This is where Relvin has been lately: having adventures on Youtube! Follow along at my channel if you wish, I may return to text-based roleplay sometime but it won't be soon, my writing mojo has left me.
The blog isnāt dead. Itās just... resting. On hiatus. If you want to see Relvin portrayed in Skyrim, search for Trassel242 on YouTube as I have an ongoing Letās Play series with him in it.
The two mer had been sitting on the rock for about an hour now, feeling the sun warm the rock and hearing the hiss and bubble of the hot springs around them. It was volcanic ground, this, the hot region between the birch forests of the Rift and Windhelmās snow-covered woods. Anaril had chosen this place for their meeting.
āSo, Relvin, have you ever experimented with magic before?ā Anaril said, his face still turned towards the sun, basking in its warmth.
āNot really, no. My sister could make fire in her hands and would do theseā¦ I suppose they were like drawings in the air, made from fire. It was pretty. I tried to copy her but I couldn't. It was fairly embarrassing, you know, being upstaged by your little sister like that.ā Relvin looked at the Jerall mountains in the distance, seeing the dancing fires Limaran made with his mindās eye. āAnaril, do you have any siblings?ā
āHmm. Interesting, about the fire. And no, I am an only child, no siblings. I wished I had a brother or a sister sometimes, though, it could get lonely when I was a child.ā
They sat in silence for a while, thinking of what could have been and old memories, feeling the warmth of the sun and listening to the slow bubbling from the hot springs and the distant forlorn call of a loon.
āNow, I suppose I'd better tell you why I brought you here, Relvinā, said Anaril and broke the silence.
āOh, why is that? I thought you just meant a meal and a pleasant chat between friendsā, Relvin replied with a small smile.
āI figured it was time I taught you a thing or two about magic. I've noticed the way you look at me when I use it, and I can see you're eager to learn.ā The Altmerās tone was friendly and his voice was calm, yet Relvin felt a small knot of worry twist in his stomach.
āAnaril, you're very kind to offer, butā¦ā His face felt hot as he blushed and he was certain he had to be bright purple by now. āI mean, I'm no good with magic. Never have been. So I don't think there's any worth in you trying to teach me, you'll just be wasting your time.ā
āThat we shall see. We will start simple, and don't you worry about it; I asked you to come here, after all, it's no burden for me to teach you something.ā Anaril smiled and looked at Relvin with kindness in his eyes.
āWell, all right then, I-I supposeā¦ā
āHere we go, then. Relvin, I would like you to close your eyes and put your hands in front of you, palms upwards, cupping your hands.ā Relvin did as he was told, feeling faintly embarrassed and hoping this wouldn't be a complete disaster.
āAnd nowā, Anaril continued, āI would like you to imagine a fire. Right there, in your hands. Think about the way it looks, the way it feels, the heat of it, the scent of the smoke. Focus your thoughts on that fire.ā
Relvin tried his best to think of a fire in his hands, screwing his eyes shut and trying to ignore all the other thoughts racing through his head, thoughts of how he was the family disappointment, upstaged by his little sister, how Anaril might laugh at the Dunmer without magic.
āI think that's enoughā, Anarilās voice cut through his thoughts, ānow open your eyesā¦ā
Relvin did so, and stared at his own empty hands, without any sign of fire, not even a single spark or a tuft of smoke.
āWell, let's just try again. Concentrate all your willpower on the fire. There is nothing else, just the fire in your handsā¦ā Relvin followed Anarilās instructions as best he could while silently begging his ancestors and the Three for help, prayers floating through his mind as he focused his inner eye on imagining fire. Still nothing to show for his efforts but empty hands and a blush that crept from his ears to his cheeks.
āNo matter, give it another go, Relvin. Just close your eyesā¦ā Relvin heard Anarilās voice as though it was far away, so deep was he in concentration. Please, ancestors, hear my plea, I am Relvin Meru and I seek your guidance, Relvin thought while imagining a blazing orb in his hands. Ayem, Seht, Vehk, please help me, please.
And suddenly, something changed.
It was nearly imperceptible, but something about the wind from the Eastern mountains and the heat of the sun and the scent of ash and sulphur in the air changed him, went through him and inside him. He felt the presence of many people, their eyes on him, and the air seemed heavy with age and ancient dust. Every hair on his body stood up as though lightning was about to strike. He saw nothing but darkness, and the darkness thickened and formed shapes, figures, faces, mer of all genders and with grey skin and red eyes, some covered in wrinkles and others mere children, their eyes shining like coals. A susurration of voices arose, dry as dead leaves, old as ancient stone, sounding like the whisper of turning pages.
