Netruk44/uesp-wiki-content huggingface dataset:
The Truth of the Hlaalu

The Lord Vivec himself has been noted for remarking that in House Hlaalu lies the future of the Dunmer race. House Hlaalu is strong, widespread, wealthy, and noted for its ambitious proliferation into Vvardenfell; we are a house of peacemakers, if anything, and we are a house of Mer who seek above all to raise the quality of life for all the denizens of Morrowind. Our nobles lead all of houses in bringing the benefits of Imperial trade from the Cyrodiilic coffers to the hands of the common people: in our lands, no man is want of food or gold. By virtue of faith in the emperors, we can raise the Dunmer out of the darkness of their bloody, ash-swept past and into the light of catholic civilization, to the betterment of all.

It is no mystery that the men of House Hlaalu are not warriors in their hearts; we pride ourselves on our tact and grace, speechcraft and politesse. War is a costly thing, in money and Mer, and House Hlaalu has always been firmly opposed to it. Why make war, ask we, when one can make money? War taxes and tears at our economy, starving the people of both food in their stomachs and faith in their leaders. War is a crude and brutal thing of a time now past; let us embrace the future with daring, trading goods instead of evils.

The Imperial forces mustered for a grand assault upon the lands of Dunmereth, and House Hlaalu, foreseeing the wisdom of the Tribunal, insisted upon a peaceful integration, seeing no good to come of a prolonged and violent conflict that could destroy our beloved realm by cruel attrition. We welcomed the Empire and all the good that came with it: in a word, freedom, and more than we have ever had before. With Cyrodiil's ships in our quays, the world was open to us a clam yielding a pearl, and that pearl was the bounty of all of Tamriel; not only had we our lives and our worship, but now all the goods of a thousand lands and peoples, enriching every aspect of our day-to-day subsistence.

Unfortunately, not all have seen this, but the Hlaalu mind is proliferating with its people as trade routes dig deeper through Morrowind and into the Empire. We hope that the other houses may find it meet to put down their weapons and pick up the tools of fine craftsmanship, that their common folk may finally know a life of comfort and grace, rather than ceaseless toil and arduous miseries. Until then, Hlaalu opens its shops and lands to any who wish to partake of its bounty.

Do not let opportunity pass by; do not cleave to the wretchedness of the past in the name of tradition. Veloth the Prophet did not bring us to Morrowind to suffer; he brought us that we might know a better way of life. A better way of life is calling, friends. Are we not the Chimer, the changed folk? Then know that the winds of change blow once again, and he who refuses them refuses to be a part of the vision of his ancestors. Remember Veloth, and remember Vivec: Hlaalu is the future of the Dunmer.
A Study on Dreughs

Those who spend time at sea tell stories about sea monsters and giant squids so often that a common person may be fooled to believe them to be true. There are indeed fearsome sea creatures, the most commonly mistaken of which are the dreughs, a half-man, and half-squid creature. They are shrouded in mystery, though it is believed that current dreughs are the remnants of a once great civilization.

Certain experienced fighters may serve as a worthy opponent to a dreugh, but they are fearsome fighters and should be avoided as a general rule. For this reason, goods made of or coming from dreughs have a relatively high market value, such as dreugh wax, dreugh weapons, or armor made from dreugh hide. Certain Temple members believe that it was Vivec who made the dreughs able to allow their shells for human use as armor, though that theory may be contested.

One peculiar behavior of the dreughs is a stage in life they go through called karvinasim. During this period of their life, they have the ability to walk the surface of the land. When the stage is over, they consume their land-based appendages and spit them out into balls known as grom. Dreughs found in caves and grottos usually got there during their karvinasim period while they migrated to land or walked on the surface. Currently, I am studying one such cave to the north of the Telvanni islands.
The True Folk

The orcs, or Orsimer, are one of the more misunderstood and maligned races on Tamriel. Rather than being a thing to engender shame, this should instead be taken as a sign of the worthiness of the green-skinned people. For they are held in highest contempt by those who are themselves the ugliest of brutes.

To understand this point of view, one must first understand the origins of the race. Long ago, the Orsimer were of the same blood as the proud and haughty Altmer. Those who would become Orsimer were especially faithful followers of the mighty Altmer god Trinimac. When the three sinister Daedra began misleading Veloth, it was Boethiah who consumed Trinimac. Such a corrupting force was the Prince of Plots that Trinimac was tainted forever, becoming transformed into Malacath.

Rather than revile Boethiah whose foulness was such that it tarnished one of the highest gods of the Altmer, the Chimer celebrated his twisted majesty. A just reward, that they later found their skins darkened, to match the depravity of their hearts. And neither is it surprising that those who would go on to style themselves 'Dunmer' would find themselves changed by once again displaying their corruption, shocking even the Daedra who had so twisted them. Surely, there is honor in being loathed by such a people.

