#dark anchor

[rels-tenim]

A mysterious dolmen showed up on my island overnight. Should I be worried...?

[jayviked]

We submit to your will and call forth the chains of Coldharbour!

[domicus]

The Harborage - ESO loops #8-17.

(Some of these are more or less looping, anyways. Some gifs won’t play until you click on them.)

Check out the gifs that didn’t make it plus some gif-making thoughts below.

I tried out nearest neighbor scaling on some of these gifs, particularly the last three loops. Compared to bicubic or bilinear, it seems to preserve details better than the others. This also meant that I had to make my gifs more lossy to counteract the increase in file size, as gifs over 3 MB won’t play on Tumblr.

I can see a tinge of noise in the dark anchor gifs that I used nearest neighbor scaling in, but the fog and god rays don’t have - as I’d call them - distracting “colour patches”. If you look at the sky in the first gif below, you might notice how the lightning effect causes the sky to “bounce” - for lack of better words, since bicubic makes colours appear in layers, these layers in the upper-left are pushed upwards due to the light generated by the lightning. 

The noise in the nearest neighbor gifs is a distraction of its own, though I find this less noticeable than the patches and a fair trade-off for better details.On the other hand, the bicubic gifs (like the first gif below) have less noise and were easier to work with.  

I should also add that this benefit may not apply to all images, but may serve best in situations where specular and volumetric effects, such as sparkly spells and fog, respectively, are in abundance.

[khajiit-of-mystery-blog]

Have you ever been around one of the Dark Anchors? They're quite... something, I suppose. They bring up a lot of bad memories. ~ Laena

Yes, Razum-dar has seen quite a few of them, mostly on his missions around Valenwood and Auridon. Nasty business, yes? Luckily, passerby people seem often very eager to put those daedric monstrosities down, so these immediate threats are often quickly dealt with!

This one remembers a strange occurrence, however. A couple times strange shades of these anchors appear in the sky above Khenarti's Roost isle, though this one has never seen one fall down, yes? They waver in the air and then dissapper. Strange, isn't it?

[anne-wild]

And I couldn't do this one before, because I was helping for one of my classmates on day 10 an 11, so I leave this one to the end. Molag Bal, the Daedric Prince of Domination and Schemes And with this one my first inktober is fully finished. Many thanks to my boyfriend for supporting me and doing it all along with me. <3 Ko-fi

[mazurah]

Journal of a Buoyant Armiger in Valenwood

First - Previous - Next

21st of Sun’s Height

Oh sweet Lord… Blessed Almsivi, Mercy, Mastery, Mystery… hear the prayer of your supplicant. I fear this trial may yet prove to be too much for me.

I delivered the book of Bosmeri stories to the storyteller at the carnival today. He was absolutely delighted, despite--or possibly because of--the language in which it was written. My mind had only just begun to form the first wisps of thought regarding what I should do with the rest of my day, when a sound like a deafening foghorn the likes of which will haunt my nightmares resounded throughout the firmament. When the reverberations faded somewhat, and I regained full employment of my hearing, I heard a sound halfway between a thunderclap the likes of which I have never before heard and a tonne of metal falling onto solid bedrock from a great height, swiftly followed by the sound of gargantuan chains clanking taut over the solid surface of the largest windlass Nirn has ever accomodated. My gaze snapped to the tree canopy in the direction of the sound only to witness what was unmistakably a Dark Anchor portal hovering over the landscape to the southwest, spiked metal chains already straining to drawn Nirn into its hungry maw. Clouds darker and more menacing than those producing the slow drizzle of rain around us crept toward the gaping hole in the sky as though it was sucking the life out of even the air of that vibrant jungle.

I nearly succumbed to panic in that moment, but the pandemonium in the carnival around me drew my focus out of the intrusive memories of Coldharbour and the knowledge of everything that Anchor represented. I swiftly located the carnival mistress and told her to take the entirety of her troupe to Elden Root while I scouted the Anchor. I told her to send someone to alert the Fighters Guild as well.

I made my way through the underbrush toward the Dark Anchor. It took me what must have been over half an hour to get there from the carnival grounds. I had overestimated its closeness because of the sheer enormity of the thing. When I arrived I clung to the side of an embankment, hidden in the foliage, and observed from above as I witnessed Daedra crash to the ground beside a small group of cultists. I made note of the variety; first, Dremora, as expected; next a trio of Clannfear plunged to earth beside the self-condemned cultists that had summoned them and began ripping them to bloody shreds; and finally a hulking Ogrim descended with a bellow and an explosion of smoke and dust.

