Netruk44/uesp-wiki-content huggingface dataset:
Lore:Ark'ay, the God of Birth and Death

So be it known that the gods were once as we. Ark'ay, the god of death and birth, was an ordinary 
shopkeeper whose only unusual characteristic was a passion for knowledge. To indulge his hobby he 
became an avid collector of books on almost any subject he could find in print.

One day he stumbled across a tome which purported to tell the secrets of life, death, and the purpose
of existence. After months of studying the convoluted logic, written in opaque language, he thought 
that he was finally beginning to understand what the author was saying.

During this time he became so intent on understanding the book that he ignored everything else: 
his business started to slide towards bankruptcy, his few friends stopped visiting him, he ignored the
plague which was ravaging the town, and his family were ready to leave him.

Just as he felt that the book was opening visions of new worlds, the plague brought him low. His 
family tended his illness out of a sense of duty, but he slowly sank towards death. So, as a last 
resort, he prayed to Mara the mother-goddess to allow him enough time to complete his studies of the book.

"Why should I make an exception for you, Ark'ay?" asked Mara.

"Mother Mara, I am finally beginning to understand this book and the meaning of life and death" he 
answered, "and with a little more time to study and think, I should be able to teach others".

"Hmmm, it sounds to me like that 'teaching others' is an afterthought to appeal to me", she replied. 
"What is the reason for death and birth?"

"There are far more souls in the Universe than there is room for in the physical world. But it is in the physical world that a soul has an opportunity to learn and progress. Without birth, souls would not be able to acquire that experience, and without death there would be no room for birth."

"Not a very good explanation, but it does have elements of truth. Maybe with more study you could improve it," she mused.  "I cannot give you 'a little more time'. I can only condemn you to Eternal labor in the field you have chosen. How say you to that?"

"I do not understand, mother," said Ark'ay.

"Your choice is to either accept the death that is so close or to become a god with us. But a god is not an easy nor pleasant thing to be. As the god of death and birth you will spend eternity making sure that deaths and births stay in proper balance in the physical world. And, in spite of what you  believe you understand,  you will always agonize over whether your decisions are truly correct. How do you decide?"

Ark'ay spent what seemed to him as an eternity in thought before answering. "Mother, if my studies are not completely wrong, my only choice is to accept the burden and try to transmit the reasons for death and  birth to humanity."

"So be it, Arkay, God of Birth and Death."
Lore:Galerion the Mystic

uring the early bloody years of the Second Era, Vanus Galerion was born under the name Trechtus, a serf on the estate of a minor noblema ord Gyrnasse of  . Trechtus' father and mother were common laborers, but his father had secretly, against the law of Lord Gyrnasse, taught himself and  rechtus to read. Lord Gyrnasse had been advised that literate serfs were an abomination of nature and dangerous to themselves and their lord . All booksellers, poets, and teachers were forbidden, except within Gyrnasse's keep. Nevertheless, a small scale smuggling operation kept a number of books and scrolls in circulation  nder Gyrnasse's shadow.

When Trechtus was eight, the smugglers were found and imprisoned. Some said that Trechtus'  mother, an ignorant and religious woman fearful of her husband,   the smugglers, but there were other rumors as well. The trial of the smugglers was nonexist nt, and the punishment swift. The body of Trechtus' father was kept hanging for weeks during the hottest summer Sollicich-on-Ker had seen in centuries.

Three months later, Trechtus ran away from Lord Gyrnasse's estate. He made it as far as Alinor, half-way across  . A band of troubadours found him nearly dead, curled up in a ditch by the side of the road  and employed him as an errand boy in return for food and shelter. One of the troubadours, a soothsayer named Heliand began testing Trechtus' mind and found the boy, though shy, to be preternaturally intelligent and sophisticated  given his circumstances. Heliand recognized in the boy a commonality, for Heliand had been trained on the Isle of Artaeum as a mystic.

When the troupe was performing in the village of   on the far eastern end of  , Heliand took Trechtus, then a boy of eleven, to the Isle of Artaeum. The Magister of the Isle, Iachesis, recognized potential in Trechtus and took him on as pupil, giving him the name of Vanus  . Vanus trained his mind on the Isle of  , as well as his body.

