The Land of Pyandonea

Efe iska? Sā? ... No? We have been forgotten by the mainland. The Mainland forgets; our King predicted this. [[ A Skyrim role play blog following the unfortunate landings of a Maormer. Endless scrolling enabled. ]]

[themaormer-blog]

mun, would you be even remotely upset/apprehensive if someone were to make a maormer blog as well?

[[ Apologies for the time taken to reply to this! My asks don't appearing to be operating very well.

In answering, I would say - in general, no. I would not feel upset or apprehensive if someone made a Maormer blog. Why? Because I didn't create the general concept of the Maormer race. I've merely worked on the foundations provided by lore and expanded on detail.

However, I would be rather disapproving if said person copied / reflected my self-made concepts about the race onto their Maormer. I would prefer if someone based their designs on mine that they at least acknowledge / request from me. In the case that they don't use my concepts - provided that they don't interact with Nid (woah that could cause controversy) it should be fine.

Another reason why I would be disapproving (this isn't to do with my concepts, but merely my own writing pet peeves) is if said Maormer was in Skyrim for an idiotic reason. One needs to consider their suggested culture and situation before shifting them into a climate and world they are foreign to. That's just a personal reason, however.

If anyone is uncertain how about they'd shift their Maormer from Pyandonea to Skyrim, feel free to ask. Or else I will be twitching in the corner of the room if it is executed incorrectly. ]]

[themaormer-blog]

[[ Sorry for the abrupt hiatus, everyone. Work is shamelessly piling around my person.

Nonetheless, it is easing and hopefully interactions will proceed as normal. Feel free to notify me if I owe you a reply, or to send asks. ]]  

[housetelvanni-deactivated201412]

WIPs

no one can contain this character-creating beast. ]]

[themaormer-blog]

Since I haven't been too active, have some sketches. ]]

[themaormer-blog]

commandertilhi started following you

All these Thalmor following Níðhöggr is like lighting a fuse for the consequential erupting of his propaganda-filled mind. ]]

[themaormer-blog]

[[ A quickly-sketched concept for one of the groups in Pyandonea - a mixture of thievery and brutal assassinating. ]] 

[themaormer-blog]

[[ On a more serious note, in reply to the previous anon - Nid's Sea Serpent. ]]

[themaormer-blog]

Does he have a sea serpent?

[[ He does. And she is the most sassiest sass sass that ever sass'd. ]]

[themaormer-blog]

What is he attracted by?

[[ Apologies if I didn't explain this properly.

Provided that you read my previous answer on a similar subject, you'd garner that most of Maormer attractions are based on quintessential, mental, or caste differences - as appearance differences tend to be irrelevant due to lacking variety in the gene pool.

For Níðhöggr? Of course, the lacking variation is altered due to Skyrim, as ohgod everyone looks so different - but his mindset is still the same.

The most prominent attraction, for Níðhöggr, (in both males and females) would be strength. Sheer, blatant strength. For both physical and magical means, preferably the former over the latter. Níðhöggr secretly enjoys the idea of being able to have a non-lethal physical tussle with another.

Another attraction would be some form of intelligence. Although Níðhöggr's Cyrodiilic is clearly cracked and missing loose pieces of things such as proper word order, grammar, and pronouns, in his own language, Maormeric, one would witness that his words are rather exuberant in terminology (albiet behind a rough output). One might not suspect this in Skyrim, as he is clearly erratic and shaken by an abrupt move of environment.

Another? A fascination, acceptance, or at least willingness to stand the presence of snakes. This is more of a necessity than anything else.

The first is likely the most prominent. Most of his other attractions are simply dependent on how he views the individual - he is incredibly influenced by first impressions. ]]

[alexandrethebosmer-deactivated2]

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

“You were forced here?!” he sounds appropiately horrified at the suggestion, one hand over his heart, eyes large, “Oh darling,” he slows down slightly to lay a hand on the others bicep, this time his touch a lingering just a bit, “I am so sorry ~”

He quiets for a second, before pursing his lips, “How were someone like you,” he flickers his eyes up and down the others body, because well the other wasn’t exactly a dainty flower, “forced here?”

[themaormer-blog]

Still very much oblivious to Seron’s race, he proceeded with a phrase which had repeatedly been expelled onto this land previously. Those same rehearsed words traced themselves across his tongue - near ritualistic in nature.

“The Mainland forgets, but the Altmeri do not.”

