The list of books on this section are...
A History of Daggerfall
A Dubious Tale of the Crystal Tower
An Overview of Gods and Worship
Wayrest, Jewel of the Bay
Galerion the Mystic
The Ebon Arm
Ius, Animal God
The Healer's Tale
A History of Daggerfall
A History of Daggerfall There is sufficient archaeological evidence for the modern historian to believe that there has been some variety of human settlement in the city-state of Daggerfall starting at least a thousand years before recorded history. The first use of the name Daggerfall to refer to the area around the current capitol was most probably in the 246th year of the 1st Era. The north half of the Iliac Bay, in fact all of the current province of High Rock, was conquered by invading Nords who brought a rough sort of civilization with them. One of the first civilized acts the Nords performed was a census -- the so-called Book of Life. Listed on page 933 of the Book is this entry: "North of the Highest bluffs, south of the moors, west of the hills, and east of the sea is called DAGGERFALL. 110 men, 93 women, 13 children under 8 years of age, 58 cows, 7 bulls, 63 chickens, 11 cocks, 38 hogs live here." ö Nearly four thousand years after this census was taken, we can see that these two hundred and sixteen people have multiplied heartily. The last census, in the year 3E 401, lists the population at over 110,000. It is always difficult to find an exact number, but the capitol city of Daggerfall certainly outnumbers her rivals, Sentinel and Wayrest. It has been a consistant, if not actually helpful amusement of historians to find the origin of placenames. Daggerfall, by tradition, is said to refer to the knife the first chieftain threw to form the borders of his lands. But there are other legends that may have equal validity. The Daggerfall entry from the Book of Life actually supports one theory about the reason for Daggerfall's longevity. The people were coastal fishermen, but they also found the land itself sufficiently rich to support raising livestock. This inclination of the early citizenry toward reinforcing their principal products brought stability to a fickle land. Daggerfall thrived during the years of the Skyrim öoccupancy. When the Wild Hunt killed King Borgas of Winterhold in 1E 369, the northlands engaged in the War of Succession and Skyrim, greatly weakened, lost her holdings in High Rock and Morrowind. The Iliac Bay had become important strategically, and Daggerfall began to expand her military. There were multiple opportunities for her to exercise this army and navy during the Direnni conflicts with the force of the Alessian Reform. The Dirennis were native Bretons, and Bretons are hardly ever given to excessive religion. Daggerfall became a minor base of operations for the Dirennis and their allies. Raven Direnni, the enchantress whose magic helped secure the final victory over the Alessians in the Glenumbria Moors, was one of the earliest occupants of Castle Daggerfall. Over the centuries that followed, the Dirennis felt into obscurity, but Daggerfall continued her growth. In 1E 609, King Thagore of Daggerfall defeated the army of Glenpoint and became the preeminant economic, cultural, and military force in southern High Rock. A position the kingdom has precariously kept ever since. Ironically, it was another successful military exercise three hundred and seventy years later that ended Daggerfall's monopoly of Bay trade: the annihilation of the orcish capitol Orsinium by a joint effort of Daggerfall, the new kingdom of Sentinel, and the now extinct Order of Diagna. The scattering of the orcs from southeastern High Rock made the river route to the Bay more accessible. The tiny village of Wayrest grew like a flower that no longer feared the mow. In twenty years, Wayrest's trade profits equalled Daggerfall's. In forty years, Wayrest was the acknowledged master of Iliac Bay trade. In one hundred and twenty years, Wayrest became the Kingdom of Wayrest. The Kingdom of Sentinel did not exhibit Wayrest's aggrandizement during the First Era. The Redguards were warriors learning the ways of the merchants, and their land was enemy enough to keep their population checked. Indeed, the number of people in all areas of the Iliac Bay was halved once in the First Era by the Thrassian Plague, once again by the War of Righteousness, and a third time by the invading Akavari. If Daggerfall had not spent its first thousand years preparing for the battles of the next thousand years, it is indeed conceivable that the Iliac Bay today might be Akavarian. The Second Era, like the latter part of the First Era, is a tapestry of wars, insurrections, and plagues. Daggerfall, Sentinel, and Wayrest continued to expand and improve their military and economic positions in the Bay. Daggerfall and Wayrest would transpose positions as major trading center of the Bay, and Daggerfall and Sentinel likewise bandied over which was the superior military power. The Iliac Bay has continued to hold an important position in the Imperial government of the Third Era. Rarely allies (though the combined armies in opposition to the Camoran Usurper in the 3rd century of the 3rd Era is a notable exception), but not always enemies, Daggerfall, Sentinel, and Wayrest have weathered the storms of contention, plague, famine, and pestilence. The recent War of Betony was typical of Iliac Bay warfare: sincere, frighteningly violent, and peaceably resolved.