āAre you Relvin Meru?ā the voices asked, papery dry whispers surrounding him, the words in Dunmeris.
āYes, I am Relvin Meruā, he answered them, his voice loud and clear as a bell in this thick dry air, heavy with age and meaning.
āGood. We have awaited you, child.ā The voices were distinct yet they all spoke in unison. He could hear the croak of old men, the high voices of children and somewhere he thought he heard traces of his motherās intonation. āYou seek magic, child?ā
āYes, yes I doā, Relvin said in crystal clear Dunmeris.
āYou are a strange one. One borne of ash yet living in this land of ice and Northern men. We thought you lost until now. You have shown that you are still of house Meru, blood of our blood, bone of our bone, child of ash and fire, and for this we shall help you in your task.ā
The voices echoed inside his mind and he could feel power all around him, flowing over him like a coursing river, yet at the same time he was the river and the power floated around him in the air and inside his veins and in the ground. He took a deep breath and thought of fire. A ball of white-hot fire rested in his cupped hands, and he heard the voices sigh with pleasure, a sound like the wind over dry plains, and the sound of a girlish giggle and the softest whisper: āLong time coming, brotherā. He thought of fire again and saw the ball growing larger, fire travelling up his arms, his shoulders, his chest, flame without burning him, smokeless and soundless in this strange space, he let the flames riseā
āRelvin, are you all right?ā Anarilās voice sounded like it came from far away, and Relvin opened his eyes, blinking owlishly at him.
āYes, I think soā, he said, his voice hoarse.
āAre you sure? How do you feel?ā Anaril sounded worried.
āI feelā¦ā Relvin hesitated, trying to put his feelings into words. āI feel good. Strong. Howād I do, did I do alright?ā
Anaril chuckled, all traces of worry gone from his voice. āAlright? Oh, you did far more than that. I've never seen anything like it.ā
āReally? What did you see?ā
āYou went all quiet, barely breathing, and then you got this huge ball of fire in your hands, white like the hottest smithy, and your entire body was covered in flames and it looked like you were almost floating in the air there.ā Anaril had a wide grin on his face now. āI've never been able to study the magic of a Dunmer specifically, but I never thought I would be witness to something like that. It was beautiful but almost frightening, seeing you like that, completely covered in fire.ā
āHuh. That's good, then, I suppose.ā Relvin felt the smile spreading across his face, and he felt almost giddy, as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest. āYou know, I'm pretty hungry, how about some food, huh?ā
The two mer unpacked their backpacks onto the flat rock; Relvin had brought a loaf of bread, some cheese and a small jar of blackberry preserves heād been given by a farmerās wife near Riften for getting rid of the wolves near her farm, while Anaril had brought a small pouch of tea leaves with a strong and spicy scent and two roasted chicken thighs neatly wrapped in linen. They drank some wine mixed with honey that Anaril had brought, and Relvin found that he could make a small fire in the palm of his hand to toast the bread and melt the cheese. After the meal, Anaril took out a small redware teapot with three stubby legs and asked Relvin to make a fire underneath it so that they could make tea. Using some of the dried-up grass growing around the hot springs, Relvin found that he could move the fire from his hand to the grass and make a small campfire. Anaril added water from his waterskin as well as the tea leaves, and the resulting brew was delicious.
Hey guys, thank you for following this blog. It's not dead, just on hiatus. Relvin is still alive. He's just doing boring stuff like waiting tables at the Bee and Barb. I love you all, take care, you're all great people and I'm sorry for not writing in ages.
Rules: Using song titles from one artist, answer these questions. Tag ten people!
Artist: Mindless Self Indulgence
What is your gender?: Witness
Describe yourself:Ā Hey Tomorrow Fuck You and Your Friend Yesterday
How do you feel?: It Gets Worse
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?: Two Hookers And An Eight Ball
Favorite mode of transportation?: Tom Sawyer
Your best friend?: Ala Mode
Favorite time of day?: Lights Out
If life were a TV show, what would it be called?: Fuck Machine
What is life to you?: Evening Wear
Relationship status?: Sex For Homework
I tag: @pink-reindeer, @relvinmeru, @markruffalo, @jesus, @literallyanyone
Artist: Foetus (Scraping Foetus Off The Wheel, Youāve Got Foetus On Your Breath, Foetus Corruptus, etc)
What is your gender? Sick Man
Describe yourself: English Faggot/Nothinā Man
How do you feel? Descent Into The Inferno
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?: New York Or Bust
Favorite mode of transportation? Time Marches On
Your best friend? Aladdin Reverse
Favorite time of day? Blessed Evening
If life were a TV show, what would it be called? The Throne Of Agony
What is life to you? Lust For Death
Relationship status? Donāt Hide It Provide It
((This was supposed to be a short character introduction post but became a short story instead. Consider it a present, a thanks to you loyal readers, and a form of apology for not writing for so long. I hope you enjoy it!))
