On the Utility of Marbles and Needles

By Marobar Sul

A Nord, a Chimer, and a Dwemer walked into a cornerclub.

"What’ll it be, muthseras?" the barkeep asked.

"Give me a mug of mead," said the Nord.

"I’ll have a snifter of shein—the good stuff, mind you," said the Chimer.

"Kindly serve me an infusion of chal, a marble, and a leather-sewing needle," said the Dwemer.

"Haw, haw," guffawed the Nord. "Shor’s bones! The little milk-drinker’s going to play pick-up-sticks, but he can handle only one stick!"

"At least I don’t swear by a god who is not only imaginary, but dead," said the Dwemer, as the barkeep placed his items on the counter.

"Hey! What?" the Nord blustered. "Why, I ought to…!"

"He’s got you there, by Azura’s Star," said the Chimer, sipping at his shein. "A point for you, Dwarf."

"On the other hand, at least the Nord doesn’t think it’s clever to worship demons from other planes," said the Dwemer, swirling his chal.

"Boethiah and Mephala! You go too far!" cried the Chimer, drawing a triangular dagger.

"Yeah! Let’s gut the runt!" growled the Nord, pulling a hand-axe.

The Dwemer knocked the marble off the counter. It landed on the floor just where the Chimer was putting down his foot for his thrust. He slipped, lurched left, and buried his dagger to the hilt in the surprised Nord’s chest. Meanwhile the Dwemer gave the big needle a precise flick of the finger; it spun down and lodged in a crack between the floor-planks, point up. As the Chimer back-pedaled from the dying Nord, he lost his balance and fell headfirst to the floor, where the needle pierced one of his golden eyes all the way into his brain. It took several minutes of flailing, but eventually the Chimer was as dead as the Nord.

The Dwemer pulled a coin-purse from the Chimer’s belt and gave it to the barkeep, swallowed the Nord’s mead in one prolonged chug, picked up the snifter of shein and took a sip, then nodded to the barkeep and left the cornerclub, snifter in hand. "Off to the market," they heard him say. "I must get a bone-tweezer, a guar egg, and a boot-jack."

The Song of the Alchemists

By Marobar Sul

When King Maraneon’s alchemist had to leave his station

After a laboratory experiment that yielded detonation,

The word went out that the King did want

A new savant

To mix his potions and brews.

But he declared he would only choose

A fellow who knew the tricks and the tools.

The King refused to hire on more fools.

After much deliberation, discussions, and debates,

The King picked two well-learned candidates.

Ianthippus Minthurk and Umphatic Faer,

An ambitious pair,

Vied to prove which one was the best.

Said the King, "There will be a test."

They went to a large chamber with herbs, gems, tomes,

Pots, measuring cups, all under high crystalline domes.

"Make me a tonic that will make me invisible,"

Laughed the King in a tone some would call risible.

So Umphatic Faer and Ianthippus Minthurk

Began to work,

Mincing herbs, mashing metal, refining strange oils,

Cautiously setting their cauldrons to burbling boils,

Each on his own, sending mixing bowls mixing,

Sometimes peeking to see what the other was fixing.

After they had worked for nearly three-quarters an hour,

Both Ianthippus Minthurk and Umphatic Faer

Winked at the other, certain he won.

Said King Maraneon,

"Now you must taste the potions you’ve wrought,

Take a spoon and sample it right from your pot."

Minthurk vanished as his lips touched his brew,

But Faer tasted his and remained apparent in view.

"You think you mixed silver, blue diamonds, and yellow grass!"

The King laughed, "Look up, Faer, up to the ceiling glass.

The light falling makes the ingredients you choose

Quite different hues."

"What do you get," asked the floating voice, bold,

"Of a potion of red diamonds, blue grass, and gold?"

"By [Dwemer God]," said Faer, his face in a wince,

"I’ve made a potion to fortify my own intelligence."

Their Architecture and Civilization

By Thelwe Ghelein, Scholar

In the Deep Halls, Far from Men

Forsaken Red Mountain, Twisted Kin

Hail the Mind, Hail the Stone

Dwarven Pride, Stronger than Bone

My life’s work has been dedicated to investigating the Dwemer, their dubious history, and their mysterious banishment. My goal with this text is sharing my findings and conclusions based on eighty years spent studying their unique architectural remains.