A Dubious Tale of the Crystal Tower
A Dubious Tale of the Crystal Tower This story was first told to me when I was a neonate, newly studying in the Crystal Tower of Sumurset. I was admiring the famous animal pens of the Tower when I was approached by an older student. The fellow who told me this tale seemed very trustworthy at first, but, as the reader will soon discover, the tale is very dubious indeed. Of course, I have told it since to other neonates of the Tower in the same spirit. I offer the following for your august consideration, gentle reader. Many, many years back, a talented but poor bard was passing through Sumurset, looking for work. He could sing, he could dance, he could act, but no one had any use for his performances. The poor bard was lugubrious, but he still visited the taverns and palaces, day after day, begging for öa chance to showcase his talents. One day, dejected from more bad luck, he was approached by a tall elf in a long robe. A Magister of the Crystal Tower, in charge of the animal pens. The elf tells the bard of the white ape they made a cell for at the Tower, how it had died en route. There was a royal party from Firsthold visiting who had been promised a glimpse at the rare white ape. The Magister had a costume for the bard if he would deign to act out the part of the ape for the visitors. The bard had promised himself to take the first part that came his way, no matter how minor, so he agreed. The elf promised that the charade would last no longer than a fortnight, when the visitors left. For the first several days of the masquerade, the bard did nothing more than sit in the back of the pen. He was afraid to move and show the possible imperfections of the ape costume. In time, he became bored and began walking around. He suddenly noticed that the royal party was watching, fascinated. Happy that the ruse was working, he decided to enliven the act. Soon he had both a performance and a crowd. Instead of dancing a traditional elven jig, he would swing around the cell with every acrobatic trick he knew. Instead of singing a ballad, he would roar a roar he imagined a rare white ape might roar. The crowd loved it. The party outside his cell grew larger and larger every day. One day, he was performing for the crowd -- his finest work to date. He swung himself round and round, roaring and bleating. His hand slipped and he went flying through the bar and into the cell next door, where a Snow Wolf was in residence. Hackling its back and growling, the Snow Wolf began to inch toward the bard. Seeing no other way out, the bard screamed, "Help! Help!" The Snow Wolf whispered, "Shut up or you'll get us all fired."
An Overview of Gods and Worship
An Overview Of Gods and Worship In Tamriel Editor's Note: Brother Hetchfeld is an Associate Scribe at the Imperial University, Office of Introductory Studies Gods are commonly viewed by the evidence of their interest in worldly matters. A central belief in the active participation of Deities in mundane matters can be challenged by the evidence of apathy on the part of Gods during times of plague or famine. From intervention in legendary quests to manifestations in common daily life, no pattern for the Gods of Tamriel activities is readily apparent. The concerns of Gods in many ways may seem unrelated or at best unconcerned with the daily trials of the mortal realm. The exceptions do exist, however. Many historical records and legends point to the direct intervention of one or more gods at times of great need. Many heroic tales recount blessings of the divinity bestowed upon heroic figures who worked or quested for the good of a Deity or the Deity's temple. Some of the more powerful artifacts in the known world were originally bestowed upon their owners through such reward. It has also been reported that priests of high ranking in their temples may on occasion call upon their Deity for blessings or help in time of need. The exact nature of such contact and the blessings bestowed is given to much speculation, as the temples hold such associations secret and holy. This direct contact gives weight to the belief that the Gods are aware of the mortal realm. In many circumstances, however, these same Gods will do nothing in the face of suffering and death, seeming to feel no need to interfere. It is thus possible to conclude that we, as mortals, may not be capable of understanding more than a small fraction of the reasoning and logic such beings use. ö One defining characteristic of all Gods and Goddesses is their interest in worship and deeds. Deeds in the form of holy quests are just one of the many things that bring the attention of a Deity. Deeds in everyday life, by conforming to the statutes and obligations of individual temples are commonly supposed to please a Deity. Performance of ceremony in a temple may also bring a Deity's attention. Ceremonies vary according to the individual Deity. The results are not always apparent but sacrifice and offerings are usually required to have any hope of gaining a Deity's attention. While direct intervention in daily temple life has been recorded, the exact nature of the presence of a God in daily mundane life is up to great speculation. A traditional saying of the Wood Elves goes "One mans miracle is another mans accident." While some gods are believed to take an active part of daily life, others are well known for their lack