By Aicantar of Shimmerene, Sapiarch of Indoctrination

Our cousins the Dark Elves have been duly punished for the betrayal of their ancestry: because they have embraced, and then attempted to emulate, the Daedra, a curse has disfigured their bodies and blasted their land. That lesson was apparently insufficient, for they have now left the boundaries of their cursed domain, and seek to infect the rest of the mainland with their heresies. The trio of wily demonspawn who rule them have duped the simple Nords and the slave-lizard Argonians into joining this mad escapade.

To allow the Ebonheart Pact to rule in Cyrodiil would be just as foolish as to leave the Empire to one or another of the tribes of Men. The Tribunal is ultimately an even greater danger to Nirn than the heedless and impetuous human nations. They must be driven back into their haunted corner of the continent with their power broken … forever.

A Summary

By Aicantar of Shimmerene, Sapiarch of Indoctrination

The kingdoms of the Daggerfall Covenant are inhabited by mongrel upstarts who have cruelly suppressed our Direnni cousins: the High Elves who are the rightful rulers of northwest Tamriel. They were largely complicit in the rise of the dangerous and genocidal fanatics known as the Alessian Order. They allow their pirates to prey on Aldmeri shipping. The Bretons are also so indiscriminate that they have accepted the bestial Orsimer as allies. (Orsimer! Can you imagine?) Though capable of mustering substantial brute force, there is no evidence that these degraded hybrids have the wisdom or learning to deal with the mystical disaster now threatening the Mundus. They must be disciplined and subdued as rapidly as possible, so the Dominion can get on with the business of saving the world … and protecting it in the future.

By Telenger the Artificer

At the request of Her Majesty’s advisor Nuulehtel I have compiled this brief accounting of the Maormer of Pyandonea, known commonly as Sea Elves. Read, now, and let the light of knowledge free you of your fear.

Their ancient history is well known across the Dominion, and not worth recounting in detail here. Suffice to say that the arch-mage known as "King" Orgnum has long led the outcasts of the shrouded isle. He uses foul spells, rituals and sacrifices to continually renew his youth and vigor.

Other rumors you have heard are true, as well. The rituals of Orgnum allow the Maormer to control sea serpents. Some have mastered the art of riding the beasts among the waves, while larger and less docile beasts swim in support of their largest fleets.

The fleet that now threatens Auridon, we have learned, calls itself the Sea Viper. Recent events in the Three Banners War have driven the Vipers into the seas around Auridon and the mainland. The opportunistic Maormer now seek their own victories in the war between the alliances.

The First Auridon Marines, the Dominion Navy, and others now stand ready to halt the advance of the Maormer. If you see signs of the Vipers, report them at once to your Canonreeve or the nearest Dominion officer.

Eagles, know that the viper will not take our nest. Be wary, but have courage.

By Nuulehtel of Skywatch

Loyal citizens of Auridon! I have the pleasure of being an advisor to Her Royal Majesty Queen Ayrenn the First, Eagle Primarch of the Aldmeri Dominion, High Queen of the Summerset Isles, Overfriend of the Royal Camoran House of the Wood Elven people, and boon companion to the Mane of the Khajiit.

As Royal Advisor, I have penned this brief account of Queen Ayrenn’s life and history. Read, that you might welcome our Queen into your hearts.

Her Majesty spent early days as many children do in the Isles. She trained in blades beside her father. She rode horses in the surf along our golden beaches, and memorized history and sonnets beneath soft pink petals.

Over twenty years ago, your forward-thinking King—His Royal Majesty King Hidellith of Alinor, may he be ever honored in Aetherius—gathered with the royal family at the Crystal Tower in celebration of Her Majesty’s passage into the Labyrinth. This time of intensive study had been required by all Summerset rulers in the past, and Her Majesty was to step into that period with arms wide. As the hour approached, however, the then-princess was found missing!

While a long search was begun, in truth, Her Majesty had claimed her own destiny. Her Majesty had stolen away to the Isle of Balfiera, to live with the Direnni at the Adamant Tower. The members of that clan trained her in the art of war. They turned her simple noble swordplay to lithe and seasoned blade-dancing. Her beachside rides became forced marches on horseback, and her singing of sonnets beneath the trees of her homeland gave way to the study of the arts most arcane.