I did not stay to watch their forces accumulate. I had ascertained the Anchor’s exact location and enough information about the invading force to flee back toward Elden Root. After a very long, three hour trek in which I was constantly glancing over my shoulder for pursuers, I made it to the Fighters Guild with a breathless report. They had already mustered over a half dozen people into full gear by the time I had arrived, and my account sent their already hurried activity into a frenzy.

I made a mad dash back to the Den to try to recruit Fayrl’s assistance, and, after failing to find him in the entirety of the Den, I finally discovered him in his room. Honestly, I should have checked there first, but I was not thinking as clearly as I should have, fighting as I was the panic that clutched at the tail of every rational thought. I don’t know why my emotions spiraled so out of control. I have training almost my entire life for how to conduct myself in an emergency. I’ve been in worse situations before, situations with more immediacy and tension to them, and never had this kind of all-consuming fear inhibit my thinking. It must have something to do with my previous encounter with Coldharbour. Perhaps I am not coping as well as I thought. I wish I could talk to my captain about it. She would know what was wrong with me. She always has the answers.

Upon hearing Fayrl’s answering call through the door, I opened it without thinking, only to discover him stark naked, cock in hand.

I closed the door immediately of course, but didn’t let my respect for his modesty prevent me from relaying the necessary information. I told him I would get my armor on and meet him by the front door in five minutes.

Of course, he had to go and take what seemed like a quarter of an hour instead, and nearly made us miss the Fighters Guild heading out toward the Anchor’s location.

It was nearly dark as we began the long hike to the Anchor, and the Fighters Guild handed me and Fayrl a lantern and a handful of night vision potions for use once we got to the site. The day’s rain had slowed, and finally stopped by the time we got there, for which I was grateful. It was not a clear night, but at least the sky wasn’t drenching us.

The fight was…. Actually, I’d rather not talk too much about the fight. It went better than it could have, but you never get used to losing comrades in arms, even ones you only just met. May the Three, or whatever gods they worship shelter their souls. Fayrl and I were the only people who could use any kind of offensive magicka in the entire group, and I stayed back and hit the Daedra with mostly ranged attacks. When it was over, three of the nine Fighters Guild members were dead, and I didn’t have a scratch on me.

There were injuries, but I was fortunate that the Fighters Guild was so well prepared that I didn’t need to offer my healing abilities. The battle fatigue hit me like a charging Ogrim as soon as the Fighters Guild successfully unmoored the Anchor and we were no longer in danger of attack. I felt nearly dazed as they informed us that they were going to leave a pair of guards at the Anchor base, take their dead back to Elden Root, and send for stonemasons and volunteers to begin dismantling the stone of the ritual circle so that Molag Bal could not send the Anchor down again. I desperately needed rest, so I told them I would return in the morning to assist them. Fayrl was already urging me back to the city.

I walked the long, tense road back for the fourth time that day in full darkness. The Fighters Guild lent me a lantern, for which I was grateful, because I easily imagined Dremora jumping out of the blackness to capture me and Fayrl again, despite the fact that we had only just finished closing their doorway to Nirn. The pool of lantern light was an island of safety in that dark jungle, and my fatigued mind conjured all kinds of fantasms, mostly from Oblivion, to pursue us just out of sight in the shadows of the trees. I was grateful too that Fayrl agreed not to touch me, because I would have probably jumped out of my skin, or pissed myself, or broken down crying, or something equally embarrassing had he tried.

This is not the conduct of a Buoyant Armiger! What is wrong with me that makes this emergency so much more difficult to cope with than any other emergency I have previously encountered? Rationally, I knew that the likelihood of Daedra popping out of the underbrush to take me and Fayrl captive was very slim, but the possibility tormented my mind. I prayed to my Lord under my breath for comfort almost the entire way home.

“The fire is mine: let it consume thee, And make a secret door At the altar of Padhome, In the House of Boet-hi-Ah Where we become safe And looked after.”

When I got back to the Den I requested a bath in my room, and let myself soak away the stench of sweat and panic. The silence was finally too much for me and I broke down in tears in the bath, sobbing to my Lord for forgiveness for my weakness. It is not weakness, I know. I did everything right; I did not abandon my training. I did not let my fear prevent me from performing the tasks I needed to perform, but it feels like such weakness to return from a battle and cry about everything that might have happened, both good and bad, had I done even the slightest thing different.

Could I have saved those three that died at the hands of the Daedra today if I had entered the fray instead of relying on my ranged abilities to fight? I don’t know. I am better at ranged fighting, so probably not, but the possibility torments me. What is worse, I am plagued with the troubled thought that I have destroyed yet another pathway to reclaiming my soul. What should I have done though? Was I supposed to climb up the chain? Leaving the portal open would have been an act of supreme selfishness. I engrave upon mine eyes the image of injustice; I cannot suffer it to stand. Besides, what would I even do once there? I could not predict what I would find, and thus I had no plan. Nothing good could have come of it. I know better than to gather seeds in the fields of hell.

