Netruk44/uesp-wiki-content huggingface dataset:
Lore:Elsweyr My Love, Page 19

Tigerius Falco: [kneeling heroically] "My dearest, soft-furred Shashara, your tears break my heart. And my heart is yours."

Shashara: [cries harder]

Tigerius Falco: [stands sadly] "I understand. One as lovely as you should not waste her time on a lowly   soldier. Please forgive me for blurting out my love for you."

Shashara: [reaches out with a graceful gesture to stop him from leaving]: "No, my sweet Tigerius! Your words bring both sadness and joy to Shashara. Stay with this one, please."
Lore:Elsweyr My Love, Page 26

Tigerius Falco: "Shashara, your green eyes are so green … like green-colored gems!"

Shashara: "Sweet Tigerious, this one wishes we never have to part."

Tigerius Falco: "Your grace is a gift from the Divines, Shashara. I would do anything for you."

Shashara: "Except leave the  ."

Tigerius Falco: [shifts nervously] "The army has been good to me. Took me in when I was an orphan on the streets of the  ."
Lore:Elsweyr My Love, Page 36

Julius Cruilius: [stern and cold] "Go now, Tigerius. Burn the town. Especially the tavern."

Tigerius Falco: "Sir, if I may ask … the town and inhabitants have caused no trouble. Why are we burning it?"

Julius Cruilius: "You are a soldier under my command. Do not question my orders!"

Tigerius Falco: [saluting] "As you command."

[Tigerius leaves, a concerned look darkening his handsome face.]
Lore:Elsweyr My Love, Page 42

Shashara: "Tigerius! What are you doing here? Why do you have a torch?"

Tigerius Falco: "My commander ordered me to burn the town. Especially the tavern. I am so sorry, I know you work there."

Shashara: [with a dramatic sob] "Julius Cruilius ordered you to harm the innocent people of this town? It is because of Shashara. This one did not welcome his lusty intentions. Shashara must warn her friends!

[Shashara runs off.]
Lore:Elsweyr My Love, Page 44

Tigerius Falco: [soliloquy] "To follow orders or disobey them? A soldier's dilemma."

Tigerius Falco: [soliloquy, continued] "If I follow my heart and save Shashara and the town, I must go against the orders of my commander. That will mean my execution."

Tigerius Falco: [soliloquy, continued] "If I follow my orders, like the   soldier that I am, it will mean the loss of Shashara. Shashara's regard and love mean the world to me. But my honor as a soldier is also pretty important."

Tigerius Falco: [soliloquy, continued] "Yet where was Julius Cruilius's honor when he importuned the lovely Shashara? Is it more honorable to reject the commander's orders, since they in no way benefit the Empire?"

Tigerius Falco: [soliloquy, continued] "My head hurts."
Lore:Elsweyr My Love, Page 52

Julius Cruilius: "Tigerius Falco, you did not follow my orders, but you will follow this one. I order you to be executed!"

Tigerius Falco: [tied and bound] "I did the right thing. You ordered the town burned because you were spur—"

Julius Cruilius: [shouting over Tigerius] "Archers! At the ready … and loose your arrows!"

Shashara: [runs in and leaps in front of Tigerious]: "Nooo!"

[Arrows pepper Shashara and she collapses at Tigerious's feet.]

Tigerius Falco: [in horror] "Shasharrrra!" 

[Tigerius drops to his knees next to Shashara.]

Shashara: [pained] "It was not … our fate … to be together. Perhaps another time … or elsewhere, my love." 
[Shashara dies.]

Tigerius Falco: "Noooooooooo!"

Julius Cruilius: "Archers! Another volley!"

[Arrows strike Tigerius Falco, who collapses, dead.]
Lore:A Free Argonian's Manifesto

It is the right and duty of all sentient beings to be masters of their own fate, to live or die according to their own wishes. Slavery is a foul practice that takes this choice from those bound under its terrible yoke, transferring their decision-making capacity to the owner.

This is neither fair nor right, and should be resisted as violently as possible, everywhere and at all times. Anyone who stands idly by and lets another be enslaved is no better than the one who cracks the whip.

