Netruk44/uesp-wiki-content huggingface dataset:
Online:Pamolinwe

Pamolinwe is a High Elf soldier who can be found reading under a streetlamp near the fountain in Cey-Tarn Keep. She has no unique dialogue.

A copy of the book Investigator Vale: Retinue of Shambles lies on the ledge next to her.
Online:Soldier Penanmindil

Soldier Penanmindil is a High Elf soldier stationed at Cey-Tarn Keep. His patrol takes him from the battlements by the western gate to the stairs overlooking the central courtyard where he will gaze out into the distance. He has no unique dialogue.
Online:Cartorrel's Last Words

Darling,

I won't be coming home this time. As gentle as the seas can be here, we always knew that any voyage could be my last. It won't be the fickle currents that claim me in the end, but the poison coursing through my veins. I love you and I'm sorry.

The Sea Elves have invaded Wasten Coraldale. A small force now, but I can tell that they're preparing for more of their kind. It won't be long before this island becomes a staging ground in a greater campaign.

I'll never see the mainland again, but if the tides smile upon me, this message will reach it soon.

To whoever finds this. Tell the Royal Navy that the Sea Elves are here. Stop them before more lives are lost. And if you would be so kind, bring this to Wendlain in Alinor.

With love and hope, 
Cartorrel
Online:Psijic Codex: List of Dead Drops

Though they may be hidden well, 
I see where these relics dwell. 
In order to stop this shadowy theft, 
One must go to  .

The  , with malicious glow, 
Can be found by the rocks of  . 
Within the crevice of coral stone, 
Where  s have made their home.

The  , near water deep, 
Lies behind the walls of  . 
Behind trees numbered one and three, 
One can find this relic easily.

The relic of compulsive note, 
Sits next to a ready boat. 
Search the  's rightmost pier, 
For   sits near.

In  , home of  , 
  lies in wait. 
Beneath a bridge, by gentle creek, 
You'll find the relic that you seek.

Near the  , 
Sits a skull without a spine. 
The   hides, 
On cliff's edge, near   wide.

  was hauled, 
By jagged stone and waterfall. 
East of the ruins of  , 
Hides this relic of deadly aura.

  was laid to rest, 
In town that's either east nor west. 
Behind  's grand estate, 
You'll find this relic hides in wait.

The   overlooks, 
One of  's burbling brooks. 
Seek a broken archway there, 
To find this cursed relic rare.

Near the  , 
Hides another relic of tragedy. 
You'll find  , 
Beside the bridge that has no toll.

Within the ruins of  , 
  awaits. 
Look beneath a twisted tree, 
Near water flowing from the sea.

Overlooking the  , 
In a small forest, so serene, 
  shall be, 
Hidden near a  .

On Northern beach, by waterfall, 
Placed against a stony wall, 
Beyond where angry  s pace, 
Hides the  .

Between a ruined    , 
And a   of past King's bold, 
Near rock knoll, beneath green  leaves, 
You'll find the  

Watched by a harmonious monastery, 
At the base of the tower, which sits by the sea, 
At the end of a wall that holds back the tides, 
The   hides.

Beyond the confines of  's walls, 
Where you can hear seabird calls, 
Beside stacked stones with a mossy blush, 
Awaits  

The  , 
Waits by Eastern water brine. 
Hidden within the  , 
You'll find this relic, so immoral.

Southeast of where a geyser spews, 
By the shipwreck of a smuggling crew, 
The   lies in wait, 
This relic of horrific gait.

North of the clearing  , 
A relic of great thirst was hauled. 
  lies, 
Behind a  .

The   awaits, 
Left of  's mighty gates. 
Where white wall meets mossy stone, 
Sits this one relic, all alone.

Right outside  's door, 
South of the   where  s soar, 
  awaits you there, 
This tricky relic of fight unfair.

 
----
Online:Chest of Condemnation

Quote from Auctioneer Portia 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Now, before we start the bidding on this lovely chest, a word of warning. This is not a purchase for the faint of heart! There's all types of tales on the origins of such a piece, but little is known. What we are sure of? This is a heavily cursed item!