Much has been made of our Queen’s adventures in Tamriel by bards and common broadsheet scribes. Yes, it’s true that she once rode a bear. That she hunted the frost trolls of Skyrim, delved into the depths of a Dwarven ruin, and crewed with a pirate captain of Cyrodiil. Her Majesty once flew upon an enormous kite on the winds of the Alik’r Desert, and danced with Nereids in the Illessan Hills. These adventures were not the larks of a wanton, but instead a deliberate process. The tempering of a blade!

And when His Majesty King Hidellith passed away, when it looked as though our remote isles would be left to flounder in the swell of history, Princess Ayrenn returned! Her Majesty plucked the crown from where it had fallen in the dust. She took up her father’s sword, and led us out into the world.

Led us into the world to find new allies waiting just off our shores! The Queen’s connections to the noble Wood Elves and fierce Khajiit enabled us to form the mighty Dominion that now stands astride our corner of Tamriel, poised to strike at the dark heart of Cyrodiil and ward off the depredations of the warmongering alliances of the north.

Though she has her detractors, and cowards defame her courage from behind a veil, Queen Ayrenn is the living, beating heart of the Dominion. Our fortune and prosperty depend upon her.

The Importance of Where

By Marobar Sul

The chieftain of Othrobar gathered his wise men together and said, "Every morning a tenfold of my flock are found butchered. What is the cause?"

Fangbith the Warleader said, "A monster may be coming down from the Mountain and devouring your flock."

Ghorick the Healer said, "A strange new disease perhaps is to blame."

Beran the Priest said, "We must sacrifice to the Goddess for her to save us."

The wise men made sacrifices, and while they waited for their answers from the Goddess, Fangbith went to Mentor Joltereg and said, "You taught me well how to forge the Cudgel of Zolia, and how to wield it in combat, but I must know now when it is wise to use my skill. Do I wait for the Goddess to reply or the medicine to work, or do I hunt the monster that I know is in the mountain?"

"When is not important," said Joltereg. "Where is all that is important."

So Fangbith took his Zolic cudgel in hand and walked far through the dark forest until he came to the base of the Great Mountain. There he met two monsters. One, bloodied with the flesh of the chieftain of Othrobar’s flock, fought him while its mate fled. Fangbith remembered what his master had taught him, that "where" was all that was important.

He struck the monster on each of its five vital points: head, groin, throat, back, and chest. With five blows to the five points, the monster was slain. It was too heavy to carry with him, but still triumphant, Fangbith returned to Othrobar.

"I say I have slain the monster that ate your flock," he cried.

"What proof have you that you have slain a monster?" asked the chieftain.

"I say I have saved the flock with my medicine," said Ghorick the Healer.

"I say the Goddess has saved the flock by my sacrifices," said Beran the Priest.

Two mornings went by and the flocks were safe, but on the morning of the third day, another tenfold of the chieftain’s flock was found butchered. Ghorick the Healer went to his study to find a new medicine. Beran the Priest prepared more sacrifices. Fangbith took his Zolic cudgel in hand again, and he walked far through the dark forest until he came to the base of the Great Mountain. There he met the other monster, bloodied with the flesh of the chieftain of Othrobar’s flock. They did battle, and again Fangbith remembered what his master had taught him, that "where" was all that was important.

He struck the monster five times on the head and it fled. Chasing it along the mountain, he struck it five times in the groin and it fled. Running through the forest, Fangbith overtook the monster and struck it five times in the throat and it fled. Entering into the fields of Othrobar, Fangbith overtook the monster and struck it five times in the back and it fled. At the foot of the stronghold, the chieftain and his wise men emerged to the sound of the monster wailing. There they beheld the monster that had slain the chieftain’s flock. Fangbith struck the monster five times in the chest and it was slain.

A great feast was held in Fangbith’s honor, and the flock of Othrobar was never again slain. Joltereg embraced his student and said, "You have at last learned the importance of where you strike your blows."

