(Late) TESfest23: Forgotten/Devotion

Image ID: A paper and pencil drawing of a child's netch toy peeking out of a leather shoulder bag. The bag is being carried on the shoulder of someone not pictured aside from an arm and hand holding the shoulder strap. The netch toy has some extra stitching in places of wear and tear. End ID.

Rating: Teen And Up Audience

Warnings: Major Character Death

Chapters: 7/7

Fandom: Elder Scrolls: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls

Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil & Martin Septim

Characters: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil, Martin Septim, Jauffre (Elder Scrolls), Blades (Elder Scrolls), Lucien Lachance, Mehrunes Dagon

Additional Tags: TES Summer Fest (Elder Scrolls), Fandom Week, TES Summer Fest 2023, Magic, Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Oblivion Main Quest, Explicit Language, tesfest23, Some Plot, This follows along Oblivion's main questline, Minor inaccurate take on the Imperial Cult Religion, Canonical Character Death, Explicit langauge is mainly for chapter 3, Unhappy Ending, Shivering Isles (Elder Scrolls), Mentally Unwell Hero of Kvatch, Complete

SUMMARY: From the priest of Akatosh to now Cyrodiil last hope and only chance of survival, Martin has a lot of opinions about everything. None more so than about the Hero of Kvatch.

For TES SummerFest 2023

@tes-summer-fest​   

(Late) TESFest23: Mortal

Kid Dalamus and his netch leather toy named Maliat, the Dunmeri word for "soft". Possibly due to netch leather giving a tingling feeling that one might describe as "fuzzy".

Out on the Inner Sea, where Ebonheart had crossed to Vvardenfell with one one bold leap set in stone, the port was rocked to sleep by languid waves. Southwards lay the vast expanse of Thirr, eastwards the City of Swords over which loomed a frozen moon, and thence a ferry sailed in worn and weathered. One of the passengers, a young lady, bowed to the boatman as she disembarked. 

Rather undistinguished in her clean but simple clothes, she was glad for it and took a deep breath of sea air that mixed with the cooking from Six Fishes, watching as stevedores hauled barrels and crates onto a merchant ship. For a few more paces across the cobblestone, she needn’t have been a duke’s daughter up until the bridge to the castle, so she took a slight turn at Forth Hawkmoth.

In the Skyrim Mission hall, she asked of a friendly ambassador all the latest rumors brought in on western winds, while in the neighboring Argonian Mission she exchanged a courteous greeting and hidden scrap of paper with the consul. The significance of each meeting was not as it must have seemed, and she continued to Castle Ebonheart whither the Imperial knight at the bridge led her in without issue.

Day 5: Devotion

Kagúl had little care at first for the strange and unfamiliar gods he heard about in Skyrim, and distanced himself from Malacath. But this "Mara", a goddess of love, of compassion... family? He didn't pay much attention as he took the amulet off the priest, fascinated by the gorgeous, intricate design. He hung it from his neck and hid it under his shirt, though he would fidget with it in times of unease or discontent.

Sword for TES summerfest! @tes-summer-fest

i still can't believe she broke up with the nerevarine like that (trying to kill them)

id in alt

Day 8: Free Day

A tavern, a long awaited drink, and your best friend.

Kagúl and Lydia!

Day 2 - Beloved!

Struggled a lil bit with what to draw for today, but the other prompt ‘Ritual’ made me think of the birth constellations, and Val, my LDB, was born under The Lover! So here’s my beloved lil guy ^u^

My late submission for @tes-summer-fest ! August 6th-beloved or and ritual

My Last Dragonborn, Faustina, lays by the campfire with her wife, (butch!)Brynjolf while on the way home to Lakeside Manor after checking in on the Thieves Guild in Riften. The journey is long, but they’ve grown accustomed to it, so they’ve learned the best places to set up camp for the night. On warm nights at home, they will also sleep outside with a campfire to hear the trees rustling and watch the lightning bugs flicker. Rest is easy like this.

[image: A digital drawing of a human couple sleeping on the grass in an embrace. The one in the front has light skin and ginger hair and is laying on her back. Her wife is resting on her chest, she has light skin and dark brown hair with white streaks. A campfire is flickering in the lower right corner of the image, behind their heads. The background is a meadow at night, with tall grass faintly visible around them and small yellow torchbugs flying around.]

(Late) TESfest23: Teeth

[Image ID: A pencil and paper drawing from the neck up of Dalamus Rex, a Dark Elf vampire, smiling to show his teeth. He has long black hair, and a long, gaunt and angular face, with four horizontal scars across his face starting on his left cheek. Two of the scars extend across his nose, one reaches halfway across his face between the bottom of his nose and his upper lip, and the final, smallest facial scar reaches just between his bottom lip and his chin. Two small horizontal scars are present across his adam's apple, and one long and wide horizontal scar stretches across his collarbone, starting at his left shoulder and almost reaching his right shoulder.

Dalamus smiles, showing his teeth and especially two long upper canine teeth, his fangs. The smile is pleasant, if intense. End Image ID.]