of interest in temporal affairs. It has been theorized that gods do in fact gain strength from such things as worship through praise, sacrifice and deed. It may even be theorized that the number of worshippers a given öDeity has may reflect on His overall position among the other Gods. This my own conjecture, garnered from the apparent ability of the larger temples to attain blessings and assistance from their God with greater ease than smaller religious institutions. There are reports of the existence of spirits in our world that have the same capacity to use the actions and deeds of mortals to strengthen themselves as do the Gods. The understanding of the exact nature of such creatures would allow us to understand with more clarity the connection between a Deity and the Deity's worshipers. The implication of the existence of such spirits leads to the speculation that these spirits may even be capable of raising themselves to the level of a God or Goddess. Motusuo of the Imperial Seminary has suggested that these spirits may be the remains of Gods and Goddesses who through time lost all or most of their following, reverting to their earliest most basic form. Practioners of the Old Ways say that there are no Gods, just greater and lesser spirits. Perhaps it is possible for all three theories to be true.
Wayrest, Jewel of the Bay
Wayrest, Jewel of the Bay Wayrest is one of the most glorious cities of western Tamriel: sparkling in her contemporary beauty, lustrous by her past. She is prized above all cities in High Rock -- no other city has contributed, and continues to contribute so much to the culture of the Bretons. The spirits of her genius children continue to haunt the streets; you can see them in the gabled roofs, grand boulevards, aromatic marketplaces. The people of Wayrest have an instictive appreciation of their past, but are not obsessed by it, as the people of Daggerfall seem to be. One feels that one is in a modern city when one visits Wayrest, but there is a magic in the air that could only come from thirty-two centuries of civilization. It is difficult for historians to declare a certain date for the foundation of Wayrest. A settlement of some variety had been existence where the Bjoulsae River feeds the Iliac öBay possibly since the 800th year of the First Era. The traders and fishermen of Wayrest were surrounded by hostile parties: the orc capitol Orsinium had grown like a poison weed to the north, and the Akaviri pirates and raiders crowded the islands to the west. There is no mystery to Wayrest's name. After the fighting most travellers had to endure passing through the eastern end of the Iliac Bay, the little fishing village on the Bjoulsae was a welcome rest. Nowhere in the much vaunted censuses of the Skyrim Occupation is Wayrest mentioned. In the Annals of Daggerfall, King Joile's letter to Gaiden Shinji of the Order of Diagna contains the following reference: "The orcs have been much plaguing the Wayresters and impeding traffic to the heart of the land." The date given for the letter was 1E 948. Wayrest only truly bloomed after the razing of Orsinium in 1E 980. The hard-working traders and merchants were instrumental in forming the Masconian Trade Way and thus reducing the pirate activity on the Bay. At this time, Wayrest occupied both banks of the Bjoulsae. A successful mercantile family, the Gardners, built a walled palace on öthe High Rock side of the river and, over time, allowed banks and other businesses within its walls. It was a Gardner, Farangel, who was proclaimed king when Wayrest accepted ambassadors from the Camorian Empire, and was granted the right to call itself a kingdom in the 1100th year of the 1st Era. Although Wayrest became a kingdom under the command of one family, the merchants continued to wield incredible power. Many economists have alleged that Wayrest's eternal wealth, despite all her hardships, comes from this rare relationship between the merchants and the crown. The Gardner Dynasty fell, followed by the Cumberland Dynasty, which was followed by the Horley Dynasty, and finally, in the Third Era, the Septim Dynasty. No citizen of another kingdom of comparable age can, with one hand, name all the families who have ever ruled. Never has a king of Wayrest been deposed by revolution or assassination. Except for those of the Septim family, every king of Wayrest can trace his line back to a merchant prince of Wayrest. The merchants and king respect one another, and this relationship strengthens both. One need only walk down the great boulevard of Wayrest öto see physical proof of this unique alliance. Going north to south, Wayrest Boulevard suddenly divides, one half going west and the other going east. Both halfs end in identical squares: one at Castle Wayrest, the original palace of Aphren Gardner, and the other at Cumberland Square, where the oldest and wealthiest marketplace in Wayrest. The message here is clear: the king and the merchants are joined and equal. Wayrest has survived blights, droughts, plagues, piracy, invasions, and war with good humor and practicality. In 1E 2702, the entire population of the city was forced to move into the walled estate of the Gardners as protection against the pirates, Akaviri raiders, and Thrassian plague. A less resourceful community would have withered, but the Wayresters have survived to enrich Tamriel generation after generation.
