Netruk44/uesp-wiki-content huggingface dataset:
Lore:Smithing: A Worthy Endeavor

Anyone with   and a hammer can fashion a crude weapon at an anvil, yes, but it takes more than a burly arm to grasp the subtleties of the art. Some of my fellow   may sneer at  , considering it work fit only for commoners, but in doing so they only expose their own pitiable ignorance. Unraveling the mysteries of form, function, and the effects of various materials on the substance of the weapon is an undertaking that requires not only a sharp mind, but strength of body and patience through hours of practice each day.

To become a master and create peerless weapons, much time must be spent in research, slowly uncovering new secrets which, in turn, lead to more revelations. One must study weapons from every culture crafted by many smiths, deconstructing them and analyzing the results methodically to identify the source of unusual properties. The weapon's shape, its component materials, and its balance are just a few of the elements that must be scrutinized.

Of course, we cannot ignore the many types of weapon. Each one, from sword to axe to hammer, one- or two-handed, is its own realm of study. It is entirely up to the smith whether to pursue exhaustive knowledge of one type or to study a wider variety, but the end goal should be the same for all who demand perfection: to attain a comprehensive understanding of all weapon traits and how to impart them to any creation.

As you can see, producing weapons goes far beyond making a stick of metal to hit enemies with. The complexities of the craft run as deep as any  al study, and only through time, research, and practice can one truly claim to be an expert.

There are those who will try to convince you the work of a smith is crude or artless; in such encounters, simply smile back, knowing that you are on a worthy path. By putting in the requisite effort to elevate your creations through the relentless pursuit of knowledge, your work will be remembered in legend long after your detractors are dead and forgotten.
Lore:Sky and Storm

Bleed the sea and stone the tides, 
Black the earth and gray the skies. 
Darkling cold shall rise to clutch, 
Foes quake at its icy touch.


Break the spines of wooden  s, 
Spill their guts and gnash their tails. 
Darkling cold will soon devour, 
Foes quake at our lasting power.


Toss the landed in the brine, 
Raise them up when it is time. 
Darkling cold must rise to save, 
Foes now turned into our slaves.
Lore:Shadow Draining: A Hypothesis

Anyone who studies the so-called " " of the underworld's  s is familiar with the siphoning spells, which drain life force and health from the injured to the injurer. The question before the scholar-arcanist is to explain how and why this works. After prolonged study, primarily through low-grade siphoning of my menials and their families while they slept, I have arrived at a hypothesis.

It appears to me that the magical siphoning of health is related to the instant translocation spells insofar as it creates a transliminal flow of essence from the target to the caster. Through the hyperagonal  ka sense, the nightblade perceives the target's transpontine deformation and "pierces" it, and in the resulting disruption absorbs the essence that is lost by the target. Thus, instead of " " as in translocation, the mage is "shadow draining" from one location to another.

Or so my experiments indicate.
Lore:Josef the Intolerant

There are many legendary gladiators who've made their names in the  . Among them,  ,  , and   are known for their formidable combat prowess and fighting spirit. But others, like   the Intolerant, have become famous for other reasons.

Let me first say that the Blessed Crucible of   features an amazing array of competitors, with combatants arriving from all over   to test their mettle. In this time of warring alliances, it's not just anywhere that an   would drag a wounded   to safety, or where a   would so readily step into an arrow's path for an  , but the Blessed Crucible is one such place. In the Crucible, one's team is one's nation, and the struggle for the   the national religion.

However, there was one man, a young gladiator named Josef. He came from the    , and was fresh-faced, decent with a blade. None questioned that he was a healthy boy, ready to take the Crucible by storm. But Josef could never understand the social phenomenon of the Crucible, and trusted only other Bretons. He could not fathom the fact that gladiators must place their trust in their teams, not in gladiators of the same race.

Said gladiator  , "Our match began, and this Breton boy sent his  i team member sprawling to the ground. Then he looked me in the eye and blinked twice, slowly. 'Is he trying to wink?' whispered my ally,  . We capitalized on their folly and beat the boy and the Khajiit unconscious. One must never refuse such strokes of fortune in the Blessed Crucible."

