A Series of Literary Analyses by Sakiran Maesa Options

[Zalphon]

My name is Sakiran Maesa. I know that name probably does not mean much to you and I would not expect it to, but if you are familiar with the Ashlander Tribes of Vvardenfell, then you would likely be able to tell that my name is not of orthodox Dunmer descent, but rather of the more traditional descent.

None of this may mean much to you; I would actually go so far as to wager that it means nothing to you, but I would like to share with you that for the foreseeable future, I will be writing a series of literary analyses of both the literary and scientific texts native to my home and those foreign to it in hopes of demonstrating my scholastic ability and earning the privilege of studying at the Imperial City's world-renowned Arcane University.

I would greatly appreciate any feedback and review you could give on the analyses I write so that I may better my chances of impressing Archmage Travern and earning my place within the university. It is my dream to study under the great wizards of the West, for I find those native to my homeland--the Telvanni--to be most--detestable, a word I use only for purposes of civility.

I look forward to our scholastic acquaintanceship and I hope that our relationship proves to be mutually beneficial.

Always Yours,

Sakiran Maesa, Arcane University Applicant (Eventually)

[Zalphon]

An Analysis of Sermon One of the Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec

I feel it is equally important that I preface this with a warning; these sermons may have some moral value written into the text, but they should not be taken as dogma. As it is well known, Vivec and the Tribunal are false gods and while these texts preaching their virtues may have some useful wisdom, it should not be misconstrued as being their own virtue.

Not even a full paragraph in do we see the snake-like nature of the Mad Goddess, Almalexia, for it states that her shadow "was that of Boethiah, who was the Prince of Plots..." But it is well known that the Tribunal do not venerate Boethiah as they should and thus their plots are poisoned by their own arrogance.

It continues to where she takes the wife of a goodly netch rancher and throws her out to the dreughs. I can not speak ill enough of this text already. It preaches of the ill schemes of the Mad Goddess and then it shows her kidnapping the goodly wife of the goodly rancher and throwing her out to the dreughs? Of what moral fiber is this woman? They compare her to his holiness, Boethiah, but I see she has much more in common with the Bad Daedra like Dagon or Bal.

Then the Clockwork King, Sotha Sil, comes to this man whose wife has just been taken from him and thrown out to the sea and speaks of how this man carries within him an egg of his 'brother-sister', the hermaphrodite, Vivec. Then his wife is returned to the shore after a week's worth of mourning, now mutated by the dreughs with 'gills and milk fingers' and a changed sex so that she may birth an egg, but even then, she could not leave for seven or eight more months maddened by knowledge of the egg and whispering ot it the words of the Webspinner, the prophecies of the Pilgrim, and even the teachings of He Who Would Become the Orc God.

What madness does this text speak of? It speaks of atrocities by those claimed to be spiritual leaders, but yet, there is no outrage; there is only submission. Should we bend knee to the guidance and wisdom of wife-throwers and liars who force others to carry their not-brother, not-sister?

I ask of you, is this sane or is this the work of those whose minds have surely been lost long ago? There is but one answer to this and I can not reasonably consider the notion that it is anything but madness, but I said I would review this piece in full, and I shall, but know that I make no further promises to retain an unbiased view of something so unspeakably absurd such as this.

The story continues that seven Daedra came to the Netchman's wife one night and each gave the egg teachings of new motions that could be achieved by movements of the bones. They were called the Barons of Move Like This.

So in essence, a group of Daedra came and taught the Not-Brother, Not-Sister how to dance. How absolutely delightful. A man's wife was taken from him, thrown to the sea, mutated by dreugh sorceries, ripped out from her aquatic home, and now she is subject to the horrifying dance recital of Daedra? What even can be said for this?

Then one came, a Demiprince supposedly, called Fa-Nuit-Hen, or the Multiplier of Motions Known. This Daedroth asked, "Who do you wait for?"

The poor woman replied that she awaited the Hortator, the great warleader. And I can not blame her for this, for I too would await a great warleader to kill the n'wah who threw me into the ocean and subjected me to such horrors, but such was not why, for apparently she did not mind being subjected to such. How one could be so passive about it is beyond me, but she cared not.

The Multiplier of Notions told her to go to the land of Indoril in three months' time to wait for war to come. He then added that he returned to haunt the warriors who fell and wondered why, but first he had to show her something. Apparently the Barons and the Demiprince joined together and illustrated fighting styles far too horrible to comprehend and they danced before the egg to show it how to do these as well, because apparently, it is important for a not-brother, not-sister to be a good swordsman.

They asked of the egg, "What is the number?" after they told of it that they will find the face behind the splendor of their bladed carriage, for in it was delivered the unmixed conflict path which was perfect in every way. Again, I must ask, how can such things be considered reasonable by any means? They are utterly preposterous and the fact that these sermons are propagated and advertised amongst the orthodox of my people brings me great shame. It is as though we are little wiser than the swamp-lurkers or the sugar-sniffers. Such a shame it is.

Somehow this number was the number of birds that can nest in an ancient tibrol tree, but it needed to have three grams of honest work subtracted from it. Pfft. These units are not alike in the slightest, but what can be expected of those who believe the Mad Goddess was right to throw a woman into the sea?

It is then said that Vivec found a better number and gave this secret to his people. I beg to know what this number could've been, because of all the worshipers of the False Gods I've met, none have been able to answer what this number was. But anyways, the not-brother, not-sister said tot he world, "For I have crushed a world with my left hand, but in my right hand is how it could have won against me. Love is under my will only." Empty words with an air of spirituality if I've ever heard it, but what can be expected from a man who is neither a man nor a woman? Nothing but lies, for to tell a truth, one must have a perspective, and one who is neither a man nor a woman can have no perspective, for they know not even themselves.

The last line of the sermon is "The ending of the words is ALMSIVI." Such nonsense. Nothing like reiterating your own names, but what can be expected from someone so pompous and arrogant? Very little. Very little indeed.

I have nothing more to say on this piece other than I hope the remaining sermons are substantially improved or this will be a very long series of papers indeed.

Always Yours,

Sakiran Maesa