The Migration of the Deep Elves from their ancestral Dwemereth, now Morrowind, is a generally accepted as fact. Recorded history supports this, specifically mentioning the Rourken Clan’s refusal to join King Dumac in the forming of the First Council and their subsequent exodus to Hammerfell. The architectural premise is also sound, as the building habits of the Dwarves adapted and changed, albeit slowly and in subtle ways, over time and land. I propose that some of these differences are stylistic as well as practical.

Traditional viewpoints suggest that the Vvardenfell Dwemer were the most prolific of their kind. Based on my excavations throughout Skyrim, Morrowind, and High Rock, I am not sure that this is the case. While Vvardenfell is almost cluttered with Dwarven ruins poking through the surface of the landscape, the construction of those ruins is fundamentally different from the majority of what I’ve observed elsewhere.

Furthermore, as we delve into Vvardenfell ruins, we notice that their internal structure is quite different. While major civic and operational chambers are found near the surface in a Vvardenfell Ruin, that is not typically the case on the mainland. Minor passageways and storehouse rooms are near the surface, but more important locations do not occur until we explore much deeper.

Because such major locations are well-hidden in Dwemer Ruins outside of Morrowind, many scholars believed they were in fact not present in ruins outside that province. This premature conclusion has led some to believe such sites to be mere outposts. My research has shown this not to be the case.

A few theories may explain this difference. Perhaps clan architects simply had their own styles and preferences when it came to civic planning. This seems only somewhat likely, as Dwarven techniques were based on empirical study, and there was likely little room for creative interpretation when it came to building technique. Geological makeup of the terrain almost certainly played a role, especially in a region like Northern Skyrim, where the ground near the surface is very rocky and often frozen, as opposed to the volcanic substratum common in Vvardenfell or the ubiquitous aquifers found in Hammerfell. It’s possible that Dwarven architects in the North were not able to excavate larger structures until reaching more pliable strata.

This scholar would like to suggest, however, that many structures west of Morrowind were built after 1E 420. When the Clan Rourken left Vvardenfell, it seems evident that several clans broke off to create their own settlements, chosing to live in greater isolation than their Eastern brethren. This theory is particularly fascinating, because it leads me to believe that Dwarven architects may have developed even more elaborate methods of hiding their strongholds over time.

This opens the distinct possibility that undisturbed Dwarven archaeological sites exist throughout Tamriel, even in southern areas like Cyrodiil or Black Marsh, where Dwarves are not believed to have ever had a significant presence. Though we should not get carried away on flights of fancy, one could extrapolate this logic to suggest that some Dwarven clans were living among us for much longer than previously believed, perhaps well beyond the disappearance during the War of the Red Mountain in 1E 700.

Their Architecture and Civilization

By Thelwe Ghelein, Scholar

In the Deep Halls, Far from Men

Forsaken Red Mountain, Twisted Kin

Hail the Mind, Hail the Stone

Dwarven Pride, Stronger than Bone

The limited written record supports the perception of the Deep Elves as culturally revering the pursuits of logic and science. This stands in stark contrast to the belief system of most other Mer cultures. When we imagine a society structured around such a central ideology, it seems reasonable that prolific scholars, especially in fields such as mathematics, metallurgy, or architecture, would be elevated to social status like that of clergy in a more mystically inclined culture. The idea is supported by a fragment of Dwemeris text recovered from a colony in Skyrim—Irkgnthand—which I believe to be associated with Clan Rourken. My translation is as follows:

"Risen by order cousin-of-privilege Cuolec of Scheziline privileged duties. Clanhome building Hoagen Kultorra tradition to Hailed World shaper"

"To raise granted-cousin Cuolec of privilege with duties for family-home building Hoagen Kultorra tradition to father Mundus shaper"

Some scholars interpret this as evidence of Dwemer worship of Mundus, but I do not agree. My translation of this passage suggests that a respected Dwemer by the name of Cuolec was promoted to a civic position, probably as a tonal architect. The latter half of the fragment suggests that Cuolec’s position requires him to build in a specific style.

