Netruk44/uesp-wiki-content huggingface dataset:
Lore:Homesteads in the Black Marsh

Edict the 19th: 11 Sun's Dawn,   
Imperial Council of Potentate Versidue-Shaie

Insofar as the region known as Black Marsh remains a desolate land and the   natives thereof have taken no steps to cultivate this region, the Potentate of the Second Empire hereby decrees the areas of Black Marsh described in the Appendix to this Edict to be open to settlement by all   citizens wishing to avail themselves of the opportunity.

Any Imperial citizen (hereafter referred to as the Homesteader) shall from this day forward be entitled to enter unpopulated lands in the province of Black Marsh and claim therefrom a parcel of property (hereafter referred to as the Parcel) not to exceed nine hundred paces by nine hundred paces square. The Homesteader may then enter a claim to this Parcel before the Imperial Magistrate of  . Upon the passage of five years from the day of the Homesteader's claim, and the presentation of proof that the Parcel has been brought under cultivation and is the Homesteader's primary place of residence, the Imperial Magistrate of Gideon shall issue a patent of ownership over the Parcel to the Homesteader and his or her heirs in perpetuity.

As it is the intent of this Edict to bring about the settlement and cultivation of Black Marsh, the Homesteader shall have the right to make improvements to the Parcel from the day on which the Parcel is claimed, including the felling of trees, clearing of land, damming of streams, draining of ponds, and construction of fences. Any Argonian natives possessing non-permanent residences or camps within the area of the Homesteader's claim shall be required to remove themselves and their possessions from the Parcel, or be subject to forcible relocation by the nearest Imperial garrison.

So let it be decreed: Black Marsh shall flower under the Potentate's benevolent hand.
Lore:Legate Minutes: Concerning Goblins

Prospector  's complaint regarding local   infestation. Transcribed by  , Frostfall 26th,  

This is the third time I've come down here. I don't like leaving my plot. I hate this Eight-forsaken town and all you preening, stork-ankled, city-folk. But matters in   are getting grimmer by the day. We're doing with pick and spade what you should be doing with sword and shield, and we're sick to death of it.

I'm talking about Goblins. While you sleep sound in your beds, bellies full of meats and fine wines, the rest of us slap ourselves awake in our barns and mines, desperate to defend our property. Sure, to you these little green bastards are nothing but a nuisance. Like spear-flies on a  . But for honest folk like us who live outside these walls? We're fighting a gods-damned war. And I'll tell you this: we sure as spit aren't winning!

Take last Morndas eve. My mate, Silus, and I sat on our stools around the campfire grilling a   haunch and making plans for the next day's labor. All of a sudden, we hear a rustling in the bushes. Not a   or a  's rustling, mind. Something bigger, clattering about in bones and rot-leather. I drew my flay knife and Silas hefted his pick. We stood there, quiet as cats, for a terrible long time. Then they burst out. Six or seven of those hunched bastards, hissing, and screeching, and swinging their rusty swords. Silus damn near soiled his pants. He dropped his pick and scrambled into the mine. As for me, I kicked, and spit, and stabbed my way through one of them, then took off running into the woods. Three of them wound up chasing me, clacking their teeth and babbling like lunatics in that dirt-mouth language of theirs. I made it to a friend's lamp-lit porch. As for Silus? They're still finding bits of him under rocks and down old shafts.

That's just my story. And it's just the most recent. Two weeks ago, Goblins stole Astia Burso's prize heifer. We found it gutted like a trout two days later, soiling the river the other  s drink from. A week before that, they chased my half-sister, Vala, onto her roof and plucked arrows at her for an hour or more while she scrambled behind the chimney for cover. Way she tells it, they were laughing all the while.

Now, I'm not asking you to send an army. Dibella's breasts, I'm not even asking for a war band! All we want—all we need—is a handful of fighters with some coals in their guts who can put the fear of Oblivion into these little bastards. Make an example or two. Plant a few Goblin heads on pikes around people's property. Back before all that  ,  , and   nonsense up  , we used to have a decent militia. What you've got here now? There's hardly a thimble-full of guts between all three of you! Get off your arses and do something!
Lore:Legend of Veyond

Deep within those crumbling walls, where memories are said to speak and the dead mingle with the living, waits a treasure unlike any other. Its origins are unknown, but those brave enough to venture into the ruins of   have brought back the words that were spoken to them by those who died long ago. 

