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> A Series of Literary Analyses by Sakiran Maesa
Zalphon
post Jun 23 2018, 10:46 AM
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From: Somewhere Outside Plato's Cave.



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)


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SubRosa
post Jun 23 2018, 05:08 PM
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Cool! I am looking forward to hearing some Ashlander tales from the exotic Sakiran Maesa. smile.gif


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TheCheshireKhajiit
post Jun 23 2018, 05:27 PM
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Ooh Ashlanders! This should be interesting!


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Acadian
post Jun 23 2018, 10:45 PM
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Welcome back, Zalphon, for some more fanfic!

This sounds like an interesting approach and I look forward to seeing how it works and reading of an Ashlander in Cyrodiil. smile.gif


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Zalphon
post Jun 24 2018, 09:06 AM
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I feel I should warn you all; it's not quite a story so much as in-character literary review.


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Zalphon
post Jun 24 2018, 09:45 AM
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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


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Acadian
post Jun 25 2018, 01:35 AM
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Well it seems our Ashlander is not a big fan of the Three (AlmSiVi) gods of Morrowind. biggrin.gif


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TheCheshireKhajiit
post Jun 25 2018, 01:59 AM
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QUOTE(Acadian @ Jun 24 2018, 07:35 PM) *

Well it seems our Ashlander is not a big fan of the Three (AlmSiVi) gods of Morrowind. biggrin.gif

Lol, shocking!


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SubRosa
post Jun 25 2018, 10:10 PM
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Preach it!

Wow, I never realized that ALMSIVI was a short form for Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec! :facepalm:


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TheCheshireKhajiit
post Jun 25 2018, 11:50 PM
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QUOTE(SubRosa @ Jun 25 2018, 04:10 PM) *

Preach it!

Wow, I never realized that ALMSIVI was a short form for Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec! :facepalm:

Heh, yeah, Khajiit thinks he only realized it last year while playing ESO.


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Zalphon
post Jun 26 2018, 09:25 AM
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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


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Zalphon
post Jul 1 2018, 09:01 AM
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An Analysis of Sermon Three of the Thirty-Six Sermons of Vivec

This sermon begins with the now-blind Netchman's wife wandering into a cave in her journey to the lands of House Indoril and it just so happening to be a Dwemer stronghold. Apparently the Dwemer knew she carried the egg of the Not-Man, Not-Woman and captured her for that reason and tied her head to her foot and stole her deep beneath the surface. Of everything I've read up to this point in these sermons, this is the most believable. Those despicable imps would not surprise me in the slightest if they were to kidnap a woman with child and do unspeakable things to her. I suppose the sermons are not completely unbelievable.

Apparently one of the Dwemer said, "Go and make a simulacrum of her and place it back on the surface, for she has something akin to what we have an so the Velothi will covet it and notice if she is too long away." This I find utterly absurd however. The notion that anyone would care if some netchman's wife went missing? Utterly absurd, at least if she has not been tracked up to this point anyways. Oh wait, nobody cares about the netchman's wife herself despite the horrors she's been subjected to; they care only about the egg of the Not-Son, Not-Daughter.

The Dwemer then tried to extract the egg from her with 'great knives', 'solid sounds' and then 'great heat'. Given these twits thought to use sounds to try cut open a woman's belly, I can only wonder if they realized a knife should be sharp. Perhaps that is why it didn't work, but one is supposed to infer that it was the Not-Son, Not-Daughter's protection that saved her. I find this even more absurd than the notion of trying to use sounds to cut open her belly, but I suppose at this point, the reader is supposed to be thoroughly drunk upon the lies of the False Gods and thus not question the obvious absurdity. Could I be the first person to read this who has not been thoroughly indoctrinated into their cult? Is this why nobody has questioned it before me? Certainly I must be, otherwise somebody with functional reasoning and rationality would have called out the Tribunal on their blatant embellishments and outright lies by now, right?

