. Vaqua. Approaching the "city" of Derikuro, we were surrounded by stripped women with skin of caked and cracked ash. They clawed and grasped at us as dark and foreboding Dremora Kynvals circled us. Only four of them, yet each was known to command and dominate hundreds of other Dremora.

One spoke, his voice reverberating like a dark forest.  "E'tah Mazken Ghartok". This [is/can be] (the) General('s) Hand(s). Perhaps he meant the Generals meeting inside the towers.

When none of us understood quick enough, he growled, his mouth dripping blood before saying "Impermanent children. You are not welcome here, but we do not serve Mehrunes Dagon, And he allows you on his realm. Would we be wise to bring your pitiful end?"

When we expressed confusion, he continued "You are temporary, and none can enter the Changing Plane without Mehrunes Dagon's acquiescence. You are his servants". The ash-women scream and recoiled away from us, as if we were monsters.

"The Council of Lords meet, and children will not disturb the Markynaz".

We were standoffish for quite some time, and stating that we were friends of Vaqua only warranted a wet, blood spitting laugh.


Explosions and angry screaming and horrendous scraping of metal came from in the city-towered. The women scattered in every direction, the Kynvals drew spears and sprinted with unnerving agility inside. Only seconds after, we followed, finding Vaqua already eliminating the last of them, before hefting the heavy Sword of the Moon Reiver over his shoulder.

"Greetings, servants of Mehrunes and Herma-Mora. It has been a world last we spoke, yet now I see you with all four eyes". Vaqilijikcar Va qwileh jiik car was his adorned name, or Vaqua. He explained how he has destroyed all resistance to Mehrunes Dagon, and when questioned he said "Resisting the tyranny of Mehrunes Dagon is foolish. I have crushed said resistance. Would you accompany me to offer their Lord and leader to our Prince?" He seemed terse, yet Hawking immediately caught on that he seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

Mehrunes Dagon was listening.


I advised strongly against going to meet the god damn Prince of the Plane we stood upon. They noted this, and then we went to meet him. When we agreed, we traveled for days, yet were there instantly. This was common in Oblivion, especially upon the Deadlands, for whatever reason. The entire journey was to cross the infinity between us and the volcano which was always North. It took lava in from the clouded sky, as if it's white jet of flame went into it instead of out of it.

And then we had suddenly always arrived. The Palace of the Valkyn, where the Valkynaz meet, Mehrunes Dagon's personal guard. Even I do not know what the great Mehrunes need fear to warrant a guard. The same crocodile-dragon-like Daedroth that decimated Cheydinhal guarded the palace steps, inside it and throughout it was the decimation that was the Throne.

Daedra love thrones. They show their dominance.


In the center, but also everywhere, was the Lord himself.

Hawking recoiled in terror and began spouting messages of doom, Sir Kael tried to tell Weer that there was no hope, becoming manic and punching him perfectly in the gut, even denting his armor, causing Weer to froth a strange black liquid from the mouth, akin to retching.

Nexius and Jubal and I were stricken with fear, like an ant before being stepped on, but we did not take irrational action.

Mehrunes is a large golem made out of coal, charcoal, and other flammable materials. He has no arms, or four arms, and is surrounded by several floating hands. The hands have eye balls as fingertips. There are infinite lacerations all over his body, which are bleeding backwards, taking in blood and sucking in air even. 

Vaqua offered the Moon Reiver to him, as it was a piece of Dagon himself in the distant past. When Vaqua saw what we had become, he instructed us to wait outside. We did, simply being outside as opposed to somehow moving to get there, staring at the twelve foot tall Daedroth. 

Rifts opened, a light blue and briny liquid expunged from each. There was a sick crunching sound and more rifts formed, each like claw marks across the mountains, the skies, the walls. The Daedroth shrieked before wielding Jubal's Clannefear like a bat and smacking most of us aside, and it was then that Sir Kael slid into lava and his heart was burned from his chest and he died within seconds. Without a word or a scream, like a Knight. Weer carried his body as we ran, the rifts enveloping everything there was and nearing us, and Jubal helped me cast the spell to leave through one, letting us escape the plane before we were sucked to the Void between planes.