As time passed, young Josef grew increasingly frustrated. He scoffed at suggestions to collaborate with gladiators of other races. His demeanor incensed the Crucible audience along with its competitors, and management loved him for it. "We would print Josef's face on currency if we could. He is a boon to us," they said.

The gladiators felt differently.

Said   the  i Blade, "Josef told me he would never collaborate with a   farmer. And he hounded me every day for kwama eggs. He was certain that I had some, or could, by some miracle, produce them. I have never even tasted a kwama egg. I was born in Skyrim."

Said  , the Rabid Dunmer, "Josef repeatedly referred to me as Dalu."

Said  , the Crimson Cat, "I told him he could trust me in battle. That he needed to, if he wanted to live for much longer as a gladiator. He rasped his voice and said, 'This one thinks you should have some   and keep your opinions to yourself.' I did not like that."

Said  , the  d Razor, "When  , my comrade of a decade, was slain in combat, I went to the   and I wept. That Breton boy found me and said, 'Did you run out of mead-coin? I know how that feels, but unlike you  s, I wouldn't cry about it.' The beating that ensued in Hrasvard's honor lasted eight minutes."

No gladiator had gained as much infamy as Josef in so short a time, but he soon disappeared.

His current whereabouts are unknown.
Lore:Orcs of Skyrim

No pest has proven more resilient to the  s of   than the common  . The tusked people claim occupancy of our fair realm, stretching back before the time   crossed the  . Though few written accounts still exist of that time, there is mention in the histories of the   uprooting Orc strongholds even as they burned the   from the land.

Orc strongholds are well defended outposts often situated around deposits of mineral wealth. Each contains the infrastructure to support a dozen or more families, surrounded by walls designed to repel anything but the strongest martial force. Many jarls are remembered in song for dying vainly while attempting to root a stronghold from their lands. Worse, destroyed strongholds often return within a generation of their destruction if not countered by a Nord fort that needs a constant supply of troops and provisions.

Few jarls can afford to defend piles of rock for more than a few years, and thus the Orc strongholds remain a pox upon our land. Some strongholds have persisted in this way for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. It's said that the ancient Orc stronghold of   in   has never been taken by force or abandoned, despite the complete exhaustion of the mineral vein it sits upon.

The height of Orcish power in Skyrim came with the establishment of  's Chiefdom in the early  . With the destruction of   by the combined   and   forces, the Orcs were scattered across the North in a great exodus. Yashnag and his people, exiled from  , fled east to reclaim lands in Skyrim they felt were theirs by ancient right. The King of West Skyrim,  , was ineffective in holding back the Orcs and the   that plagued the West Kingdom during his rule. The chiefdom was a bane upon Western   for more than thirty years, until it was burned out by   in the year   of the Second Era.

Hakkvild became Jarl of Falkreath when Yashnag killed his father on the field of battle. The young jarl inherited little more than a crumbling hold largely occupied by Orcish invaders from the west. It is said that Hakkvild challenged Yashnag and a host of Yashnag's Orc champions to a ritual trial by combat. He defeated each in turn. How Hakkvild learned of this obscure Orcish ritual is not known, but with their leader's defeat, Yashnag's followers abandoned the chiefdom.

With the destruction of the chiefdom, the Orcs scattered further into Skyrim or back into the mountains of  . Orc clans descended from Yashnag's people have an intense hatred of the Kings of Skyrim. It's ironic that this enmity for the Nords has grown, even as the Orcs themselves have re-established ties with the peoples of western   that burned their first home hundreds of years ago.
Lore:Schemes of the Reachmage

As the official   representative to the  's efforts to stop the   known only as  , I have decided to record my findings and speculations in case anything untoward happens to me while I'm out in the field. Who knew that the work of the Mages Guild could be so dangerous or so exciting? Anyway, this is accurate and up to date as of the time that I write this. Anything that turns out to be proven false or revealed at a later date I'll have to deal with in a later volume. Unless I can devise a spell that automatically updates my writing&mdash;no, no, I need to focus on one thing at a time!