Listen close, ladies and gents, listen close. You hear that? A soft moaning, muffled. That's no parlor trick! I haven't stuffed an assistant in there, if that's what you think. No, the Chest of Condemnation always cries out, though no one knows why. What lies inside? Another mystery, I'm afraid. Though perhaps you'll be the deft hand to break its seal. Wouldn't recommend it though, if I were you.

But that's not it's true curse, oh no. A bit of groaning and moaning, well, what's the harm in that? But after awhile, well, it tends to drive folks a bit nutty. They say all the previous owners of this chest turned plum mad after awhile. We here tend to keep it under lock and key, far away from any ears. You'll most likely want to do the same.

Now, let's start the bidding at, shall we say, 50,000 gold pieces?
Online:Chestplate of Desiccation

Interview of Wuja-Nakal, Former Slave Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Yes, our Telvanni jailers would often use this as a punishment. For one of my kind, there are few greater displeasures than the feeling of dryness. We are used to heat of course, but the humid heat of the Black Marsh swamps. Not this.

They had more mundane means to dry out a Saxhleel. They would lock us in cages, allow the summer's sun to do their work. But during the rainy days, or as the fog rolled across the islands, they would force us to wear this. Bind our hands so we couldn't remove it. Wait for the chestplate to take effect.

The feeling was slow, but after the first time. The dread was choking, knowing what was to come. It would begin as a slight discomfort, almost just an itch. The tips of your scales would feel it first, but slowly it would sink down to your center. Your tongue would feel shriveled in your mouth. You would close your eyes, but nothing could soothe them. Your hide would slowly tighten, inch by inch.

They always made sure you didn't die, no matter how much you craved it.
Online:Fan of False-Face

Letter by Speaker Gilzaron Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

I trust you with this job Rizikeh, so don't let this warning dissuade you. It has been many years since I've allowed a member to use this item, powerful an asset as it is. But your mark is no easy target. Mangifico Nadbushar knows that his life has been called for, and his fear runs deep.

You have your required items, and Nadbushar's advisor should be easy enough to capture. You'll want to keep her alive, as the fan's magic will only work on a living victim. Make sure it is only when you two are alone that the fan is unfurled. Place it between your faces, staring deep within its folds. By the time you next blink, you shall possess Advisor Imrasah's face.

This is where time is most crucial. The effects of the fan will be slow, but constant. You'll immediately feel a discomfort that your training should allow you to overcome. Slowly though, as the night continues, your true self shall fade away. You will begin to think as Imrasah does, begin to believe you are her. Before morning's light the transformation will be complete. You cannot let that happen.

Poison the drink, hand it to Nadbushar, and leave the banquet. Return to Imrasah and use the fan once more. Only this will allow you to keep yourself. Otherwise, you shall be lost forever within the body of a royal's advisor. A fate worse than death, in my humble opinion.
Online:Heart of the Indrik

Excerpt from the lecture of Professor Cinutalmo 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Beautiful, isn't it? Though it may resemble a ruby, this stone is actually a crystalized indrik heart. Why, anyone can do it. Just bathe the heart in pure water for a hundred moonlit nights.

Impossible, you say? Not if you move quick enough.

As dazzling as it is, most wouldn't think this crystal capable of malice. And, if untouched, that does hold true. However, once touched by one of an unpure heart, a dark shadow shall blossom within the crystal's center. From then on it will curse all who possess it with such heartbreak that, well let's just say that no one lasts very long after that.
Online:Hourglass of Perceived Time

Notes of Clockwork Apostle Ralam Falen  
Excerpts Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Log 32

Subject 15A shows increasing signs of agitation. I suspect he may have discovered the experiments perimeters, though to what extent I'm unsure. Still unsure how this may impact current testing.

Subject 15B has begun to lapse sentences together, though this may only be true from an outsider perspective. She most likely is speaking in complete sentences from her own worldview. Her temperament remains the most positive, but given that she has only perceived her capture to be two days I can only think that would be the case.

Subject 15C has begun to go into a catatonic state. He reacts little to the other test subjects, and has begun long fits of sobbing. I fear he may no longer be viable for testing. By my calculations, he will have perceived his capture as being over five years at this point.
Online:Jaunt of the Jilted

The Jaunt of the Jilted, A Play in One Act 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Narrator: Once lived two mer of good family and good standing. They were matched together from an early age, and once they were grown a wedding was planned.