Their tribulations drove the Elves
‘Cross Sloadful seas to Summerset.
O Admeris! Old Ehlnofey!
Your loving visage haunts us yet.
Your zephyr’s kiss enthralls us still,
Though only in heart’s memory,
And sorrow to the marrow deep
Infuses every Aldmeri.
When Magnus sinks and night-hour comes,
And owl and spectre prowl and creep,
When eyes can gaze at stars no more,
Then fancy flits across the deep,
Whence Aldmer came to eastern isles,
Escaping doom oblivious,
To Auridon, hue-imbued
With spectrum vivid, various.

From foam it rose before the ships;
Nine prows did plow the gleaming strand.
Torinaan stepped from foremost craft,
And claimed as Kinhold all the land
From silver beach to green-clad hills,
Begilded by the golden dawn.
Auridon thus was the name
Bestowed upon that realm anon.
Though wild it was, at once it gripped
Torinaan’s once remorseful heart.
He drew his blade, he drew his blood,
And swore an oath to ne’er depart.
They disembarked upon the shore,
Built Kinhouse, gardens, forge, and hive.
They tamed the meadows, beaches, fields,
And made a home where Elves could thrive.

Then howling from the hills in hate
Came horrors horned, bedight with eyes.
Gheatus; Welwa; Ilyadi—
All sought the Aldmers’ cruel demise.
Some said they should take ship anew
And seek a farther, safer shore.
But bold Torinaan valor steeled,
And drawing on ancestral lore,
Hierogram with Varla Stones
He wove upon Auridon’s loom,
Drew power down from stars above,
And drove fell monsters to their doom.
He harried them ‘cross hills and heights,
All smiting them with magics dire,
Till one by one they fell at last
To blast of lightning, ice, or fire.

So warded then by spells well-spun
Auridon bloomed beneath the touch
Of Altmer craft and husbandry,
Imagoform and sculpture. Much
Admired by other Altmer were
Torinaan’s brave achievement there,
And other Kinholds followed fast
On Summerset, so blest, so fair.
But though those Kinholds prospered well
Throughout the archipelago,
Aldmeri Landfall all recall
Upon the Firsthold shore did show,
And bold Torinaan is revered
For courage, wisdom, foresight. He
Who harnessed heaven to defend
The Aldmer in extremity.

Auridon: excellent abode.
Maormer repel: expel all Sload.

The Ransom of Zarek, Part 1

By Marobar Sul

Jalemmil stood in her garden and read the letter her servant had brought her. The bouquet of roses in her hand fell to the ground. For a moment, it was as if all birds had ceased to sing and a cloud had passed over the sky. Her carefully cultivated haven seemed to flood over with darkness.

"We have thy son," it read. "We will be in touch with thee shortly with our ransom demands."

Zarek had never made it as far as Akgun after all. One of the brigands on the road, Orcs probably, or accursed Dunmer, must have seen his well-appointed carriage and taken him hostage. Jalemmil clutched at a post for support, wondering if her boy had been hurt. He was but a student, not the sort to fight against well-armed men, but had they beaten him? It was more than a mother’s heart could bear.

"Don’t tell me they sent the ransom note so quickly," called a familiar voice, and a familiar face appeared through the hedge. It was Zarek. Jalemmil hurried to embrace her boy, tears running down her face.

"What happened?" she cried. "I thought thou hadst been kidnapped."

"I was," said Zarek. "Three huge soaring Nords attacked my carriage on the Frimvorn Pass. Brothers, as I learned, named Mathais, Ulin, and Koorg. Thou shouldst have seen these men, mother. Each one of them would have had trouble fitting through the front door, I can tell thee."

"What happened?" Jalemmil repeated. "Wert thou rescued?"

"I thought about waiting for that, but I knew they’d send off a ransom note and I know how thou dost worry. So I remembered what my mentor at Akgun always said about remaining calm, observing thy surroundings, and looking for thy opponent’s weakness," Zarek grinned. "It took a while, though, because these fellows were truly monsters. And then, when I listened to them bragging to one another, I realized that vanity was their weakness."

"What didst thou do?"

"They had me chained at their camp in the woods not far from Cael on a high knoll overlooking a wide river. I heard one of them, Koorg, telling the others that it would take the better part of an hour to swim across the river and back. They were nodding in agreement when I spoke up.