For generations, the   enslaved  , some suffering from hatching to grave under Elven control. During this time, the  s did nothing to help us. The so-called   has not redressed these past offenses. Instead, we've been told to be happy we are no longer slaves.

We've been told recompense is out of the question. But even a guar will bite if kicked long enough.

If the Pact will not help us get what we deserve for our generations of suffering, others will help us. The Varakun seek power for their master, but also grant power to those who serve them. Through their auspices, I will avenge those who died as slaves. I will raise their tormentors as my undead vassals, and they will serve me forever in death.
Lore:A History of Mor Khazgur

The  s of   are a particularly prickly bunch, even for Orcs. It wasn't easy to compile this information. I wouldn't have been able to do so at all were it not for a few patient miners who dealt with my constant questions with only slight annoyance and threat to my physical being.

After leaving  , the founding Orcs of the   found a prosperous, rich mine and decided to settle there. In the early days, the mine was self-sustaining. The place overflowed with resources and the Orcs settled into a rhythm. They built their settlement around the mine and flourished.

The current mine Overseer,  , comes from a long line of leadership. His grandfather and father were the chiefs of the clan before him. They led the clan during a sort of golden age of the mine, when the mines themselves flourished. The clan saw a good deal of success and comfortable living even separated from  .

It was always assumed that Thulsgreg would inherit the mine from his father. Which is strange, considering he married beforehand. This clan isn't strictly traditional, but even still, that came as quite a shock to me.

Unfortunately for him, as his father began to prepare to pass down the title, the Mor Khazgur mines dried up. Not completely, mind you, but the decline was quick and noticeable. The once prospering clan was suddenly confronted with the very real possibility of dying out. The mine would dry up, and they would have nothing left.

Thankfully, a new chief stepped up. A strong, young Orc named   challenged Thulsgreg for the title. She won, and immediately instated new mining practices to bring the clan back to its former glory.
Lore:A Prisoner's Journal

I don't remember who I am or where I came from. I don't know what I did to deserve this  , but it most have been abominable. Why else would I be a prisoner in the  ?

Today I broke rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. Hundreds of rocks. They needed to be chipped and chopped and smashed. It was sweaty, back-breaking work. But I did it. I did it until my arms ached and my hands bled. And then I did it some more.

Today an   tortured me. It took me into one of the huts, locked me in stocks, and then whipped me with a lash. The pain … it went on and on and on. I let my mind drift, trying to remember better times and better places. I know I thought about something, but the memory doesn't stick. It's like trying to grasp mist before it dissipates in the sun. Or something like that. What was I talking about?

Today I listened to  . He does love to talk. He goes on and on about how wonderful life is in the Tower of Lies. I could listen to his voice all day. It comforts me. It frightens me. It makes me want to cry. Why won't he stop shouting at me? Why?

What day is it now?

Bugs. There are bugs crawling on me. All over my body. Into my eyes. Into my mouth. I try to brush them away, but they keep coming back. Persistent. Insistent. Twelve.

Today is yellow.

I thanked my ogrim tormentor today. To show me how much he cared, he beat me for an hour more.

My skull itches.

Why are the rocks screaming? Every time I hit them with my hammer, they cry out in pain.

I think I used to be in some sort of guild. I think that's why I'm here. We must have done something yellow.
Lore:A Soldier's Letter

Gilles,

The other day, I was drinking in a pub in  , and a   sitting next to me started talking about politics. I know how much you miss drinking out on the front lines, and believe me, the first few rounds are on me when you get back, but you can't possibly miss listening to some drunken idiot argue about politics.

So this Breton, he starts getting really loud, and he rants about all the reasons we're at war with the  . He talks about economic factors, he talks about resources, he talks about crafting, the guy goes on for what seems like forever, and that's when he stops to take a drink. Which was long enough for me to say two words: "You're wrong."

Because this guy doesn't know a bloody thing about what it's like fighting the Dominion. Out on the battlefield, they don't care about economics or resources or religion. You're out there for one reason: to kill them before they kill you.

Everyone else here knows the truth. For all their lofty Elven pretense, the Aldmeri Dominion only really cares about one thing: conquest. Though they do have standards—they only want to conquer the non-Elves. Like us.