Part 2 of 4, Chapter 2.



Our stay here was brief, Weer simply mutilated himself, submitting himself to a contraption of the Dukes of Anguish under Molag Bal. Horrible techniques of physical pain and torture, which were designed to only cause pain, as the Duke revel in physical displeasure. I wonder why you would need a Duke of such a thing, but the Lord of Domination must have uses. We recovered a Pyrimid of Meridia here, it's every angle perfect. It was here Hawking opened the package from Ulms Drathen, and my precaution was revealed. Ulms Drathen led the half of the soul I gave a damn about from the Sword underneath, saved by Jubal and I's spells. It was a hollow victory, as he was most assuredly dead. He didn't even have his Animus to cast magic with. Funny. Redguard magic.



Part 2 of… the last Chapter.



After a few planes, we came to Apocrypha. There were plants like Venus Fly Traps about, within each, books. Bulbs of light flew around, following pages which floated on a mystical wind that we could not feel. Books extended in every direction, sometime on bookshelves, sometimes on waves of pages. Halls morphed into oceans of knowledge, and physical reality was subjective here, while other planes played with time. A Lorkhanic jest.

I embraced Jubal, for I'd finally led us here. "I've-ah-wanted to see this plane for quite a while. Well, any of the planes. Thank you for this opportunity J, allow me to look around some, but remember to always keep each other within sight".




The shelves extended miles higher, and I floated along them collecting books about concepts I could only dream before. Sir Kael climbed up above to eavesdrop upon a Seeker.


The Seeker spoke with an Urn, in which floated a mortal's brain in a briny liquid. 

"I know a thing", the Seeker lisped, a frisson of horror arcing through the undead Kael.

"Is it a thing worth knowing?" replied the brain, somehow speaking.

"You shall judge, Floater. I know Old Antecedent has entered into an agreement with the mortals, a compact, as they say. Is that nothing?"

"Next to Nothing". 

"It is a think that I have Known". The Seeker's tentacles oozed brine, as if they were milking eachother.


"I heard a discussion between Scrivener Uu-Thorax and the Eleventh Preceptor. They came into the Crepuscule, where I was quietly…."


"Yes. the Preceptor expressed skepticism, but then the Scrivener spoke a Word of Asseveration. Books scattered everywhere, ichor fountained from my ear-holes, and I knew what he said was a Known Thing".

"Garughh. Why?"

"He seems to have been paid a great price, something he dearly desired, but I could not clearly hear what, due to the injury to my ear-holes."

While Kael did not know that he was listening to a description of the Coldharbour Compact, he wouldn't have cared if he did know. He climbed upward and spoke with them, ignoring their attempts to kill him, for he was dead. He brokered a deal with them, and traded knowledge of Talos and the Tribunal using a Dwarven device to achieve immortality. In return, the Seeker told them of the Crepusculary, where timelines are stored.

To travel there, Weer manipulated the mind of his Daedric helmet, using it's desire to kill him to pen a book of the destination, reading it to travel there.



Crepescule means Twilight Observatory, which would usually indicate something relating to the Prince of Twilight, Azura. She embodies the change of one thing into another, Dawn, Dusk. The Crepescule details events, start to end, where it changes no more.

I was engrossed in my books, my trained Scamp Fertis carrying all two dozen of them. I kept trying to explain to Jubal how important what I reading was, even of the map god with a pocketwatch. They were confused, and I pointed out that they could always ask the Golden Eye, Hermaeus Mora. He was, of course, watching.


The tree had five branches, and a Seeker explained that this was because Five is the limit of our world. This was also mentioned in Moonshadow, when the sky had five gradients of the moons as they passed from Dawn to Dusk. The Dragonguard examined leaves, and found in truth the tree was infinite, but also observable by lesser beings. They eventually found the branch of the Great War, but found it black and decayed and hollow.


