- Joined
- Dec 16, 2019
That meme about someone wandering in on him while in the middle of a multi-day LSD bender sounds more and more plausible the more I hear about the man.
The Elder Scrolls
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- Joined
- Dec 1, 2018
His wife, Lady Nerevar, Denies that it was drugs, he was drinking heavily and reading Alister Crowley. It is actually very rooted in Starwars, Alister Crowley, and Pajeet superstitions. The only truely Fantasy factions in Morrowind are the Telvanni, Magic Warlords, and House Dagoth, Fantasy 1984, I feel like Vivec got a lot of love from the writers, with Almalexia getting her piece in Tribunal, Sotha Sil is a lot like Crassius or Lepidus in that he was crucial to the formation of the Triopoly, but largely over shadowed by his peers.
This is the truth of Sermon Zero, which is neither one.
He was born a poor Netchiman, but rich in his Wife and in Wisdom. Eternal are their names, mother and father of Vehk, Berahzic and Irdri.
Generous silver chalice, sword in the clouds, dying-radiant lady-star. He entered the Temple, passed the seven veils, beheld his wife, Berahzic. O: the word, the deed, the end inevitable: O!
She asked of him truths beyond words, and he answered without words, but added in completion:
"There is nothing beyond bliss, after death comes the void. Only then are we free to love. Figuring father Peryite would stamp it and catalogue it. And Mephala mother, embracing black hands, would smother it. Gods such as us must be gentle with all our children, both flesh and spirit, a seed-apple potpourri."
On that night Berahzic named her children but did not know their sum.
Dreams of peasants, a Netchiman's dream. IRDRI HLAFEM VEHK HYKRO.
Silence is the command of the Aedra, the howling horror in the cavern of the heart, the laughter of Berahzic. Nocturnal's Black Skies, Peryite's Golden Order, Meridia's Green Generations, Mehrunes' Red Rage, the Sighs of Berahzic. O, her diamonds and crescents a crimson dawn over armies arrayed for battle, her dark and silent eyes the blinding snows of Solitude.
Many thousand millions are the visions of aminreaV. A, awake, the first and last, the King of I.
Netchiman Irdri on the next day took his wife and newfound treasure to meet the Dwarf-King at the end of Bthuangthuv.
There Kagrenac gave him the thrice-secret word:
RPDXGBWGHPZBXLOdZaZeXLdCIBNGJZereZDQOPhtHVVeKVPrCSa
NYyehBtCdInMZGaJRVeRrMGZuGCCIsHTZaLVeRFOrPZPKBPtORsKI
iONhXTtPKFgHTVOnolJRVJEeZVKWQIbHVCMNnoIivFiVMlYVCBbCVV
FoDIdInWaWIrLZVeVCMmewNIdGYIeKhTNtZTVoXVDKZt
Here the true key lies. Vivec is the lesser or false key.
He was born a poor Netchiman, but rich in his Wife and in Wisdom. Eternal are their names, mother and father of Vehk, Berahzic and Irdri.
Generous silver chalice, sword in the clouds, dying-radiant lady-star. He entered the Temple, passed the seven veils, beheld his wife, Berahzic. O: the word, the deed, the end inevitable: O!
She asked of him truths beyond words, and he answered without words, but added in completion:
"There is nothing beyond bliss, after death comes the void. Only then are we free to love. Figuring father Peryite would stamp it and catalogue it. And Mephala mother, embracing black hands, would smother it. Gods such as us must be gentle with all our children, both flesh and spirit, a seed-apple potpourri."
On that night Berahzic named her children but did not know their sum.
Dreams of peasants, a Netchiman's dream. IRDRI HLAFEM VEHK HYKRO.
Silence is the command of the Aedra, the howling horror in the cavern of the heart, the laughter of Berahzic. Nocturnal's Black Skies, Peryite's Golden Order, Meridia's Green Generations, Mehrunes' Red Rage, the Sighs of Berahzic. O, her diamonds and crescents a crimson dawn over armies arrayed for battle, her dark and silent eyes the blinding snows of Solitude.
Many thousand millions are the visions of aminreaV. A, awake, the first and last, the King of I.
Netchiman Irdri on the next day took his wife and newfound treasure to meet the Dwarf-King at the end of Bthuangthuv.
There Kagrenac gave him the thrice-secret word:
RPDXGBWGHPZBXLOdZaZeXLdCIBNGJZereZDQOPhtHVVeKVPrCSa
NYyehBtCdInMZGaJRVeRrMGZuGCCIsHTZaLVeRFOrPZPKBPtORsKI
iONhXTtPKFgHTVOnolJRVJEeZVKWQIbHVCMNnoIivFiVMlYVCBbCVV
FoDIdInWaWIrLZVeVCMmewNIdGYIeKhTNtZTVoXVDKZt
Here the true key lies. Vivec is the lesser or false key.
A Personal View of Chimeri Culture
Who are you?
A gutter-get, a daggerlad, a netchiman’s son. I have my own gang. Get away from me or they’ll stare.
Who are we?