Thus was the first Archmagister of the   trained. From the   of the Isle of Artaeum, he received his training. From his childhood of want and injustice, he received his philosophy of sharing knowledge.
Lore:Jokes

"How is your wife," asked Zalither.

"She's in bed with laryngitis," replied Harlyth.

"Is that   bastard back in town again?"



"I keep seeing spots before my eyes."

"Have you seen a healer?"

"No, just spots."



A big   named Julgen was set on by a gang of thieves. He fought them furiously, but in the end, they beat him into semiconsciousness. They searched his pockets and discovered that he only had three gold pieces on him.

"Do you mean to tell us you fought us like a mad lupe for three lousy gold pieces?" sneered one of the thieves.

"No," answered Julgen. "I was afraid you were after the four hundred gold pieces in my boot."



During the War of Betony, the  s in the Isle of   were under siege for several days. After the island was liberated, Lord   found the ruins of the castle where a crowd of survivors were hidden away in the dark. It was going to be a difficult job freeing them, as part of the roof had collapsed trapping them all within. Bridwell stuck his head in the only opening and shouted to the Bretons below: "Are there any expectant mothers down there?"

"It's hard to say, your Lordship," said a young woman. "We've only been down here for a few days."



An elderly Breton met with   contemporary of his at a guild meeting. "Harryston, old man, I wanted to express my sympathy. I hear that you buried your wife last week."

"Had to, old boy," replied Harryston. "Dead, you know."



Why was the   army so useless during the War of Betony?

The cannons were too heavy, so all three garbage scows sunk.



What does a new Sentinel private learn first as a combat technique?

How to retreat.



What is the thinnest book in the world?

  Heroes of the War of Betony.



A   man killed his wife after catching her making love with another man. 

When the magistrate asked him why he killed her instead of her lover, the man replied, "I considered it better to kill one woman than a different man every week."



A Dark Elf woman was being shown around Daggerfall. When she was shown the magnificent Castle Daggerfall, she smiled sweetly to her   and whispered, "It reminds me of sex."

"That's odd," said her  . "Why does our Castle Daggerfall remind you of sex?"

The Dark Elf sighed, "Everything does."



Yelithah told Vathysah that she was having dinner with a Dark Elf named Morleth that night.

"I hear he's an animal," said Vathysah. "He'll rip your dress right off you."

"Thank you for telling me," said Yelithah, "I'll be sure to wear an old dress."



How   sailors in the Khajiiti navy?

With a hammer and tongs.



"This orchard has sentimental value to me," said Mojhad, the Khajiit, to his friend, Hasillid. "Under that tree, for example, is where I first made love. And that tree, is where her mother stood, watching us."

"She watched you while you made love to her daughter?" said Hasillid, clearly impressed. "Didn't she say anything?"

"Meow."



What do you call a   who doesn't lie or cheat or steal?

A dead Wood Elf.
Lore:Mysticism - Unfathomable Voyage

is the school of magic least understood by the magical community, most difficult to explain to novices mages. The spells effects commonly ascribed to the School of Mysticism are as wildly disparate as Soul Trap -- the creation of a cell for a victim's spirit after death -- to Silence -- the extinction of sound. But these effects are simply that: effects. The sorcery behind them is veiled in a mystery that may go back to the oldest civilizations of Tamriel, and beyond.

The Psijics of the Order of Artaeum's term for Mysticism is the Old Way. The phrase becomes bogged in a semantic quagmire, because the Old Way also refers to the religion and customs of the Psijics which may, or may not, be part of the magic of Mysticism.

There are few mages who devote their lives to the study of Mysticism. The other schools are far more predictable and fathomable. Mysticism seems to derive its power from its   and paradoxes; the act of experimentation, no matter how objectively implemented, can influence the magicka by its very  . Thus, the Mystic mage must regulate himself to finding   patterns in an imbroglio of energy. In the time it takes him to find a source with a   trigger and result, his peers researching in other schools may have researched and documented dozens of new spells and effects. The Mystic mage is a patient and   scholar.