So I told that drunken fool the same thing you told us. Without soldiers like us standing between them and the   throne, the Elves will push and push and push until they hold everything from the shores of   to the heart of  .

Any   who looks at a Breton, he's going to see a human. Any Altmer who looks at a   like me … well, there's no way around it, he pretty much knows I'm a Redguard. And there's no mistaking an  . Ain't none of us Elves.

Life is getting a little more relaxed in the city now, since everyone has pretty much accepted we're at war, and there's still the occasional High Elf in the streets who can go about his business without a fight. It's still sane enough that they can walk around in public. Inside the city walls, I've seen a handful of High Elves walking into the  , selling their wares, and even ordering those fruity wines they like so much, and as long as the city watch is keeping the peace, we'll be peaceful.

But when we're in the field, we don't hesitate. Everyone—except that one loudmouthed Breton I put in his place—everyone knows we're holding the line against the Altmer. And when we come back to town in one piece, we're going to be heroes, and we'll be shouting and drinking in that tavern. 

So make sure you come back in one piece.

Stay safe,
Lore:A Threnody to Lost Love

Deep within my mind 
The storms, they gather inside me 
Deep within my mind 
The tides rise far too high 
Hiding in my mind 
The sorrow whispers freely 
Fear is so unkind 
Shouting through my tears

Please don't find me 
I can't be free 
Please come find me 
Your death haunts me 
Your death haunts me

Deep within my   
The fires burn inside of me 
Deep within my soul 
Pain rips through all I am 
Lurking in my soul 
Loneliness beseeches me 
I'm no longer whole 
Screaming through my tears

Please don't find me 
I can't be free 
Please come find me 
Your death haunts me 
Your death haunts me 
Your death haunts me
Lore:A World of Corpses

I ask you, who suffers more than I? Who among you must withstand the infantile laments of would-be  s both night and day? How many  s must I wrench from impotent failures before my  s commit my truth to memory?

Questions! Timid apologies! Simpering denials! Are these miserable wretches truly the inheritors of the  ? Are these the necromancers that shall carry our glorious discipline into the eras to come? Perish the thought!

While I find all the aspiring necromancers' queries maddening, there is one that routinely drives me to homicide. "Honored Worm-King, where shall we find our corpses?" My response? "Other necromancers will find your corpse here!" Then, I harvest their soul in the most painful fashion imaginable.

Now, this routine did provide some small measure of personal catharsis; and I do all of   a service by winnowing the herd of deficient mages. But now, hundreds of years on, I find the entire ritual tiresome and predictable. So, I have resolved to commit this simple lesson to paper. Ignore it at your peril, worms.

Where shall you find your corpses? Everywhere! All the world is a tomb. Every city, every field, and every forest in Tamriel has borne witness to countless slaughters and atrocities—some known and some forgotten. Wherever your foot finds purchase, rest assured, a corpse rests somewhere beneath. You need only summon up the will to call them to service. Old bones may offer some modest resistance. Time and decay make them sluggish and recalcitrant. But if you cannot bend an ancient corpse to your will, you have no business calling yourself a necromancer.

So long as the living remain, so too shall the dead. Finding them is a child's pursuit. Using them, though? That is the true measure of a necromancer's power.
Lore:Achieving Harmony with Death

Over the course of my years teaching  , students have asked questions that reflect where they are on their personal journeys toward achieving harmony with death. A common one for those not yet on the path: What type of bones should we use to attain harmony with death? Another: If I meditate two hours each day, will I achieve harmonic transcendence faster?

Questions like these underline how focused on life these students remain. Wondering what types of bones we use places the attention on checklists, questions of right and wrong ways to do things, and labels applied to living things, which takes it away from that moment when your life, as you know it, ends. Putting a time limit on meditation reminds you of the construct of time, which ticks away with each breath you take while living. In death, time is meaningless. Acknowledgement of time's passage can limit your ability to achieve harmony with death as a result. To help both students and masters, I provide my own thoughts below for knowing where students are on their paths. Your experiences may, of course, vary.

First, a student needs to grapple with the concept of "harmony with death." I assign any who have not yet done this meditations to practice. When they question their attachment to the living world and start struggling with the discomfort of life's uncertainty, they have opened their minds enough to start walking the path. And only when they are comfortable with the idea of their own deaths are they ready to take that first step.