It had started as a fairly simple job. Help a woman with the skeevers infesting her basement. The things, though ugly as sin, fell easily to the iron mace, and Relvin was careful not to get bitten, clawed or to have their blood on his skin lest it spread disease. He wore a grey-green, striped scarf over his mouth for more protection, making sure no foul vapours could enter his throat and poison his lungs. It might seem like overkill, but he would not fall to some stupid rats and whatever filth they could spread. He returned to the woman, mace bloody in his hand, and received his reward. If things went on like this, soon he'd be able to pay off Keerava and Talen-Jei.
She came back two weeks later, complaining that she'd paid good money for a job half done, and Relvin agreed to follow her into the basement again, finding five more of the vermin. They fell like grass to the sickle, and in the brightness of the two lanterns the woman carried into the basement, he noticed what seemed like tracks. Leading out, out to her garden and into the forest.
He was nothing if he was not true to his word, and so he promised to find the nest and root them out, upon his honour. Nothing to ruin a man's career and future like being thought of as dishonest and a liar. She'd made a suggestion that there might lie a few septims in it for him too if he completed this task, and how can you turn away the offer of gold for beating some stupid rats in a burrow somewhere?
The peat and moss were soft underneath his feet, and the soft mist turned the golden-red leaves of the birches into blurred flames in the distance. The nest was easy to find. The skeevers had burrowed underneath a fallen pine tree, the upturned roots the teeth of a gaping maw or long stringy knotted fingers, exactly the thing mothers warn their children of crawling under. He'd brought some pork trimmings from the inn to lure them out, but found he needn't have bothered as they all scrambled out to fight him anyway, grey-brown furs matted with filth and hideous boils on their skin. It was good that he had his scarf to cover his mouth and nose, and new fur gloves to protect his hands from blood and claws and teeth, as these things were positively crawling with filth and disease. They were not hard to kill. He felt slightly bad about killing the young ones, but realized that anything with those kinds of boils that would crawl from its mother's teat to claw and bite and screech was a danger and not to be left alive.
After the deed was done, he took out a small birchwood jar from his pack. This one had been a bit difficult to get, given that there simply is no way for anyone to ask for cat piss without sounding fairly mad. However, he had finally gotten it when the woman had stopped laughing, fresh from the source as he'd happened upon her cat relieving itself in her garden. He'd scooped up the dirt and put it in the jar, and now spread it around and inside the rat nest. This was a trick he'd learnt in Windhelm, that the rats would not go near any nest that smelled as though a cat had been near. Of course, the Nords managed to twist the news of rat-free houses in the Grey Quarter into a rumour suggesting that the Dunmer ate the rats.
As he walked back to Riften for his reward, he found a small camp. A fur and leather tent, the remnants of a small campfire, some wood chippings. He stood, half-crouched and ready to run for it, listening for signs of the camp owner (owners?), looking through the mist for any signs of movement. Nothing. The camp was abandoned. The campfire had been put out for quite some time judging by the looks of things, and an arm's length away laid a pile of ash with shards of bone peeking out. Whoever owned the camp must be from somewhere up north, where people burnt their trash because the frozen ground was impossible to dig in. The smallest child would know that you either burn or bury it, lest animals are attracted to the scent and visit your camp. There were many wild pheasants and rabbits in these woods, so the ash pile was probably just the refuse from someone's breakfast.
Taking one deep breath and reminding himself that he had a mace at his hip and the comforting weight of a crossbow and good steel bolts on his back, he went inside the tent. Not much there, a bedroll, a small backpack, a collection of food, and... oh, yes, a small stack of books. Nothing on the covers, though. Could they be journals?
He shouldn't have done it, so of course he did. Relvin picked one of the books at random and went back outside to read it. If they really were journals, perhaps he'd learn where this particular bandit planned to strike next, or the reason a hunter from the north set up camp near Riften, or whatever reason the camp owner might have for camping here. He nudged the ash pile with his foot and discovered a piece of chainmail amongst the ash. Recoiling in horror, he almost dropped the book he was holding. Chainmail. Armour. He had stepped upon a body, burnt to ash. It had to be, unless the rabbits had discovered blacksmithing. Shivers ran down his spine and he decided to read the book instead, to distract himself. The last-used page spread fell open, saving him the trouble of skimming through the book.
