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Overheard and Out of Context 2

Started by Idriar
Post #169070

Likes Given: 206
Likes Received: 633
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion (Altmer)
"... Have you ever seen a snowbear walking over loose sheets of ice floating on a winter river or lake or the Sea of Ghosts itself? If you tried you would break through in no time, I can tell you. But the snowbear, he walks over the floes like solid ground, without flipping a single one and without getting wet! Instinct! And real smooth paws, you wouldn´t believe it! He got them! But I tell you what my uncle had: the power of observation! Ten years he spent out in the wilds, following snowbears, watching, learning! And after that time, when there was that real harsh winter - real that harsh, Shor would have frozen off his left buttock - my uncle got himself some runes of frost protection and walked all the way from Skyrim to Atmora! Over ice sheets! He learned from the snow bears how to do so! He jumped from one to the other when the gap was too big. And now he sits in Atmora and freezes off his butt! Haha! How I know? Because he hasn´t come back yet, that´s why, I say!"

"... impossible seize for a Sload. The Betmer of Thras are tall and big, indeed, beside being disgusting. And also they may not stop growing at a certain age unlike any other creature – trees being the only exception - but their seize is still limited by age. And the Sloads do not get old enough to reach the seize of... isles. Atleast the books say so. As I did not believe in the seamer's words I sent him to the memngineers to reveal what occured in the night when the GORGEOUS COHORT was sunk. I blamed shock and his panic-stricken reception for his apparantly wrong report. Now I am forced to question what we hold common fact concerning one of our archenemy people. The Sload was even larger than the COHORT itself which was sunk by the mere lifting of one of its pseudopods. Seize equals age. It must be ancient and evil. And probably it remembers every war we waged against its people..."

"... And then we have all the horned ones. Yeah mate. Elves with antlers. Nothing unusual, you think? I'd agree, but... Now, come closer, mate. Don´t want the Thalmor to hear that: On the ground Hircine comes as wolf or bear and he has antlers. In the sky Hircine comes as cliffracer or vulture and he has antlers. In the water Hircine comes as shark or crocodile – and guess what. Now look at us Bosmer. Not me! Look at another one! Like that one. Not that I want to imply anything! But rumours have it that Hircine was once real, real big in Valenwood. Two or three hundred years ago. You can still witness the impacts today they say. Some kind of walk-like-them-until-they-must-walk-like-me story, what do I know..."

"... Dirty, dry, dusty mines! Xuth! I thought all the water would flow downwards, trickle through ash and sand and soak the rocks below! But down here it is even worse than up there! All my egg fathers and mothers, and all the other genders, who were the slaves of the Dark Elves came back to the their spawning pools when they were set free. And what did I do? I of all Saxhleel had to swim against the stream and march northwards! For what? Coins! I have more than I can spent! I even had to buy one bigger wallet thing! Thieves! Now I know why people fear them. To Sithisit! This ain´t no life for no Argonian! Best I buy me a spear and leave this place behind, go west. Aren´t they searching for warriors? Shedding blood might be dirty. But certainly not dry and dusty..."

"...Must be orcish craftsmanship... What? I know that thing's dwarf-made, you shirt! But what does a dandy like you know about smithing and making, eh? You noble fop with ya fancy skirt, didn´t craft that yourself, now did ya? Thought so. But I. I am a maker! Like all we Orcs. My mace? I made that. My shield? My armor? I made that all. My mother thaught me how to hold a hammer before I could even walk! That I become a good wife some day. Forge wife would be best of course. That I can make the weapons of one allied clan good, so that they don´t find shame on the battlefield, only victory! Smithing and making! Orcs were made for making! Ebony scraps from the east might be harder, elven stuff from the south might be fancier. But Orc gear is still the best! Because we make it! If you'd ever made something, you would know what am talking 'bout, shirt. Pride of the Maker! But... when we see something like this Dwemer thing here. You know... Someone made that. With hard hands, sweat and will and it´s still here. Even if they didn´t put all their soul into it... still impressive. I guess they were like us, hm? Save for the going missing, that is."

"... blessed are all those who worship Vekh and Vekh in their beds peacefully. We on the other hand worship our God on the battlefield. Not that we wouldn´t worship Vivec in beds aswell. But we are the warriors who dream of being poets, the peots who dream of being warriors. For we are the Bouyant Armigers, chosen knights of Vivec! So follow us, Dunmer of Morrowind! Follow us, Nords! Follow us, Argonians! Yield to faith, for faith conquers all! The Imperial mongrels will fall, fall in defeat and fall in love with Mastery! Take up your arms, for fighting can only result in victory! If Vivec is for us, who can stand against us?"

"...Who let them all in? I mean... Earl Gilles... He is nothing but a robber-knight, they say. Who knows where he even has that title from? Probably stolen. I mean, nobility without land, that already sounds... suspicious. Nothing against the sword nobles and the knights of course. Why, see there. Baron Garulaus. Hasn´t been seen in public in ages. Guess what: it´s night. The rumor about him being... a vampire should be proven by now. Over there: Gaspar Cospersley of the Camlorn Cospersleys. Sunken into poverty. I have a bank teller friend. Even in Daggerfall Gaspar hasn´t got a single coin left on his account! And what do my eyes have to see? The cleavage of Lady Rhodefield reaches as low as the entire society is tonight! There goes morale, there goes decency! Sheor, she co... And a beautiful evening to you, Lady Rhodefield. What an excellent party you have arranged here tonight. Brilliant, isn´t it? Unfortunately I haven´t yet found the change to congratulate you on your birthday, my Ladyship..."

"... There is nothing here to stay for. I'm just a realtist. Things are going down. I mean... most of Cyrodiil was turned into a battlefield. The Empire is practically gone. Only our Imperial City and few other territories remain free. And the City we have to share with those infernal Daedra. Tharn does the best he can. Not the Regent Empress, her uncle. But it´s for no good. Our Legions are splintered and the Council has no tools left to reduce the damage. No city, no hold is under one faction's charge long enough to begin negotiations. Atleast I´ve heard that Anvil remained a free city. Free of enemy troops, that is. But alas, how long? It´s no secret that both the Covenant and the Dominion want to control the Golden Coast..."

"... I've got all swords in my hand. I know all the stances by heart. And the Book of Circles is in my pocket. Now that is life, isn´t it? I can go where ever I want. Everyone seems to offer me the practical approach, though. They tell me to use what Master Larting thaught me in battle. And, why not? Trep'ch wants me to become a pirate. But... working on a ship is hard work. And much time is spent waiting, while Tava moves the ship. Enbratu Sprend'r would like me to join his band of desert robbers. Too bad, I can´t ride horses nor camels. I don´t trust such things. But... The desert. There is freedom, endlessness above and inner peace within. And traveling is meditating with your feet, as Master Larting always says. Maybe... Maybe I will walk the desert. No matter how I decide, no one can take my spirit sword off of me."

"... This is no life for Salti-Jo. The Bosmer are very nice to this one, yes, and this place is close to home. Trees to climb on, it´s warm and the sun light is filtered green through the leaves above. But it´s no home to Salti-Jo. Not yet. This one misses the salty breeze of the sea, this one misses to know where the trees above his head end, this one misses the sugar. The Thalmor say it´s not important. They rather move war engines, battle gear and warriors on their ships. Little space left for moonsugar. There is not enough. Never. Salti, with her brothers and sister, lived on a moon sugar farm in Tenmar. The sand of the beach was made of moon. We made the sugar for Elsweyr. For all of it. And everyday, when the work was done, we licked sugar and danced like Jone and Jode until we woke up the next morning. This was before Knahaten..."

Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

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