Students fail when they cannot find that path.

Second, a student needs to understand that everyone's path toward harmonic transcendence is different. Those who have found the path still seek certainty of a sort: What is the next step? What does this journey look like? What should I avoid? What should I make sure I do?

All these questions are natural, but they also point toward an attachment with "right" and "wrong." Again, the path to harmonic transcendence varies from individual to individual. When these students feel comfortable not knowing for sure where their next step will land, they are on their correct paths. More specific indicators than that are useless because, again, their paths are their own. Also, the feeling of comfort with uncertainty differs for each individual.

Students fail when they cannot follow their own path.

Third, you need to understand that harmonic transcendence, once achieved, is never retained indefinitely. You make the choice repeatedly to remain within that space of harmonic transcendence—to retain your harmony with death.

Even masters fail in this. That does not mean that they have failed to be masters. Indeed, acceptance of this failure, after they have already traveled their path long enough to achieve harmony, is a hallmark of a master.
Lore:Adventurer's Almanac, 1st Edition

If you're like me—or you want to be like me, which is understandable—you've got talents people want. More importantly, talents people will pay for. Demand for people like us is high these days, so I took the trouble of writing down my best leads. Why? I couldn't take all these jobs if I wanted to, and selling these books is a nice little score on the side. If you stole this book, go and pay for it. Unless it's in a lending library, then steal it and we'll call it square. Moochers.

 

They don't call me "the Knife" on account of my forge work, but when I'm in town between jobs it pays to check the notice boards. Grab a writ, hammer on some things, get paid, and find the tavern. Easy money.

 

Easiest route to steady work? Join a guild. It's what they're there for. That might seem obvious and stupid to put in my book. Almanacs cover everything, stupid. 

If you like solving problems with violence, legally, the   has you covered, plus they've got guild halls all over  . 

I don't endorse the illegal sort of killing, but I hear the   accepts all kinds of murder contracts for hire. 

Maybe blood isn't your thing, but riches definitely are. I could say, hypothetically, there might be a sort of   that organizes that sort of sneaky business. Again, almanac, just being thorough here.

The   may seem exclusive, but they got needs too, so pay them a visit even if sorcery isn't your thing. They've got locations in most cities.

Now if you're looking for a big score and maybe don't got a lot of sense, go get in the good graces of the  . They've got enclaves in the major capitols and treasure piled higher than   that they're just itching to give away—provided you're crazy enough to do what they ask to earn it.

War

The   never stop fighting. Throw your lot in with an alliance, get to   and the  , and reap the spoils. Plenty to go around. For the victors.

And don't forget folks in those war torn regions need more help than anybody. Whether you want to charge them is your business, but there are always towns out there in need of some help.

Regions of Interest

Some places just have more need for people like us than others. I don't just visit   because it reminds me of home.  's got a big demand for tough types to go out and pacify the wilderness, and while I can't say it's conventionally profitable,   is such a crazy place that half the time the stars are falling and the other it's raining treasure.

Don't forget to check the boards on the way out of town too, at least on the   and in  . Bounties and all sorts of other odd jobs find their way onto the boards from folks who aren't picky about who solves their problems.

The Last Word

There you go. All the ways I know how to keep busy in this business. I'm not saying you've got to do all this stuff every day, but you could if you wanted to. And don't value sleep. Don't go thinking you can buy this copy and be done with it. Times change and when they do,  's going to write it down. Save up.

Tips welcome.
Lore:Adventurer's Almanac, 2nd Edition

Welcome back, scabs!  Bet you thought I'd never have enough material to write a second one of these.  You'd be wrong, of course, because here we go again.  Far be it from me to overlook a chance to educate the next generation of meat puppets lining up to make a few drakes.

 

This   features some prime pickings for the discerning mercenary.  If you can get over how ornery the   can get about their gods and their dead relatives, you can score some choice jobs from their fixers in the   in  .  And tell   he still owes me gold for the last card game he cheated his arse off to win.