āSome bandits. Easily taken care of. The ruins nearby though, they might be tough. Learning can be so joyful and yet so difficult.ā
There were no date markings in the journal, just some kind of strange symbols he could not read.
āItās strange how the locals regard me with suspicion. I was born here. I am as much of Skyrim as they are. Yet they assume. Still, they gave me some help, more than Iāve gotten from certain people.ā
As he read, he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, and every hair on his body raised up. He heard a noise too, almost too quiet to be heard at all, but it was enough to startle him. He spun around, holding the book like some sort of makeshift shield, his other hand reaching for his mace, readying himself for a fight.
Standing there, perhaps two paces away from him, was a robed figure with a fireball in one hand, poised and ready for attack. Altmer, judging from the golden skin and pointed mer features.
āExplain yourself. Now. Any sudden movements and youāll taste fire. Understood?ā The Altmerās voice rang out, clear, as though all other sounds of the forest had been silenced. Relvinās heart beat like a drum inside his chest, and his hands felt as though stung by a myriad silver needles.
āMuthsera, please, donāt hurt meā, Relvin rasped, his throat dry.
āDid I mention my patience is quite limited?ā As the Altmer said this, the flame in his hand sparked and crackled wildly, sending strange shadows over his face.
āD-donāt hurt me, please, I meant no harm! I thought there might be bandits and just had to take a look, is all!ā
āGood one. Do continue, seraā, the Altmer said, his pronunciation of the word sera sounding stilted and strange.
Relvin slowly bent down to put away the book and just as slowly stood up again, showing his open palms to the mage before him.
āSee, no weapons. Look, if youāre going to rob me then go ahead, Iāve got nothing on me worth your while anyway.ā It was true. All he carried was the iron mace heād bought back in Windhelm, his crossbow heavy on his back, his all-too-light coinpurse, the small jar of cat piss, the iron knife for daily use, some grilled rutabaga wrapped in birchwood bark, a tinderbox and of course the locket. The ALMSIVI carved in Daedric writ inside the locket would probably mean little to an Altmer. He might be able to sell it on the market but it wouldnāt be worth killing for. The weapons were decent but not really worth a whole lot anyway, and what use would a mage with fire at his fingertips have for some Nord-forged iron, anyway? As Relvin stood there, he felt a strange calm envelop him as he calculated the risk of his own death. Unusual. Not the typical heady mix of fear, anger and bloodlust that he usually felt when being robbed, beaten or threatened by thugs.
āAll right, letās say I believe you. Letās say I trust you. Let us pretend, for a while. Why are you here, Dunmer?ā
āIā¦ Like I said, I was just l-looking. Thought there might be bandits nearby, that this was their camp. Please, just let me go in peace.ā
The Altmer looked at him through narrowed eyes shining like glowbugs, lit by the fireball in his hand, his expression unreadable, and gave but a small nod as an answer.
āIām sorry I read your journal, I was curious and Iām sorry. You killed the bandits, didnāt you? W-with your fire. I promise you, I am no threat.ā If he kept talking, maybe it would help. He wasnāt sure if he could stop talking now that heād started, words just kept pouring out of his mouth like rushing water.
The Altmerās expression changed, something shifted in his eyes, and the flame in his hand died out in a flourish of smoke.
āI understand. My apologies. You know how it is, canāt be too cautious in these parts and these times, eh?ā
Relvin blinked a few times. Relief filled him from head to toe and he felt a strange urge to start laughing.
āThank you! Itās all right, I know how it must have looked. Are you new here? Thereās a city not too far from here, Riften, in case you didnāt know.ā The last part was probably pushing it. The man was an Altmer, of course heād know about Riften, they live long lives. But he felt giddy with relief and could not stop himself.
āOh, Riften? I have heard of it, but Iāve never really been there. I came here in search of a cave, as Iād read there was interesting magical phenomena going on nearby it and I thought that there might be some sort of magical artefacts inside. This is my first time in Riften Hold, you see, do you know these parts?ā The Altmer smiled slightly as he started speaking of the cave, all previous hostility forgotten.