The term Hoagen Kultorra has thus far eluded me, but I believe it may be the name of such a style. It’s possible there were several styles, differing in their construction principles and typical structures.

One earmark of what I believe was the prevalent Dwemer style among Northern clans was a feature I call the Deep Venue. Deep Venues are often made up of one or more expansive natural caverns in which several other structures occur. Structures within the Venue may be carved from the stone itself or freely erected upon the cavern floor. The largest and most impressive Venues, such as those found in Bthardamz, may even feature roads wide enough for ten large men to walk shoulder-meets-shoulder along it.

Arcanex are typically smaller structures. Very few have been properly studied before disruption by graverobbers or greedy adventurers, but those few undisturbed sites have contained a surprising collection of magical objects, such as soul gems, alchemical concoctions, and magical texts. Some scholars take these as evidence that the Dwemer did, in fact, dabble in the magical arts. Based on what we know of their culture, as well as the fact that most arcanex are minor structures compared to other common fixtures, I would suggest that these were centers of study and nothing more. Perhaps the Dwarves established these halls as a means to study Men and Mer, who surely seemed as alien to them as the Dwemer seem to us today.

Great Animoculotories can be found in many Dwarven strongholds. These were the factories where the centurions and various other constructs were built. I have hoped to study these chambers for clues as to the means by which those mysterious automata are given life, but those same guardians make them especially difficult and dangerous areas to explore.

In the Deep Halls, Far from Men

Forsaken Red Mountain, Twisted Kin

Hail the Mind, Hail the Stone

Dwarven Pride, Stronger than Bone

My studies, and this text, have focused heavily on the fact that Dwemer archaeological sites west of Vvardenfell seem to be built at much greater depths than their counterparts near the Red Mountain. I believe there was a specific threshold to which Dwarven excavators would dig before the construction of vital structures began.

I have referred to this threshold as the "geocline," but I have found that to be redundant with the Deep Venue of a colony. Still, there is some variation in the actual depth of a Deep Venue, whereas the geocline is always the marker where I reason the city proper begins.

Tunnels and chambers at more shallow depths, while often grand in their architectural style, appear to have served little in the way of critical civic purpose. Above the geocline, surplus stores of food, warehouse chambers that may have been used in trading with nearby surface settlements, and barracks for topside patrols are common.

These tunnels, I have observed, can meander in a seemingly more random pattern than those planned structures beneath. I hypothesize that this may be due to the unpredictable nature of any excavation, even to a race as clever as the Dwemer. Surely unexpected deposits of stone or geological events could make the effort difficult. I think that these haphazard tunnels are often the result of the search for suitable substratum to build within.

I have found in a small number of ruins referencing a geological anomaly or place known as "Fal’Zhardum Din." This is intriguing because the term not only appears in a few tablet fragments, but also very specifically on ornate metal frames in the deepest reaches of the Alftand, Irkgnthand, and Mzinchaleft strongholds of Skyrim. I have yet to decipher the meaning of these elaborate carvings, but consider it highly strange that they occur in the deepest part of each of these ruin.

The most reasonable translation of "Fal’Zhardum Din" I have managed to decipher is "Blackest Kingdom Reaches," but I cannot imagine what that means.

I suspect there may be some pattern I am failing to notice. This creeping doubt has haunted my career in recent years, and I have begun to doubt if I will unravel some grand secret of the Dwarves in my lifetime, though it lies just under my nose … or under my feet.

Observations on the Giantish Peoples of Skyrim from the journals of Bonorion the Wanderer, 2E 569

Having explored the snowy reaches of Eastmarch and the Rift, I have had opportunities to observe the strange and rather large people the Skyrim natives call "giants." The natives of Skyrim are rather large themselves, but the giants that roam the wilderness are twice the size (or more!) of your average thick-necked, broad-shouldered Nord. Here are some observations, recorded for future travelers to this chilly clime:

Giants are tall.