Níðhöggr’s stare cast down upon the gentle hand placed upon his bicep, brows furrowed in the slightest - disapproving. Silky white tresses cascaded down, pooling against his torso at the inclination, before Níðhöggr promptly shifted his arm in an attempt to deter the other from physical contact.

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

“Ah,” Seron grows a bit contemplative at the words, hand falling from the place it had rested, “They do indeed,” being an Altmer was not guarantee that one did not get on the bad side of the aldmeri dominion, as Seron so bitterly experienced.

“They.. found you?”

[themaormer-blog]

Upon the reclined touch, Níðhöggr's hand promptly shifted in order to delicately skim his fingers across his falsely obtained upper garments. His visage offered a momentary pursing of lips before he mustered a stark reply - both concise and near curt in nature.

"Yes."

He was vibrant amongst a crowd, appearance deemed opposite of exemplary, consequentially making him ripe for the picking for Thalmoric forces.

[themaormer-blog]

The underlying foundations for any prompt behind Níðhöggr following Seron were damaged - bruised - but still there. His footfalls became audible, evidence for his on cued stride behind the Altmer’s own feet. It held reluctance, yet this extraction was uncertain due to the eerily minimal amount of sound his heels made, despite the Mer’s quite generous stature. Níðhöggr’s ears merely remained erect throughout the other’s seamless speech, lips only beginning to move upon the latter inquiry.

“It was.. not of choice.” Níðhöggr’s stare trailed to the side, tongue flickering over his moist lower lip. His nails gave a twitch, eyeing off the scenery which strolled past their moving figures, “Was… made to come. Force.”

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

“You were forced here?!” he sounds appropiately horrified at the suggestion, one hand over his heart, eyes large, “Oh darling,” he slows down slightly to lay a hand on the others bicep, this time his touch a lingering just a bit, “I am so sorry ~”

He quiets for a second, before pursing his lips, “How were someone like you,” he flickers his eyes up and down the others body, because well the other wasn’t exactly a dainty flower, “forced here?”

[themaormer-blog]

Still very much oblivious to Seron's race, he proceeded with a phrase which had repeatedly been expelled onto this land previously. Those same rehearsed words traced themselves across his tongue - near ritualistic in nature.

"The Mainland forgets, but the Altmeri do not."

Níðhöggr's stare cast down upon the gentle hand placed upon his bicep, brows furrowed in the slightest - disapproving. Silky white tresses cascaded down, pooling against his torso at the inclination, before Níðhöggr promptly shifted his arm in an attempt to deter the other from physical contact.

[themaormer-blog]

The laugh - thick with jubilance - was unruly, in his translation, at best. The same item of unusuality quivered midst his parting, yet significantly less so; constrained. Níðhöggr could sense the near obnoxiously slathered humour amongst his choice of wording, especially revolving around the word of “mythical” in reference to his people. The Maormer slithered his tongue across the front of his jagged teeth, before he mustered a reply.

“Fish. Meat. Fruit.” Each listed point was curt in practise, emphatic through a stare which had evolved from faltering agitation to mild sternness - both expressions in stark contrast, an example of the Mer’s erratic response on the basis of the words that others spoke. 

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

“Well then!” Seron starts stalking away, not even bothering to make sure the other follow, “There is this lovely darling lady that sells the freshest fruitjust around the corner!” Seron, eating only fruit, has an intimate although platonic with every single vegetable merchant in Riften and Solitude, “Skyrim does not really have the… climate for most fruits, but the apples are.. nice,” a bit sour, perhaps, but they are strong and good in taste.

Seron isn’t particuarly tall for an altmer and he also firmly believes in the testament that he should hurry nowhere, the world waits for him, so his pace of walking is not particuarly fast.

“Tell me, handsome,” does he call people by epithets because he wants too or because he already forgot their names? Who knows, “Why Skyrim?”

[themaormer-blog]

The underlying foundations for any prompt behind Níðhöggr following Seron were damaged - bruised - but still there. His footfalls became audible, evidence for his on cued stride behind the Altmer's own feet. It held reluctance, yet this extraction was uncertain due to the eerily minimal amount of sound his heels made, despite the Mer's quite generous stature. Níðhöggr's ears merely remained erect throughout the other's seamless speech, lips only beginning to move upon the latter inquiry.

"It was.. not of choice." Níðhöggr's stare trailed to the side, tongue flickering over his moist lower lip. His nails gave a twitch, eyeing off the scenery which strolled past their moving figures, "Was... made to come. Force."

[themaormer-blog]

Níðhöggr merely nods at the near mirthful imitation of a militaristic bow.