"’I could swim that river and back in thirty minutes,’ I said.

"’Impossible,’ said Koorg. ‘I can swim faster than a little whelp like thee.’

"So it was agreed that we would dive off the cliff, swim to the center island, and return. As we went to our respective rocks, Koorg took it upon himself to lecture me about all the fine points of swimming: the importance of synchronized movements of the arms and legs for maximum speed, and how essential it was to breathe after only the third or fourth stroke, not too often to slow thyself down, but not too little to lose one’s air. I nodded and agreed to all his fine points. Then we dove off the cliffs. I made it to the island and back in a little over an hour, but Koorg never returned. He had dashed his brains at the rocks at the base of the cliff. I had noticed the telltale signs of underwater rocks and had taken the diving rock on the right."

"But thou returned?" asked Jalemmil, astounded. "Was that not when thou escaped?"

"It was too risky to escape then," said Zarek. "They could have easily caught me again, and I wasn’t keen to be blamed for Koorg’s disappearance. I said I did not know what happened to him, and after some searching, they decided he had forgotten about the race and had swum ashore to hunt for food. They could not see how I could have had anything to do with his disappearance, as fully visible as I was throughout my swim. The two brothers began making camp along the rocky cliff-edge, picking an ideal location so that I would not be able to escape.

"One of the brothers, Mathais, began commenting on the quality of the soil and the gradual incline of the rock that circled around the bay below. It was ideal, he said, for a foot race. I expressed my ignorance of the sport, and he was keen to give me details of the proper technique for running a race. He made absurd faces, showing how one must breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth; how to bend one’s knees to the proper angle on the rise, and the importance of sure foot placement. Most important, he explained, was that one must keep an aggressive but not too strenuous pace if one intends to win. It is fine to run in second place through the race, he said, provided one has the willpower and strength to pull out in the end.

"I was an enthusiastic student, and Mathais decided that we ought to run a quick race around the edge of the bay before night fell. Ulin told us to bring some firewood when we came back. We began at once down the path, skirting the cliff below. I followed his advice about breath, gait, and foot placement, but I ran with all my power right from the start. Despite his much longer legs, I was a few paces ahead as we rounded the first corner.

"With his eyes on my back, Mathais did not see the gap in the rock that I jumped over. He plummeted over the cliff before he had a chance to cry out. I spent a few minutes gathering some twigs before I returned to Ulin at camp."

Ghosts Walk Among Them

The departed spirits of the Dunmeri, and perhaps those of all races, persist after death. The knowledge and power of departed ancestors benefit the bloodlines of Dunmeri Houses. The bond that forms between living family members and their immortal ancestors is partly blood, partly ritual, partly volitional. Anyone brought into a house through marriage is bound through ritual and oath into the clan, gaining communication and benefits from the clan’s ancestors; however, his access to the ancestors is less than that of his offspring, and he still retains some access to the ancestors of his own bloodline.

The Family Shrine

Each residence has a family shrine. In poorer homes, it may be no more than a hearth or alcove where family relics are displayed and venerated. In wealthy homes, a room is set aside for the use of the ancestors. This shrine is called the Waiting Door, and represents the door to Oblivion.

Here the family members pay their respects to their ancestors through sacrifice and prayer, through oaths sworn upon duties, and through reports on the affairs of the family. In return, the family may receive information, training, and blessings from the family’s ancestors. The ancestors are thus the protectors of the home, and especially the precincts of the Waiting Door.

The Mortal Chill

Spirits do not like to visit the mortal world, and they do so only out of duty and obligation. Spirits tell us that the otherworld is more pleasant, or at least more comfortable for spirits than our real world, which is cold, bitter, and full of pain and loss.

Mad Spirits

Spirits that are forced to remain in our world against their will may become mad spirits, or ghosts. Some spirits are bound to this world because of some terrible circumstances of their death, or because of some powerful emotional bond to a person, place, or thing. These are called hauntings.

Some spirits are captured and bound to enchanted items by wizards. If the binding is involuntary, the spirit usually goes mad. A willing spirit may or may not retain its sanity, depending on the strength of the spirit and the wisdom of the enchanter.