ýWabbajack Little boys shouldn't summon up the forces of eternal darkness unless they have an adult supervising, I know, I know. But on that sunny night on the 5th of First Seed, I ödidn't want an adult. I wanted Hermaeus Mora, the daedra of knowledge, learning, gums, and varnishes. You see, I was told by a beautiful, large breasted man who lived under the library in my home town that the 5th of First Seed was Hermaeus Mora's night. And if I wanted the Oghma Infinium, the book of knowledge, I had to summon him. When you're the new king of Solitude, every bit of knowledge helps. Normally, you need a witches coven, or a mages guild, or at least matching pillow case and sheets to invoke a prince of Oblivion. The Man Under the Library showed me how to do it myself. He told me to wait until the storm was at its height before shaving the cat. I've forgotten the rest of the ceremony. It doesn't matter. Someone appeared who I thought was Hermaeus Mora. The only thing that made me somewhat suspicious was Hermaeus Mora, from what I read, was a big blobby multi-eyed clawed monstrosity, and this guy looked like a waistcoated banker. Also, he kept calling himself Sheogorath, not Hermaeus Mora. Still, I was so happy to have successfully summoned Hermaeus Mora, these inconsistencies did not bother me. He had me do some things that didn't make any sense to me (beyond the ömortal scope, breadth, and ken, I suppose), and then his servant happily gave me something he called the Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Maybe the Wabbajack is the Book of Knowledge. Maybe I'm smarter because I know cats can be bats can be rats can be hats can be gnats can be thats can be thises. And that doors can be boars can be snores can be floors can be roars can be spores can be yours can be mine. I must be smart, for the interconnective system is very clear to me. Then why, or wherefore do people keep calling me mad? Wabbajack. Wabbajack.
Galerion the Mystic
Galerion The Mystic During the early bloody years of the Second Era, Vanus Galerion was born under the name Trechtus, a serf on the estate of a minor nobleman, Lord Gyrnasse of Sollicich-on-Ker. Trechtus' father and mother were common laborers, but his father had secretly, against the law of Lord Gyrnasse, taught himself and then Trechtus to read. Lord Gyrnasse had been advised that literate serfs were an abomination of nature and dangerous to themselves and their lords, and had closed all bookstalls within Sollicich-on-Ker. All booksellers, poets, and teachers were forbidden, except within Gyrnasse's keep. Nevertheless, a small scale smuggling operation kept a number of books and scrolls in circulation right under Gyrnasse's shadow. When Trechtus was eight, the smugglers were found and imprisoned. Some said that Trechtus's mother, an ignorant and religious woman fearful of her husband, was the betrayer of the smugglers, but there were other rumors as well. The trial of the smugglers was nonexistant, and the punishment swift. The body of Trechtus' father was kept hanging for weeks during the hottest summer Sollicich-on-Ker had seen in centuries. Three months later, Trechtus ran away from Lord Gyrnasse's estate. He made it as far as Alinor, half-way across Sumurset Isle. A band of troubadours found him nearly dead, curled up in a ditch by the side of the road, nursed him to health, and employed him as an errand boy in return for food and shelter. One of the troubadours, a soothsayer named Heliand began testing Trechtus' mind and found the boy, though shy, to be preternaturally intelligent and sophisticated given his circumstances. Heliand recognized in the boy a commonality, for Heliand had been trained on the Isle of Artaeum as a mystic. When the troupe was performing in the village of Potansa on the far eastern end of Sumurset, Heliand took Trechtus, then a boy of eleven, to the Isle of Artaeum. The Magister of the Isle, Iachesis, recognized potential in Trechtus and took him on as pupil, giving him the name of Vanus Galarion. Vanus trained his mind on the Isle of Artium, as well as his body. Thus was the first Archmagister of the Mages Guild trained. From the Psijics of the Isle of Artaeum, he received his training. From his childhood of want and injustice, he received his philosophy of sharing knowledge.