‘We’..? You mean ‘you’. You, sera, wear the namesake of a tramp’s house and your sandals are dusty. I’d guess you the guard of some canvasari, if I had to, and your lordship if you paid. Come now. A six-bitten dram and I’ll touch. A scrib-roll and we’ll have candles. Closer and in your ear: I was born a whelp-wench in my under, if that suits you.
What makes us great?
For true, you ask me this? I see only a sandal-foot sword in love with Mephala's teachings, and Veloth's. Won’t you love me, too? Or does his lordship want it Saliache, weeping and weak-kneed with their lisp, their lilt, as I can do that, too.
Where do we live?
Eh? This is the Mourning Hold, you may keep what inn you need. As for me, I call these alleys home, or the under-docks, and mark my only-known days with sores. You tilt your head in a way that I do not like.
How do we live?
You? You seem to live no life that I can match, and seem to do it from behind a mask. Drinksweat tubes beneath, if I’m no mistake. Fair, then: you have riches and a good master. So pay now or move on. I live by gutting those that would estimate me as some other worth; higher, lower, base, or dumb beast.
What is important in my life?
That’s for yourself to esteem. By now, and little offense, but you’ve set me bored. Have you brought a skoomerpipe with you, or flin? I’d show you a roof where we could look on this poor country of ash-woven outcasts and share sigils. Share spears.
Who rules us?
That bitch-whore of a storm that runs The Orphanage, if the writs be read. And I’ve yet to learn that bit of tradecraft. I see now only in the sigils, and yours are recognizable enough. Would you let me wear that mask, if only for a minute?
What makes a Chimer great?
Making sure the other dies before you.
What is the difference between men and women?
There is no difference in me, milord. Come: rooftop. Bring your money.
What is evil?
Teasing.
What is my lot in life?
A sixth-dram dropped, and you flinch from my hand. Good, muthsera. Good for you. I have the third’s eye fire and can tell you the story of your house. In the all honest Vel, I’d rather have that than your hand. It has the ghartoki on it. Hold now, they both do. Who are you, sandal man?
How do we deal with others?
For you, I would shave this head. It would not do that your new friend shook an inconstant kwam-lice from it. I'd take the sigil of Vel, the V, and wear it twice. And I would be new, and believe in the one moon and star as your banner does. I’d make a legend of this netch longhook. Make no frown that this will be my weapon in your guard, however low its station. We all drink from the milk of our fathers. I’d learn to read and then write so that I could see right your name forever. And I would clean your feet so that the next time you made treaty it would be with an assured step.
Who are our enemies?
He that says your name wrong, in sky beard, or fourth corner, or the mock-walkers of our cousins, the tunnelers. This, too: the bitch-whore of storm if she does not take your hand when you ask it. And I see this idea behind that mask of yours already. You aim to take the land anew. You aim to wake the old sleeper. You aim to make the sky red. You have a name for it already.
Who are our gods?
Old things. Leftovers. We left them all behind with the weepers. Their names now are only numbers. I’ll become good with those, my Grace. Trust me. The ending of the words is HORTATOR.
Notes
An interview between Nerevar and Vivec, in a universe prior to the latter's apotheosis. Posted for Morrowind's 10th birthday, on May 2, 2012.
Who are you?
A gutter-get, a daggerlad, a netchiman’s son. I have my own gang. Get away from me or they’ll stare.
Who are we?
‘We’..? You mean ‘you’. You, sera, wear the namesake of a tramp’s house and your sandals are dusty. I’d guess you the guard of some canvasari, if I had to, and your lordship if you paid. Come now. A six-bitten dram and I’ll touch. A scrib-roll and we’ll have candles. Closer and in your ear: I was born a whelp-wench in my under, if that suits you.
What makes us great?
For true, you ask me this? I see only a sandal-foot sword in love with Mephala's teachings, and Veloth's. Won’t you love me, too? Or does his lordship want it Saliache, weeping and weak-kneed with their lisp, their lilt, as I can do that, too.
Where do we live?
Eh? This is the Mourning Hold, you may keep what inn you need. As for me, I call these alleys home, or the under-docks, and mark my only-known days with sores. You tilt your head in a way that I do not like.
How do we live?
You? You seem to live no life that I can match, and seem to do it from behind a mask. Drinksweat tubes beneath, if I’m no mistake. Fair, then: you have riches and a good master. So pay now or move on. I live by gutting those that would estimate me as some other worth; higher, lower, base, or dumb beast.
What is important in my life?
That’s for yourself to esteem. By now, and little offense, but you’ve set me bored. Have you brought a skoomerpipe with you, or flin? I’d show you a roof where we could look on this poor country of ash-woven outcasts and share sigils. Share spears.
Who rules us?
That bitch-whore of a storm that runs The Orphanage, if the writs be read. And I’ve yet to learn that bit of tradecraft. I see now only in the sigils, and yours are recognizable enough. Would you let me wear that mask, if only for a minute?
What makes a Chimer great?
Making sure the other dies before you.
What is the difference between men and women?
There is no difference in me, milord. Come: rooftop. Bring your money.
What is evil?
Teasing.
What is my lot in life?