Angof has a number of associates helping him to complete his plans. I think he calls them "Minions." Let's review the ones I suspect to be working with this vile  .

 , who seems to be associated with   and has launched an assault on  , appears to me to be following the orders of a more-powerful individual. I believe that individual to be Angof, but I have no proof of this connection as yet.

The   obviously has ties to Angof. Whether he leads the cult or is simply a member I haven't yet determined, but I'm positive that the two are connected. The cultists scour the land for relics and items of power, and they seem to count a large number of necromancers as part of their order. I wouldn't be surprised if they had ties to some   or other.  , if I had to hazard a guess.

 , too, appear to be arrows in Angof's quiver. He casts them out into the world as a farmer throws seeds into the wind. I'm sure there are more of Angof's minions hiding in plain sight, but anything else I put forth at this point would be beyond pure speculation. Instead, let me turn to what I have discovered about the Reachmage himself.

First, he seems to be poisoning the land in some way. The vile vines that grow wherever he has passed demonstrate how his foul magic pollutes the countryside. His very name&mdash;Gravesinger&mdash;speaks to his fascination and fluency with death magic. Death and decay are his domains, and he seeks power over life and death.

His followers consider him a strong and persuasive leader. Many of them would literally die to please him. Such devotion isn't healthy, and I find it more than a little scary that someone could have such an effect on people.

Angof seeks to cause as much chaos and mayhem as possible. Beyond that, I'm not sure of his ultimate motives. Has he come to   to conquer us or destroy us? And in the end, does that distinction even matter? All I know is, we have to find a way to stop him. We have to!

Well, I'll have to pick this up again at a later date. Now I have to head out and meet up with the Lion Guard at their redoubt near  . Let's see if I can apply the knowledge that I've gathered to the task at hand.
Lore:Common Arms of Valenwood

Metal weapons have never been widespread in  . The  '   proscribes the use of wood to kindle forge-fires, though in some areas the burning of peat or coal can get kilns up to metal-forging temperatures. Other Bosmer make do with bone clubs, or use axes and spears with blades of stone or  .

In the coastal towns such as   and  , Bosmeri swordsmanship has benefited from the tutelage of   advisors and a reliable supply of imported metal weapons. Strangely, the High Elves are not similarly appreciative of the Bosmeri composite horn bows, which are arguably the finest in  .

While some have described the   as an alliance of mutual convenience, I would characterize it as one of mutual exasperation. Swordsmanship is a case in point. Few Wood Elves have the mental discipline for traditional Altmeri martial schooling. They are easily distracted, and have no patience for the philosophical aspects of the training. Altmeri masters, who describe their system of swordsmanship as "Proper Conflict," refused to adapt their techniques to the smaller stature and shorter reach of their pupils.

So the Bosmer returned to their traditional method of warfare: archery. By the age of fourteen, a Wood Elf youth is proficient enough with the bow to accompany hunting parties. Long-distance archers are called Jaqspurs. The style of draw used by Jaqspurs has been described as "snatching and releasing in one continuous motion." This allows a Jaqspur to maintain a very high rate of shooting, though years of training are required to be accurate at such speed.

The Bosmer are perfectly willing to purchase and use wooden bows and arrows crafted by other races, but the Green Pact prevents them from making any of their own. Traditional Bosmer bows are crafted from horn and sinew. Strings are also made of sinew;  i gut is said to work best, and is thus prized among Valenwood archers.

Bosmeri arrows are carved from bone, and fletched with the feathers of various bird species. The Wood Elves believe the source of bone used influences the characteristics of the arrow.   bone arrows are thought to strike with enough force to knock down a target. Bird bone arrows fly faster and more accurately.   bone arrows deal extra damage. Trials by   observers have been unable to replicate these alleged effects. Upon hearing this, the Bosmer merely cluck their tongues and smile.
Lore:In the Company of Wood Orcs

:From the Personal Journal of Sisarion

 s are strange.

They are unsubtle, brutish, and straightforward in just about every way. Certainly there is variation in personality between individuals, but there are some things a   can always expect from an Orc. None of which our culture can fully comprehend.