For centuries, mostly during the Second Era, scholarly journals   theory after theory about the aspect or aspects of magicka that we call Mysticism. In the tradition of the   to find answers to all things, respected researchers suggested the energy source as coming from Aetherius or the Daedra themselves to explain the seemingly random patterns of Mysticism; some ventured to guess that Mysticism comes from unused elements of successfully or unsuccessfully cast spells; discussion with the Order of Artaeum after its reappearance has led some scholars to postulate that Mysticism is more spiritual in nature, either the intellect or emotion of the believer influences the energy pattern and flow.

None of these explanations is truly satisfactory. For the beginning student of Mysticism, it is best to   learn the patterns distinguished in the maelstrom in the centuries past. The more patterns are found, the clearer the remaining ones become. Until, of course, they change. And then the journey begins anew.
Lore:Of Jephre

When the   folk walked the land alone and sang songs of power amongst the trees and stars, Jephre the Singer walked with them. Jephre gave heed to the nature of the forests and delighted in the gurgling streams and brooks. It was Jephre who taught the birds to sing their songs of the seasons and He that taught the streams the tinkling ethereal tune. The very trees are said to have moved close to hear him sing on the warm summer nights of those elder days. It was in this time that the first great ballads of the elves were made, crafted from the songs that Jephre taught to the sylvan youth who frolicked to his lively tunes and ballads of nature and the unspoiled forest. In truth, He is worshipped as god of song and forest.

In Valenwood, Jephre is considered one of the Major Sylvan gods with temples and altars in the deep woodland places. Elven tradition holds that children with a gift for song have been blessed by Jephre himself. Legend has it he blessed the   with a natural affinity for nature and particularly the forest. Most Wood Elven Rangers worship Jephre.

It was his great eagerness for natural beauty that led him to the Isle of Sumurset. He taught the great sea birds to sing and molded the crash of wave against beach into a song of whispers and power  It is said by the high elves that Jephre hears and sees all within distance of water, whether it be beach, brook, stream or fall. It is further said that the very birds keep watch for Jephre, in repayment for the songs he taught them. It is   said he blessed the high elves with a beauty to match the beauty of their island home.

The   have a legend that Jephre walked the earth before the first day, and in the light of the stars weaved a song so beautiful that the very stars moved to its sway. Some of the stars to this very day still wink and blink in memory of the song of night and darkness. Due to his influence most if not all Elven Bards pay homage to Jephre.

The natural order of things is the basis for Jephre's temples in Valenwood and the Sumurset Isle. The one thing Jephre will not tolerate is the harmful manipulation of the natural order of things.
Lore:Rude Song

In the spring of the year

Doth propriety disappear

In the courts and the ports

Of the  .

Drinking new beer,

Everybody feels queer

And the Earls and the churls

Go astray.

The   and the bird

Don't have to tell us a word.

Our bodies for naughtie

Are prime.

If you haven't heard,

You can let yourself be lured

For the youth, for things uncouth,

It is time.

Oh, it's lovely to sit in a field, harvested into rows

It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.



People of the Bay bless

The flowered court of  

For showing us the gentle way of sin

The bonny  

Likes to see and to be seen

With cobblers, thieves,

And tavernkeeps,

And slaves, and fish-er-men

In the court of  ,

Right upon the mainland

With sex, the whole place is in a whirl

The   likes to play

With men who come her way,

While the   likes the little boys and girls.

Oh, it's lovely to give your lady a kiss upon her nose

It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.



In  ,

they hold a ball

And all of society indulges in a variety

Of scandal, they can handle -- A lot.

The   of the Guard

Has to search very hard

For a bean that the  

Has in her pants.

And the  

Will grant you a wish

To cause the   to fling

About his lance.

Oh, it's lovely to give your love a single perfect rose

It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.

Oh, it's lovely to abandon all your cares and fears and woes

It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.

Yes sir, it's lovely not wear any clothes!"
Lore:The Arrowshot Woman

I heard this story on good authority from a good and honest friend, whose friend was witness to the incident. I do truly believe it happened, as fantastical as it may seem.

