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Clever Craft (TES: V Skyrim SI)

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Farri's Journal #9
  • Threadmarks
    • Codex: Farri's Journal Entry 9

    ---

    Transcribed by Kyne.

    --

    Farri's a bit loopy, so I'm writing this for him. When you read this later, little cat, consider wearing my totem too~

    The first time, Hircine wanted to reach out and take something from him -- he fought back.

    The second time, Herma-Mora had something he needed -- he bartered.

    The third time, for three is the most perfect number, he came to us. He hadn't wanted anything from us -- but I could tell my new beau wanted something from him.

    Our slipstream space needed structure, and familiar iconography. So I supplied them with movement of the dance Farri did to see us, and filled the air with song about the perfection of imperfection.

    Farri's very presence filled the air with rigidity -- the need to move, to improve -- just like Magno.

    Talos was there, and his presence twanged while his eyes became like cotton. Soft and gentle, but useless when wet.

    There was history between them, I could tell. Talos ached to say something, but Farri didn't seem to want it. He seemed... resigned to be unhappy. How very much like Magno.

    Farri was happy that Talos and I had come together, as I had with Shor. I will mourn Shor forever, but Talos is Shor-Reborn. The same fox, in a different coat.

    Our space was fitted for a trio -- Farri noticed this. I told him honestly, Shor, Magno, and I had been joined. Nirn was to be our love letter to each other -- yet the very making of it required Magno to remain behind.

    When Al-Du-In and Shor clashed, Magno jumped in. Al-Du-In devoured the architect of the world, and became World-Eater. Despair allowed Shor to fall, and his heart to be torn out.

    I understood what we had asked of Magno -- to be alone, seemingly forever. But Shor-Reborn helped soothe that ache.

    Farri got this queer look on his face -- he asked why hadn't Magno-Reborn filled out our triad.

    I could not answer -- but Talos spoke.

    "To be Shor-Reborn, I needed my heart to beat in tune with Shor's. To be Magno-Reborn, one must see through his eye." There was heavy implication there.

    I laid my hand on Farri's, another on Talos', and tried to indicate they should join hands as we had.

    Talos did, after many false starts.

    Farri became saddened. "...I wish that I could." He pulled his hands free from ours. "But I cannot grant forgiveness if it is not asked for."

    Talos said nothing. I bade him to not be afraid of being vulnerable again. I pleaded with him. I wept because I knew how much this would hurt them both to part like this -- again.

    But Talos said nothing.

    "I met you when you were a flower on the wall -- afraid to bloom." Farri looked at me, deep eyes tinged with the Void. "I coaxed you to reach out, and she helped you find the sunshine." Farri addressed Talos again. "But you are in full bloom now -- and need no one to coax you." Despair caused the slipstream realm of our joined melodies to fracture. "You do not need me anymore, the way Shor did not need Magno anymore."

    Talos said nothing. I said nothing.

    And Farri left, looking back only once.

    How I wish things had been different. How I wish I could apologize for Talos, but it cannot be so.

    I can only apologize for myself. I'm sorry.

    Until we meet again, Farri.

    ---

    I keep putting Lorkhan Kynareth and Magnus into polycules, usually with Kynareth and Magnus being involved with Lorkhan but not so much each other.

    Farri might finally be understanding -- things can't be as they were with a new coat of paint. Gotta change with the times.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Rognaro said:
    Did Farri refuse an orgy or an offer of some form of Godhood? Or both?
    I'm still not certain.
    Click to expand...
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    A spot in a divine polycule -- a triad, like how the Tribunal is set up.

    But Talos and Farri have issues from their last relationship -- which Talos isn't willing to apologize for (he struggles with apologies in general).

    Also may have shown that even the first time around, the polycule was flawed in that Magno was asked to be removed from it.

    Gods are complex, godly relationship dynamics moreso.

    Golden Eyed King said:
    I do love me some Lorkhan
    Click to expand...
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    If only he wasn't such a jerk, he'd be great boyfriend material. But that's the downside to the 'bad boy' aesthetic.
     
    Chairtastic said:
    If only he wasn't such a jerk, he'd be great boyfriend material. But that's the downside to the 'bad boy' aesthetic.
    Click to expand...
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    Hot rarely meshes with stable.

    I'm forced to wonder if Farri, as a de facto avatar of Magnus, will have any connection to the Eye of Magnus. It would seem fairly obvious given his own absent one but expectations do exist to be subverted.

    On the other hand, that may be a reasonable means of getting in contact with the Synod. While generally useless, they should be one of the few remaining repositories of whatever magical knowledge was developed between the modern era and the Merithic one.

    Of course, nobody is truly removed from politics. Apolitical is still a stance, after all.
     
    Ch 22
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Twenty-Two: Portents Seconding

    ---

    Solstheim Ashlands

    Meerana Gold-Tooth

    Since the boss came back, new people had come to Solstheim -- people looking for work in the mines, usually. Damphall was finally back to a hundred percent, the iron and silver flowed into town pretty quick. The miners who didn't work Damphall or her clan's gold mine were sent up to White Ridge to work the ruby veins.

    All that meant there were a lot more mouths to feed -- and they needed more food production. Hence why Meerana and Elam had been asked to take a mixed group of Gold-Tooth clansmen and Ancient Nords out to deal with some frequent pests.

    Meerana's steel cut through an Ash Spawn -- one sword disarmed it literally and the other followed up with a cut through the waist. The Ash Spawn crumbled to dust, and left pale white powder for a corpse.

    Ash Spawn were like undead, but fiery. They molded weapons out of heated ash, and used fire magic often. But they weren't bright.

    All around Meera, her clansmen and the Ancient Nords dealt with them with relative ease. She only needed to step in to save an archer who had their foe dive into the ash and swim up on her.

    "Attius Farmland's clear," Elam told her after all the Ash Spawn were dead. They were in visual range of the Bulwark, once a risky move when they were reavers, projecting Raven Rock's power a bit. Making the land safe-ish. "Do we press on?"

    "Boss said we get as much cleared as we can," Meerana told him and the group. "Don't put your weapons away -- there's werewolves out here too." And spriggans. And ash spawn. And reavers too stupid to ask for help.

    The mage in the Ancient Nord part of their group collected the fine white powder left behind by the Ash Spawn and locked it into an urn -- apparently, it was good for alchemy. And cooking, apparently.

    They kept on the move, southeast by the shore until they came to the edge of the Kolbjorn cliffs. There they found a battle in progress -- a trio of spriggans fighting a six-strong pack of werewolves.

    Spriggans were terrifying to fight on Solstheim -- they could take a man's head off with a swipe, they were immune to fire to the point where they could wield it themselves. One spriggan could defeat a dozen reavers, easy.