Noldinwe: Oh, how I long for our glorious wedding day!

Narrator: But young Quarnel had his doubts. He wished to marry for love.

Quarnel: I'm sorry Noldinwe, but I don't love you. I must break our engagement.

Narrator: Noldinwe would go on to find another suitor, but she never forgot Quarnel's betrayal. Fueled by that hatred, she cursed a pair of shoes. Beautiful and supple, they held a deadly secret.

Noldinwe: Quarnel, we were once so close. I must insist you come to my wedding. And look, I've bought you these lovely shoes. Just perfect for dancing!

Narrator: And so Quarnel attended, and upon the reception he began to dance. Quickly the rhythm of the music picked up, and quickly his feet began to move. And they grew warmer, and warmer, until they grew hot. Until they began to scorch the flesh of his feet.

Quarnel: Noldinwe, what have you done? These shoes–they've–by the Stars!

Narrator: But Quarnel could not stop dancing, not until he took his very last breath. And all that time Noldinwe simply smiled.
Online:Mirror of Fatal Premonition

Final Testament of Tandyefae Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

It happened. It happened, it happened. The scar. The scar on my cheek, it's there. There, on my cheek, and now I know that my end is soon. I'm going to die.

I knew I should have never looked into that mirror, but my curiosity was too great. I thought for sure I would look back to see an old man, but the eyes that stared back were the same. Only eighty years old and staring back at my own death. The only difference—that scar on my cheek.

I thought I was being careful. No fencing, no riding, no strenuous activities. But yesterday, at the market, I tripped over a cobblestone. Of all the blasted things! And now the scars there, and—I'm going to die. The mirror knew, the mirror saw, and so marks my death.

I want my family to know I love them so very much, but there's no escaping my fate. Please, if you have any common sense, destroy that mirror. Before it destroys you.
Online:Pillow of Sweet Dreams

Poem by Honoria Aurrus 
Excerpts Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Head upon my pillow rest 
Sweet dreams play behind my eyes 
I long once more for sleep to come 
For day would drown me with its lies

My lover lays beside me then 
Her smile bright, her skin aglow 
Death cannot contain her then 
But morning comes and she must go

I will sleep once more 
And never wake 
My soul this night 
Shall take
Online:Skull of Minor Cursing

Sales Pitch of Anonymous Khajiiti Merchant 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Now, we all have someone we do not like, yes? Not hate, of course, just someone who has done you a disservice perhaps. Wronged you in some way. You do not wish death upon them, but a little inconvenience? A little trouble? Well, this one has what you need!

This Skull of Minor Cursing does it all. Severe foot fungus! Moderately uncomfortable nightmares! Incurable hiccups! Guaranteed to make your intended victim hopping mad. And for a fair price, too.
Online:The Ever-Filling Chalice

Carved Inscription 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Whoever shall drink from this chalice will know a great thirst. They shall indulge their craving, never ending. And then they shall drown upon its sweet waters.
Online:The Inescapable Helm

Journal of Ghrash 
Excerpts Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Day 107

I've accepted that this helm may never come off. Tusk it all, but if that isn't the truth. It's proven to be just as indestructible as the dungheap who sold it to me said it was. Tried all manner of blacksmiths, and not one could do a damn thing.

Day 245

Saw another mage today. Like all the others, she seemed interested. Hemmed and hawed, read some of her books. Tried all manner of spells. Nothing happened, of course. She recommended a friend, but I've long since learned to get my hopes up.

Day 487

This tusking itch won't go away. Tried everything. Must have dunked my head in ice water a thousand times this morning alone. Just my luck that inn bed would be covered in lice.

Day 682

This is my last entry. Every time I write and see just how useless everything is, I just—There's no hope for me now. How am I gonna live like this? Who'll want to start a family with someone with a helm stuck to their head? Think I'll join an army or some such. The lower the odds, the better. I'd rather die in battle then live one more day like this.
Online:The Monochrome Paintbrush

Old Summerset Folktale, Author Unknown 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

There once was an artist of great talent. Her eyes shined with worlds unseen, so magnificent and bright that beautiful Summerset paled in comparison. She tried to paint these vibrant scenes, but found common colors lacking. How could she bring her visions to life?