Most notably, the ghost of a young adventurer who battled monsters and night creatures through the halls in search of a cure for his ailing mother's sickness. He can be seen fighting his enemies in a corridor buried beneath the ground. Each time he staggers under the assault, he talks to his mother as if he can hear her voice. There are moments when he speaks to her as if to reassure her that he is coming back, but other times tears can be seen on his face while he tries to placate her angry spirit. 

In a different part of the ruin, children can be heard playing among the rocks. A blacksmith's hammer can be heard, but only on nights when the stars hide behind the clouds. Rarer still, during storms, a voice chanting and speaking in an unknown language can be heard just before thunder rumbles through the cracks in the walls. Whatever else Veyond holds, one thing is clear. It gives up neither its dead nor its secrets quietly.
Lore:The Liberation of Leyawiin

Thunder rolls as   
Nears   as war rages on 
Leovic's warriors are on the attack 
While traitors strike Sai's back

Arrows seeking, and swords swinging 
Death knells will soon be ringing 
His face grim, drawing strength from within 
His sword swings for Leyawiin

Traitors behind and Longhouse before 
Both seek the swordmaster's death in this war 
Sai Sahan fights to cheat such a fate 
Alone now he battles through the gate.

Inside the walls, Sai draws a breath 
Facing two armies, he deals out death 
With only sword and wits to defeat them 
He fights for Leyawiin's freedom.

Traitors behind and Longhouse before 
Both seek the swordmaster's death in this war 
Sai Sahan fights to cheat such a fate 
Within the city he seeks to liberate.

The forces converge, but Sai's blade is unstilled 
Leovic flees, Sai's task is fulfilled 
He stands on a mountain of traitors' corpses 
Defender victorious against lost causes 
And the people of Leyawiin are free!
Lore:The Making of Wading-Nests

A cultural expose written by  , based on personal experiences after being welcomed into various Black Marsh   Tribes.

Despite the prevalence of wading-nest houses within the tribal lands, the construction of a new one is usually the scene of some communal activity. The actual construction of the wading-nests is simple. Large stakes of wood are lashed together with vines or rope and positioned vertically in the ground. Depending on the land in which the tribe resides, holes are first dug into the ground so that the stakes are more secure and can bear more weight, but this practice is not common in areas where there are fewer floods and the ground is firmer. 

Once the wooden stakes are erected, they can be used as a foundation for the wading-nest. A floor is built across the stakes and then the rest of the dwelling is constructed on top of that. Some tribes build the floor of their nests to the exact dimensions of the support legs, but a few build the floors wider. This is supposed to prevent insects from climbing up the wooden supports and entering the house. 

A task that could conceivably be completed by one individual within a matter of days is usually undertaken by the tribe as a collective. When I asked why, the answers I was given revolved around a few different themes. Most commonly was that if a wading-nest fell or toppled in a flood, all the affected nests would need to be rebuilt. While an individual could construct a house on their own, the need for multiple nests requires more planning. The other response I got to my questions had to do with enjoyment. Apparently, the tribes consider such projects as much entertainment as necessity. 

I suspect there is another answer as well. In a large group, it is easier to spot the areas where the construction may be weak and correct them. Knowledge of carpentry or forestry varies by individual. The inclusion of an entire community into the process ensures that no vital process or step is missed. It also ensures that knowledge is passed down to the younger members of the tribe. I witnessed many younger Argonians being taught the ways of making a wading-nest by their egg-mothers or from the elders of the tribe. In this regard, the construction of wading-nest as a tribal affair has multiple purposes.
Lore:May Disaster Turn Away

The ground shakes, the sky quakes, 
The forests are ablaze. 
Darkness falls, and chaos spreads, 
Betrayal fills the days.

May disaster turn away from us, 
Send your earthquakes to our neighbors. 
May death and destruction pass us by, 
Let fire and flood fill another's chambers.

Storms strike from distant clouds, 
Infernos rage, death amasses. 
Blackness looms, discord ahead, 
Betrayal like a sword blade flashes, 
When open wide the gates of Oblivion.