    Werewolves were bigger, more muscular, but had no magic and no hard skin to defend themselves.

    Meerana had her group crouch down as they watched the battle take place on the slopes around the cliff. They had to clear that spot, because it was the beginning of the road to Highpoint Tower Mine -- and the boss wanted that mine turned into a whole new settlement. But if they got into the melee, they would only get torn apart by both sides.

    She had her group wait, and signaled the archers to be ready. Her scales itched as she watched the werewolves and spriggans fight.

    One werewolf had the bright idea to bite a spriggan's thorny head -- only to have their guts ripped out by the spriggan's claws. Another wolf used something almost like strategy, and balled up its clawed hands to deliver a crushing blow to the spriggan. Wood bodies were strong, but not flexible -- the spriggan broke in half.

    In the end there was one werewolf left alive. The last survivor of their pack, bloodied and burned and missing half its face. Meerana allowed it to start a victory cry before she signaled the archers to loose.

    A wolf's howl, cut off by sudden high-pitched yipes, echoed across the ashlands.

    Since there were no miners left at Highpoint Tower, they ascended the slopes towards something which was either going to become a settlement or an artificial lake.

    Brodir Grove.

    Meerana, Elam, and their clansmen all took extra precautions as they approached the Grove. The Nords didn't seem to understand why but they mimicked the caution all the same.

    From among the scorched remains of trees, three massive stone pillars slanted at forty-five-degree angles relative to the ground. The camp that had once been among those pillars was gone -- lost in the cyclone a month prior.

    Meerana laid her hand on one of the pillars and looked around -- it was so empty. Like there had never been anything there to begin with.

    "Cyclone tore right by here," Elam said with his arms crossed as he too looked over where it had all started. "Nothing's left."

    "There's memories," Meeran answered, and pointed to a tree half-covered with ash. "That's where everyone would carve the names. Bet if we dug that up…."

    "Meerana, most of the children whose names are on that thing ended up dying." Elam glanced around, as the other former reavers looked around for their memories. "Verit's gone. Fadar's gone. Vortisi and Adives are gone. No one's heard from Loreas. And the boss says Suya's likely gone too, or wishing she was."

    One of the Nords, a woman named Arcge, came up to them with a confused expression. "We haven't found anything dangerous around here, milords." She wanted to know why they lingered, but didn't want to insult them by asking.

    Meerana snorted, damn smoothskins and their games. "This is something of a sacred place for reavers, you know." She told the woman in a voice loud enough for everyone around to here. "When the mines closed, and Raven Rock started kicking people out left right and center, this is where they came."

    Like the ghosts of the past, alive again, Meerana watched memories play out before her. Long-dead friends helping her with chores, Vortisi teaching her how to use a sword, her when she finally got the nerve to talk to Elam.

    "It was hoped that we could start a settlement here. The mages all said it had a protective aura, kept animals away." They had the beginnings of houses around the pillars, then. Lean-tos which they would hopefully expand. "Those of us who still had families in Raven Rock -- who had kids back in town… they could come here and talk with us. Spend a week's end with their 'criminal' parents."

    "And then someone shot an arrow at one of the Redoran Guard on the Bulwark, ended up killing 'em." Elam groused with a sour look. "Redoran Guard put together a force, marched on up here. Everyone who didn't run was slaughtered."

    Raven Rock didn't have the jail space for prisoners in the quantities that had been at the Grove that week's end. So the Redoran Guard didn't take any,

    "The bosses split us up after that. We each formed gangs, went with them or off on our own. Kept to a territory, and stayed off everyone else's. Only Verit's gang stayed." Elam looked over to Meerana. "Maybe it'd be best if all this was under water?"

    "Maybe," she muttered. Meerana pushed off the pillar and started walking southwest. "If there's nothing here, we'll rule it clear. Head back toward Raven Rock -- and call it a day."

    While burying the past would be one way to move on, she sort of hoped the boss would opt to make the Grove a settlement. It would be nice if their idea of a new settlement could be made reality, even years later.

    Her musing was cut off as she watched the sky darken, and a plume of smoke with fire at its point fly out of the north sky to stike Red Mountain right on the cone.

    --

    Damphall Mine

    Shift Lead Dravynea

    Spirits, she had missed working for a well-run operation.

    As soon as miners from the mainland came in -- they all wanted to start in the gold mine. Well the sad fact was that the gold veins there didn't need a lot of people to mine. The gold and emeralds were consistent, but small.

    The iron and silver in Damphall was much stronger -- as were the ruby veins in White Ridge. Those mines needed extra hands. The best part was that the ancient Nords had entire underground tunnel networks set up -- once they were fixed, the miners didn't need to step onto a boat or into the bitter cold until their shifts ended.

    They had good, honest work; they weren't made to work like dogs, the Nord overseer for the mine trusted Dravynea implicitly and gave her great latitude for breaks and safety. And they were paid well for their work, certainly more than Highpoint Tower Mine offered.

    The iron they mined up immediately went to in-house smelters, and the bars were put aside for the town's use. The silver was given much the same treatment, though some were sent off to Glover and the Khajiit blacksmith -- she couldn't remember his name.

    She'd heard rumors of werewolves, and how the silver was to be made into weapons -- none of her business, so she didn't dig deeper. Dravynea's pay was steady enough and hefty enough that she moved into an abandoned house in Raven Rock -- started to get furniture and groceries.

    When she'd heard that Highpoint Tower had been attacked -- she'd been ready to grab a pick and go find the fetchers responsible. But it proved unnecessary -- everyone from Highpoint Tower had made it back to town safely.

    Everyone except Renden.

    When Dravynea met up with Niyya, she took the Redguard woman back to her house -- intent to have Niyya as her guest until Dravynea could talk to the Nord forman of Damphall, and get Niyya hired on. It took her all of a day to arrange the meeting.

    "It's so weird seeing the town… alive again." Niyya sighed as they walked the paths of Damphall -- over bridges with freshly installed railguards and deep into the island's depths. "And all this -- were all these Dwemer tunnels always here?"

    "It's not as alive as it was when the Ebony still flowed," Dravynea clarified with a raised finger. "But it's on the mend. If this silver is as rich as we think it is, we might be able to compete with Cidhna Mine." She stopped and gestured to a pair of stone structures, like stylized birds that flanked the hallway. "And these are Nordic tunnels, not Dwemer. Apparently it wasn't always safe to live on the surface of Solstheim."

    "They lived underground? Heh, amazed there's ore left for us, then." Niyya wrapped her arms around herself. "It's so much colder in here than Highpoint Tower."

    "The moisture is what does it. There's a spring down here for fresh water, the overseer wants us making sure it remains clean and drinkable -- apparently there's fish here too."