Only those Altmer who remained faithful to their befouled god became Orsimer; the rest retained their golden skins. Trinimac had been wounded in a profound way, and his followers bore that wound upon themselves as the transformation into their new, brutish appearance. They suffered this humiliation, and yet they remained loyal and stedfast to Malacath. The other, unchanged Altmer treated their fellows as monsters and beasts, responding to the unwavering faithfulness of their bretheren with malice and contempt.

It is true, those who broke with Trinimac retained their pristine, golden form. Kept the purity of their blood. Kept their outward beauty. But for all their seeming perfection, their ethereal superiority, they are not the equal of the Orsimer. For while the Orsimer were changed physically, that crudeness reflects what lies under the skin of the "true", untainted Altmer. They look the part of elves, but inside they are hollow, warped creatures.

For when Trinimac was crippled, when Malacath was born and needed the support of his people, the Orsimer did not abandon him. They ignored the taint of Boethiah's corruption, where others cherished it or shrank from it. For him, they made themselves pariah. That is true faith. That is the depth of honor that exists among orcs.

So while other mer may look bright and brilliant, may carry themselves with a proud bearing, may call their worship just and pure, they are but shells filled with falsehoods. They are weak and selfish and greedy. They reveal themselves with their deeds.

No, it is the Orsimer who are the True Folk.
A Taste of Sugar

Dar'Bassissa tasted the sugar, but tastes it no more. Too dangerous, it was. Too difficult to know what was real and what was not. Too much of a hassle to deal with the clawless people's law.

One night, Dar'Bassissa laid down on the sands to rest, head filled with sugar. Dream uncurled it's tail, though Dar'Bassissa did not know it was a dream. It seemed that Dar'Bassissa woke to a burning Rawlith Khaj. Sand, as desert people know, is not kind to stone, and can be less kind to skin, even if it is covered by beautiful fur. The cruel winds and the sands they bore whipped poor Dar'Bassissa until an idea crawled into his head.

Dar'Bassissa cast a potent spell of jump, and sprang above the skies, to within shouting distance of the ja-Kha'jay. Jone and Jode, as the unfurred call them, were quite happy to have an adventurous young Khajiit visit. They seemed to smile at Dar'Bassissa, and great warm furry arms lifted to wave to him.

But then panic. The spell had worn off, and Dar'Bassissa was falling to the sands so very very far below. Being a thief and Khajiit besides, Dar'Bassissa had thought he would simply be able to climb down the air (such being the skill of Khajiiti thieves). But the air proved to be unscalable, and once Dar'Bassissa had fallen below the clouds, he found the swirling sands to be equally hard to find a foothold in.

When Dar'Bassissa hit the desert floor, he truly awoke, and has sworn off the sugar ever since.
The Soft Doctrines of Magnus

THE SOFT DOCTRINES OF MAGNUS INVISIBLE

The Dragon is bound with noble sighs. 
The Serpent is bound with shifting tones. 
The Sun is bound with metal flames. 
The Earth is bound with secret knots.
A Small Kindness

Falen was a young Dunmer urchin, picking his life's blood from the pockets of those more fortunate than he. Were it not for their unintentional charity, he surely would have starved, or succumbed to disease, or fallen to some other fate years ago. The boy lived by his wits, but the guards never seemed to appreciate his cleverness.

His life was a hard one, for no mer cared for the plight of the orphaned boy. Once upon a time, Falen had tried his hand at the more honest trade of beggar, but found the hand more likely to fill his belly if it found its way into a merchant's purse. Perhaps if someone had bothered to show Falen even a small kindness, he would not have become such a troublesome child.

As it happened, one typical morning the guards were typically harassing Falen, typically suspecting the boy of helping himself to another merchant's inventory. As was typical, the boy was guilty through and through, and everyone knew. But through having had such regular dealings with the guards, the young thief had grown accustomed to some degree of familiarity, some sense of bizarre friendship.

But on this particular morning, for whatever reason, he was treated with unusual harshness. One guard grabbed him by an ankle, roughly lifted him off the ground, and shook him until his ill gotten gains spilled onto the ground, after which the child was unceremoniously dropped on his head. Not considering the boy worth any more effort, the guards contented themselves to collect his meager possessions and be on their way.

As evening approached, some townsfolk thought it odd that the boy hadn't been seen since the morning's antics. Then, when he finally did return to town, he brought company. He sprinted faster than he'd ever fled the guards, a huge grin on his face hiding just below his terror.

Falen did not ease his murderous pace until he was well within the city limits, and then he simply waited, staring back from where he'd come. The wait was not a long one. Three Cliff Racers madly screeched as they flew about looking for mer to tear at. Of course, the guards rushed to meet the terrible beasts, but it was not long before they realized something was not right. None of them were able to land a blow.