A sixth-dram dropped, and you flinch from my hand. Good, muthsera. Good for you. I have the third’s eye fire and can tell you the story of your house. In the all honest Vel, I’d rather have that than your hand. It has the ghartoki on it. Hold now, they both do. Who are you, sandal man?
How do we deal with others?
For you, I would shave this head. It would not do that your new friend shook an inconstant kwam-lice from it. I'd take the sigil of Vel, the V, and wear it twice. And I would be new, and believe in the one moon and star as your banner does. I’d make a legend of this netch longhook. Make no frown that this will be my weapon in your guard, however low its station. We all drink from the milk of our fathers. I’d learn to read and then write so that I could see right your name forever. And I would clean your feet so that the next time you made treaty it would be with an assured step.
Who are our enemies?
He that says your name wrong, in sky beard, or fourth corner, or the mock-walkers of our cousins, the tunnelers. This, too: the bitch-whore of storm if she does not take your hand when you ask it. And I see this idea behind that mask of yours already. You aim to take the land anew. You aim to wake the old sleeper. You aim to make the sky red. You have a name for it already.
Who are our gods?
Old things. Leftovers. We left them all behind with the weepers. Their names now are only numbers. I’ll become good with those, my Grace. Trust me. The ending of the words is HORTATOR.
Notes
An interview between Nerevar and Vivec, in a universe prior to the latter's apotheosis. Posted for Morrowind's 10th birthday, on May 2, 2012.
- Joined
- May 3, 2024
You want some Kirkbride deep lore? Compare their ages and do some math. Let's just say that when they started talking that she wasn't old enough to see an R-rated movie without a parent...
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2018
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
Feel free to post a source when you passive-aggressively imply someone is a pedo.
- Joined
- May 3, 2024
I'm not digging through a bunch of almost 20 year old forum posts to find it. If you were hanging out in Bethesda and Elder Scrolls forums back then you'd remember. It's not like she was 12 or something, I'm pretty sure she was 16 or 17 so legal in some states. Still grody though.
- Joined
- Apr 11, 2019
std::string
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- May 17, 2018
Don't forget the benzos.
Makes sense, anyway. He probably couldn't remember what he wrote from one day to the next.
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2021
- Joined
- May 3, 2024
Next time I get black out drunk I'm going to tell people it was a Dragonbreak.
- Joined
- Aug 9, 2022
Can't believe all the time I spent blacking out and reading commentaries on the tao te ching could've been monetized.
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2023
It depends at what point in time we're speaking, seemingly in the earlier Tamrielic history the Princes were basically free to manifest and frolic on Nirn as they pleased, until a couple of tragedies had Sotha Sil put his foot down and threaten the Princes into behaving, most notably through the use of their nymics.
There was also the dragonfires supposed to keep them from invading, but I have to wonder whatever "invading" means (realm-merging?) since Sotha Sil's had to intervene at all. And after Oblivion they are no more, anyways, Sotha Sil or the dragonfires.
Before that I think Princes could only manifest on their respective summoning days, otherwise it was limited to verbal communication.
It's kind of a secret to no one that some of the princes would be interested in claiming Nirn, so now that seemingly nothing is in the way anymore, what's stopping them? Is it a hole in my knowledge or a hole in nu-BGS's worldbuilding?
- Joined
- Aug 9, 2022
Creation Engine.
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2019
He has the Amulet of Kings shattered and infused with his Septim's bloodline to invoke an Akatosh avatar (taking the form of a golden dragon) & banish Dagon to his realm, obviously sacrifing himself in the process.
I think the amulet is the key.
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Super Hans v2
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2022
The result of Martin's sacrifice was that daedra could no longer invade Nirn. Doesn't stop summoning them, and doesn't stop 'benign entrances' like Sheogorath plopping down his portal to his Oblivion plane in Shivering Isles. End result is that what he did was basically worthless.
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
If the Vigil of Stendarr were better equipped and had better PR, they would be a real force in Tamriel, at least among the human races. It's easy to see how humans might be frustrated with the Daedra constantly fucking with them for no reason. Sotha Sil had a point.
If the Vigil had the backing of rulers behind them and went full jihad against Daedra worshipers and shrines, imagine how much they could reduce the Daedra's influence. The heathen races might be a problem, though....
If the Vigil had the backing of rulers behind them and went full jihad against Daedra worshipers and shrines, imagine how much they could reduce the Daedra's influence. The heathen races might be a problem, though....
God of Nothing
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2016
Sheogorath pulled an epic troll by leaving it as an invitation
if you enter a portal in the mouth of a screaming statue, you deserve what you get
- Joined
- Jul 5, 2023
Oblivion is the only game in the series that I feel compelled to 100% every time I play it. It's also the only game I don't end up doing hard roleplays for as often.
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2018
I Imagine in the poor equipment in Skyrim was due to them originally being slated as the antagonist force for the Companions. as well the removal of wearing robes over armor and other clothing features from Morrowind. There is no reason they should not hold as much sway as the Order of the Flame or the Crusaders of Stendarr (The Knightly Order of the Stendarr temple).