    Niyya's eyes raised as they started walking again. "Wow. That's… surprising. Fish, in a cave?"

    "Apparently they were the original miner's pets -- most were eaten when the reavers took over. But we're taking care of the ones still around." Dravynea kept walking until they came to a large chamber with obviously Nordic ruin structures all around, a grate in the middle of the floor down to the cistern, and a massive tunnel that ran off to one side.

    Dravynea led Niyya to the side opposite the tunnel, where a wrought iron cage and door served as the unofficial door for the overseer's suite. What had once been a treasure chamber had been expanded to include multiple rooms all marked off with starry drapes. Dravynea could see the overseer, Zahkriisos, in the central 'office' space, walking around with papers moving magically.

    "Here goes," she whispered to Niyya. "He trusts me, and he'll trust you too."

    Niyya nodded, still with her arms wrapped around herself from the chill of moisture in the air.

    With that, Dravynea knocked on the cage door. The iron clanged harshly, versus a wooden knock.

    "Enter," the overseer said without turning to look at them. Two chairs moved from the side of the room and placed themselves in front of Zahkriisos' stone desk. "Sit."

    Dravynea pulled the gate open, and ushered Niyya inside and closed it once they'd both passed through. They sat, Dravynea confident and Niyya withdrawn due to the cold. To her surprise, however, Zahkriisos didn't join them at the desk. "Um, overseer?"

    "Do you know why I trust you so implicitly, Dravynea?" The fair-haired Nord with gaunt cheeks turned to look at them, his starry robes glittering in the dim light. "Because I am told you are trustworthy by Farri Gold-Tooth, he tells me you are good at your job."

    That made both of them flinch. She knew the mine owner's name, and it was an unpleasant coincidence that it was shared by the little Khajiit she and Niyya had looked after for twelve years. Twelve years, all for naught.

    "And I'm grateful for that." Dravynea bowed her head. "So, when I tell you Niyya here is just as good as me, you believe me?"

    "I want to." Zahkriisos moved through the room like he floated rather than walked. Perhaps he did -- he was a mage, after all. "But I'm concerned when I mention her name to Farri Gold-Tooth and he not only gets angry, but demands to be here to speak to you two." Zahkriisos moved behind his stone desk where his throne-like chair sat. He himself did not sit, but leaned on the seat. "Why would that be?"

    Dravynea wracked her brain, trying to think of other people named Farri they could know -- who would have a grudge. There had been another Khajiit in the mine, Feris, but she had died in a cave-in. Other than that, Dravynea drew a blank. She glanced over at Niyya and saw that the Redguard had gone pale, as if a ghost of the past had appeared before her. "Niyya…?"

    "The people who attacked Highpoint Tower Mine wanted to know about a Khajiit who used to work there, called Farri," Niyya answered with a waver in her voice. "They used magic to convince me there was no harm in their questioning. I'm guessing they mistook your Farri for ours?"

    Zahkriisos shrugged. "Possibly. He will be here in a very few minutes, we can ask." They sat in silence for a bit, before Zahkriisos' eyes flitted to the gate. "There he is."

    Dravynea turned as the gate opened again, and the air left her lungs all at once.

    It was Farri.

    He was dressed oddly -- buckled shoes, loose black silk shirt, socks coat and some form of skirt all of a black red and gold fabric, and a satchel bag on one hip. What could be seen of his fur was crisscrossed with many faint scars -- just enough to be noticeable. One of his ears was ragged -- like something had nibbled it -- and he had a false eye surrounded by claw-mark scars.

    The cat walked past the shift leads while Dravynea tried to remember how to breathe. Niyya looked even worse -- like she'd seen a loved one raise as a zombie. Farri came to Zahkriisos' side of the desk, put a cushion down in the throne-like seat, and sat there.

    "Excuse please, you look as if you've seen a ghost." Farri was sardonic. "Long time no see, yes no?"

    "You're alive," Niyya said, breathless. "Y-you're alive."

    "As it turns out, Khajiit was right, however." He unbuttoned his coat and pulled down on his shirt to show a scar on his chest. "Sinding did end up killing this one. Khajiit came back, though. Hagraven magic, all that."

    Dravynea felt sick -- the Farri that talked to them was blithe about being covered in scars -- about having died and come back from Hagraven magic. She didn't even know what Hagravens were but with a name like that, they couldn't be good.

    Suddenly, she remembered a memory of another Dagi Khajiit. Back before the Battle of the Boars. That scarred up Khajiit that looked at her all hopeful -- and left an urn of sujamma on her table. That was Farri.

    She'd looked right at him, and didn't recognize him.

    "So, here's the thing." Farri clapped his hands and leaned on the desk. "This one knows Dravynea is a good, competent miner and shift lead. She looks after her people." He smiled her way. "He knows Niyya is also those things -- but she chose to do what was convenient rather than what was right in a very important time." He glowered Niyya's way.

    Dravynea looked at Niyya, confused by the whole situation.

    "You listened to Khajiit tell you Sinding would murder him -- and you did not believe. Khajiit had never lied to you, but you did not believe him." Farri raised his good eyebrow. "Why?"

    Dravynea, having heard all this for the first time, had her jaw open while Niyya shook herself free of the horror that Farri still lived.

    "Because… you were always a bit silly, and I thought it was your way of not having to leave -- to grow up. I thought you were just saying whatever you thought would… I thought…." She sighed and looked down at her lap. Despite the cold, Niyya uncrossed her arms and let her hands lay there. "It doesn't matter what I thought, I was wrong."

    There was silence that dragged on long enough to become awkward. Zahkriisos was impassive, he might as well have been a statue. Dravynea was processing -- had Niyya missed something with the Sinding fetcher? Was he charming, and that's how he convinced her over Farri?

    Farri was quiet too, but after a time he sighed. "Ask for forgiveness, Khajiit will grant it. You will be given a shift lead position here until Highpoint Tower is ready to resume work." He held up one finger. "Once is mistake, yes no? Twice is pattern of behavior. Next time -- you listen to Farri."

    Niyya nodded, and looked up to meet Farri's eye. "I'm -- "

    Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a droning sound from above, a darkening of the sky, and tremors in the floor that grew a massive earthquake.

    It was only later that they would find out: another moonlet had struck Vvardenfell.

    --

    Skyrim/Morrowind -- a Pamphelt

    To all proud citizens of Skyrim, and despondent citizens of Morrowind

    People of Skyrim and Morrowind, hear me.

    By proclamation of High-King Torygg and the approval of Emperor Titus Mede II, I have been selected to be the first Jarl of Solstheim. While I am known in the wider Empire as an adventurer in my youth -- people of the Reach and Haafingar would know me as a merchant.

    I am Vasha, and I am a generous man.