My friend's friend, Terron, was visiting the Elsweyr citystate of   during a very hot summer and went to the marketplace there. If you have never been to Riverhold, the marketplace  is very crowded, much more than in comparably sized city states. People from the countryside  flock to the marketplace daily in their wagons and carriages.

Terron was passing one such carriage, and noticed that the sole occupant was a woman, seated with her eyes closed and her hands behind her head. An odd sight, to be sure, but he assumed  she must be sleeping. Terron continued on. A little while later, after Terron had finished shopping in the marketplace, he passed the same  carriage. The same woman was sitting in it. Her eyes were open now, but her hands were still  behind her head.

"Are you all right, my lady?" he asked.

"An arrow shot me in my head and I'm holding my brains in," came the woman's reply. Terron did not know what to do. He ran into the marketplace and literally bumped into a healer  and his knight companion. They were good people and agreed to help.

The carriage door had to be torn off its hinges, as the lady had locked it and feared to move to unlock it. What they found when they finally could get into the carriage was this: the woman was holding barley dough on the back of her head with her hands.

Apparently, in the heat of the day, a jar of barley dough had exploded with the thwang of an arrowshot and struck the woman in the back of her head. When she reached back to feel what had  hit her, she felt the dough and reasoned that she was feeling her brains.
Lore:The Ebon Arm

he ground shakes. The great armies continue to wage their unrelenting battle.  The battlefield is red, the rivers flow crimson, the sky reflects a deep pink.  In the distance lightning flashes, and thunder sounds.  Two huge ravens begin circling the field; their blackness is vibrant against the various shades of red in this vista of death and suffering.  The bright lashes of light and rumbling begin to increase.  The redness surrounding the battlefield begins giving way to a golden glow from the east, almost like a summer's setting sun.  From the false sunset a massive golden stallion and single rider approach.  All become suddenly still on the field of battle as both sides recognize  , God of War, and the companion and protector of all warriors, also known as the Black Knight and his mighty steed War Master.

 He rides into the middle of the blood soaked field and dismounts.  He is a very imposing figure.  His very tall and heavily muscled body is encased in ebony armor.  His ebony helmet does not hide the flowing reddish blonde hair and beard which appear almost as shimmering gold, nor does it shield the steel blue eyes that seem to pierce all they fall upon.  In his left hand he carries a massive ebony tower shield on which is emblazoned a fiery red rose.  As he raises his right arm, all see an arm and a magnificent ebony blade which are extensions of each other.  The fused arm and sword are a result and symbol of the wounds suffered by this god during titanic battles in the youth of this world.

 The ravens come to rest on his shoulders. And, as the point of the ebony blade seemingly touches the sky,  lightning flashes, thunder roars. Then total quiet descends and a shudder rolls through both armies.

 The leaders of both armies approach Reymon Ebonarm and kneel.  In turn they tell their reasons for this war.  Each asks for the favor of the Black Knight for their cause.  Reymon Ebonarm listens, but there is no acknowledgment that he has chosen to favor one side or the other in this fight.  However, each of the leaders has heard the other state his position.  And, each now knows that this war is baseless.  They embrace and turn to their armies.  They instruct their forces to bury their dead, tend their wounded and return to their homes.

 Reymon Ebonarm mounts his great golden stallion, War Master, and again raises the ebony blade skyward and extends the huge rose emblazoned ebony shield to both armies.  A massive chorus of cheers rises from the armies.  The ravens again take to the air.  Lightning and thunder follow him as he rides into the sunset followed by the two birds.

 The armies do as they have been bidden.  They care for their wounded and bury their dead.  As they retreat towards their homes each warrior is sure that the great God Reymon Ebonarm, the Black Knight, has responded to their individual prayers for intervention.  Each side has won, neither has lost.

 As the armies depart the field, the rivers begin to run clear, and a single red rose begins to bloom near the grave of a fallen hero.
Lore:The Faerie

Faerie have been on Tamriel, in all probability, long before recorded history, perhaps since or before the days of the  . The tales of their mischief are found in every culture, in most every village, town, and city-states in the  . Alternately they are called Faerie, Fey, Illyadi,  s,  s, and  , and their natures seem to flit from one story to the next with the same variation. It could almost be said that Faeries are anything unpredictable in nature.