The Ebon Arm
The Ebon Arm The ground shakes. The great armies continue to wage their unrelenting battle. The battlefield is red, the rivers flow crimson, the sky reflects a deep pink. In the distance lightning flashes, and thunder sounds. Two huge ravens begin circling the field; their blackness is vibrant against the various shades of red in this vista of death and suffering. The bright flashes of light and rumbling begin to increase. The redness surrounding the battlefield begins giving way to a golden glow from the east, almost like a summer's setting sun. From the false sunset a massive golden stallion and single rider approach. All become suddenly still on the field of battle as both sides recognize Reymon Ebonarm, God of War, and the companion and protector of all warriors, also known as the Black Knight and his mighty steed War Master. He rides into the middle of the blood soaked field and dismounts. He is a very imposing figure. His very tall and heavily muscled body is encased in ebony armor. His ebony helmet does not hide the flowing reddish blonde hair and beard which appear almost as shimmering gold, nor does it shield the steel blue eyes that seem to pierce all they fall upon. In his left hand he carries a massive ebony tower shield on which is emblazoned a fiery red rose. As he raises his right arm, all see an arm and a magnificent ebony blade which are extensions of each other. The fused arm and sword öare a result and symbol of the wounds suffered by this god during titanic battles in the youth of this world. The ravens come to rest on his shoulders. And, as the point of the ebony blade seemingly touches the sky, lightning flashes, thunder roars. Then total quiet descends and a shudder rolls through both armies. The leaders of both armies approach Reymon Ebonarm and kneel. In turn they tell their reasons for this war. Each asks for the favor of the Black Knight for their cause. Reymon Ebonarm listens, but there is no acknowledgment that he has chosen to favor one side or the other in this fight. However, each of the leaders has heard the other state his position. And, each now knows that this war is baseless. They embrace and turn to their armies. They instruct their forces to bury their dead, tend their wounded and return to their homes. Reymon Ebonarm mounts his great golden stallion, War Master, and again raises the ebony blade skyward and extends the huge rose emblazoned ebony shield to both armies. A massive chorus of cheers rises from the armies. The ravens again take to the air. Lightning and thunder follow him as he rides into the sunset followed by the two birds. The armies do as they have been bidden. They care for their wounded and bury their dead. As they retreat towards their homes each warrior is sure that the great God Reymon Ebonarm, the Black Knight, has responded to their individual prayers for intervention. Each side has won, neither has lost. As the armies depart the field, the rivers begin to run clear, and a single red rose begins to bloom near the grave of a fallen hero.