    This is to tell you about me -- those of you who would want to come live on Solstheim, and to do business with us from the mainland. I will tell you the honest truth, and you will make your assumptions.

    I was born in Blacklight, and only left Morrowind to fight in the Great War. I took part in the battle of Red Ring and personally fought the dreadful Lord Narafin. Unlike many, I came out of the battle unhurt and would have gladly kept going had peace not followed shortly thereafter.

    I have seven lovely children, two sons and five daughters. My apologies to Jarl Balgruuf for taking the title of Jarl with the most children away from him. My eldest son is on Solstheim as of my writing this, keeping the island safe and ready for settlement. I will join him by Hearthfire of this year.

    Forgive the boasting, but I am a clever businessman and frequent investor. New ideas and new products always interest me -- so come to Solstheim if you have radical ideas you'd like to try out. You will not find me religiously intolerant -- my faith is my business, and yours is yours. As long as no one calls for another to be burned at the stake, we can exist peacefully.

    I came from nothing. I have no great lordly parent to claim descent from. When I was young, my friends were whores and thieves, blacksmiths and barkeepers. By great luck, and applied cunning, I have become an educated Khajiit -- and this is what I have on offer to you.

    Hear me now, when I proclaim the Fifth and Sixth Rights granted to every man, woman, and child who comes to Solstheim to make it their home. By my authority as Jarl, is it made so.

    The Fifth Right is that of education. Any who wish to learn history, reading, writing, languages, sums, or any lawful trade profession will have their lessons provided by the me, the Jarl, and my heirs.

    And the Sixth Right is that of wellness. I have reached out to my friends in the Empire, healing mages, alchemists, mundane doctors -- who long felt unappreciated by their rulers save when there was a war. By Hearthfire, they will join me on my way to Solstheim.

    Beginning immediately, construction of a building called The Great Hospital shall commence. Healers of all stripes may work, research, and learn from their elders with dignity and respect. There will be no gold value placed on the medicine provided there, or on the healing.

    Solstheim has fantastic wealth to be mined up. But that comes with the eventual fate of miner's lung. No more. A cure for miner's lung must be found, it must be made portable, and it must be available for all Solstheim citizens. While I am Jarl, my citizens will not want for medicine or education.

    To your health, my friends

    Vasha.

    ---

    Vasha's a vicious sunovabitch, but damn. That's a solid message. That might just get Jhunal back into the Nords' good graces.

    Also wait what -- oh right we need a name for that moonlet which hit Vvardenfell. I'm thinking Baar Dau 2: This time with Feeling.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Axiomatic said:
    Sheogorath, watching Morrowind take another asteroid between the eyes: "It's EVEN FUNNIER the second time!"
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    And this one basically obliterated Vvardenfell island -- since she got hollowed out with steam explosions over the last couple hundred years. What's basically left is a broken ring of land, an atoll but bigger.

    But hey, the ash rain will stop -- that's fun!
     
    Sermon
  • Threadmarks
    • Codex: Zahkriisos' Sermon

    ---

    A transcription of a sermon given by adjunct Dragon Priest Zahkriisos to his followers. Translated from Dovahzul.

    --

    My friends. The world is changed. My friends... our people have changed. My friends! The gods themselves have changed!

    Azur, fair lady of dawn and dusk, has been tied to this world. She and Shor-Reborn are the mightiest of all the gods. After my sermon, this Dunmer will speak about Azur, called Azura to them. Be sure that your translation baubles are on your person.

    Merid-Nunda became a Prince of Oblivion -- and wisely granted her token to our benefactor, the star-wife Farri Gold-Tooth. Jyggalag was shot out of heaven entirely. Shor is reborn, and walks the world as Talos.

    Red Mountain is gone. Crystal-like-Law is gone. Orichalc and Yokuda itself are gone. Atmora is gone. But we remain! The world is changed, our people have changed, the gods in the heavens are changed -- but we remain!

    What are we to do with this? To be part of the bygone world, brought into an alien time with strangers rightfully calling themselves our kin. There is no glory in struggling against the whole world to bring back something four thousand years gone.

    But just as much -- all of you would balk if I said we embrace these new ways and exclude our traditions. You would be right to do so.

    Farri Gold-Tooth shared with me a parable. It has revealed to me the enormity and complexity of our situation. A young man was faced with two choices. His nation was at war, he could pick up a sword and join the army -- he would likely not gain much glory. And he would risk his life, but... he could say he fought for his home, for his way of life.

    But his mother was old, and she was frail, and she was alone. They were all they had left in the world. If he left for war, she would surely die before he came back. He could stay and care for her as she cared for him in his youth. But to do so, he would have let others fight for him.

    Farri Gold-Tooth told me this and asked me to consider how all of us make choices like that.

    I cannot tell you the one true path to take in this unfamiliar world. Elder Othreloth here, he cannot tell you either. Azur, Alduin, Shor... none of the gods can tell you.

    Each and every one of you will have to decide -- what traditions you will keep, and which you will release, to take on a modern tradition. Some of you will choose not to teach your children our language. Some will choose not to teach your children our ways. Some of you will take elves, or Rieklings, or these Khajiit as your spouses.

    The world is changed. What it is to be a Nord has changed. And with time, even gods will change. We must change as well -- but each of us gets to choose how, and why.

    I won't begrudge you if you choose not to come to the next sermon. I won't begrudge you if you choose no longer to give the star-wife thanks. All I ask is that you make the changes you want to make, not what you think I, your friends, or the star-wife want you to make.

    Now, please greet Elder Othreloth with respect, for he has come far to teach us about Azur....

    ---

    Damnit Farri, you've taught Nords existential theory!
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Chairtastic said:
    Codex: Zahkriisos' Sermon

    ---

    A transcription of a sermon given by adjunct Dragon Priest Zahkriisos to his followers. Translated from Dovahzul.

    --

    My friends. The world is changed. My friends... our people have changed. My friends! The gods themselves have changed!

    Azur, fair lady of dawn and dusk, has been tied to this world. She and Shor-Reborn are the mightiest of all the gods. After my sermon, this Dunmer will speak about Azur, called Azura to them. Be sure that your translation baubles are on your person.

    Merid-Nunda became a Prince of Oblivion -- and wisely granted her token to our benefactor, the star-wife Farri Gold-Tooth. Jyggalag was shot out of heaven entirely. Shor is reborn, and walks the world as Talos.

    Red Mountain is gone. Crystal-like-Law is gone. Orichalc and Yokuda itself are gone. Atmora is gone. But we remain! The world is changed, our people have changed, the gods in the heavens are changed -- but we remain!

    What are we to do with this? To be part of the bygone world, brought into an alien time with strangers rightfully calling themselves our kin. There is no glory in struggling against the whole world to bring back something four thousand years gone.