Seron.

The Mer exploited the low angle offered by the Altmer, casting his blank eyes down; his upper lip hooked back to flash his maw once again whilst crooking his fingers - sharp talons evidently perched upon each fingertip.

“Seron.. What do you want?” It was a repetition of a former inquiry, unsurprising due to Níðhöggr’s reluctant succumbing to alien individuals. He needed to know what this fellow Mer wanted with his person.  

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

“Now now, darling, it is very rude to answer someones name with an inquiry and not your own name,” Seron straightens smoothes his hand over the extravagant and finely tailored clothes he’s wearing, “And what I want is not important,” he steps forward and taps the other mers shoulder lightly, a light touch and quickly withdrawn.

“Just let me treat you to dinner, Handsome,” Seron says with a bright smile, “And tell me about your homeland,” he claps his hands together excitedly, “I have always been so curious about Maormer! I thought you were mere stories ~”

[themaormer-blog]

Níðhöggr was visibly caught off guard by the unexpected touch - no matter how fleeting the Altmer’s light contact was. Something, undefined and unrecognisable, eccentric in transparent appearance, jittered erratically in the parting of his white hair. Its presence remained on dead lips, yet the emotion splayed upon the Maormer’s face was enough of an exhibition.

Shock had twisted itself within his blank eyes, momentary, before the agitation of the surprise rustled across his visage.

“Name is… Níðhöggr.” The word sounded foreign among this land - hovering, yet never settled. Although Níðhöggr’s agitation was evident, it faltered in the slightest upon Seron’s intrigue in the subject of Pyandonea, “… I have heard similar from other in Skyrim.”

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

Seron took the others stunned look as a compliment. Of course the maormer was speechless and shocked, Seron’s touch is quite  the experience after all. He grins widely, sounding far too friendly for someone who has just met a creature that is more mythical than real,

“Níðhöggr,” he says and tastes the name in his mouth, lookin contemplative, “Such a name,” he winks at the maormer, “Suits you perfectly, gorgeous ~”

He claps his hands together again, a childish look of excitement passing over his face once more, but it soon stills into a slightly unhinged grin (not unhinged enough to be crazy, but certainly not… normal) and brightly shining eyes, “Now, what does a mythical creature from the sea eat? Fish? Meat? Seaweed,” he lowers his voice, “People?” he blinks and stares at the maormer, before breaking out into bright laughter.

[themaormer-blog]

The laugh - thick with jubilance - was unruly, in his translation, at best. The same item of unusuality quivered midst his parting, yet significantly less so; constrained. Níðhöggr could sense the near obnoxiously slathered humour amongst his choice of wording, especially revolving around the word of "mythical" in reference to his people. The Maormer slithered his tongue across the front of his jagged teeth, before he mustered a reply.

"Fish. Meat. Fruit." Each listed point was curt in practise, emphatic through a stare which had evolved from faltering agitation to mild sternness - both expressions in stark contrast, an example of the Mer's erratic response on the basis of the words that others spoke. 

[themaormer-blog]

Níðhöggr merely nods at the near mirthful imitation of a militaristic bow.

Seron.

The Mer exploited the low angle offered by the Altmer, casting his blank eyes down; his upper lip hooked back to flash his maw once again whilst crooking his fingers - sharp talons evidently perched upon each fingertip.

“Seron.. What do you want?” It was a repetition of a former inquiry, unsurprising due to Níðhöggr’s reluctant succumbing to alien individuals. He needed to know what this fellow Mer wanted with his person.  

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

“Now now, darling, it is very rude to answer someones name with an inquiry and not your own name,” Seron straightens smoothes his hand over the extravagant and finely tailored clothes he’s wearing, “And what I want is not important,” he steps forward and taps the other mers shoulder lightly, a light touch and quickly withdrawn.

“Just let me treat you to dinner, Handsome,” Seron says with a bright smile, “And tell me about your homeland,” he claps his hands together excitedly, “I have always been so curious about Maormer! I thought you were mere stories ~”

[themaormer-blog]

Níðhöggr was visibly caught off guard by the unexpected touch - no matter how fleeting the Altmer's light contact was. Something, undefined and unrecognisable, eccentric in transparent appearance, jittered erratically in the parting of his white hair. Its presence remained on dead lips, yet the emotion splayed upon the Maormer's face was enough of an exhibition.

Shock had twisted itself within his blank eyes, momentary, before the agitation of the surprise rustled across his visage.