Giants seem peaceful enough. Until you threaten them. Then they swing huge clubs and launch even a burly Nord over field and stream. The trip probably kills the Nord. That would be my guess, as I’ve never been able to interview a survivor of a giant’s swing.

Things that seem to threaten giants include, but are not limited to:
Going near them.
Threatening their mammoths.
Shooting arrows at them.

No one that I have spoken to has ever seen a female giant or a young giant. Are giant children taller than Bosmer? Are female giants painfully shy? This calls for additional observation.

Giants paint rocks and trees near their encampments. This primitive art probably entices the rare female giantess who might wander by. Or the decorations mark territory. Or the giants simply like to paint. This calls for further study.

How does a giant milk a mammoth? VERY carefully. (Note: Nords found this joke to be very amusing. Especially after several mugs of mead.)

No Nord I spoke to has ever tasted mammoth cheese. They seem to have no interest in doing so.

I shall have to find a way to befriend one of these large creatures. That’s the only way I can think of to get a sample of that wonderful smelling cheese.

Note from Jeggord the Learned, 2E 571

The Wood Elf Bonorion was found at the base of large hill near the area known as Cradlecrush. Given the condition of his body, that is, every bone broken, it appears that he ignored his own advice. Even the dimmest Nord children know better than to approach a giant. As the nearest giant camp was nearly a league from where his body was found, I would say that Wood Elves can travel great distances when launched by a giant’s club.

I have preserved his journal as a cautionary tale for future explorers of Eastmarch, the Rift, and other regions where giants make their homes. Heed its advice, even if its author did not: don’t try to befriend a giant.

Observations by Raynard, Academic of Mournhold

They call them Dreamwalkers. Beings that can, with a simple spell, step into the dreams of another. Your darkest desires, your most bizarre fantasies, your true self, all revealed to these Dreamwalkers like an open book. Your most prized memories ransacked and picked through like the leavings of last night’s feast.

Those who Dreamwalk are said to have sworn themselves to the Daedric Prince Vaermina. To have sold their souls for the ability to enter her plane, the Dreamstride. The veracity of this claim, I cannot say, but the similarities between what Dreamwalkers do and what the Priests of Vaermina accomplish is quite uncanny.

The only difference I could ascertain was how each entered the dream state. Vaermina’s priests require nothing more than the drop of an alchemical concoction, a draft prepared by the most brilliant alchemists. The Dreamwalkers, however, require no such potion. They conjure a magic that appears to be innate, not taught or passed down by some hereditary process. Were they blessed by the Daedric Prince? Did their parents perform some sacred ritual to acquire this power upon birth? None I have spoken to truly know. Or will say, one way or another.

But what of the Dreamwalkers themselves? What do they use this power to achieve? Think of the havoc one could cause by entering the dreams of another. That’s a frightening thought, indeed.

Yet, the Dreamwalkers I met were kind and gentle. They use their powers to help others. They eliminate painful memories. Cure mental illnesses that not even the best healers can mend. They accomplish incredible things by simply touching a person’s dreams. I know, for I saw a Dreamwalker in action.

My wife and children contracted the Knahaten Flu. It was a terrible way to die, slow and painful. When they died, my reason to live died with them. But the Dreamwalker I met, he took pity on me. He gave me an opportunity to remember my family while forgetting the pain of losing them. To become numb to the loss and remember them as they were before the illness. To remember the happiness and the love.

The Dreamwalker entered my dreams. When I woke, a calmness had filled me. Everything was all right. I could go on with my life. I wanted to thank him, but he was gone. I never saw him again.

Whoever the Dreamwalkers are, whatever master they ultimately serve, I will forever be in their debt. But this fact doesn’t eliminate the fear that lingers at the back of my mind. Was it right to take away the pain? Aren’t memories the thing that makes us unique? Have I become someone else because my memories have been changed? It seems I have replaced pain with fear, and I’m not sure which I prefer.