    But just as much -- all of you would balk if I said we embrace these new ways and exclude our traditions. You would be right to do so.

    Farri Gold-Tooth shared with me a parable. It has revealed to me the enormity and complexity of our situation. A young man was faced with two choices. His nation was at war, he could pick up a sword and join the army -- he would likely not gain much glory. And he would risk his life, but... he could say he fought for his home, for his way of life.

    But his mother was old, and she was frail, and she was alone. They were all they had left in the world. If he left for war, she would surely die before he came back. He could stay and care for her as she cared for him in his youth. But to do so, he would have let others fight for him.

    Farri Gold-Tooth told me this and asked me to consider how all of us make choices like that.

    I cannot tell you the one true path to take in this unfamiliar world. Elder Othreloth here, he cannot tell you either. Azur, Alduin, Shor... none of the gods can tell you.

    Each and every one of you will have to decide -- what traditions you will keep, and which you will release, to take on a modern tradition. Some of you will choose not to teach your children our language. Some will choose not to teach your children our ways. Some of you will take elves, or Rieklings, or these Khajiit as your spouses.

    The world is changed. What it is to be a Nord has changed. And with time, even gods will change. We must change as well -- but each of us gets to choose how, and why.

    I won't begrudge you if you choose not to come to the next sermon. I won't begrudge you if you choose no longer to give the star-wife thanks. All I ask is that you make the changes you want to make, not what you think I, your friends, or the star-wife want you to make.

    Now, please greet Elder Othreloth with respect, for he has come far to teach us about Azur....

    ---

    Damnit Farri, you've taught Nords existential theory!
    Click to expand...
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    It still bugs me that they are calling themselves Nords instead of Nedes. The Dragon Priests were Nedes, which only became Nords with the founding of the first Empire.
     
    Jordisk said:
    It still bugs me that they are calling themselves Nords instead of Nedes. The Dragon Priests were Nedes, which only became Nords with the founding of the first Empire.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    That's only a theory, even in-setting. They're described as the 'Out of Atmora' theory and 'Native to Tamriel' theory on UESP; but even in the OoA theory, they're acknowledged as a different ethnic group. Only Dukaan, Ahzidal, and their oldest followers are even from Atmora -- Zahkriisos and his entire following were born on Tamriel -- so they are either proto-Nords, Atmorans, or true blue Nords -- we don't have the fossil record to distinguish these groups.

    Travisplo said:
    Cough, cough. "A transcription of a sermon given by adjunct Dragon Priest Zahkriisos to his followers. Translated from Dovahzul."

    Translated
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    There's also this. Ahzidal regularly calles Herma-Mora Hermaeus Mora in his reports.
     
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    Important Things to Remember 2
  • Informational
    • Important Things to Remember 2: Remember to Scoop the Cat-Box

    • Two of Hircine's portents have come to pass.
      • Werewolves spontaneously begin to manifest on Solstheim, their furs and flesh help support Raven Rock.
      • A moonlet struck Red Mountain's northern slope -- effectively destroying most of Vvardenfell island.
    • Farri travels to Skyrim with Dulini, destroying a Thalmor ship on the way.
      • They get shipwrecked in the Pale, and almost killed by Jarl Skald's forces.
      • Dulini encounters a Talos worshipper being escorted by Thalmor, and learns about Vasha living in Solitude.
    • Vasha is revealed to be head of a mafia-like crime enterprise with many legitimate business fronts, with brothels being fronts for information brokering.
      • He has seven children, six who live with him. He has had five wives.
      • He is seen to be a doting parent, when not ripping the teeth out of deadbeat's mouths.
      • He keeps an odd shrine in his house which indicates he may worship Dibella, Sangiin, and Mephala equally.
        • All three divinities share the sphere of sex and beauty, indicating Vasha's religious interest in them.
    • Vasha is revealed to have been an adventurer, and to have fought in the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion.
      • His candidacy for the position of Jarl of Solstheim is based on incomplete information -- that he and Farri could become married politically.
      • This proves unnecessary, as Vasha is revealed to be Farri's father -- and that Farri's mother committed suicide after Farri was sentenced.
    • Vasha is named Jarl of Solstheim.
      • He intends to try and bring the orphans from Honorhall Orphanage to Solstheim to bolster the population of young people.
      • His first acts as Jarl are to guarantee additional Rights to the people of his Hold.
        • The right of free education.
        • The right of free medical care.
    • Zahkriisos, Dukaan, and Ahzidal are revived by Farri, along with their Draugr followers.
      • Zahkriisos is revealed to have been ruler of a city that existed on the western coast of Solstheim, which has been eroded down to the two towers outside his barrow.
      • Dukaan had an extensive network of caves in the Mortrag Glacier, along with a tall tower attached to White Ridge.
      • Ahzidal's fief is not well known, but unlike the others his city-tomb barrow tunnels were isolated.
      • They all share the rank of adjunct Dragon Priest, having served under Miraak.
    • Dukaan is revealed to have invented stalhrim, explaining why it isn't seen outside Solstheim.
    • Zahkriisos confirms that Solstheim was once connected to the mainland, and that it became an island as a result of Vahlok and Miraak's battles.
    • Ahzidal and Dukaan are revealed to have been brothers.
      • Dukaan is explicitly a transman.
      • Ahzidal is jacked.
    • Master Neloth is implied to have severe memory loss as a result of dangerous bargaining with Hermaeus Mora.
    • Heart stones are discovered to be morpholiths -- structures capable of storing and releasing transfinite amounts of energy.
      • Sigil stones, and soul gems are examples of other morpholiths.
    • While in Skyrim, Farri secures some mercantile business for Solstheim, with their major exports expected to be:
      • Gold.
      • Gemstones.
      • Spider silk.
      • Ebony.
      • Stalhrim.
      • Malachite.
    • Chair is a dummy-dumb stupidpants and has been typoing stalhrim as stahlrim for so long it is legitimately too much trouble to go back and fix it all.
      • Feel free to point and laugh.
    • Farri founds a clan with his gang and other reaver groups.
      • Clan Gold-Tooth.
        • They use MacLeod tartan for their clan.
    • Farri and Niyya reconcile after he uses a regeneration ring to heal up enough to be recognized.
    • Skyrim has a superstition where a Jarl's letters and announcements must be written by a scribe in case of errors.
      • If the Jarl writes a proclamation themselves, it is expected to be an emergency or extremely important.
      • The Jarl's words, written by their hand, are considered ironclad.
    • Jarl Vasha's chamberlain, Mellem, is not mortal.
      • She appears to be a Bosmer woman.
        • But what she actually is isn't clear.
      • She doesn't need sleep, or to eat.
        • She can do those things, though.
    • Farri is remembered distantly by Meridia, and more clearly by Sheogorath.
      • Dulini knows both of of these things, but has been threatened to keep his silence.
      • Sheogorath was once a female Khajiit, during the Third Era.
        • He considers his part in Farri's story over and done with, and wants Farri to move on.
    • Farri is implied to have been Martin Septim, before the oversoul formed.
    • Farri has been implied to have lived another lifetime in the late Second / early Third eras, where he knew Tiber Septim.
      • They are implied to have banged on the regular, until something involving the Numidium soured the relationship.
    • Farri peacefully integrates a Riekling tribe into the greater Solstheim community by partaking in a godspeak dance.
      • As a result of the dance, he got to speak with Talos and Kyne in a slipstream realm modeled after All About Better Wonderland by NilsOfficial.
      • Kyne, Magnus, and Shor are revealed to have been in a flawed polycule.
      • Farri is invited into a new polycule with Kyne and Talos, taking the place of Magnus.
        • He rejects the offer, because Talos refuses to apologize for the incident with Numidium.
      • According to Kyne, Magnus (known as Magno to the Atmorans) was killed and eaten by Alduin.
        • It is implied that this is what made him the World-Eater.
    • Dulini suggests the very real possibility that Farri isn't a Khajiit anymore.
      • Farri's blood is said to smell like rain (ozone).
      • Farri's heart beats louder and lower than a mortal's should.
      • Farri's remaining eye is no longer reflective.
    • Dulini admits that he used to be a Dro-M'athra, but was saved by Hircine.
    • Despite multiple offers, Dulini and Farri never banged.
    • Farri has introduced the basics of circuit-based machinery to Ahzidal.
      • Only good things can result from this.
        • Trust me, I'm a chair.
     
