[In the final days of the Second Era, Almalexia spoke to the people of Mournhold, to ease their worried minds after the signing of the Treaty of the Armistice.]
My Children, I have heard your murmurs. Concerns over the Treaty that Lord Vivec has signed with Septim, the Emperor of Men.
The news of Khalaan has also reached you and troubled you. You shall not deny it, for I know.
Even among my own priests there are voices of doubt and discord. Little scamps, whispering. Whispering that Lord Vivec may have made an error in his judgment. That the Tribunal have done wrong.
So be it then! I will play with you, my Children. I will entertain your whispers. You ask of us: why have you made peace with Cyrodiil? And in return I ask of you: who are you to question us?
I will remind you what you were, when the Prophet Veloth first led you to Morrowind, since you seem to have forgotten: superstitious savages, little better than the Guar and Shalk whose skins and shells you wore. The Daedra you turned to for aid tricked you easily. Your neighbors, the Men of Skyrim, took your land and killed you by the thousands and the Dwemer that you took for friends schemed behind your backs. Constantly, you were at war with each other and your life was misery.
This is how you were when we, the Tribunal, found you. But look at you now!
You live in Great Houses, Thrice-Sealed, where your hearths are warm and your walls are adorned with brilliant tapestries and trophies of your victories. This unforgiving land you have tamed: its fire no longer burns your skin and your caravans no longer lose their way in the ash storms. We have given you good Laws and good Traditions, and made you Councilors, Craftsmen and Learned Priests, you, who once were but witless Netchimen, Poachers and Hermit Doomsayers. Your Orphaned Sons I have raised and trained myself and now they serve as my Hands. You are clad in fine robes and jewelry and drink from goblets made of Glass and Godsblood, and the Beastfolk that used to terrify you are now slaves in your fields and in your mines.
I blessed you with the Long-Legged Velk, the sacred nectar of which you drink so eagerly, and I have protected you like a Mother.
Look what has become of the enemies who would do you harm while the Tribunal have watched over you! Go walk the shores of River Pryai and witness the bones of the Remanite Legions that Lord Vivec himself put there. And whose statue is that, in the Dorom Plaza, battling Mehrunes Dagon? Together with Lord Sotha Sil, I broke him and drove him back into the lowest pits of Oblivion. And what of Kamal, the Frost Demons of Akavir? I struck down upon them with all the Fury of the Stars and Lord Vivec washed away their taint with a tidal wave that reached the night sky. Perhaps one of you, my Children, could have done the same?
Or perhaps your deeds are greater still?
Where were you, tell me, when the Almsivi unified all of Resdayn and fought the treacherous House Dagoth? Who among you can say that they were there, at Red Mountain, when the vile race of Dwemer was eradicated from the face of the earth? Step forward! Let me hear how you held the Hortator in your arms as he succumbed to his wounds. Were you there with us when we laid the foundations of Morrowind? When the Inner Sea was created? Surely, you must have been, if you would dare to question us!
Witness, now, this damning silence!
Not one of you has stepped forward. Not one of you has staked a higher claim. It is because you all realize the truth: we are beyond mortal rivalry both in deed and in wisdom. Never have the Almsivi failed you. Claiming otherwise would be a Lie. And even as this new Third Era dawns, the Almsivi will unfailingly continue to protect and guide you. You all know this, deep down, in your hearts.
I have listened to your whispers and murmurs, such as they are. To a god, the voice of a mortal is like the buzzing of an insect. Easy to ignore. Or to swat aside and silence. But you are not insects, are you?
You are my Children, and I am your Mother. I am War and Mercy.
Out of love, I have chosen to hear you.
You will not disappoint us again.
[After this, Almalexia dismissed her Priests and retired to Her chambers accompanied by the Archcanon of Mournhold. She instructed him to have transcribed copies of Her Words distributed and read out loud in every town and hamlet in Morrowind. The Goddess Herself would not leave Mournhold again for many months, until She, together with Lords Vivec and Sotha Sil, made a Pilgrimage to the Red Mountain.]
The Indoril was holding court at his chapel in the Crossing of Threads, hearing the complaints and concerns of his velothi, when a stranger entered abruptly and to the surprise of all.
She was dunmer, like they, and when she spoke the Indoril recognized her as velothi like his own subjects. But the golden finery that she wore far outshined anything that a pious, diligent velothi could afford; so bejeweled and glittering it was that all but the Indoril’s own holy vestment paled in comparison. The Indoril noted also the sorrowful expression that she wore, and saw that one of her hands was missing.