Their Wood Orc cousins are stranger still, but for different reasons. They ironically share more commonalities with the Bosmer, and are found mostly within  .

Though Wood Orcs prize strength and honor and above all else, their interpretation of what those things mean separates them from their northern,   cousins. For instance, having strength to a Wood Orc means having agility and mobility as much as it does muscular power and endurance. I would like to hear an Orsinium Orc's take on the topic, but I imagine that, if one considers an Orsinium Orc as formed like a member of a heavy infantry regiment, then a Wood Orc is like a light skirmisher in the same army.

The Wood Orcs, like the Bosmer, also flourish in forested areas. They've made no Pact with the Green&mdash;by my bow, they have utter disregard for and a lack of knowledge of the  &mdash;but I wouldn't be surprised if they stood in  's favor in some way, with the ease I've seen them navigate tree-laden regions.

Why worry about this? I've had Wood Orcs on the mind lately&mdash;it's difficult not to when one has been among them, as I have. I was ordered through their territory by a local Battlereeve to deliver a message&mdash;was told it would be easy to avoid detection. But Wood Orcs are a very different breed of Orc, as I've detailed above. When they caught me&mdash;no one save a Bosmer ever catches me&mdash;they noticed my presence in the trees above, though I suspect they must have been wary of something in their forest for days. I was ready, though, and felled two of the trio who turned on me with the same arrow.

I was taken aback&mdash;I had expected to fell three. But the last one&mdash;inexplicably, and in a most un-Orcish fashion&mdash;bolted out of the way, like lightning. I leapt, rolled to the ground, just as a curved hand-axe whirled into the trees, through the space where my heart would have been. I came to my feet with dagger ready, and parried a blow from a second handaxe that nearly shook the knife from my hand. The Wood Orc growled and swung again, and in that moment, I couldn't have told him from his Orsinium cousins. He fought with the agility and grace of my people, mixed with the honorbound fury of the northern Orcs. He managed to tear a deep wound in my side, as I tossed a handful of dirt into his eyes. Half-blinded by pain myself, I stumbled to relative safety in the darkness of the woods as he cursed and spat, called me a "coward who disguised himself with the forest instead of fighting with it."

  must have walked with me that day, for I was sure that battle was lost. The Wood Orc fought too fiercely, knew his own forest too well. But he never did manage to find me again. I would welcome a second contest&mdash;but in Bosmer territory.
Lore:Settling the Debate

Flexibility or maximum protection?   or  ? Maybe you've heard one of the heated arguments, fueled by a few too many cups of   at your local cornerclub. Almost every craftsman takes an almost religious stance on this matter, believing his own approach, traditions, and products to be superior to all others, but I want to present both sides and some of their considerations in an unbiased manner to help inform your own opinion.

The best leather in   comes from  , courtesy of the native guar and netches. This is an indisputable fact, and no other leathers produced in Tamriel come close to their quality. The naturally-exposed hides of these beasts and the ease of processing them, combined with ancient tanning techniques, produce a material that is more durable and tougher than  ,  , or any of the hides commonly used outside Morrowind. Though both are of very high quality, the debate rages on—which makes superior armor?

  is thinner by quite a bit. It bends and flexes easily, and it is much more receptive to dyes than guar hide, and therefore more suitable for finer, more ornamental works. It is likewise ideal for the combatant who prefers mobility, but it is much more readily punctured and torn, even when boiled to increase toughness. Another difficulty is that it requires relatively high maintenance—to keep it in fighting shape, it must be oiled and treated with   weekly. Netch leather is harder to harvest, as well; the beasts are quite dangerous when riled and have a nasty poison that even experienced netchimen fear.

Guar hide, on the other hand, is much thicker, resulting in heavier armors overall (though still not as heavy, obviously, as armors crafted from metal). This makes it more difficult to work with, but the end product offers more protection and durability. Staunch traditionalists frequently claim that guar hide has been used longer than netch leather, and that we honor our ancestors in favoring it, but I have been able to locate no proof of this point. If you're more interested in protection than in mobility, guar hide armor is likely a better choice for you.

