The Bjoulsae, known among the Breton tribes as the Tear, while their dark-skinned neighbors on the other side prefer to speak of it as the Blue Serpent, the great river that brought civilization and with it life, though more often death, to the isolated regions between the Wrothgarians and the Dragontail, can only be discussed in terms of its interminable flow: the upper course, the middle course and the lower course or the Mouth, where the Tear becomes salty.
Category: The Elder Scrolls Fanworks
The Ephemeral Bride
In secret, Mnemoli whispered the blue words of promise and the red words of love for the time-god but his eyes were turned always to Nirn and he would have no other bride. The words went afloat on the breeze of possibility and a stray thought – to make Nirn even more beautiful, so that time-god’s eyes would ever be filled with joy – distilled the promise of love and froze it into the heavens. And that is the origin of the great nebula, the Veil of Nirn.
But the light of Magnus knows no secrets. He saw into Mnemoli’s heart and became angry at the wasteful ignorance of Time. Being long bored with the labor of creation, he decided to leave the lesser gods behind and marry; and his children would rule a universe of light! Mnemoli had not the power to repel his lust; but seeing how their offspring would scorch the frail life out of Nirn, so dear to her loved one, she seduced Magnus to chase after her far into the void. For long, she kept one step ahead of his fiery breath, but finally she let him overtake her, only to escape again. Each time this happened, they left their progeny behind. And that is the origin of the distant stars, the Children of Sun.
Now Mnemoli can only be seen through the mists of her own mysteries as the Blue Spark, the harbinger of Untime; for not even the mighty Magnus dares approach the time-god during his madness. It is only then that Mnemoli may rest and lament over the torment of her lost love. And that is the origin of the raining stars, the Tears of Mnemoli.
Notes
Submitted to Temple Zero.
A New Elder Scrolls Fic – Report No. 1772
Well, take “new” with a grain of salt. I think I wrote this during 2009, before the first Elder Scrolls novel – which pretty much kills the point of this story – was published. Back at the day, there was still room for speculation about the true nature of the Landfall, and Report No. 1772 was a way to present my theory about it in the most indirect way possible. I considered submitting it to Temple Zero, but simply couldn’t, perhaps on account of excessive technobabble that doesn’t fit well with the mythopoetic atmosphere of that place. So here it is now, made public for the first time.
Report No. 1772
by confrater Qodvo Jr.
I file this final report and leave it to the Synod to debate or ignore. The request of the Curator of Ancient Theology and Paleonumerology Department of the Imperial Library has been fulfilled and my findings have been sent to him in a separate letter (filed under No. 1771).
This report contains a complete and accurate transcript of the correspondence that our opinion was requested about. My interpretation, threat assessment and recommendations follow the transcript in the interest of clarity.
Second Round of Fics
This week I’ve dug out some short Elder Scrolls ficlets, and some Garrus/Shepard love stories:
Fruit from Palaven – this one has a special place in my heart, being the first Mass Effect fic that I managed to finish. It’s a good story, all things considered, especially the fact that I hadn’t written for years prior to taking this plunge into fanfiction. It’s an intro into the ingame romance with Garrus.
A Game of Cards – an indirect sequel for Fruit from Palaven, this story is one of the few where I tried to engage a larger group of characters in a meaningful interaction. It’s also a stage for my critique of certain tropes within the fandom that I find distasteful.
First Kiss – what it says on the label. Garrus and Shepard, and their first kiss.
And now for something completely different:
Rural Witchcraft – or, as the working title went, “Glaber Heights” (Glaber is the name of a character from Spartacus, and at the time of writing I was reading Wuthering Heights, go figure). This is a piece of… regional lore, I suppose, for High Rock, that I submitted, among many other short texts, to Temple Zero. It’s just drabble, but it happens to be one of my favorite snippets.
Inverse Riddles – or, in its original version, “The proper way to converse with a Breton sorcerer.” Same as above, only this one I never actually submitted because I thought it too lame. Now I think it’s kind of cute.
And, that’s about it. At this pace, I’ll put up everything I have in… a year?
Kidding.
Inverse Riddles
The rules of proper conduct vary across land and epoch, but some basics are essential to learn in order to avoid embarrassment at best, exile or death at worst. When you are introduced to a sorcerer, do not put out your hand in greeting, as an eagerness to make physical contact is associated with treachery by magic or poison. Cross your arms over your chest instead and make a courteous bow, but not too deep; do keep an eye contact at all times. Do not attempt to engage the sorcerer in a discussion of magic, as an eagerness to learn or argue is taken as a sign of ignorance or lack of decorum. Instead, challenge the sorcerer with a witty inverse riddle, but be careful not to let him win out of politeness. In fact, if he fails to guess the riddle you have given him the answer to, which of course only happens in exceedingly rare occasions, you will have earned a measure of respect.