āNo, Iām new here too. I work in Riften, though. Itās a decent town, itās good to get away from the cold for a while. I must warn you, however: the Thievesā Guild are holed up there and youāll notice that very, very soon. Pickpockets, good old-fashioned robbery at knifepoint, things like that. Some utter bastards even take advantage of innocent mer enjoying a bit of drink.ā Even the memory of it, the embarrassment mingling with the hangover and the sinking dread of finding out his coinpurse was missing, was enough to make him grimace.
āHmm, that does sound unpleasant, Iāll remember to keep my eyes open while Iām there. I just have to ask, though: are you, by any chance, a practicioner of the arcane arts?ā
āOh. No, Iām afraid Iām not, never really been much for magic, if that is what you mean.ā
āAh, I see. Donāt the Dunmer have some affinity for fire magic, though, or have I been mistaken? Iāve not known many Dunmer, you see. In fact, youāre the first mer Iāve spoken to in quite some time.ā
āOh, that. Yes. There is that. Fire runs in our blood, just as ash colours our skin. You can see the red flames in the colour of our eyes.ā His mother would remind him of this whenever he complained of being called a grey-skin, that he should wear this name with pride as it was just a foolish Nordās word for its true meaning: a child of Morrowind, borne of ash and flame and as strong and hardy as the land from where they came. That nothing would take that away from him, and nobody should make him feel less for it, especially not some filthy ice barbarian. āAs we carry flames within us, fire has a gentler touch upon us than it does for the other races. Thatās what my mother used to say, anyway.ā He almost heard her voice as he spoke, using her words as closely as he could remember them. He wished he had her way with words. Perhaps it would come with age, Moraelyn seemed to know just what words to use as well.
The Altmer smiled a lopsided grin and ran one hand through his hair, looking at the ground.
āYou know, now I feel a bit silly for threatening you with a fire spell. Would it even have singed your eyebrows if it had hit, do you think? Have you tested this ability before, do you know more about how this resistance works? Is it all fire, or just magefire?ā He took one step closer to Relvin, his eyes bright and the excitement clear in his voice. āAgain, forgive me if I am too inquisitive, perhaps even nosy, itās just that I havenāt been able to ask anyone about these things before.ā Relvin thought that perhaps it had been a very long time indeed since the Altmer had talked to another person. Cabin fever, a terrible thing.
āIā¦ Well, itās pretty useful when I work, I can handle heated pots and things in the kitchen without burning my hands, I suppose. But no, I donāt know any more about how these things work. As a general rule, I try to avoid getting set on fire by mages. Sure, it might take you a bit longer, but eventually Iām sure youād have burnt me to a crisp as well.ā
āGood to know, I suppose. You said you worked in Riften, correct? Do you know if they have a library of some sort, perhaps a bookstore, or perhaps some kind of store of magical supplies? Iām running low on fire salts, so it would be a nice opportunity to restock. I suppose thatās more alchemy than magic, though, technically speakingā¦ā The Altmer muttered something below his breath, possibly about the nature of magic or alchemy.
āYou do realize that despite the weather, we are still in Skyrim, right? Nords are not known for their willingness to read. I suppose the Jarl would have a court mage, and I know thereās an alchemy shop on the lower level of town, near the sewer gates, but I havenāt visited. I work at the Bee and Barb, the inn. Itās a pretty good place, rooms are decently priced, foodās good, no lice. Thereās also this place called the Bunkhouse, run by some Nord woman, but though it may sound like a good place to sleep itās better if youāre there for, ah, entertainment purposes. They have a small shop where they sell freshly-brewed Blackbriar mead at the brewery, but itās quite expensive. Lots of mer work there, though, if you tire of Nords.ā
āWell, Iām not much for mead, though the alchemy shop sounds interesting. And Iāll probably need some place to sleep once I visit, so Iāll remember the Bee and Barb. It would be good to sleep in a proper bed for once instead of a bedrollā¦ā The Altmer smiled at Relvin again. āOh, and before I forget, what is your name? Mineās Anaril, and I figure it would be best to introduce myself, even if we got off to a rough start.ā
āAnaril. Pleased to meet you, sera. My name is Relvin Meru. Now, if youāll excuse me, Iāve got a reward to collect. You know, since you donāt really know these parts, would you like to tag along to Riften? Itās nice to meet another mer. Thank you for not burning me, by the way.ā
Hello, just want to say that I am alive and this blog is still going to exist, I've just been suffering from massive writer's block but hopefully it will pass soon. I'm sorry for taking so long to answer you, I still care about you and your characters, it's just that my brain is being stupid and does not want to cooperate with me.
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