"Name is... Níðhöggr." The word sounded foreign among this land - hovering, yet never settled. Although Níðhöggr's agitation was evident, it faltered in the slightest upon Seron's intrigue in the subject of Pyandonea, "... I have heard similar from other in Skyrim."

[themaormer-blog]

Confusion and intrigue shrouded his head, however, the brimming grin which sported across the Altmer’s face proved to be a little exceeding in Níðhöggr’s expectations. Either brow furrowed, followed with further flexing of his spidery fingers.

Despite the Maormer’s near notorious acts of hostility, many a Mer would find it hard to deny such an exploited offer of generosity - even if peppered obliviousness influenced this conclusion. In many views, the other had done nothing which had explicitly exposed the withering anger hidden within his person. However, the Altmer’s sensual voice intertwined with his blatant nature induced a sense of wary within.

“What is name?”

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

Seron either doesn’t notice (unlikely) or doesn’t care (likely) about the maormers signs of agitation, so he grins and smacks his head in a very overly dramatic kind of way, shaking his head,

“Where is my manners?” he bows, one hand to his heart, in a mockery of the formal military bow, “My name is Seron, darling ~” he winks, “But you can call me whatever you want ~”

[themaormer-blog]

Níðhöggr merely nods at the near mirthful imitation of a militaristic bow.

Seron.

The Mer exploited the low angle offered by the Altmer, casting his blank eyes down; his upper lip hooked back to flash his maw once again whilst crooking his fingers - sharp talons evidently perched upon each fingertip.

"Seron.. What do you want?" It was a repetition of a former inquiry, unsurprising due to Níðhöggr’s reluctant succumbing to alien individuals. He needed to know what this fellow Mer wanted with his person.  

[themaormer-blog]

albinoaltmer replied to your post: So, handsome, you can breathe underwater hm?

Mm, isn’t /that/ just an interesting ability *smirks and leans a bit closer* I could have /fun/ with that

Níðhöggr cocked a brow in response - upper lip hooked back which exposed jagged maw.

“Fun? What is fun in that?”

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

Seron ignores the question completely, isn’t it obvious what fun could be had?

“And such lovely teeth,” he purrs, bites his lip, “My, my darling, aren’t you just a treat ~”

[themaormer-blog]

This individual, his nonchalantly cascading words elegantly interwoven with suggestive undertones, proved to further strew perplexity across the Mer’s brow. The other’s articulation was smooth, near silky in nature, in stark contrast to Níðhöggr’s broken coherence - only further accentuating the emotion splayed across his face.

“… What do want?” Níðhöggr inquired, either webbed hand flexing in response.

[albinoaltmer-deactivated2014050]

“Do not worry that pretty head of yours with that,” Seron waves his hand and smiles, a blindingly brilliant one, “How about you and I just have a bit of a chat over a bite, hm?” he slides closer smoothly, still smiling wide enough to be a bit alarming, “I’ll even pay for the meal ~,”

[themaormer-blog]

Confusion and intrigue shrouded his head, however, the brimming grin which sported across the Altmer's face proved to be a little exceeding in Níðhöggr's expectations. Either brow furrowed, followed with further flexing of his spidery fingers.

Despite the Maormer's near notorious acts of hostility, many a Mer would find it hard to deny such an exploited offer of generosity - even if peppered obliviousness influenced this conclusion. In many views, the other had done nothing which had explicitly exposed the withering anger hidden within his person. However, the Altmer's sensual voice intertwined with his blatant nature induced a sense of wary within.

"What is name?"

[themaormer-blog]

How can you not know which sex you prefer?

Never put too thought into the idea.

[[ Thought this also deserved a OOC reply as well - so here it is:

Maormeric society is an exclusive one. An exclusive society means lacking variation in the gene pool, which would eventually pluck out the weaker links in thorough, successive, breeding. In a way, the Maormeri are what the Altmeri desire - as the Maormer have never had other races interfere with their homeland and culture (at least, ones who lived to tell the tale. The single Naval ship from the Summerset Isle does not count in this case).

Through this, accentuating the limited gene selection, there is little variation in physical appearance. Despite obvious masculine and feminine aspects, many of the Maormer are hard to differentiate. Therefore, due to the blending similarities, physical appearance is much less lusted after. They search for more quintessential, mental, or caste differences. 

This, evidently, makes it far harder to determine a definite quality which arouses / intrigues the other. Such is, many of the Maormer (unless high in the social hierarchy) are not overly concerned in pressuring desires into the thought - this is more so prominent in Maormer enlisted in Militaristic ranks. ]]