By Isstille the Scholar

A wide variety of spirits roam the lonely paths of Skyrim. Some are fierce and terrible, hateful and jealous of mortal creatures. Others are simply mischievous, full of playful wickedness that can turn dangerous if the target isn’t completely aware of what’s happening. A few can be benevolent, but even these can turn hostile if the proper decorum and respect aren’t adhered to. These spirits range from free-roaming Daedra to the mortal dead to nature personified, though such distinctions may not matter much if you become embroiled in a haunted encounter. What do you care if the spirit harassing you is a marauding Daedra or the lingering shade of a village peasant? It’s still just as insubstantial. It’s still just as dangerous.

The Haunted Wood, far to the south of Windhelm, has long been a place of mystery and danger. A multitude of stories describe how sparkling lights or compelling whispers lure travelers deep into the forest. Of even local farmers and loggers who should know better falling victim to strange sounds and even stranger sights that can occur when the sun rides high in the sky or when darkness covers the land.

One such spirit is a guardian spirit tied to a specific natural landmark, such as a lake, a hill, or a copse of woods. The guardian spirit haunts the area it is connected to, and cannot abandon or wander far from the location. A guardian spirit might take on a mortal shape when appearing before mortal creatures, but make no mistake: these spirits were never mortal and are as different from the mortal world as the residents of Oblivion. They might imitate mortal behavior, but they neither understand it nor have any but the most tenuous connection to it.

A guardian spirit might get bored with its routine. It might become curious about new creatures wandering into its environment. It might even become angry at a presumed slight by a mortal visiting its realm. Any or all of these situations might draw the attention of a guardian spirit upon you. Or it might be something else entirely that draws them to you. Who can tell what motivates these strange entities?

The guardian spirit associated with the Haunted Wood tends to be curious and mischievous, but has rarely shown outright hostility to mortal visitors. Stories abound of missing objects, strange appearances, and playful teasing, but there are few accounts of the forest turning against mortal visitors. It seems that, for this spirit at least, some kind of connection is trying to be made. Or, perhaps, this too is a misinterpretation of intent. Perhaps this guardian spirit is simply attempting to lull visitors into letting their guard down. And then the spirit will pounce.

At the height of the Akaviri Invasion, in 2E 572, the twin brothers of Princess Nurnhilde, Jorunn the Skald Prince and Fildgor Strong Prince (also called Fildgor Angry Prince, but never to his face), were in two very different locations. Jorunn was in Riften with his closest companions, the Pack of Bards. Fildgor, meanwhile, was on the northeast coat of Skyrim, fighting alongside his sister when the Akaviri of Dir-Kamal launched their assault. As the Akaviri made their way toward Windhelm, Jorunn and his companions forged their own path toward the fabled Nord city.

Fildgor, meanwhile, demonstrated his fighting prowess, as well as his exalted anger, over and over again as the battle for the coast raged on. He often led his own team of companions, the Stormfist Brigade, which consisted of members of the Stormfist clan. They had fought beside Fildgor during his pilgrimage and coming-of-age trials, and were devoted to the Strong-Prince.

Jorunn and Fildgor, along with their closest comrades, each arrived in time to see the gates of Windhelm break wide. The brothers fought valiantly, but they couldn’t prevent the fall of the city or the death of Queens Mabjaarn and Nurnhilde ("The Brief Queen"), who died defending the palace and the people they loved. The twins, who hadn’t been close for several years, nonetheless fell into familiar companionship and joined forces to repel the invaders. Thanks to Jorunn’s alliance with the Dark Elves and the unexpected but welcome assistance of the Argonians, the Akaviri invasion was at last crushed.

As Jorunn and his forces returned to Windhelm, Fildgor stepped forward to claim rulership. The crisis was over, and he decided to push his claim. He expected Jorunn to acquiesce, as his brother usually did in the face of Fildgor’s anger and unrestrained passion. But Jorunn refused. The Skald Prince decided to become the Skald King, for he had seen what Fildgor’s passions were capable of. In war, he wanted Fildgor at his side. But as a leader for his people? Jorunn didn’t really want to sit upon the throne, but he felt he had no choice. He didn’t believe Fildgor would be a good ruler for his people.

Enraged by Jorunn’s defiance, Fildgor rallied the Stormfist clan and other supporters he had throughout the realm. After all, he was a true Nord warrior, not a singer and scholar like his brother. Jorunn saw that the kingdom was headed for civil war, so he challenged Fildgor to single combat. The Strong Prince smiled, confident he could defeat his bard of a brother easily. He accepted, and the longest three hours in recent history began. The brothers’ war was on.