The noted scholar   studying at the time in the   of Sumurset Isle developed an interesting if controversial theory about Faerie. He organized the Fey variants on a chain, beginning with the glimmering sparks called Pixies or   by the  s at one end and the godlike beings such as  ,  , and   at the other. In the middle are human and semi-human beings generating up to intelligent trees, brooks, rocks, even mountains. All of this was a new and completely original theory and would have prompted enthusiastic, if somewhat skeptical response had Ahrtabazus not added this footnote: "It may be that elves as a whole are part of this chain, above whilloki and below nephrine. They certainly have similar features and propensities for  ka as the other Faerie." (Ahrtabazus, " "  ,  )

No elf liked to be put in a hierarchy slightly above whimsical pranksters like the whilloki, and Ahrtabazus was challenged on his assumptions based on very slight coincidences. Nevertheless, with modification, his Fairie Chain theory has gained wider and wider acceptance since its publication.

The   chain is not, in the strictest sense, an order of command. While Gheateus and Sygria are said to be surrounded by a host of minor Sylphim, faerie on the whole are not followers nor leaders. Their plans and schemes are not governed by a higher purpose, simply by their own whim. To this most faerie scholars agree. Because it is based on coincidental evidence and supported by auxiliary theories, it may very well be wrong.
Lore:The First Scroll of Baan Dar

Baan Dar,  he Legend hief,  arlock,  hadowmaster,   Mastermind of Nefarious Plots. All these things and more   the  egendary Baan Dar, he who is called   Bandit   what is the  ruth?

Baan Dar  is a much more simple and complex being. I pen this tale as I slowly die of old age and a mortifying arrow wound. I cannot decide if the truth will add to or subtract from the legend that is Baan Dar, nor if the original Baan Dar would want the truth to be known. Therefore, I will leave this tale hidden when I am done and gone, and let Fate (which was ever Baan Dar's true master and motivator) decide.

I was a child of  easons when I first met Baan Dar. Orphan of a  laver raid during one of the many inter-provincial border wars. Living by my quick wits, nimble fingers, and the grace of Lady Luck in the back alleys and byways of my birth city. I had just "liberated" a loaf of bread and a few small apples from a local street vendor in the  azaar on the edge of the city  near the tumbled outer wall  had withdrawn down an ill-lit alley to feast on my bounty when I was bese  by an older band of my ilk. The older and lazier variety which were   to engage in the easier and less dangerous art of stealing from the stealers.

There were   of the bull s who had decided they were more deserving of my bo ty than I, and they were beating me half to death with stave  time. Lying on the ground  curled up into as tight a ball as I could manage, trying to protect my head and groin, I heard a quiet voice ask if they were not "more suited to go down to the wharf and take food from your brother rats, or would you care to try your tricks on game a bit more your size and number?"

Since my "companions" had become otherwise engaged with the newcomer and had for the nonce ceased thumping, kicking  and cuffing at me, I looked up to see a dark shadow of boots, cloak, and chainmail hood leaning against the wall at the end of the alley .

The others, being what they were, took this as a challenge to their manhood and easy prey to their superior number with a promise of   as added reward (else the first part would have been overlooked). The leader of my band of playmates suggested that the stranger take a leap off the  mentioned wharf unless he wished to join me there when they were done with their evening meal.

Having drawn chuckles and courage from his underlings, he then proceeded forward with staff at high port. I'm not quite sure exactly what followed, but within a short space of time, Lead  ully was lying in the dirt with a thrown dagger in his chest, number two bully had lost three teeth to a boot (I still carry them in a leather pouch as a keepsake), and number three bully was brought short by his own staff applied forcefully up between his toes (the two big ones!). Bullies four and five thought better of the entertainment and departed rapidly for parts unknown.

Baan Dar picked me up, dusted me off, and dragged me round to a near  tavern  where we shared a meal and a mug. I attempted to thank him for saving my life. How can I ever repay this favor, I asked? His reply was short, to the point, and has driven my actions in life ever since.