  • Informational
    • Ch 23
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Twenty-Three: From the Shell Emerging

    ---

    Proudspire Manor

    Chamberlain Mellem

    The news was good -- Farri had written a letter, an additional palace had been unearthed in what had been the Hirstaang Forest. Fahlbtharz was high in the mountains, safe, but it would take time to build civilization up to there. This new palace -- its name lost to history, was in much more accessible land from Mellem's understanding. It was near Fort Frostmouth, and surrounded by ash-soil, good for farming and for constructing the Great Hospital.

    She placed the letter with a sheaf of other letters about the resettlement and Great Hospital efforts, then made her way up to the Jarl's private office. Officially, the private office didn't exist. It was at the end of a hallway that led to a dead end lined with portraits of Vasha's wives.

    Behind the portrait of long-dead Mirudda was a button that, once pressed, dropped an illusion effect to reveal the door. Mellem slipped back inside, and the illusion took shape again once the door was closed.

    Vasha's office was part business space, part armory, and part library. It contained shelves with books on geology, geography, history, philosophy, and culture. Legendary weapons lay on displays all across the room. An Altmer in tattered Thalmor robes with his mouth sewn shut hung in a gibbet in the corner.

    In the library corner, in one of two chairs, Vasha sat deeply pondering a glowing orb on a stand. There was one of the Daedric artifacts in the Jarl's possession -- the Orb of Vaermina. He looked deeply into it, seeing some distant scene, while Mellem laid the sheaf of letters near him.

    "My son is busy," Vasha said, soft, while he continued to look into the orb. It was pale green, and glowed with inner light that obscured what the user saw to anyone else. "He's constantly flitting between projects -- hardly taking time for himself."

    "There is work in running a clan," Mellem replied with an arched brow and laid the sheaf of papers down beside the orb. "And much more in running a small nation."

    Vasha only glanced at the letters, then focused back on the orb. "He doesn't… take time for the arts. Barely eats. I haven't seen him flirt with anyone -- not even that chaperone he had."

    "Dulini of Orcrest is at best four years younger than you, my Jarl." Mellem tried not to roll her eyes. "Maybe he's not interested in older men?"

    "Hmm." Vasha tapped his fingers on the table, while he watched. Presumably, he scried on Farri. "He's so dedicated to his work, I don't know how I should get to know him, Mellem."

    "Perhaps throwing yourself into your work will do the trick?" Mellem knew it wouldn't work the moment she said it, but it would serve to help close off an avenue of thought for Vasha. Too much work would impede his interaction with his other children.

    Jarl Vasha frowned and shook his head. Then, after a moment, his ears perked up and his whiskers fanned out. "Khajiit knows just what to do!" With speed and purpose, the Jarl went to a locked closet decorated with rose-and-thorn patterns.

    Mellem felt her eyebrows go up dangerously. "You aren't seriously going to set a Dremora on him?"

    "Of course not." Vasha placed one closed fist on his chest, and stood while he spasmed. He began to retch and heave, until a spiked silver key came up on with a choking grunt. As if that was perfectly normal, he fitted the slimy key to the lock and opened the closet.

    Bloodstains long since dried littered the inside of the closet -- which had only one item stored within. A staff, taller than Vasha was tall, designed like the thorny stem of a black rose. Each petal had a person's likeness painted onto it in various colors. With the closet opened, the smell of blood filled the air of Vasha's office, like a thick and intoxicating perfume.

    "But, perhaps Farri could use a visit from his Uncle Sangiin to help unwind, yes no?"

    "Sending a Daedric Prince to his doorstep is a bit drastic, don't you think?" Mellem crossed her arms and approached the Jarl, her eyes barely glanced their prisoner's way. "A seducer might be more appropriate."

    "This one disagrees." Vasha took the staff from its closet, and lovingly stroked the thorny staff. The faces on the petals all smiled, pleased to be held by Vasha again. "He thinks, since ja'khajiit has two Daedric artifacts already -- that the most surefire way to see this done properly is to call in the expert." Vasha smirked and looked at the faces on the petals. "Let's see… there he is." Vasha plucked a petal with a grinning caracal-like Khajiit's face. As soon as it was free -- the petal began to burn orange at the edges.

    "Fine. But consider what the backup plan is going to be, if this goes badly." Mellem raised her eyebrows high. "Lord Sangiin is not all sweet wine and pleasurable company."

    "Khajiit knows this, and he has a plan in mind." Vasha took the burning black rose petal to his lips and whispered. "Farri Gold-Tooth." With the target in mind -- he blew on the petal so it escaped his grasp. The burning petal flipped through the air, and vanished as if it had never been there.

    "Let's hope he's not into burning people alive, like those freaks in Morvunskar."


    --

    Palace of Kings

    Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak

    Ulfric sat on the throne of Eastmarch, the throne of his father and Ysgramor. He sat and oversaw a hall filled with people. They were citizens from Eastmarch, the Rift, Winterhold, and the Pale -- all of whom had come to petition him for the right to settle on Solstheim.