Still smiling, Falen ducked into a tavern, and waited again.

Everyone knew what had happened, but none could ever prove it. Falen found more understanding from his fellow mer afterwards. Perhaps if they'd been kinder earlier, his lesson wouldn't have been one they had to learn.
Seeking Home

And so my new-found friends became scattered in the midst of an Imperial ambush. I dashed west, weighed down only by the sword I'd stolen from my jailbreak, and the clothes on my back. After several hundred yards, it dawned on me that Kievier would still be at the Dwemer tower, waiting for us to return. Not being terribly intelligent, it did not dawn on me that the Imperials might have known about our stronghold too. In any event, I thought it probable that those of us who escaped capture would likely return there, and I couldn't abandon Ma'Dar, who had been such a good friend.

So I abruptly stopped running, spun on my heel, and started walking back the way I'd come. Lacking creativity, I'd simply ran in a straight line. Had I been followed, that would have been very, very bad. On the bright side, it also meant that I wasn't too lost. In the time since the ambush, the sun had fallen from the sky, and I very quickly found that not being too lost during the day was quite a different beast from being not too lost at night. In short order, too lost I became.

Besides my bearing, I lost track of the hours as I stumbled through the countryside, trying to remember what direction the coastline was in. If I could find the coast, I could probably follow it back to our Dwemer ruin, or to the port crawling with Imperials if I was unlucky. However, not knowing which way was which way certainly made either option problematic. Rather than pausing to figure it out, I bulled ahead, becoming ever more lost.

Then it hit me -- I was disoriented because of the darkness. If I cast the Night Eye spell Kievier had taught me, I'd be able to tell where I was. Maybe.

After my vision brightened, I surveyed my surroundings. Nothing looked familiar. Then, from behind a hill, I saw a low, quick shape running toward me. If I hadn't cast the spell, I never would have seen it. Confident, I drew my sword and waited. The shape slowed, apparently seeing that I had stopped moving. It rose, into a posture I recognized: a humanoid, out of breath. As it walked closer, I finally realized what it was.

"Ma'Dar!" I bellowed, "glad to find you!"

Between breaths, she corrected "Ma'Dar... found... you... silly... Orc."

I sat on the ground while she caught her breath. When she did, she informed me that she had been trying to track me down the whole time I'd been lost. She was afraid I'd lose my bearing, walk back into town, and get caught. Considering I'd saved her life, she probably felt the need to repay me. I'd given her a hard time, since I'd wandered so randomly as I became ever more lost.

Finally, I asked her if she knew the way back to the tower. "Of course" she purred, "but Ma'Dar does not think it wise to go home now. They knew we were coming. They might also know where we came from. You see? Employment comes second to staying out of cages. We must seek a new home."

I nodded in agreement. But without gold, how far could we get?
History of The Oroynyon Family

In the year 1E 415, our Chimeri ancestors drove the Nordic barbarians out of our beloved homeland of Resdayn, and in the south this revolution was led by General Dres Benidim. After he drove the invaders out of the Tear region, they set sail across what was then called Oroynyon Bay and attacked the fortress of Aronun, over which now sits Ald'Oronis.

In this day the northern coast of Oroynyon Bay was controlled by two very close houses, House Dreynyon and House Oronis. The former controlled most of the area, though the latter had control of the peninsula southeast of Mt. St. Delyn. During the attack on Aronun, nearly all of the Oronis family was wiped out. Though there may have been more survivors, the only recorded ones were Oronis Mesa, the daughter of the Oronis grandmaster, and her nephew and niece Oronis Elim and Gali. During their refuge in Dreynyon Vale, Oronis Mesa married the leader of House Dreynyon, Dreynyon Olim. Sometime in the early years of their marriage, they decided to unite their two families into one. From this union House Oroynyon was formed.

Later, during the Battle of Red Mountain, the Oroynyons gained great fame and wealth. Oroynyon Elim, now head of House Oroynyon, gained a particularly large amount of money by selling a few unique dwemer artifacts. He is even believed to have been in Dagoth Ur during the disappearance of the Dwemer, though he was certainly not in the Chamber of Lorkhan's Heart.

Throughout the history of the Dunmer, the Oroynyons continued to grow strong. They quickly built many different homes around Oroynyon Bay. These included the rebuilding of Aronun as Ald'Oronis, the Oroynyon Plantation, Alt'Oroynyon, and Oroynyon Vale. This glorious house was even present during the founding of Bosmora, and once controlled nearly as far west as Old Keep.