In this hour of desperation, a poor merchant knocked on her door. He was a scraggly old man, with no companion but the hound at his feet.

"Would you consider buying this paintbrush?" the poor merchant asked. "I see by your house that you're an artist. With this you'll be able to truly bring life into your work."

Intrigued, the artist agreed to pay a meager sum for this paintbrush. It was rather large, with a white tip and black ivory handle. She was told it was called the Monochrome Paintbrush, but to not let the name fool her. And so the old merchant left with a satisfied smile on his face.

The artist went to work at once, and before her eyes the impossible occurred. What had been mere paint just moments before became sparkling and shining, with depths yet unknown. It went beyond color and emotion, transcended anything she had seen before. Finally, finally, the colors matched those images she had long since had in her head.

But, as she painted, a strange thing happened. First, the color began to fade from her lips, the tips of her fingers, the point of her nose. Her hair turned from a golden yellow to a faded white, her clothes lost their blue and purples and turned to shades of gray.

She did not notice. She painted, and painted, and painted away. She was lost within the scene she was creating, and her body turned white, and black, and gray. Her eyes grew heavy, and heartbeats further and further apart, until suddenly she collapsed.

Before her body was the most beautiful painting in all of Summerset. It's said to still hang to this day, though it was never seen in Nirn again.
Online:The Never-Ending Scroll

Old Summerset Folktale, Original Author Unknown 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

One summer day, a mer bought a rather old scroll from a quaint little shop. She sat down to write a letter to her brother, eager to use her new purchase. But the strangest thing happened as she began to write. Her hand, seeming to move on its own, began to craft a story.

It was wondrous and enchanting. As she wrote she could see the story unfurling behind her eyes, and felt as though was living the adventure within those words. The scroll never seemed to end, forever unraveling but never growing thinner.

And so she wrote and wrote and wrote.

Her brother found her body a few days later. There she laid, her fingers stained with ink, her lips turned up in a smile. And the story she wrote was naught but nonsense, the letters strange and unknown.
Online:The Shadowcutter Blade

Sermon of Priestess Endunore 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

And so Syrabane crafted the blade and named it  , for it would pierce even unnatural darkness. Eager to show the wonders of his creation, he demonstrated before a friend. 

"Here," Syrabane told him, "look upon your shadow on this wall. See as I cleft it in twain."

As his friend stared into the shadow, Syrabane held the glowing blade high. With one mighty stroke he sliced downwards, and an arc of light was pushed forth. And indeed, the shadow was cut in half.

However, the friend crumpled to his knees. Syrabane rushed to the   side, but it was too late. The darkness within him, the darkness which belongs to all   and mer, had been cleft in twain as well. His   had been pierced. And so he was killed.
Online:The Shattering Sword

Monologue from The Cursed Duel, Act II, Scene iv 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Battlereeve Tunwinsare: And so I take this cursed sword, knowing that mine enemy shall use it within our dueling grounds. Upon the battle's most vital moment, the blade of his sword shall shatter. It will be then that I shall take the final blow. What I do has no honor, but I feel no shame. What is honor, but a foolish game which we must play upon our lives? I shall know something greater. I shall know the glory of a battle won. Victory still tastes sweet, no matter the means to obtain it.
Online:The Silver-Tongued Quill

Missive of Thieves Guild Master Laisif 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Orzdurg,

We have to cancel the plan. That skeeving mage has done us real dirty. You would think our previous threats would be enough, but there we go. Next I see him, I'll make sure to acquaint him with the sharp end of my axe. For now, just know that the quill's useless, at least for our needs.

Our troubles with the darn thing are twofold. First, the mage never told us that whoever used the quill would also believe what they wrote! Which hey, perhaps we could work around, if we had any control with what was written. It's a tricky enchantment, whatever it is. Had to tie down the last two fools who attempted to write with it. The quill convinced one to jump off a tall roof, and the other to—well, let's just say it's getting creative. Rather not repeat it.