The two brothers fought in the square outside the battle-damaged palace. The fight was brutal and long. Weapons clashed, parried, came together, moved apart, and drew blood. When it appeared that neither brother was going to gain the upper hand before they both collapsed from sheer exhaustion, Jorunn called upon reserves no one expected him to possess. He struck Fildgor’s weapon, shattering it. Then he knocked Fildgor flat and demanded his surrender.

With no other option available, Fildgor surrendered. But his hatred burned and his rage surrounded him like a roiling storm. With a broken heart, Jorunn exiled his brother and chastened the Stormfist clan for supporting him. Fildgor cursed Jorunn’s name and departed. While the Skald King went on to prove himself a capable and beloved ruler, the Strong Prince was rumored to have fled to the lands of the Daggerfall Covenant. Perhaps one day, the brothers’ war will resume.

By Taleon Mythmaker

The Crown of Freydis, worn by our beloved Queen Mabjaarn, has a long history. Many know of the crown’s famed beauty, but few know the true intent of the crown and why it was created—and that it was even worn by other monarchs before Queen Freydis.

The Crown of Freydis is actually the second royal crown of Skyrim. The fabled Jagged Crown holds the distinction of being the first. The Jagged Crown was forged by Harald, first king of the Nords, from the bones of dragons. Legend has it that the Jagged Crown disappeared with the death of Harald’s final descendant King Borgas in The Wild Hunt of 1E 369. The death of childless King Borgas, last of the line of Ysgramor, triggered an internecine conflict known as the War of Succession.

The War of Succession raged for more than fifty years before Olaf One-Eye became the new High King of Skyrim. Olaf was elected to the position primarily due to the renown he garnered subduing the dragon Numinex, and not for any benevolence or statesmanship on his part. The rule of Olaf One-Eye was a time marked by great strife and division among the Nords. When he also died without a clear heir, it was decided that a new manner be employed for choosing a new High King.

Each of Skyrim’s holds sent a mage to a convocation called specifically to craft a magical artifact that would test the worth of potential candidates for High King. To this end, they created the Crown of Verity. Crafting the artifact in the shape of a crown was a brilliant innovation. With the loss of the Jagged Crown, Olaf had worn no mark of recognizable rulership. They felt that a new crown would help unify the realm behind a new king after the relative instability of Olaf’s rule. The timing of the crown’s creation proved to be auspicious.

The Moot selected a tribal chieftain named Asurn Ice-Breaker to be the next High King of Skyrim. Asurn was a mighty warrior of unmatched skill in the vein of Olaf One-Eye, though he never defeated a dragon. Before he assumed the role, however, he had to don the newly-forged Crown of Verity. That’s when the true power of the artifact became apparent.

The crown rejected Asurn. It literally refused to be placed upon his head. In a rage, Asurn summoned his loyal followers and threatened to kill every member of the Moot if they didn’t name him as the rightful king. He refused to be rejected by a crown. A soft-spoken member of the council rose from his chair. He challenged Asurn to combat, according to the law. The battle was short and to the point: Asurn was struck down. When the soft-spoken man took the rown and placed it easily upon his own head, a new High King of Skyrim was born. That was how Kjoric the White rose to power.

To this day, the Crown of Freydis has been passed down from High King to High King. It is used as a tool by the Moot to ascertain the worthiness of any candidate for the throne. Since the day Asurn was struck down, no one has challenged the validity of the Crown or its powers—until 2E 431, when the Reman Empire fell asunder, and King Logrolf was assassinated.

Jarl Svartr of Solitude claimed that Logrolf’s daughter, Freydis, was illegitimate, and therefore a Moot was required to choose a successor. Though Freydis, wearing the Crown of Verity, was named High Queen in Windhelm, a partial Moot in Solitude chose Svartr as High King. Thereafter the West Kingdom was ruled by Svartr and his successors, while the East Kingdom was ruled by the heirs to Freydis, who renamed the Crown of Verity in her honor.