Rude Song In the spring of the year Doth propriety disappear In the courts and the ports Of the Bay. Drinking new beer, Everybody feels queer And the Earls and the churls Go astray. The bee and öthe bird Don't have to tell us a word. Our bodies for naughties Are prime. If you haven't heard, You can let yourself be lured For the youth, for things uncouth, It is time. Oh, it's lovely to sit in a field, harvested into rows It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes. People of the Bay bless The flowered court of Wayrest For showing us the gentle way of sin The bonny Dark Elf queen Likes to see and to be seen With cobblers, thieves, And tavernkeeps, And slaves, and fish-er-men In the court of Lainlyn, Right upon the mainland With sex, the whole place is in a whirl The Baroness likes to play With men who come her way, While the Baron likes the little boys and girls. Oh, it's lovely to give your lady a kiss upon her nose It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes. In Daggerfall, they hold a ball And all of society indulges in a variety Of scandal, they can handle -- A lot. The Captain of the Guard Has to search very hard For a bean that the Queen Has in her pants. And the Court Sorceress Will grant you a wish To cause the King to fling About his lance. Oh, it's lovely to give your love a single perfect rose It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes. Oh, it's lovely to abandon all your cares and fears and woes It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes. Yes sir, it's lovely not wear any clothes!" Mara's Tear
Mara's Tear Well, children, if you all gather round, and sit quietly, I'll tell you the story of Mara's Tear and Shandar's Sorrow ... Long, long ago, long before your grandmother and I were were born, long ago, there were two young children growing up in a village far, far from here. They played together, and ran through the woods together, exploring their little world and learning to see things through each other's eyes. This was very different from their parents because Shandar was the son of Maldor, who was captured in a war and forced to work as a slave for the village baron. Their village and another both needed the land between them to feed the villagers, and fought and fought, until many of the villagers died. Maldor was wounded in battle, and left for dead by his fellows. He was captured and forced to work in the fields as punishment. Shandar was not allowed to play with Mara, but she was very small and the other children didn't like to play with her, so she played with Shandar against her father's command. And they learned that they were really not very different at all. They couldn't understand why their parents hated each other so. Well, Shandar and Mara played together for many years, öand learned to love each other as they grew up. They knew that they couldn't let their parents know, because it was forbidden for them ever to marry, since they were from different villages and the war was still going on. They tried and tried to figure out how they could be happy together, and finally decided that they must run away from their village. They would try to make a new life for themselves in another village, far, far away from where they grew up. One night, while planning their escape, they were discovered by the town guards. Shandar tried to fight them, but they tied him up and dragged him away to the prison inside town. Mara was taken home, and her father was very angry with her, and told her that she could not leave their home again. He went to the house of another farmer, and asked if their son would marry Mara, so that she could never see Shandar again. The marriage was planned for the next week. Shandar, meanwhile, was to be killed for daring to be with Mara. He was beaten, and placed in a stockade. He was placed in a stockade, and they were to hang him the next day. When Mara found out that Shandar was to be killed, she knew that öshe could never live without him, and climbed out her window and ran into the woods, crying and crying. She ran and ran, and soon was lost. It was very dark, because back then they did not have any moons in the sky back then to make it safe for little boys and girls. Soon she found herself in a part of the woods she had never been before, and sat down on a rock since she was very tired. Well, the rock was a secret entrance to a cave where a very mean orc lived. When he came back from his hunting, he found Mara curled up asleep on his rock, and thought to himself, "Hmmm, a tasty little girl. I shall save her for my breakfast!" He grabbed her and took her into his cave, moving the rock back so that she could not escape. She was sure to die, and tried to escape, but the evil orc just laughed and laughed at her, until she finally gave up. When the villagers found out that Mara had run off, they were very worried. No one knew the woods very well, and all were afraid of the evil orc that lived there. Only Shandar was not afraid, and he begged and begged for the baron to öset him free, so that he could go look for Mara. The Baron finally decided to let Shandar go, for no one else was brave enough to go and rescue Mara. So Shandar was set free, and he set off into the woods to go and rescue her. Shandar searched and searched, but could not find poor Mara. Finally, he sat down on a rock to rest for a moment, and as he sat down, he noticed a piece of cloth under the rock. It was a piece from Mara's cloak! He realized that she must be under the rock somehow, and knew that the orc had captured her. He pushed and pushed on the rock, and finally was able to roll it aside. He climbed down into the orc's cave, but it was very dark, and he could not see anything. The evil orc, when he heard his front door moving, hid in the shadows to see what was coming into his home. When he saw that it was just a little man-boy, he grinned to himself and thought, "Now I have lunch, TOO!" When Shandar came near, the orc grabbed him, and began to squeeze the life out of him. Back in the village, the people soon realized that they were foolish to let a young man go off into the woods by himself. öThey gathered all of their weapons, and set off to find the two lost children. When they finally came upon the clearing near the orcs' cave, they saw a strange and wondrous sight: A slain orc near the entrance to the cave, and Mara holding the head of poor Shandar in her lap. Shandar had killed the orc, but not before the it gave Shandar a mortal wound. Mara's tears flowed freely from her eyes and splashed upon Shandar's face, reflecting the light from the villager's torches. Shandar was filled with sorrow at the thought that he had saved Mara, only to lose her because of his own impending death from the battle with the orc. He cried out to Mara's namesake, the goddess of love, to help them. The Goddess Mara recognized their true love and wept at their loss. Not having power over death, she could do nothing to save Shandar, but she knew that she could not let their love die. She reached down from the heavens and picked up Mara and Shandar in her arms, and placed them high in the heavens. They could be together always, and provide light in the dark night to others so that they may be safe from the evils in the world. The villagers were amazed at this sight, and vowed to honor the love of Shandar and Mara by ölearning more about themselves and their neighbors, so that the war that had been going on as long as anyone could remember would end. Shandar's sacrifice for the one he loved showed them that he was worthy of their respect, and that those from his village were just as proud and worthy as themselves. And, that's why, children, every night we can see Mara's Tear and Shandar's Sorrow spending their lives together high in the heavens, lighting the way for all the little boys and girls like you.