May disaster turn away from us, 
Send your earthquakes to our neighbors. 
May death and destruction pass us by, 
Let fire and flood fill another's chambers.

 , Prince of Disaster, 
Give our people their space. 
God of Bloodshed, King of Betrayal, 
Go visit your troubles some other place.

May disaster turn away from us, 
Send your earthquakes to our neighbors. 
May death and destruction pass us by, 
Let fire and flood fill another's chambers.
Lore:On Marsh Giants: A Study

Many of my colleagues have devoted their careers to the study of woodland  s. While their discoveries provide a firm foundation for understanding arboreal spirits, scholarship on the spriggans' prodigious cousins, the Marsh Giants, remains sparse. Encroachment into their natural habitat by   refugees has unfortunately resulted in numerous deaths in recent months. For that reason alone, we must make a concerted effort to learn more about these mysterious woodland titans.

First, it bears repeating that Marsh Giants are not, in fact,  s in the traditional sense. Other than their size and pastoral disposition, Marsh Giants share no common traits with the Giants of  . They are in fact woodland spirits—manifestations of some primeval guardian of nature. I leave the precise nature of that being or force to our professors of theology, but it is important to note that Marsh Giants seem to share the spriggans' interest in safeguarding wild spaces.

The intellectual faculties of Marsh Giants remains a topic of debate. Most scholars admit that spriggans possess some rudimentary intelligence, but our limited exposure to Marsh Giants makes judging their cognitive ability difficult indeed. At this point, most of our knowledge comes from   folklore and tradition. According to the scholars of  , most primitive Argonians give the creatures a wide berth. Apparently, the Hist have a long and acrimonious history with these woodland gargantuans, and they urge the Argonians (through their intermediaries) to avoid the creatures if they can.

Conversely, I found that many Lukiul (or civilized Argonians) actually respect the Marsh Giants. The creatures' wide, gnarled feet seem to till the earth quite well and their passage often knocks down dry branches, fruit, and other useful goods that the Lukiul eagerly scoop up.

What I find most interesting is the Marsh Giants' role in the natural processes and rhythms of  . My investigations indicate that these creatures fill an essential patch in nature's quilt. Beyond simply tilling the soil, Marsh Giants fell dead trees to make room for younger vegetation, encourage the growth of vital mosses, depress the development of invasive fungus, encourage   diversity by warding off feral  s and other predators, and perhaps most importantly, they hinder loggers, miners, and other tradesfolk from harming the pristine marsh landscape.

I earnestly believe that we can find a way to coexist with these arboreal titans, but it will take patience and flexibility on the part of both workers and regional leaders. I pray that we do not fight these creatures needlessly. The marshes and forests depend on their presence.
Lore:On Topal Bay

I found my love on  , 
Where the river meets the sea. 
We oft watched wavy waters churn, 
From  's towers three.

Hie, hie, the mist in the morning! 
Hie, hie, the fog rolls in! 
Hie, hie, the storms come without warning, 
Along the coast of Topal Bay!

I made my wealth on Topal Bay, 
As a sailor on the sea. 
And with the gold that filled the hold, 
My love I gave this ring to thee.

Hie, hie, the mist in the morning! 
Hie, hie, the fog rolls in! 
Hie, hie, the storms come without warning, 
Along the coast of Topal Bay!

I lost my love on Topal Bay, 
As she strolled along the sea. 
She never saw the  , 
And never had a chance to flee.

Hie, hie, the mist in the morning! 
Hie, hie, the fog rolls in! 
Hie, hie, the storms come without warning, 
Along the coast of Topal Bay!
Lore:On Welkynd Stones

A work of recorded knowledge from the mind and devoted research of Scholar Firenlle of the  .

For more rudimentary information on the astro-geological devices discussed herein, consult  , a book by fellow scholar  . 

As you may well know, the Welkynd stones are   devices of great and, as of yet, unknown capabilities. The stones are commonly sought after as sources of great thaumaturgic power. Not much can be said as to their origin, other than that multiple accounts exist to suggest that the stones themselves fell to  . Where they came from or what their purpose was, or if there was any purpose to these stones at all before the Ayleids recovered them is unknown. What can be said, though, is that these stones have been used since the time of their first recorded landing to assist great mages with their work. 