After accepting that the great knives (which likely were blunted), the solid sounds (which is utterly absurd), and the great heat (which was likely no heat at all) did not work to separate the egg of the Not-Son, Not-Daughter, a Dwemer said, "Nothing is of any use. We must go and misinterpret this." Even as cowardly and miserable as the machine-maters were, they were not stupid and making claims of their gross stupidity such as these is not only agitating, but insulting to the intelligence of anyone who is versed in the Dwemer culture, but wait, these sermons were written for the uneducated masses! It all makes sense! Why would they question the font of wisdom that is the Temple when all they know are the lies cut by them? It would take an ocean of ink and a forest's worth of paper to pen just how much I despise them for their transgressions against the proud sons and daughters of Morrowind, but that is not what this about, so I will try to stay my rage at these blatant and numerous abuses of their station.

The Not-Son, Not-Daughter felt that its mother was afraid and consoled her:

"The fire is mine: let it consume thee,
And make a secret door
At the altar of Padhome
In the House of Boet-hi-Ah
Where we become safe
And looked after"

What this means is let the challenges you're facing overcome you and give you insight into yourself where you will find yourself capable of changing and growth to become strong enough to plot and scheme to overcome them.

If there is to be any wisdom in this sermon, let it be said that this is it. I can not dispute the wisdom of this notion, because it is true that the fires of hardship do force us to grow and evolve to overcome them. It is why my people are strong and the Orthodox are weak. It is why we can survive in the harsh, inhospitable ashlands and our kin can only survive suckling the teet of the Great Houses and the Empire. They are as babes, sucking for dear life, because they can not survive without mother's milk.

This prayer made the Netchman's Wife smile and go into a deep sleep that when the Dwemer constructs like the centurion spheres came and mutilated her, she did not awake and died peacefully. How delightful. The Netchman's Wife dies yet again in service to the Not-Son, Not-Daughter. Tell me though, will she be given life oncemore in a moment of deus ex machinima or will she remain dead this time? I wish I knew, because she has died once before and by the act of Mephala, she was given life oncemore. Perhaps this time it will be Boethiah who breathes life back into her, or perhaps Azura? Or maybe for a twist, it will be Sheogorath, because that would be crazy (just like the rest of the events of these sermons).

Apparently from that point, the Not-Son, Not-Daughter was cut from her womb (apparently the Dwemer figured out how to sharpen their knives) and placed within a magical glass for further study. In order to 'confound his captors', eh channeled his essence into love, an emotion the Dwemer knew nothing about.

Again, this is insulting to anyone versed in the Dwemer society. They knew love, albeit a different kind of love than we understand, but it was love. Their love was more akin to a scientific fascination and almost compulsion and it was not developed between mates or between kin, but between one and his work. The fact that this text asserts that they did not know love infuriates me, but what about it doesn't?

Apparently the egg then said, "Love is used not only as a constitutent in moods and affairs, but also as the raw material from which relationships produce hour-later exasperations, regrettably fashioned restrictions, riddles laced with affections known only to the loving couple, and looks that linger too long." As I said before, they experienced love, just not in the way we understand it. I wish these people would actually study the peoples they're discussing instead of just rambling nonsensically. Any academic credibility this once had is lost by these unfounded claims.

The egg then continued, "Love is an often-used ingredient in some transparent verbal and nonverbal transactions where, eventually, it can sometimes be converted to a variety of true devotions, some of which yield tough, insoluble, and infusible unions. In its basic form, love supplies approximately thirteen draughts of all energy that is derived from relationships. Its role and value in society at large are controversial." This I do not disagree with, but it still does not accept that the Dwemer knew love. In fact, by this definition, the Dwemer most certainly did. They created a giant machine that Tiber Septim used to conquer Tamriel and that could rewrite history and the Not-Son, Not-Daughter wishes to say that love is amongst the most powerful materials in the universe and that the Numidian was made independent of Love? Utterly absurd, just like everything else said.

The Dwemer were somehow vexed at these words and tried to hide from them. They sent their machines to remove the egg from the stronghold and place it within the simulacrum they had of the netchman's wife. Oh joy. Now instead of writing the Netchman's Wife, I can write "The Simulacrum of the Netchman's Wife". I wish they had given her a name.

A Dwemer then said, "We Dwemer are only aspirants to this that the Velothi have. They shall be our doo,m in this and the eight known worlds, NIRN, LHKAN, RKHET, THENDR, KYNRT, AKHAT, MHARA, and JHUNAL." No Dwemer would admit that. Try again.