Glyph, who followed the Dragonguard silently.


I finished one book and asked J what he thought of the new ideas within. "Infinities inside infinities J, that is the damn Aurbis. Tell me, when a mage casts an illusion spell, you're affected by illusion right? But no one else, because your perception dictates your reality, just like alteration. Conjuration on the other hand embellishes the purpose of the center, but what if the center was always you?? Oh I see now, with this and the book on Protonymics.."

He just waved me away and said I was learning Mysticism spells now, but I believed this was so much more.

We almost didn't notice when grimy feelers gripped around Sir Kael, Weer, and Hawking.  


They were strapped to iron chairs, attached to a boat which did not sway in the waters, looking up at horror.
His voice sort of churdled through the water, every word coming from how it boiled and every sound escaped the depths before coming to their ears. But he said no words, for he is all words. He was extending an invitation.
"You wished to see me, is that not true? Feel sore you did not find the correct infinity. Yet I, Hermaeus Mora, have been watching you. You have something you will give me".
"I have become future, and portents of, and have seen all, in a previous world-which-was-mine. as well as his"
"I do know everything. But not this everything. Knowledge is.. liquid, when facts are altered. You will acquire the one piece I have not".


When they tried to speak, they were ignored. The Lord of Knowledge needed none from us.

"When the Dragon Breaks, changing becomes your.. instantiated percepting reality. Yet pure it was not for you. You.. Dragonguard.. possess this Mark." A tentacle speared through the boat but stopped sharp to wetly press against Weer's hand, indicating the mark. "What power gave you this?"

Kael tried to explain, but none knew the answer. I was starting to.
"Not adequate. You are now my servants. Discover this and make it Known to me, so wholeness can be known. Your reward shall be two Knowings. One you need and one you desire. Both may terrify you".


"The Thalmor is indisputably the most dangerous organization in the Aurbis. Moreso than Talos. They cannot be understood by such a soul as yours. Loreaine of the Time Dragon has become a puppet to them. They are the Other, and they hate everything that even smells like mortality.
And they are going to win in the end."



J and Nexius pulled out the book on Xarxces, reading it with will and transporting themselves to his underwater scriberoom. He was an old bearded man, except his beard covered all but his eyes. He was writing something, humming a pleasant tune in the language.

Xarxces told us, through floating pages with written text, that his master Auri-El has taken them. He told us the true story of how Auri-El and Hermaeus Mora were the same deity, until they saw all kalpas and times and found a truth. Auri-El the Anuic would never change, and so Mora was made, the piece that did change. He accepted the truth. This is why Xarxces followed him. The man smiled, showing no tongue or teeth. He had no words of his own-iaCO0ca5zuFtoYi8wWNUMINIT.


I apologize. I am resubmitting this memospore due to words-applicable of the secrets hidden in my higher books. I grip J's face in my hands and tell him that what I need to tell him will sound insane, but he is the only one I have to tell.

"You may think I am wasting time, J, but I would say that all our lives have been wasted, and now I am the only one doing anything of note.. it is all about the duality of cloven divinities, J. The Void that remains. Infinite splits of the Highest-Hearts, then the four known and the three unknown. I know them now. Nameless more, for his count was born of a previous. Of the last, I would call it dementia, as you have known in the future, but when applied to the Doom, it is appended with dimension. Dementia given dimension, dimension dementia.." Jubal holds me worriedly, I look into him but not through his eyes.

I go now to Xarxces and pull his pen from his grip, and begin writing the fabric of the talOS, humming the same tones that the Scribe had. J tries to stop me, I do not stop, he can not stop me. "eight-and-one divine cross-structs, reinforce convention but now never was. t-a-l-O-S of the wheels in wheels in wheels".

I turn to J and focus upon him. "Damn the Daedra. Damn the Aedra and the Magna Ge, this is bigger. Vaporization by adjacentia".


I begin singing in the language of the Captive Sage-N7YIdMSHGW4bRGTzZF3u

I am against the wall opposite the Scribe. I look around fearfully, for I see too much, or too little in it all, too little in myself, for myself is not. It burns in my mind… My eyes unfocused, I look towards my hand but am looking at much, much more.