Some spirits are bound against their wills to protect family shrines. This unpleasant fate is reserved for those who have not served the family faithfully in life. Dutiful and honorable ancestral spirits often aid in the capture and binding of wayward spirits.

These spirits usually go mad, and make terrifying guardians. They are ritually prevented from harming mortals of their clans, but that does not necessary discourage them from mischievous or peevish behavior. They are exceedingly dangerous for intruders. At the same time, if an intruder can penetrate the spirit’s madness and play upon the spirit’s resentment of his own clan, the angry spirits may be manipulated.

Oblivion

The existence of Oblivion is acknowledged by all Tamriel cultures, but there is little agreement on the nature of that otherworld, other than it is the place where the Daedra live, and that communication and travel are possible between this world and Oblivion through magic and ritual.

The Dunmer do not emphasize the distinction between this world and Oblivion as do the human cultures of Tamriel. They regard our world and the otherworld as a whole with many paths from one end to the other rather than two separate worlds of different natures with distinct borders. This philosophical viewpoint may account for the greater affinity of Elves for magic and its practices.

Foreign Views of Dunmeri Ancestor Worship and Spirit Magic

The Altmeri and Bosmeri cultures also venerate their ancestors, but only by respecting the orderly and blissful passage of these spirits from this world to the next. That is, Wood Elves and High Elves believe it is cruel and unnatural to encourage the spirits of the dead to linger in our world. Even more grotesque and repugnant is the display of the bodily remains of ancestors in ghost fences and ash pits. The presentation of fingerbones in a family shrine, for example, is sacrilegious to the Bosmer (who eat their dead) and barbaric to the Altmer (who inter the ashes of their dead).

The human cultures of Tamriel are ignorant and fearful of Dark Elves and their culture, considering them to be inhuman and evil, like Orcs and Argonians, but more sophisticated. The human populations of Tamriel associate Dunmeri ancestor worship and spirit magic with necromancy; in fact, this association of the Dark Elves with necromancy is at least partly responsible for the dark reputation of Dunmer throughout Tamriel. This is generally an ignorant misconception, for necromancy outside the acceptable clan rituals is a most abhorrent abomination in the eyes of the Dunmer.

The Dark Elves would never think of practicing sorcerous necromancy upon any Dark Elf or upon the remains of any Elf. However, Dark Elves consider the human and Orcish races to be little more than animals. There is no injunction against necromancy upon such remains, or on the remains of any animal, bird, or insect.

By Vilyn Girith

To my son, whose inability to remember even these simple facts embarrasses our family at every opportunity. This is to inform you of the words the great houses of Vvardenfell live and breathe by, and the saints they hold as their patrons, representative of their goals and motives. If you ever again confuse the Hlaalu and Dres merchant nobles with whom we trade, I will disown you three and ten times, and once again to make the deed final and eternal.

House Redoran: "A Redoran is a warrior whose duty is first to the Tribunal, second to House Redoran, and third to family and clan."

– Saint Nerevar the Captain is the patron saint of House Redoran.

House Indoril: "Justice knows no sleep: Indoril shall order, the Temple shall judge."

– Saint Olms the Just is the patron saint of House Indoril.

House Hlaalu: "To trade fairly and freely is to honor the Three."

– Saint Veloth the Pilgrim is the patron saint of House Hlaalu.

House Dres: "To spread culture and truth to the benighted: this is our commitment and burden."

– Saint Llothis the Pious is the patron saint of House Dres.

House Telvanni: "The forceful expression of will gives true honor to the Ancestors."

– Saint Vorys the Immolant is the patron saint of House Telvanni.

You will likely not note the lack of an ascribed motto to the sixth house, the shadow house, house Dagoth. This is because that house is extinct, destroyed at the Battle of Red Mountain, after which the remaining Houses built the Temple to the Tribunal. If you ever mention this house in polite company, I will disown you.

You will note that twice, now, I have threatened to disown you. This is because my hands are not so black as Mephala’s or Lord Vivec’s. My heart is too weak to simply remove you from my family.

Keep this text on you at all times, and let it shame you for every reference you make to it in your dealings with our nobility. Spare our lineage the greater shame of your own foolishness. May I never have cause to call you s’wit in public again.