“Another meddlesome Hlaalu, come to disrupt court!” Declared the Indoril’s steward. “Shall I have your guards remove her, lord?”
But at this the stranger fell to her knees, hollering: “Please, my lord! I only seek your counsel and forgiveness!” And at this tremblesome cry the Indoril’s heart was touched.
“It is not my wish that this stranger be removed,” Spoke the Indoril. Then he said: “Subjects, make way for this visitor, that she may approach me!”
And at his words, his velothi and house subjects alike parted like a sea, and the glittering stranger approached the wise lord on bended knees in the manner of the humbled.
“Why is it that you seek forgiveness, and why do you require my counsel?” The Indoril asked, when she had finished her approach and sat before his judgement seat.
“Oh, Wise Indoril!” The stranger cried, “I have abdicated my duty and forsaken my appointed path! My soul afflicted with greed, I set away at a young age and left your lands to seek wealth in the west. It is only now, brought low by Hlaalu debts, my hand severed by orcish thugs in a gambling house of ill repute, that I return to ask for your mercy.
“All I wish now is to rejoin the fold, and seek repentance in the light of the Three. But without my good hand, I am useless in most every labor, and I fear that my kin will never come to accept me again with the taint of the west upon me. What must I do, good Indoril?”
And at this the Indoril pondered, surrounded by the muttering of embittered retainers whose hatred of the western Hlaalu was well known. Finally, he spoke:
“You have washed yourself in sin, and will never find acceptance among the velothi here. But you are not exempt from my mercy, or the mercy of the Three. If you are truly repentant, shear the jewels from your collar and the golden fabric from your neck. Find salvation in Veloth’s path, and when you return you will be welcome in my chapel.”
Many years later, a stranger arrived at the Crossing of Threads. She was clad in robes of drab grey, and had only one hand, but that one hand clutched a book bound in cloth of purest white. The once wealthy mer lived out the rest of her days in the Indoril’s chapel as a priest, and her piety did much to sustain his subjects and his household.
An unruly guar was found having killed its owner, and was brought to the Lord’s Chapel for trial. The Indoril, his family and his courtly retainers sat in judgement of the creature, as is the tradition.
The Indoril chose a promising young retainer from his retinue to argue on the beast’s behalf, for in the House it is common that trusted servants be allowed to demonstrate their knowledge on the Law.
“Lord Indoril,” said the retainer with utmost humility, “Though it is clear from the testimonies of your house guard that the guar did indeed kill its owner, is it not true also that the herd was found with a knife in his hand?”
And this the Indoril acknowledged, saying: “Yes, Accorder, this is true. The knife is in the possession of my priests, who are preparing the guar herd’s body for cremation.”
“Then is it not possible that the guar was set upon by its owner for its meat and hides, and was thus acting in its own defence when it committed the act?” Asked the retainer. Then he said: “The ordained laws say that even the lowly velothi may defend themselves from the highest lord, if they have legal recourse to do so.”
The Indoril considered this for a lengthy moment, but did not have to consult his books.
“The lowly guar is permitted to act in its own defence, when it comes to the matter of prowling nix-hounds or loathsome bandits.” The Indoril said. “But when the guar is to be slaughtered by its master for its meat and hide, this is a sacred act, for such is the beast’s appointed place in our garden and such is the guar herd’s duty as caretaker. That the guar should stray from its appointed path is an anomaly that must be corrected for its own sake.”
Thus did the Indoril decree that the beast would be put to slaughter, and its soul laid to rest with rituals of cleansing and soothing songs from the hymnals of Almalexia. Its meat and hides were given to the guar herd’s family as compensation.
Some detail from a WIP of Indrila that I never finished. This was the last thing I did on Clip Studio! It’s actually been so long that my CSP license has since expired lol. I’m thinking about finishing this on Procreate.
Finally finished!! I wasn’t able to stick to just 1 layer, but 4 isn’t half bad :) This was a lot of fun to work on, and I’m extremely happy with how it came out.
This OC doesn’t have a name or a background story, but maybe I’ll write about her someday!
(Done for Day #16 of @jetfuelchoi’sTES Fashiontober challenge. I was going to do #10 originally, but I wasn’t sure if tattoos counted as accessories lol)
i think the most fucked up part of the 36 lessons was when nerevar asked vivec “Why do they call it oven when you of in the cold food of out hot eat the food?”
and vivec replied with “The oven is the gate between the two states and only opens for those who have moved beyond the first. I am as the oven, but the gate is broken, and I exist as both the Cool Beginning and the Heated Progression.”