They faced only one fall after the sacking of Aronun. During the exile of the Boethian Dualistics, one group of Oroynyons, led by Oroynyon Resim, abandoned the house and went with these cultists. Not only did the take nearly a fifth of their members, money, and power, this caused a great rift within the remaining members. There was such a fight over this abandonment, filled with placing of blame and accusations, that many of the westerners left. The city of Oroynyon'ruhn was controlled by some of these rebels, and it was renamed Methren'ruhn, after their new surname.

Despite this great schism, Minor House Oroynyon remains strong. They are nearly in complete control of southeastern Indoril, and remain on great terms with all other Great Houses, particularly House Dres. They are strong supporters of the Temple, and recognize the Imperials as a necessary presence in what is now Morrowind. Let us hope that this excellent family continues in its strength forever!
House Hlaalu Stronghold Plans

Our great and noble House has come to a point where it needs to expand its territory, and keep it safe from those that would attempt and intrude upon it. In my job as House Architect, I have designed a small fortress that would be ideal for this type of expansion.

The ideal location for holding our territory from the 'honorable' Redorans would be in the Southwest of Vvardenfell. Hla Oad has no practical mean of defenses, and is too far from any Hlaalu settlements should another House attempt to take our territory. Odai Plateau is the proposed location, as it is located on a hill, making an attack difficult, and it is also between the Odai and the Inner Sea, shortening the route to Balmora from Hla Oad; this would likely work to the favor of Hla Oad, as it would bolster trade with a safer, quicker route to Balmora. Should the Western border of Morrowind be attacked by the Empire trying to exploit more from our lands, or from the profane horrors on the Firemoth Archipelago, the populace of Hla Ruhn and Verarchen Hall could fall back to the Odai Plateau stronghold.

Across the Odai River from the stronghold is a blighted egg mine. This mine has gone unused, for several reasons. The people of Balmora do not need the extra eggs, and due to the abundance of mines around Morrowind, they are of little economic value. However, should a stronghold be built at Odai Plateau, the populace there could use the eggs, and any extras could be easily taken to Hla Oad and shipped out of Province. It would be inexpensive for the mine to start producing again; all that would be needed is several miners, and a priest or a cleric to cure the blight on the Kwama Queen.

The actual physical plans for the stronghold are simple. On the Plateau, it is planned that a manor would be built for the ruling official, a guard tower, where an elite House Hlaalu soldier would be assigned, houses for several merchants, and a wall constructed around the compound for defense. The House official that would be taking residence here would have to pay the customary 5000 drakes for their manor, but House Hlaalu will cover the costs for the rest. The estimated construction costs are around 100 000 drakes, and while this may seem somewhat steep, it is reasonable given how the entire Southwestern section of Vvardenfell will be opened for trade. The roads to Balmora from Pelagiad, Seyda Neen and Suran could also be taxed, providing more cash flow for Great House Hlaalu.

It would be prudent that we find a candidate for this right away, as the other Great Houses are also beginning to prepare drafts for their strongholds. House Hlaalu agents indicate that it is likely that the Telvanni and Redoran Houses will be constructing their strongholds on Vvardenfell as they have holding there, but it is completely unknown what the Dres and Indoril Houses intend to do.
Nadael Illulivad, Vol I

Nadael Illulivad was a young Wood-Elf who grew up in the land of Vvardenfell. At a young age, his parents abandoned him to a poor family in Balmora, where he learned to steal and pickpocket in order to pay for food. Before long, Nadael had grown very adept at these skills. In fact, by the age of nine years, he had become a prominent member of the local Thieve's Guild, performing tasks which required smaller body types.

One day, during his fifteenth year, Nadael returned home after emptying the wares of a local merchant, only to discover his foster-parents had been murdered, and their house lie in ruins. After searching through the rubble, the astute young Illulivad discovered a broach with six intertwining prongs.

Nadael's sense of loss was overwhelming, and from blurry eyes, he wiped away tears, which left streaks through the grime on his cheeks. Nadael pocketed the broach and vowed to find those who had murdered his foster-parents. Years later, his quest would be widely known and chronicled, as The Travels of Nadael Illulivad.

Leaving the ruins of his home, Nadael sought out N'neyya, a   from the Thieve's Guild, and informed her of the deaths of Tali and Ormin Illulivad. N'neyya was shocked beyond belief, and recalled a group of hooded bandits who had been observed fleeing across the river Odai in broad daylight, yet hidden in shadows. She urged him to leave quickly, for any trail they may have left would soon disappear. Nadael wished N'neyya a fond fairwell, and left the city.

As the young thief stepped onto the bridge over the Odai River, he looked back at Balmora, and realized there was nothing there for him. Even the Thieves Guild had lost its lure in his eyes, for only revenge burned in his throat. With those thoughts trailing in his mind, Nadael turned away from his former life, and took the first step on his long and eventful journey.