Even though every craftsman seems to have an unwavering opinion on which leather results in superior armors, I am not swayed by either side. It occurs to me that the choice is largely on the wearer, depending on his or her own fighting style (though armorers are never shy to offer recommendations in this regard, either). Hopefully, you are more informed now about your options, and whether you choose netch, guar, or an unorthodox combination of both, I wish you luck on the battlefield.
Lore:Septima Tharn's Leadership Maxims

People remember directives better if you give them concrete examples. Don't be afraid to make memorable examples of disloyal soldiers, disobedient prisoners, or recalcitrant conquered civilians. Think visually!

Clear communication is the key to effective delivery of your point of view. A demand for surrender will be more effective if carried to the enemy by a headless corpse of one of their own tied to a  .

Remember that every decision you make contributes to building your brand. You'll never be known as "the Butcher" unless you make a conscious choice to chop a lot of meat.

Listen first before you act. Your subordinates have key information to share with you, so it's important that you give them a chance to speak for themselves. That's the only way you'll know which ones are insubordinate and in need of execution.

Set clear objectives, hold people accountable, then get out of the way. Delegate appropriately: there's no point in getting yourself killed—that's what subordinates are for. Remember, it's their job to take that fortified bastion, not yours.
Lore:Crow and Raven: Three Short Fables

Crow and Raven were watching Cormorant dive for fish. "I wish I could dive," said Crow. "I like to eat fish." "What?" said Raven. "Are you saying Cormorant can do something that you cannot? That's absurd. You're twice the bird Cormorant is." "You're right!" said Crow, and he dove deep into the water. Half a minute later he thrashed his way back to the surface. Raven stood nearby. "Raven!" gasped Crow. "Why did you say that? I nearly drowned!" Raven shrugged and said, "I like to eat birds."

Crow and Raven were watching Mourning Dove take a bath in a shallow pool. "I believe I shall take a bath as well," said Crow. He flew down, splashed about in the pool, and then flew back up next to Raven. "That's better!" said Crow. "Why is that?" said Raven. "Your feathers, and your beak, and your eyes are just as black as before." "True," said Crow, "but when I flew down to the pool it startled Mourning Dove, and she flew to her nest. Now I know where it is." "Eggs for lunch!" said Raven.

Crow and Raven sat in the tree above the roadside inn, above a drover snoring in a drunken stupor. Crow cocked his head and said, "That sleeping person has a shiny pin on his shirt." "It's an award," said Raven. "He got it for drinking ale. If you drink the rest of the ale in his mug, you'll get a shiny pin, too." "Shiny pin!" said Crow. He flew down to the table, drank the rest of the ale, and then fell over and couldn't get up. Raven flew down and plucked the pin from the drover's shirt. "Shiny pin!" she said, and flew off.
Lore:Sep's Kiss

Using a   known by name only elicits suspicion. The truly perfect assassination is one that remains undetected. I would not dare brag of those slain by my concoctions, for fear of breaking the tender illusion of "natural" death.

I have penned down one of my favorite mixtures, in hope the reader will seek out more on their own. The preparation is unorthodox, yet it has served me well.

I learned the name " " from a sweet   lass I courted for a time. She was unfaithful, but her kiss still filled me with delight.

Prepare a fire, burned down to coals. Atop that, place a large cauldron. This will be your crucible.

Add to this a drop of your own blood. It will sizzle when the pot is tempered. You only need the residue of blood, for flavor and scent.

Scrape the salt from a mangrove leaf, and powder it with the spores from a yellow-knight mushroom. You can find these growing in most any field if you lie down with your face to the soil.

While the crucible is still hot, pour a decanter of treacle tea in, letting the steam escape. In a short time it will reduce, and to that sticky mess, you will add the aforementioned powder.

Once all ingredients are combined, it's ready to use. On the skin, it breaks down strength in a matter of hours. For a faster reaction, ingestion or wounding is best.

I have yet to calculate an antidote for this recipe, so I advise using the utmost caution when handling.