Welkynd stones are blue in color and were fixtures of the great Ayleid cities. Since the time of the Ayleid's fall, the stones have been gathered and used for all manner of personal gains or ends. Which is not to say that the stones have any ethical leanings; they remain, and will forever be, stones.

It is worth noting that there is a type of Welkynd stone that will not be discussed at length in this book. This is because a lot is known and yet also remains shrouded in mystery about the dark Welkynd stone. These variants seem to specifically store magic of a purely destructive kind. Without prompting, they have exploded, destroying countless researchers and treasure hunters who journeyed into the Ayleid cities on expeditions to recover technologies and works. It appears as though the Ayleids used the dark Welkynd stones as an added layer of defense. Being so volatile, these stones are well known by expedition parties but have not been studied in a contained setting. In short, they have never made it back to the schools, laboratories, or places of study intact. 

Welkynd and great Welkynd stones, on the other hand, have been studied at great length and a compilation of that knowledge can be found within these pages.
Lore:Terror of the Death Hopper

For six days I have been studying the elusive  . My colleagues called me crazy. Perhaps I am. It takes a bit of insanity to go tracking down a   the size of a  . But what good researcher doesn't love a little danger? Putting my life at risk is well worth having my name stamped in history as the first one to write about such a magnificent creature. 

Death hoppers are generally encountered in packs. If you see one alone, you must watch for others. These gigantic frogs enjoy lurking just beneath the surface of the murky water they call home. A patient hunter, it often waits until its unsuspecting prey makes the mistake of wandering into its path before it attacks.

The first thing to know about encountering a death hopper is that it is extremely poisonous. I am unable to get close enough to determine if the toxins excrete from their skin, but I do have a plan to do so soon. I will update this record accordingly. However, I was able to discern that they can spit their poison over a great distance. I've seen the large globs of toxic matter eat through all sorts of materials. I shudder to imagine what it might do to unprotected flesh.

The second thing you must be aware of is that the death hopper uses its incredible size to its advantage. This creature is known to hop high in the air and come smashing down upon its prey hard enough to stun. Then, the death hopper leaps to the side to confuse its dazed victim before making its final, and usually lethal, attack. In my days of studying this creature, I've seen it swallow large prey whole. But inside its mouth, it houses hundreds of thin, exquisitely sharp teeth. Chewing through bone is no difficult task for the death hopper. 

I am endlessly fascinated by this gigantic, murderous frog. And my research has only just begun! I can only imagine what more I might learn about the death hopper. But first, I must get closer!
Lore:Tribes of Blackwood: Red-Dream People

While many  s shun stone dwellings, border tribes are often less rigid in their beliefs. One can't travel far in   without encountering an ancient ruin of some variety, and these ruins can provide sturdy, defensible housing—no small thing in a land as inhospitable and war torn as this one.

We met several tribes who dwelt in and around sunken  s, and even a few who took refuge in old   settlements. Take the   for instance. While their "Flood Homes" are built in the traditional Argonian style, they often retreat to nearby Ayleid and Argonian ruins in dry times. (Like most settlements in Blackwood, these ruins are underwater for significant periods of the year, and thus unsuitable for long term habitation.)

During the dry times, the Hutsleel partake in sap rituals to "learn the songs" of the ruins. Outsiders might interpret this as an unconventional form of archaeology. They spend long hours searching the ruins for objects of historical value—chipped cups, broken weapons, and so on. Once they have gathered enough, they sprinkle ash over the objects, drink some strange sap-brew, and "dream" over the objects to learn their stories. From what I could ascertain, most of these stories were either apocryphal or so thoroughly shrouded in metaphor that they could hardly be used in a scholarly journal. Even so, the tales are evocative, and bring the tribe a valuable sense of place. Their root-herald,  , described it as "harvesting"—a practice not unlike hunting or farming. Once the ritual is complete, the would-be historians take their finds home and incorporate them into daily life in creative ways. Hutsleel farmers might convert a sword to a plow-blade. Chefs might convert ancient Ayleid cups into flower pots. It's a lovely display of ingenuity that could only exist here in Black Marsh.
Lore:Wines of Blackwood

The Cyrodilic love of good food and drink is well known throughout  , and no   table setting is complete without a bottle or jug of rich wine to accompany the meal. Yet when enthusiasts gather to discuss their favorite vintages, most assume that the only wines that will be discussed are the famously robust red blends of the  . In this author's estimation, that is a grievous oversight. Every region of the   produces wines of some merit—including, of course, the Province of  .