Sneak-peek of a mod I'm working on. This is the guildhall for The Order of the Arcane Watch, an organization of unlikely alliances, tenuous relationships, and opposing motivations, held together by just one interest: destorying profane magic.

Some are trying to righteously protect Tamriel. Some are chasing their own interests. And others may just be trying to eliminate their competition.

Regardless of your motives and background, if you have an interest in slaying cultists, stopping the daedra, or putting the undead back to rest, the Order of the Arcane Watch has a place for you.

Posted for @tes-summer-fest, Day 7/August 11 ("profane").

[Image: five screenshots of Morrowind, depicting different parts of a dimly lit guild hall with things such as potted plants, a training room, a forge, an enchanter's table and bunk beds.]

TESFest, Day 5 - Forgotten/Devotion

The ship was called the Brinehammer, though most have forgotten its name by now. Even the sailor himself had almost forgotten, often simply referring to it as the damned boat. Some say the way the boards creaked and groaned beneath their feet was a warning, jokes spouted here and there of how her temper must be a nasty one that none could spend time aboard her without feeling at best, watched, and at worst, loathed. Perhaps it was haunted, or it was the haunting, wrapped in wood, adorned with metal and gowned in high sails. Sailors were a superstitious lot, anyone knew, and when the ship itself seemed to hate the presence of the crew, that's when it was time to return to land.

He shouldn't have been surprised when it crashed. He knew the captain had a habit for skooma and strong mead, and the two seldom mixed well. The crew had been thinking of leaving him behind entirely, or whispering of mutiny whenever there was a spare moment. But not even the best laid plans were foolproof, and if the gods wanted a laugh, who were they - this damned crew - to deny them?

Morning cast an iron-soft light upon the seas, turbulent with an oncoming storm. He'd warned the captain, the Dunmer had, many times. He was an experienced sailor. This captain was new to the sea, though aged and weathered by his time on the front lines during the Oblivion Crisis. He drove them through waters none should have traversed. He'd been good at the start, or else the Dunmer would never have set foot on his vessel. But the sea challenged this. The hard conditions, the nights pacing the deck in case of pirates, the sleeplessness and the tossing and turning. The old Khajiit aboard cursed and muttered often of Hermorah, of the god that could tear a mind asunder. Perhaps their captain, then, had fallen into the clutches of the writhing beneath the seas.

There had been a crew of twenty-five when they began, but by this point in the voyage, seven were left. Too many got off the ship at ports, had seen too much of the abyss. The Brinehammer became a curse on their lips.

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V; Luciana resurrected AU

Characters: Faustus [non-dragonborn Listener], Sofie [canon npc], mention of Lucien Lachance+Tatiana Vestalis, Babette, and Nazir

Relationships: None

Rating/Warnings: T for mild language, mention of canon-typical violence

Summary: The Black Hand didn't traditionally take contracts, but as the freshly anointed Listener of a floundering Dark Brotherhood, Faustus finds himself required to dirty his hands as any other ordinary Family member must. One such contract drags him to Windhelm - in his mind, nothing more than a damned, damp, and dreary, hole dug crudely into Skyrim's north. His plan was simple: waltz in, discreetly kill his mark, and hurry home before he's discovered. The first two went without a hitch.

The third, though…well, few plans unfold exactly as originally intended.

Tagging @arnaerr @nocturance @nuwanders @skyrim-forever @wingedknightrose @theladygrim as a formal apology for the off-the-charts angst levels of that last one haha

Read on AO3 or continue on here!

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The only thing better than leaving Windhelm was not having to venture there at all. As a sellsword and occasional killer-for-hire, Faustus had refused all but the most lucrative jobs that would’ve taken him to the Stormcloak stronghold. At best, it was a den of bitches and bastards without so much as a scrap of common decency between their walnut-shell brains. At worst, it was that, but choked in snow or rain tainted with mud, blood, and, outside the taverns and inns, no small amount of bodily filth. If a man didn’t devote every other breath to professing Stormcloak loyalties and hatred for mer, he was as like to be spat upon as backhanded or tossed buck-naked back through the gates. He bore little love for the Empire’s ponderous bureaucracy and politicking, but compared to the Stormcloaks, they seemed the lesser of two potbellied daedra. The fact that General Tullius, his legionnaires, and that Dragonborn character had finally routed Ulfric’s trolls lent him a modicum of hope for order and tolerance in Windhelm—hope for the handful of sensible folks stuck there and, however more selfishly, himself when business dragged him there.

Still, he hadn’t risked visiting in the place since the war settled and was content to keep his head in the ground when it came to gossip. Windhelm’s brothels weren’t that memorable, after all.

[image: A picture of blue hyacinths, small bell-shaped flowers in clusters on a green background. The upper left part has blue text which reads "August 10th" and "In Bloom" below it in larger type.]

Thank you gift art for Fourby2ly. 💜

[image: A digital drawing of a Bosmer with short brown hair and horns, wearing dark brown leather with bone jewelry and teal accents, sitting in a relaxed position on a large bear's back. The bear is laying down with paws out front, it has brown fur and the glowing teal markings of a Warden's companion. They're surrounded by plants in teal and beige colors on a black background.]