The last lines of this sermon are:

The secret to doom is within this Sermon.

The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.

I must say that these sermons get more and more ridiculous as they go on. Now not only have we seen a woman kidnapped by the Mad Goddess go on an adventure, get killed, and then resurrected, but now she was indestructible until some prayer was said by the Not-Son, Not-Daughter, and then she died. And now apparently there's a clone of her that the Dwemer made with the Not-Son, Not-Daughter inside of it. I will say that these sermons are incredibly creative, but I wonder if the writer did not ingest some hallucinogens before penning them.

Always Yours,

Sakiran Maesa


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Kazaera
post Jul 2 2018, 05:54 AM
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Wanted to say that I am reading along and smiling - not only do I love Sakiran Maesa's voice and attitude, but the whole thing is vindication for the part of me that tried making sense of the Sermons of Vivec and ended up giving up with a headache. (And, yep, I always felt incredibly sorry for the netchiman's wife, who Vivec doesn't even deign to grace with a name.)


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Zalphon
post Jul 2 2018, 09:55 AM
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QUOTE(Kazaera @ Jul 1 2018, 10:54 PM) *

Wanted to say that I am reading along and smiling - not only do I love Sakiran Maesa's voice and attitude, but the whole thing is vindication for the part of me that tried making sense of the Sermons of Vivec and ended up giving up with a headache. (And, yep, I always felt incredibly sorry for the netchiman's wife, who Vivec doesn't even deign to grace with a name.)


She's certainly got sass and definitely, I'm with you.


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Zalphon
post Jul 11 2018, 12:57 AM
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An Analysis of Sermon Four of the Thirty-Six Sermons of Vivec

This sermon begins with the simulacrum of the netchman' wife looking for the lands of Indoril. Now I would perhaps criticize this as being lazy writing, but there comes a point when the guar is dead and no amount of beating it will make it any more dead so I will simply overlook it for the fact that the Not-Son, Not-Daughter mentions that many spirits came to see it and give instructions to this 'glorious, invisible warrior-poet of Vvardenfell.'

Let it be said that there was once a glorious warrior-poet of Vvardenfell. His name was Nerevar. Not Not-Son, Not-Daughter. Perhaps Not-Son, Not-Daughter should quit lying to itself and to its followers about what really transpired at the Red Mountain.

The sermon continues with 'a troupe of spirits called the Lobbyists for the Coincidence Guild'. One can only question why spirits would lobby and if they would, why for the idea of coincidence, but again, the lazy writing rampant throughout these sermons shows that even if the Not-Man, Not-Woman is a famous warrior, it is by no means a poet.

The sermon continues that the Not-Man, Not-Woman initiated conversation with an aggressive attack, "The popular notion of God kills happenstance."

Apparently the leader of this troupe of spirits who coincidentally happen to be defending coincidence responded to this aggression with a simple statement: "Saying something at the same time can be magical."

For some reason, the Not-Man, Not-Woman felt its divinity hinged upon this one argument. I am left wondering if one's divinity is more fragile than the carapace of a freshly-hatched scrib before thier first molting, if it is divinity at all or perhaps the wild imaginings of a bloated ego, but who am I to say? I am a simple woman in the awe of the 'great Warrior-Poet of Vvardenfell'.

He said to this, "Is not the sudden revelation of corresponding conditions and disparate elements that gel at the moment of the coincidence one of the prerequisites to being, in fact, coincidental? Synchronicity comes out of repeated coincidences at the lowest level. Further examination shows it is the utter power of the sheer number of coincidences that leads one to the idea that synchronicity is guided by something more than chance. Therefore, synchronicity ends up invalidating the concept of the coincidental, even though they are the symptomatic signs that bring it to the surface."

Let us break this argument down to its most logical building blocks to illustrate just how flawed it is.

P1: The sudden revelation of corresponding conditions and disparate elements that gel at the moment of the coincidence is one of the prerequisites to being coincidental.

P2: Synchronicity comes out of repeated coincidences at the lowest level.

P3: It is the utter power of the sheer number of coincidences that leads one to the idea that synchronicity is guided by something more than chance.

C1: Therefore, synchronicity ends up invalidating the concept of the coincidental, even though they are the symptomatic signs that bring it to the surface.