    It was not his right to grant -- but he had the means to ask the one who possessed the right. Wuunferth the Unliving, Eastmarch's court wizard -- an absolutely ancient Nord who specialized in battle magic -- plied his magic to summon an Eastmarch woodpecker to carry letters speedily to the Jarl of Solstheim.

    Even though he wasn't the Jarl of Solstheim, and it wasn't his right to grant them settlement, Ulfric opted to answer any questions they would have. If winter was not so close, he would have had them fed properly. As it was, salted meat and freshly fermented mead was all he could pass around to them.

    "...And as I have said -- there are gems aplenty to mine up." Ulfric rested his head on his knuckles, leaning to one side. "Rubies are the most common -- but there are sapphires and emeralds too. Silver is by far the most common precious metal, but many valuable ores exist there. There will be mining work on Solstheim for at least four hundred years, by my wizard's math."

    "Hmm, what?" Wuunferth shook himself from whatever project occupied his time, and crossed his arms. "I mean -- yes! It is as Ulfric says. Four hundred years."

    That got many of the families to talk amongst themselves. They were wall to wall in the Palace -- there were so many. Mining work was hard, but stable. And Vasha's declaration of free healing and education did much to entice people. His talk of a cure for miner's lung lured in many elderly miners with hope of a peaceful death.

    If the cat managed it, Ulfric would put aside whatever distrust he had of the man personally -- Galmar and Rikke had both lost their parents to miner's lung, it was a quiet epidemic among mining communities.

    "But… Jarl Ulfric," a woman with a Rift accent spoke up and stepped through the crowd. A beggar woman, an Imperial. She risked much to speak in Eastmarch, and Ulfric would hear her. "They say Jarl Vasha is… one of those cat people. How can you accept a Khajiit ruling a Hold in Skyrim?"

    A fair question. One Ulfric would stand to answer. He hefted himself to his feet, and all the chatter from the crowd stopped at once. That was the strength of his rule, of a Jarl. "Because of what I have seen of him." Ulfric crossed his arms and met the Imperial beggar's eyes. "He looks after his people, he ardently loves his family. And he is willing to take on the task of rulership; not an easy task."

    There was doubt in the crowd. There were mutterings, disbelief. Ulfric would not suffer such.

    "Let me provide an example." Ulfric swept his left hand to indicate the eastern side of his palace. "The dark elves have raided our shores, taken our people as slaves, for thousands of years. Their wicked practice, slavery, ended only two hundred years ago. Not even a full generation for them." No one in the room was old enough to have living ancestors who suffered that fate. But many of them rankled at the announcement all the same. "Yet I accept them into my city. I have no way of knowing who among them owned Nord slaves, or if their parents did."

    Ulfric paused, let the words sink in, then continued.

    "And I let them into my city. I let them live here, do business here, raise families here. Their life is hard -- I will make no excuses for that. But from having them in my city -- do you know what I have learned?" Ulfric crossed his arms again, and let the crowd look at him with confusion. He spread his arms and gestured to the east -- where the Grey Quarter lay. "I have learned, they make delicious food. I have learned their sujamma can get you just as drunk as mead, with a new and interesting flavor. I have learned they mourn their dead as deeply as us. It is why I agreed to the Fourth Right -- which all of you will benefit from." He swept his hand, pointer finger extended across the crowd.

    He remembered Farri's lonely eye -- filled with resolve to murder him if he proved difficult. He remembered the lamentations of the Dunmer as they healed from their loss. He remembered the sweet-sour flavors of ash hopper jelly dumplings.

    "I have made the decision that the thousands of years of raiding, of slaving, are in the past. Even begrudgingly, even though I don't want to. Because it is the right thing to do -- as a Jarl should." Ulfric sat down on his throne. "I will answer for that decision, and my ability to live up to it, when I stand before Tsun. And Vasha will do the same. He is not afraid of the task, and that is why he is Jarl."

    Ulfric carefully left out that Vasha wanted to exact some minor vengeance on House Redoran for the suffering of his son. Farri's ebony had been discovered afterward -- and that would be revenge enough, hopefully. Ulfric needed to sell the people who wanted to go to Solstheim on Vasha's rule. Unlike Torygg, Vasha hadn't upset Ulfric enough to neglect appearances.

    Yet.

    An odd blue spectral bird flew in from the window -- open in the relatively warm Eastmarch summer -- built like a heron with peacock-like tail feathers. In its beak was a letter -- which it passed to Ulfric.

    Once Ulfric accepted it, the bird vanished into the thin air.

    The Jarl opened it, and read the letter quickly. Once done, he folded it and passed it to his scribe, Jorleif.

    The red-headed Nord scribe read it and stepped forward to announce it. "By decree of Jarl Vasha -- there will be no immigration review process needed to settle on Solstheim." Jorleif held the letter up, like it granted divine authority in itself. "All those who come to the island and leave their names with Clan Gold-Tooth shall immediately be granted citizenship. There are plenty of homes, and plenty of work, for everyone."

    That was the end of that -- Ulfric sent a runner to let the captains he had chartered to ferry people to Solstheim that it was time to earn their pay. And soon enough, Ulfric's hall was empty.

    The first wave of settlers was on their way.

    --

    Solstheim Ashlands

    Briras Gold-Tooth

    Briras had spent so long getting used to the merchant's trade again, he felt his archery and tracking skills begin to grow rusty. He was torn on how to feel about that -- he had wanted to put his bow down and be a merchant again. But he'd picked the bow when Fadar taught them to use weapons because he liked it. It was fun, but when he had to use it every day it had begun to wear on him.

    With the area to the east and south of Raven Rock deemed safe by Meerana's party, Briras opted to do some solo exploring on his day off from helping Fethis at the market. He put on his old reaver armor, strung his bow, and went off into the ash wastes.

    He found old tracks of ash hoppers, and followed them even though they were way too old to lead to a possible kill. Briras wanted to track and follow things again. Every so often, he'd glance south and wince.

    Red Mountain was gone. A moonlet had struck her north side, and she'd buckled like a house of cards. Aside from an earthquake from the impact itself, she hadn't done anything to mark the event. No more ash, no eruption -- she collapsed inward so there was no tidal wave either. For the first time since he'd set foot on Solstheim -- slivers of blue sky were visible in the south.

    The ash falls they'd get in the next couple weeks would be the last ash falls. Possibly forever.

    It was eerie, to look to the south and see nothing fragments of Vvardenfell left behind.

    Briras tracked other animals to distract himself. There were netch droppings near the shore, so he looked around for the floating gasbags and stumbled on something interesting.

    Footprints, and a sapling. The tree was purple, it cast light, and its leaves were candescent white. He'd never seen a tree like that before. Not twenty feet away, he saw two more -- planted in a pattern.