I spent over nine hours today in a state of abject terror, not to mention the time spent in full-scale battle, and my body was so exhausted that I nearly thought I couldn’t lift myself from the bath. Tomorrow I am returning to the Anchor base to assist the Fighters Guild in its dismantling. I don’t know how well I will cope. Hopefully, better than I did today. I suspect the anxiety will not diminish until I have completely wiped that accursed artifact from the face of Nirn. I have never been more fully aware that the slave labor of the senses is as selfish as polar ice. I have often heard the concept preached as an admonition against excess, but it works the other way as well, with feelings we don’t want, and can’t get rid of.

I know what I must do. I shall let faith be my only law. I shall forge my faith most keen in the crucible of suffering. It is not something I enjoy, but it is something that I need. Faith conquers all. I shall yield to faith.

That is not to say I shouldn’t take care of myself. Fayrl has kindly left me a plate of food outside my door. I should avail myself of it.

Fayrl’s Corresponding Entry Qau-dar’s Corresponding Entry

[thatoneshadyshop]

21st of Midyear, 2E 582

One has never before seen its like. One can find no mention of anything like it in any of the tomes one has scoured these past hours, and not for want of recalling has one failed to think of hearing of any single such case. Not even among the Sapirachs would such a thing be thought possible. Among the Psijjics, perhaps, yet they keep their own counsel and scarce care to share their knowledge, even with their own kin. 

Suspicious as one was, one would never have expected this! One supposes it makes a certain amount of sense in hindsight - the soul gems sent from the Mages Guild, the questions that Tel had about one’s magical abilities, about the Deadra, about mysticism - yet it is so implausible, so improbable, that even now, one cannot quite convince oneself tis true.

Souls can be trapped, of course, taken at the moment of death, stored and used. Yet to take a soul from a still living body? To pull the very essence of the self from one, and then still leave the person behind, alive, aware, sentient? Even accounting for the tether twixt the soul and its mortal host, that link alone could not hope to sustain a person for long; it should not be possible, by all laws of magic that one knows of, for one to be made soulless and yet still live and breathe and be. In one of the Deadric realms, perhaps, there where what passes as a rule is but the whim of one of the Princes or Masters; not here, in the mortal realm.

Perhaps that is the crux of it. The barrier between Realms is weaker than ever, thanks to the events at the Imperial City and the appearance of the Dark Anchors... Perhaps tis the weakness of the barriers which allows that tether to sustain them, feeding them Daedric energies and sustaining their mortal forms...

Pah! One is getting ahead of oneself. It matters not how they are sustained without their souls, only that they are. Loathsome as their entire race is, gifted in lies and deceits and nothing else, neither Tel nor Fayrl can hide their affliction from the eyes of a mystic such a oneself. One would never have looked ordinarily, but with the questions that Tel asked one, probing as to whether one could see souls, and as to whether one was familiar with the Deadra, one’s curiosity was piqued. A good thing too, else one may never have known the danger lurking under one’s roof. That same tether which still connects their husks of bodies to their souls is a tie that can be used from either hand; whichever Daedric realm their souls are held in, the powers that rule there could well follow that line linking soul and husk; one shudders to think of what even a minor Daedra could do with ownership of their souls.

Pah! This is what one gets for getting involved with Daedric worshipping murdering hacks of bards! Fayrl may be convinced that he is a true devotee of Mephala, that he knows Her graces, yet one should never trust one of the Princes, not even for a moment! One swears, if he sold his soul to his god for the sake of some measure of power of simple feel of belonging....

Damn the Dunmer to the ninth circle of Oblivion! One had intended to spend time with the children, to take them to the court of the Camoran kings to attend court, to continue their lessons, to play at cards with Gwemba. Ysona has apparently been teaching the girl how best to cheat at the games and ensure a victory. Yet one now finds oneself entirely distracted by this latest mess the Dunmer has brought to one’s door, chained to the tomes one has to hand, hunkered away wracking one’s brains for any half recalled fact that might shed light on this situation, or how to combat it.

A reverse soul trap, perhaps? If such a thing is possible.... One supposes, if one thinks about it as a kind of enchantment, perhaps, and applies the same logic... Combined with the principles of conjuration, and a sufficiently powerful source...

[nihilazari]

To War!

I don’t think I’ll ever get bored with some of the commissions I get. Hahah! I was told to draw an argonian and a rubber duck. I drew an army.

Theme: Richard Wagner - Ride Of The Valkyries