An authoritative survey of all the vintners in such a large region would, of course, be beyond the scope of this humble transcript. Instead, let us turn our attention to the styles and characteristics of wines from this little-regarded viticulture area.   and the surrounding Blackwood countryside are among the warmest and most humid regions in the Empire, and this of course means that different varieties of   and growing techniques are required here than one might find in  .   in this climate ripen swiftly, lending themselves to sweet, complex wines with strong floral and fruity notes.

We begin with the "Left Bank" wines of the hills west of the  , close by the dry plains of  . This, of course, is the most arid part of the   region, and the wines made here are the most Colovian in character of any in Leyawiin. Red varieties such as the Queen's Tear and the Nerianth Fine do quite well here. The mild winters and long growing season ripen the grapes early; the Trans-Niben Hills produce sweet yet robust wines that can be truly extraordinary in the hands of a master vintner.

Moving east, we come to the eaves of the  . Hotter and more humid than the regions west of the river, this area is not well suited for most red grapes. However, white grape varieties such as the Petite Gray, the White Moon, and the Great Ambrosia flourish in these forest-shadowed vineyards. They are, of course, among the sweetest and most fruity of all Imperial wines, yet that should not detract from any assessment of their quality. Crisp, elegant, and refreshing at their best, the Niben Forest whites need not be ashamed in any Imperial lord's cellars.

Farther east, on the margins of Black Marsh, we finally come to lands where grapes simply do not do well. Sweltering heat and humidity make the establishment of vineyards all but impossible. Necessity is the mother of invention, of course, so the people of Blackwood's eastern borders instead make wine (of a sort) from what they have on hand: figs, blackberries, blueberries, and even peaches. One might be forgiven for assuming that these could only produce cloyingly sweet fruit juice, and in many cases one would be correct. But some of these fruit wines are surprisingly balanced, and a suitable compliment to the spicy cuisine favored in the area. No one would suggest cellaring a Black Marsh peach wine or serving it to a guest with a selective palate, but to wash down a homesteader's dinner on a warm summer evening? One could do worse.
Lore:Xynaa's Book of Contracts

(Hundreds of pages are filled with script faded away almost to nothing. But the last few pages are written in glowing, golden ink.)

Contract the 1,137th
At the command of  , I submit to be bound under the following conditions. In exchange for my master's aid in the conquest of the mortal realm known as  , the   chieftain known as Durcorach the Black Drake shall cause to be born four Ambitions under the signs and circumstances described in the holy book. It is written.

Contract the 1,138th
At the command of Mehrunes Dagon, I now endorse and extend the contract bestowed upon Durcorach unto his son and heir  , now Emperor of Cyrodiil. Whereas Emperor Moricar executed his father's burden of bringing into being the four Ambitions decreed by Mehrunes Dagon, I submit to guide and instruct the   in the Ritual of Empowerment described in the holy book. It is written.

Contract the 1,137th and 1,138th: Default
In accordance with the obligations imposed upon me by Mehrunes Dagon, I attest to the default of the heirs of Durcorach in the execution of the preceding two contracts. The death of Emperor Leovic without the designation of an heir activates the codicils described in the holy book. Whomsoever sacrifices the prepared Ambitions in the manner required by Mehrunes Dagon may lay claim to the reward once promised unto Durcorach and his heirs. It is written.

(a footnote in flowing script) 
Curse that boy  ! Three of the Ambitions remain hidden within their Vaults, and the one I had in my grasp has now returned to the mortal realm. At least he believes that all other servants of Mehrunes Dagon are his mortal enemies. When the time is right, I will lure him back. Or perhaps he will come to find me. The prize shall yet be mine. All I need is patience.