To translate this into common-language Aldmeri, I will rewrite the premises so that even those of you lacking the rigorous background in systematic reasoning that I possess can keep up.

P1: Conditions and things that work at the moment of coincidence mean something is coincidental.

P2: Things that appear related, but actually have no causal relationship (meaning it's not caused by the same thing), are a result of a series of coincidences.

P3: The high volume of coincidences could be the result of something causing it.

C1: Therefore, because there might be something causing it, coincidences don't exist, even though they appear to.

This wonderful reasoning from the False God makes it far too easy to pick apart. It argues that because there could be something causing coincidence-like events, that there are no coincidences, but if you notice, it was hidden in esoteric and philosophical language that makes it impossible to decipher to the average child of Morrowind. This is how the Temple remains in power. By dressing up their egregious lies in exquisite robes and calling them dogma. Tell me, my brothers, my sisters, even the outlanders who call my home their own, do you wish to suckle from the poisoned teet of the Temple's lies, or are you brave enough to stand on your own? I ask you this, not as a judgment, but as a question of your values.

Regardless, I must continue with my reading of the sermon and my remarks upon it.

It continues with the line: "Thus was coincidence destroyed in the land of the Velothi." But we know this not to be true. We know it only to be true to those who accept the lies of the Temple.

The Sermon then continues that an Old Bone of the earth rose up before the simulacrum and said, "If you are to be born a ruling king of the world you must confuse it with new words. Set me into pondering."

"Very well," the False God said. "Let me talk to you of the world, which I share with mystery and love. Who is her capital? Have you taken the scenic route of her cameo? I have-- lightly, in secret, missing candles because they're on the untrue side and run my hand along the edge of a shadow made from one hundred and three divisions of warmth, and left no proof."

Apparently this bold claim by an egg made the Old Bone fold itself up twenty times until it became like milk, which apparently the False God drank and thus became the ruling king of the world. Stories like these make me think I should go harass grave yard residents until they do the same. Maybe then I'll be the ruling queen of the world? Imagine that--Sakiran, Queen of Morrowind, Successor to Helseth the Traitor. I could turn my home back into what it should be, not the cesspool it has become, but enough idle fantasies.

Following the Not-Man, Not-Woman drinking, the Chancellor of Exactitude appeared, and he was perfect to look upon from every angle. Apparently the Egg understood what he was up against and said, "Certitude is for the puzzle-box logicians and girls of white glamour who harbor it on their own time. I am a letter written in uncertainty." Most definitely you are, Not-Man, Not-Woman. You are the iconic rebel without a cause. You're so brave, fighting for the world you don't care to save.

The Chancellor allegedly bowed his head and smiled fifty different and perfect ways all at once. He pulled forth from his robe an astrolabe of the universe and broke it in two, handing both halves to the egg.

The Egg laughed, "Yes, I know. The slave labor of the senses is as selfish as polar ice, and worsens when energies are spent on a life others regard as fortunate. To be a ruling king, I will have to suffer much that cannot be suffered, and to weigh matters that no astrolabe or compass can measure."

You speak beautiful words, 'poet, but the tongue that speaks them is not your own. You steal such words from Nerevar and pass them off for your own. Truly, your lies are so many and so grand that I wonder if Vivec is truly your name or if you simply took it from another to replace a name you did not fancy.

The final line of the sermon is:

The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.

To say that I find this sermon to be absurd is to grossly understate my feelings. I would argue it's founded upon shoddy reasoning (not that Temple worshipers are known to be strong in that department anyways) and gross lies. Even these words he speaks are stolen from the lips of Nerevar and credited as his own. I must ask, can the 'great Warrior-Poet' create beauty of his own or must he parrot that of his peers? These are questions that leave me awake at night. What if by some chance, the Not-Man, Not-Woman, wasn't a complete fraud? Utterly preposterous, I know, but wouldn't that be interesting? Of course, we all know it's absolutely impossible, but it doesn't change the fact that it would make things more interesting.

Always Yours,

Sakiran Maesa


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"You have the same twenty-four hours as me; don't be mad just because you don't use yours like I do." -Tupac Shakur
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- Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 22nd July 2018 - 07:20 PM