 

Look, I'm not saying   exists.  But I know a guy who says it does and, if you can get inside, there's plenty of work to be done that the   ain't got time to deal with.  Or consider beneath their interest.  You know, I don't care.  People look down on us  s all the time, but are happy to open their pouches when they need something's head smashed in. Losers.

 

Now we're talking!  You hear about those new fighting leagues they opened up recently?  Love.  It.  Action, bloodshed, beat downs, and winners take all.  Just don't, you know, lose.  You'll get pitted against the best, the worst, and the worst of the worst.  You ever see a guy run around in a fighting arena trying to figure out which end of his sword goes in the other jerk?  It's a wonder these mooks can get into their armor.

I always put my gold on the  , by the by.  Easy money, long as there ain't an   on their team.  What're you gonna do, breathe underwater?  Ha!

And We're Done

That's all you get from me this time, tusk bait.  Maybe next time Uncle Skordo will serenade you with his awesome knowledge and experience once he finds out where the next bunch of jobs happen to be.  Just don't horn in on my work if I'm on the same contract, you hear?

Stay frosty.  Oh yeah, and tusk off, you losers!
Lore:Adventurer's Almanac, 3rd Edition

Another day, another  . That's the way I look at it and you should too if you've got any sense. So listen up, papa Skordo's got more wisdom to sell along with his sword. Here are my latest leads for the discerning mercenary. 

 

The   Elves of   have finally   to let us mere mortals set foot on their unspoiled soil, but don't believe all the sugarcoated twaddle—the place has a heap of troubles. The  s in   are practically begging for competent mercenaries to come show'em how it's done. 

 

You ever heard of  ? Me neither. Not until they started throwing gold around like   in a bawd house. I don't know where they're getting their  , but they pay their dues on time. When you get to  , tell them Skordo sent you. I want my cut. 

If running errands for a bunch of mudpanners doesn't excite you, the   is organizing   for some of the nastiest things in  . It'll get your blood pumping. Out of your neck if you're not careful. 

Maybe the idea of wading through a bog getting eaten alive by bugs doesn't appeal. Can't imagine why. You can still get your dainty hands on some of that easy Cyrodilic Collections gold. You can find an   organizing supplies for their expeditions. Goes by  . He'll talk your ear off if you let him, but he's always got   that needs doing. 

 s 

Finally, there're tusking  s raging across  . If you're just getting this news from me, get out from under the rock you call home and get to work! The   is recruiting any help they can get for their war effort against the scaly bastards. They've got people stationed in  ,  , and  . 

Now I ain't heard much more than rumors about Dragon hunting, but you can bet there's someone out there itching to bag a Dragon and willing to offer a reward. Personally, you couldn't pay me enough to tangle with one of those flying murder-lizards—though you're welcome to try. 

There you have it. Plenty of work for an enterprising adventurer-for-hire. Remember papa Skordo when you strike it rich. And if you strike it dead, go haunt the sorry sack who taught you to fight.
Online:Adventurer's Almanac

'''Adventurer's Almanac''' may mean two things:
Adventurer's Almanac (collection), the collection of these books
Adventurer's Almanac (compilation), a compilation of these books for easier reading
Lore:Aldmeri Court Transcript

Let it be known:

It is the judgment of this tribunal that the criminal known as   is guilty of all charges levied against her by representatives of the   state. 

She has been convicted on all counts. Her transgressions include:

:&mdash; Seven counts of bribing a Thalmor official.
:&mdash; Twelve counts of arcane tampering.
:&mdash; Seventeen counts of murder in the first degree.
:&mdash; Twenty-seven counts of murder in the second degree.
:&mdash; Six counts of unauthorized  .
:&mdash; Two counts of destruction of ministerial property.
:&mdash; Three counts of destruction of common property.

Finally, we have received a signed affidavit detailing Thaliel's treatment of those she murdered inflicted upon them after death. The court finds these behaviors consistent with the curse of  . In penance for her heinous crimes, Thaliel will be imprisoned in the buried ruins of  . There she will face a grim eternity of scorched stone, choking fumes, and torturous heat. Let her fate serve as a warning to all would-be necromancers and parasites.   does not suffer such crimes, nor do the Thalmor. Punishment, in all cases, will be prompt and severe.

Seventh Court of Aldmeri Justice