I hold J again, my touch wispy as I evaporate. As I deny, still fragmenting pieces of ideas to this manuscript and memospore, my truest last thoughts.

"Pray to Nerevar for me. He was the first.. to believe in us".


1 - 1 = 0




<The rest of the transmission is untranslatable, except by way of sheet music, a practice which has become unadvisable during the reign of [NUMINIT], who, along with everyone else in the symphony's radial madness, was vaporized>




<Journal of one Jubal Sul, as he views the memories of Hermaeus Mora, as realities.>


Normal people would keep a journal, a nice book maybe. This Daedroth keeps his memories in damned realities. Here we go.


4E174A - Imperial City

Did Vaermina want us to see something here?

Calesse Thilinus and Jondis do not turn from the Battle of the Red Ring, instead, they join the charge. Not what happened.

Dark red light from the top third of the White-Gold Tower.  Not what happened.

Vel as Vampyrum slave, in Vorana's position as Magus-General.

Amaund Motierre was Vampyrum, but did not go fast enough for Lavolia Dex's liking. Probably why she had him killed. She is also much more afraid of the Thalmor. Much. Probably why the Elder Scrolls just vanished when she took over.

In the top 1/3 of tower, some floors were cleared out, glowing zipping lights darting around the room, as well as large soul gems implanted into the walls at various points, ghostly heads trapped in ebony cages that all talk at once. In the center; Yurg. Each ghost-head was also sometimes just one organ of communication. A nose, an eye. Hard to tell who or what it was, or where the lines between were. At least some Dwemer in there.

He called it OYARSA. It was to be the general of all the legion. He opened a Doldrum to Coldharbour.


4E195A - Battlespire

Valenwood burned down, all the Bosmer in the Wild Hunt.

Eleswyr devoid of cities, 100% desert.

Redguards somehow wiped out racially, perhaps by their pantheon.

Glyph sort of, puked up an explanation, in the form of a scroll. "OYARSA with the data-mind of a Dwemer planned this. It is total war, in every sense".

Yagrum is dead, the part of the soul that is his mind was kept while the other (3/4?) is gone. Just the intellect, no individuality.


4E201A - Flagship/CLL

Titus Mede II, thought dead, back.

VAmpyrum and Empire allies.

Dominion almost defeated.

Loreaine afraid, but atop Crystal-Like-Law, she "dracocrysalizes". Unknown what this means, but she became a fucking dragon. So. I want.

Scratch that, she was afraid of losing all her individuality. Bad.


4E174AB (?????) – Back to Imperial Palace

Because it is a memory of an extratemporal being, it is viewed as events transpired. (This isn't DC universe timelines, this is fifth-dimensional travel)

Mark vs Marked

Cal and Jondis and more kill Yurg, but not before he asks OYARSA some questions.

OYARSA = Ghost Choir.

OYARSA says the Dominion's strength is belief/lack thereof?

OYARSA says Nexius is a Dwemer…

OYARSA was designed as the counter to everything the Thalmor can do. Sounds like the Imperials to counter all the accomplishments of Elves.

OYARSA kills Cal and Jondis and all them by singing the same song gALYRON AND XARXCES WAS SINGING. THIS IS NOT OKAY.

Loreaine as a dragon comes in the window, resets all that, then takes off the crown of the dragon.

She isn't a god. She orders all the Dominion to murder many innocents to allow for some power. 

What Dawn Magicks are isn't answered, but it is said that they aren't understandable, by definition. Perhaps they can only be done by gods? Perhaps they're just a catch-all term for magic we can't do, but they can. 


Thalmor rewriting of Time. A loss is just a sentence in need of revision.


A – Thalmor    lose.

B – Loreaine dracocrysalizes, rewrites time, does some more Dawn Magicks on the White-Gold Tower, Empire retakes the city a year later

C – When the Marked broke/fixed time.


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