    He followed the saplings, and found they followed the shore up toward Raven Rock. At the hills which began to approach the Bulwark, he spotted a tall Khajiit. A Cathay-raht, much younger than J'Saddha -- with a more slender build, russet fur, and shorter tail.

    As Briras approached, he noticed was dressed in simple black robes with odd ears -- like a caracal senche, they had long tufts that curled in the likeness of horns. There was a blue rose on a long stem sticking out of his backpack. The Cathay-raht had a spade they used to dig into the ash to plant another sapling, the last one seemingly as there were no others around.

    "Ho there," Briras called and approached with his bow over one shoulder. "What're you up to, friend?"

    The Cathay-raht turned look at him -- in a major oddity, the cat had glasses resting on his broad Khajiit nose. Briras hadn't seen people with glasses in years, they tended not to last long out and away from the city. "Oh, hello," the stranger waved. "Khajiit was just planting some sleeping trees." He gestured down to the purple and white sapling. "They grow best when near water, yes no? One of few species that can drink salt water. Is not ideal, but…." The Khajiit shrugged, and put their spade away.

    Sleeping trees -- where had he heard that, before? The idea nagged at him until he remembered with a flash. The boss had mentioned them, when they lived in the Squall's wreck! "Oh, they're the trees… that produce sugar, right? Or sweet sap?" He couldn't remember the details, but the boss had mentioned it in the same breath as moon sugar.

    The caracal Cathay-raht clapped his hands and raised his ears, all smiles and bright eyes. "Ah! You know about them?" He had the look of a kid asked about their favorite thing.

    "Just a bit -- my clan leader knows enough to think they'd be a good feel for the island." Briras was full of questions that he wanted to steer the question toward -- who the hell was the Khajiit, how did he have so many sleeping tree saplings, why were the things purple, and more.

    "Oh -- that's great. Khajiit hasn't had anyone who knew what the trees are good for." The Khajiit reached into his backpack, displaying great flexibility in the act, and produced a stoppered bottle of purple liquid bigger than Briras' head. "The sap has such interesting properties, and is very sweet. Oh yes yes yes."

    "Great -- we could use some sweetness around here. Ain't got the spare ash yams to make yam sugar, you know?" Briras smiled, good-natured, and extended his hand. "Briras Gold-Tooth. Welcome to Solstheim."

    The Khajiit locked arms with him in the Nordic fashion. "Sangi, glad to be here." The bespectacled Khajiit smiled, warm and happy. "Khajiit heard you say your clan leader knows sleeping tree lore? Could he perhaps ask to speak with good Dunmer clan leader?"

    "Well sure -- I can arrange a meeting." Briras glanced to the bottle -- the boss had said it was sweet like moon sugar, and Briras admitted, he was curious. "But… do you think I could get a taste? I've only heard of it, and…."

    Sangi smiled, gleefull, and pulled the cork on the sleeping tree sap. It had a queer smell -- like grapes and oranges with just a bit of cherry. He extended his pinky finger tellingly and tipped the bottle.

    Briras extended his pinky finger and caught a dollop of thick glistening sap about the size of his pinky nail. A small sample, but still enough Briras suspected. As soon as he put the sap in his mouth -- everything started to change.

    He felt better than he ever had in his life, but everything was off-color. Like he wore purple-tinted glasses over his eyes. His limbs felt slow to move, but that didn't worry him at all. Sangi's ear tufts resembled horns even more clearly, and his glasses caught light so Briras couldn't see the Khajiit's eyes anymore.

    But that was okay -- gods did he feel great.

    Before he knew it, he was back in town -- Sangi was generous enough to offer a bit to everyone who was curious. Always a small drop, a pinky-nail sized sample. But it made everyone happy. No more sadness about dead loved ones; no more tension from Red Mountain; no more worry about much of anything.

    Though it was hard to see, Briras was certain people started to dance at some point. Sangi had been generous enough to give him a second drop, and then it got hard to follow what was happening. He remembered people dancing in the Netch -- but why they were in the Netch, he didn't recall.

    He recalled a bonfire where Dunmer and Rieklings danced, but the elves had hated the goblins that morning.

    He recalled Meerana pulling Elam into a corner of the market, when before they were so careful about no one seeing them be affectionate.

    It was great!

    The stars in the mine sparkled so nicely with his new purple vision. And while people were worried, they cheered up when Sangi gave them some sap. The sap made everything happy and… and… gods he felt sleepy.

    Sangi let him lean on his shoulder while they found their way to the boss. When Briras used the spare key to open the boss' private chambers he heard indistinct sounds from inside. Like -- someone was talking underwater, and Briras couldn't make out what was said. Sangi let Briras lean on the doorway and stepped into the room with a smirk.

    The indistinct sounds continued and grew harder to understand. Briras' limbs felt so heavy, and he was so tired. It proved impossible to stay awake for long -- he fell forward into the boss' chamber. His eyes slowly fell closed at the sight of Sangi bowing before the boss, who sat on his bed, with the blue rose from his backpack offered.

    When he opened them back up, the two Khajiit were both on the boss' bed -- but they moved too quickly for him to see what they were doing. Everything was still sort of purpley, and Briras was still so tired. He rolled over and found a comfy spot on the ground to slip back to sleep.

    When he woke back up -- his vision was no longer purply. He was hungry, and the sound of groans typically associated with hangovers filled the air inside the mine. He sat up, and tried to wipe dried drool off his face as he glanced around. Graffiti covered the walls in the mine -- which would annoy Zahkriisos no doubt.

    It sank in at that point that he was somehow in the boss' open doorway -- when they had been told to never leave the boss' door open for any reason. He glanced around, made sure no one was around to see it was his fault, and got up to close the door in a hurry. Before he did, he saw that the boss' room was empty, though the bed was a mess. There was a note stuck to the door, in near where Briras had been asleep.

    'Brb, going to get turnt -- Farri', the note said.

    Memories from before everything was purple began to drift back, and some of the ones during the purpleization as well. With this obviously complete set of data, Briras came to a realization: "Nenya is going to murder me in broad daylight over this."

    ---

    No hedonist wants to raise a prude. Look at what happened when Tytos allowed Tywin to grow up like that. Ugh, unsightly. And Farri still hasn't managed to delegate enough to where he can go on a weekend bender -- damnit, boy.

    Someone start playing Tik Tok by Kesha on the loudspeaker!
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Sangi would be the guy to go "Yo, have some Purple Draank" and actually have things go well enough that the next morning does not have everything on fire.
     
    ...Hoo boy. If folks thought things were weird to start with? We now have Umbriel Hist Trees in residence.

    Y'all think normal argonians are weird (They are)? It's gonna get a whole lot worse right quick and in a hurry.
     
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