Jokes "How is your wife," asked Zalither. "She's in bed with laryngitis," replied Harlyth. "Is that Argonian bastard back in town again?" "I keep seeing spots before my eyes." "Have you seen a healer?" "No, just spots." A big Nord named Julgen was set on by a gang of thieves. He fought them furiously, but in the end, they beat him into semiconsciousness. They searched his pockets and discovered that he only had three gold pieces on him. "Do you mean to tell us you fought us like a mad lupe for three lousy gold pieces?" sneered one of the thieves. "No," answered Julgen. "I was afraid you were after the four hundred gold pieces in my boot." During the War of Betony, the Bretons in the Isle of Craghold were under siege for several days. After the island was liberated, Lord Bridwell found the ruins of the castle where a crowd of survivors were hidden away in the dark. It was going to be a difficult job freeing them, as part of the roof had collapsed trapping them all within. Bridwell stuck his head in the only opening and shouted to the Bretons below: "Are there any expectant mothers down there?" "It's hard to say, your Lordship," said a young woman. "We've only been down here for a few days." An elderly Breton met with an contemporary of his at a guild meeting. "Harryston, old man, I wanted to express my sympathy. I hear that you buried your wife last week." "Had to, old boy," replied Harryston. "Dead, you know." Why was the Sentinel army so useless during the War of Betony? The cannons were too heavy, so all three garbage scows sunk. What does a new Sentinel private learn first as a combat technique? How to retreat. What is the thinnest book in the world? Redguard Heroes of the War of Betony. A Dark Elf man killed his wife after catching her making love with another man. When the magistrate asked him why he killed her instead of her lover, the man replied, "I considered it better to kill one woman than a different man every week." A Dark Elf woman was being shown around Daggerfall. When she was shown the magnificent Castle Daggerfall, she smiled sweetly to her guild and whispered, "It reminds me of sex." "That's odd," said her guild. "Why does our Castle Daggerfall remind you of sex?" The Dark Elf sighed, "Everything does." Yelithah told Vathysah that she was having dinner with a Dark Elf named Morleth that night. "I hear he's an animal," said Vathysah. "He'll rip your dress right off you." "Thank you for telling me," said Yelithah, "I'll be sure to wear an old dress." How do separate sailors in the Khajiiti navy? With a hammer and tongs. "This orchard has sentimental value to me," said Mojhad, the Khajiit, to his friend, Hasillid. "Under that tree, for example, is where I first made love. And that tree, is where her mother stood, watching us." "She watched you while you made love to her daughter?" said Hasillid, clearly impressed. "Didn't she say anything?" "Meow." What do you call a Wood Elf who doesn't lie or cheat or steal? A dead Wood Elf.
