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 Two of the Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec

I will continue my series on the Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec with the second lesson. This one begins with the netchman's wife who carries the egg of the not-brother, not-sister within her. It also adds that she is searching for the lands of Indoril and that many spirits came and gave wisdom to her not-son, not-daughter. It also adds how this not-son, not-daughter is, and I quote, "the future glorious invisible warrior-poet of Vvardenfell, Vivec." Unsurprisingly at all, these sermons were written by Vivec. If ever anything could match my disdain for the False Gods, I believe it would be his own ego.

The sermon continues with a spirit violently assaulting this woman in a hug, impressing his knowledge in tight and leaving her soaked in what is called the 'Incalculable Effort' and how it left the egg of the Not-Son, Not-Daughter delighted and how it did somersaults inside of her (despite being an egg) and how it bowed to the five corners of the world and said, "Thus whoever performs this holy act shall be proud and might among the rest!"

Impressive for an egg, I must say. Most of the eggs I've ever seen have been relatively motionless until I cracked them and slurped out the sweet yolk of unborn kwama, but I am glad that the great and wonderful 'warrior-poet of Vvardenfell' was so utterly perfect, even as an egg. Truly, I am in awe of how absolutely amazing one not-man, not-woman can be. Please, Vivec, teach me. Teach me how to bend so far back that I may plant my lips upon my own rump as you do so masterfully.

The sermon continues that a second spirit 'was too aloof and acted above his station so much that he was driven off by a headache spell.' Ancestors forbid a spirit not bend knee to the not-son, not-daughter in worship of its absolute glory. How dare it not be in awe of that which is but an egg. I apologize, but I must take a pause to give prayers to my breakfast. Thank you, all-mighty kwama egg, for you are utterly perfect and if I do not show you reverence and worship then I too shall be banished by a headache spell.

Apparently then came a third spirit enraptured by the wonders of an egg containing a not-man, not-woman. I must admit, I would be intrigued by the existence of such a creature as well. They seem strange. Mythical almost, but of course, Vivec is nothing if not a legendary not-man, not-woman of myth.

This spirit, its name At-Hatoor, came to the netchman's wife (who I might add was still not reunited with her husband) while she relaxed under an Emperor Parasol. The text reads that "His garments were made from implications of meaning, and the egg looked at them three times." Please, tell me, what is it to be an implication of meaning and how can one weave fabric from such? Is it soft like silk, or is it perhaps more of a coarse material like Netch leather? I mean, certainly it must be something given a spirit wore it.

Regardless, the Not-Man, Not-Woman spoke to the spirit, "Ha, it means nothing!" and then he said, "Hmmm, there might be something there after all." I am ever at awe. The great Not-Son, Not-Daughter was mistaken. How ever could this be?

FInally, he said, "Amazing, the ability to infer significance in something devoid of detail!"

Finally, the spirit responded to the incredibly articulate egg, "There is a proverb," but he left immediately after. I can not blame him for this, as I find eggs to be poor conversation as well. I've yet to hear one who can much discuss the historical accuracy of Treborius' successor's dissertation in 3E 428. I doubt many much care either about what happened to the Dwemer, but I still think it could be important, but I'm sure if I asked the egg of the Not-Man, Not-Woman, then it would be able to tell me at length about what fate befell them. Probably that they disappeared for not prostrating themselves before the Egg itself.

The next spirits that came were cousins, two in fact, and they could touch and probe inside the egg like a ghost. Some speculate that the Not-Man, Not-Woman was shaped like a star 'with its penumbra broken off' and others that 'it looked like a revival of finished forms'. Fascinating. He looks like all of these things except a humanoid. I never tire of hearing the memoirs of someone so perfectly divine that they aren't even humanoid, but what can be said for a Not-Man, Not-Woman?

The first cousin said that his side of the family would bring calamities that will bring about the end of the universe and the other said that his side will bring the primordial marriages that must happen with them. Good. Vague threats from spectral cousins. I'm glad to know that we were saved by the Not-Man, Not-Woman's grace. Praise be to the False God. Praise him!

And then, a sixth spirit joined and this one was unlike the others. This one was no ordinary spirit, but her holiness herself, the Webspinner. The Webspinner spoke no words, but she stared into the eyes of the Netchman's wife and left them melted and cut open her belly and collected the egg of the Not-Son, Not-Daughter from within. It is said that the Not-Son, Not-Daughter had great omniscience into the past and could see 'when the earth still cooled and was not blinded.' Such great hindsight, but not enough foresight to save the woman who had been abducted by the Mad Goddess and thrown to the sea. A true miracle indeed, praise be unto you, Vivec.

The Egg joined with the Daedroth and took its secrets, leaving only enough to stop the web of the world from disentangling, the text says. Apparently, the Webspinner implanted the egg back into the Netchman's wife and restored her life, but did not return her sight. She gave something more valuable apparently--vague words with no real meaning, "God hath three keys; of birth, of machines, and of the words between'.

The sermon ends with a statement that the wise may find one-half of these keys within the sermon and that the ending of the words is ALMSIVI.

If these stories are true, which I very much doubt, I give my prayers to the ancestors that this woman got her revenge on the Mad Goddess who took her from her idyllic life and cast her into a hellish existence in service to birthing the Not-Son, Not-Daughter. If you once walked this world, Netchman's Wife, know that the transgressions against you by the False Gods have not been forgotten. The day will come when they are scoured from the annals of history and the rewards they reaped at the expense of your suffering will be washed away as well.

Of this I swear.

Always Yours,

Sakiran Maesa