I'd say we should throw the cursed thing in a river, but it could prove to be worth something to someone. I'll try to get a client stupid enough to buy such a thing. There's always collectors for this stuff, you just got to know where to look.
Online:The Soulkeeper's Urn

Carved Inscription  
Translated and Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Warning: Dangerous spirits contained within. Take ceremonious precautions before opening. Warding spells to be applied every seven moon cycles. Handle with care. Do not wash with hot water.
Online:The Sticky-Fingered Lute

Letter by Kinlady Lairilcilwe 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Honored Sapiarch Tematilana,

Thank you for your most gracious acceptance of my son's case. As a mother, my only wish is that you may help Narlindri recover as soon as possible. I fear he has not slept in days, so he most likely will not be able to answer your questions. I hope my account will be sufficient for your needs.

Upon further inspection, we still are unsure of who gifted Narlindril the lute. He just turned twelve, and the celebration banquet had a great deal of guests and presents. I fear that we'll never found out, given my son's current state. Now I can see that it was most obviously a trap.

The lute was beautiful, and Narlindril took to it right away. That very night he began to attempt the first song which came with the accompanying music book. At first I thought him merely diligent, but as the night wore on I grew tired of the noise. When I told him to cease, he refused to meet my eye and simply kept playing. No matter what I said, I couldn't get him to stop. Finally, I grabbed the lute from his hands, demanding he go to his room for the evening.

He didn't say anything at first, but began to tremble. His entire body, shaking all at once. Then he fell to the ground in anguish, his limbs convulsing. He cried out, "Mother! Please, give me the lute!" his voice pained, as if he was being tortured.

Of course I gave him back the lute, fearful for my son's life. He hasn't stopped playing since, and we're reaching our third day. Our family's healers haven't left his side, but it pains me to see his fingers cut and bleed. He hasn't slept, he barely drinks and eats, and always he plays that cursed lute.

My husband will accompany Narlindril on his journey, and can answer any further questions you have. Please, if anything can be done, our family will owe you a great debt. No cost is too great for the life of our only son.

Reverently yours, 
Kinlady Lairilcilwe
Online:The Unraveling Staff

Report of Judicator Umberwen 
Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir

Report 4587: Sun's Height, 27th

Suspect taken into custody and staff under magical quarantine. Official documents within suspect's home reveals he was commissioned to create the staff for a prominent weaver within the city. It's theorized that the staff was originally intended to unravel tangled threads.

Several eye witness accounts have been collected from the incident:

"Yes, I've been Anillyon's neighbor for several years now. He told me all about it. Called it the Unraveling Staff. Last I heard, it was working spectacularly. Why, what happened?"

"It was madness! He was running down the street, laughing maniacally. And everywhere he pointed, the poor mer's clothes would just fall right apart! So embarrassing."

"I don't know about clothes falling apart. I was too distracted by the buildings coming undone! Stones and planks, flying from their place as if they were alive. I didn't know about—how many deaths, did you say?"

"Yes, I saw it. He pointed the staff and—oh, she was just a young woman. I'll try to describe it but. Oh, that poor thing. It's as if her flesh just—I'm sorry, I don't think I can continue."

Suspect detained until court approved date. No bail will be offered.
Online:Lanard Perrick

Lanard Perrick is a Breton member of the Psijic Order who can be found wandering between the entrance hall and a reading room within the College of Psijics Ruins on Artaeum. He has no unique dialogue and cannot be spoken to.
Online:Tendinwe

Tendinwe is a High Elf member of the Psijic Order who can be found at the base of the waterfall near Artaeum's portal to the Keep of the Eleven Forces.

 

Dialogue
:''"Welcome to Artaeum, traveler. I know it can all be a lot to take in at first, so please feel free to ask me any questions. I have quite an extensive knowledge of this island's history."
:I'd like to learn more about Artaeum.
:"Though it may be hard to believe, Artaeum was once part of the Summerset archipelago. That's why the flora here may seem so familiar to you. Of course, our order has now moved the island to somewhere else entirely."
:Where exactly are we then?
:"Someplace safe. I don't have authority to tell you any further details, I'm afraid. Our order has the ability to move Artaeum, or even make it intangible. That's how we've protected ourselves from invaders and outside forces."
:So you've moved the island to keep it safe?
:"In a sense. As observers of Tamriel, my order cannot allow outside forces to influence our judgement. Isolation allows us a certain neutrality on matters. And with the way things are back in Tamriel, I can't see us returning anytime soon."''