Ius, Animal God
Ius, ýAnimal God The statues one sees throughout Valenwood and parts of Hammerfell and Elsweyr that seem to be of a misshapen humanoid carrying a rod are of Ius, tHe God of Animals. The rod He carries has its origin in the tale of The Ox and The Evil Farmer. It seems that one day an evil farmer decided to kill all of his animals and have a big party. As The story unfolds, animal after animal is killed and prepared for a big meal. Lastly the farmer comes to the ox and prepares to slit its throat. The ox, not wishing to be anybody's dinner, prayed very vocally to Ius. This came out as a loud Moo, of course. At that very instant Ius appeared carrying a rather large set of balance weights. Without explanation, Ius ate the farmer and vanished. Ever since that day Ius The Extremely Agitated, has always been protrayed as carrying a large set of scales with him. The local Ius worshippers have no idea why and do not seem to care. Although this story has been called fanciful at best, I personally know a racoon who had actually talked to The Ox. That is, before the Ox became filler for the local inn's larder. I do not have any information one way or the other about the validity of this second myth. It is, however, quite traditional. It seems that many, many years ago, before the reign of Uriel Septim VII, before the reign of Cephorus Septim II, yes, even before the age of Pelagius Septim III (long may his name be praised!), there lived a wombat who was the pet of Lady Greelina, daughter of the Lord Prufrock of Rockcreek. Lady Greelina loved her wombat so, and it loved her too with all the passionate intensity a marsupial can muster. Unfortunately, it was a time of great sorrow in Rockcreek. A pestilence had come through the town, destroying all their cash crops (which consisted of raspberries and a few scraggly odd weeds that caused Argonian women to look very attractive to those who partook); Then a plague had come, inflicting nearly every cobbler with chronic hiccoughs; finally a witch had cursed the townspeople so the only words any could utter were "Hmmm. Precisely." All the businesses, stores, and guilds fled from the town faster than an extremely fast thing. Lady Greelina saw her father despairing the loss the town was suffering, so she brought her wombat in and told him, "Father, my wombat can save us all, for it is sacred to the god Ius, God of Animals. The only reason I didn't tell you earlier is because I am an early adolescent going through that period when I don't like to communicate. But please, ask a wish of my wombat, and Ius will fulfill it, for my wombat loves me." The king thought this was fairly flakey, but he had nothing to lose so he uttered a modest wish to the wombat, "All I want is for one business to come to Rockcreek that will never leave no matter the calamity." I probably should have mentioned before that the king had always been cruel to the wombat (he used to lick it and try to make it stick to walls), so the wombat had Ius create an equipment store in front of the palace gate that would never go away. The royal family ended up going mad and eating one another (and ironically, the wombat was one of the first to go). But that is why there is to this day an equipment store blocking the palace gate in Rockcreek. If you don't believe me, go there and see.
The Healer's Tale
The Healer's Tale For over twenty years, I have been a healer at the Temple of Stendarr. As the reader is doubtless aware, we are the only temple in the Iliac Bay that offers wound healing and illness curing for both the faithful and the heathen alike, for Stendarr is the God of Mercy. I have faced people at their most miserable and their most terrified. I have seen brave knights weep and strong peasants scream. I like to think that I've watched the masks drop from faces, and seen people as they truly are. A healer's job, after all, is more than simply binding wounds and stopping the flows of poison and disease. We are counselors and comforters for those who have given up all hope. Sometimes, it seems like our kind words and sympathy do more for our patients than our spells. I am reminded of a very sick young man who came to the temple, suffering from a variety of maladies. Once I had given him an examination, I told him the results, careful not to alarm him. I let him decide how he wanted to be told the news. "I have some good news and some bad news, my child," I said. "I better hear the bad news first," he said. "Well," I said, gripping his shoulder in case he should faint. "The bad news is that, unless I am wrong, you will sicken even more over the next day or two. And unless Stendarr choses to be merciful to you, you will pass from this existance. I am sorry, my child." As soft as the blow was, it stung nonetheless. The boy was, after all, very young. He thought he had his whole life ahead of him. Tears streaming down his face, he asked, "And what is the good news?" I smiled: "When you came in, did you notice our proselytizer? She was the enchanting, voluptuous blonde in the antechamber by the foyer?" Color returned to the young man's face. He had noticed her indeed. "Yes?" "I'm sleeping with her," I said. If more of the healers of Tamriel would consider their patients' feelings, not just the quickest way to heal them up and get them out, we would have a far, far healthier society. I truly believe that.