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Myths and Legends:
 Volume 5
 by Draskal Ratden
 
-Foreword-
 
These collected volumes are the result of my travels throughout Tamriel, where I have spent my life listening to the many wonderful myths and legends that are abundant throughout our magnificent world. Though I am no adventurer, I truly do believe many of these stories are based on fact, though how much of them is true and how much the fantastical elaboration of imagination, I cannot say, for I am just another conduit through which they shall live.
 
 
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While most of the writings I have compiled over the years have basis in confirmed fact, I occasionally encounter a mythical and highly preposterous story that, while clearly almost completely myth, is justifiable for inclusion simply because of its remarkable implications and, more importantly, description of a legendary artifact that may well have existed at one time or another. The following is such a myth, ancient and nearly lost to time, which focuses on the creation of Nirn and the taunting qualities of immortality.
 
How I chanced to come upon the untainted myth of the weapon's story is a fantastical tale in its own right, but one which is entirely irrelevant to the myth itself. Though I have attempted to recreate the story without bias, it is an inevitable fact that some may find the beliefs contained within it to be antagonizing to their own, so read further at your own caution.
 
- Vesper's Requiem -
 
Mundus, the Mortal plane, is a place of perpetual suffering. Those who walk upon it are doomed to mortality, to experience the sweetness of life in unison with the detestable discomforts of death, a fate the Gods who created it deemed an unfortunate mistake upon witnessing what they had invariably committed.
 
Before its creation there was nothing; the imperceptible penumbra, the Mythic Aurbis, the gray center between the is of Anuiel and nothingness of Sithis, the unnatural realm in which dwelt for time without measure the aspects of immortality, the Aedra and Daedra.
 
One of these beings, who became neither god nor demon, known now as the trickster and deceiver Lorkhan, convinced these original spirits to create the mortal realm, where their aspects could forever achieve enlightenment. But when they did, they discovered the world contained nothing but limitations; a sphere of unstable magic and infinite despair.
 
Some of these Spirits disappeared completely, giving up all hope for Nirn. Some stayed behind, transforming themselves into aspects which would ensure the survival of the mortal realm. And some left, either to keep watch over its progress or to escape uncertain fate.
 
Among these was Magnus, who had created Mundus. When Magnus left, the magic upon the plane became stable, and Oblivion, the black nothingness of the night sky, filled in the gray void, leaving holes known as stars through which Aetherius, the magic plane, shines through, the largest being the sun, or Magnus.
 
Those that stayed behind deemed Lorkhan's deception cruel and cast his heart into Mundus as punishment, where no aspect of the new world may ever find it. With Lorkhan's bondage to the mortal realm, the moons, Masser and Secunda were created, the two halves of Lorkhan's flesh-divinity, contradictory personifications of the God to perpetually remind mortality of the inherent duality in all actions.
 
Sometime before they left Mundus to be inherited by the mortals and when the first primitive mortals began to appear, there existed a powerful and enigmatic wizard known only as Vesper. Seeking an avenue to obtain immortality and become one with the original ones, to live eternally in the Aetherius, Vesper spent his life obtaining enlightenment.
 
Upon discovering the secrets of the gods, he was revealed a means to obtain their power. Searching all across the ancient, barbaric lands of Tamriel, he collected rare, magical pieces of dark blue rock which had descended from the void of Oblivion. From these pieces of immortal rock, which had come from the moons Masser and Secunda themselves, he fashioned a staff, which would be forever unique in its shape and use.
 
Upon the staff's head, which was shaped like a perfect circle with a circular hole through it, and down the length of the staff, he inscribed in powerful runes his obscure names for Magnus, Lorkhan, Aetherius, and Oblivion, which he would use in his ritual to obtain immortality.
 
Then he waited. For decades, his life dwindled away as he awaited the only time that all of the powers would be in perfect alignment, allowing him the brief opportunity to use the staff for its purpose. Finally, when Vesper was an old, weak man whose life had been spent pursuing what mortals were never meant to have, the time arrived.
 
At that moment, when the moons Masser and Secunda, the contradicting dualities of Lorkhan, were in perfect alignment with Magnus, the largest hole in the Aetherius, creating a complete eclipse through which the nothingness of Oblivion shone briefly, Vesper raised up his staff, catching a glimpse the spectacular sight through the perfectly fashioned hole in his staff.
 
And then there is nothing. The gods left, allowing mortals to fully inherit Nirn and begin their evolution, perpetually quarreling over what, in their ignorance, the gods indirectly forsake. Time flowed on, and Vesper disappeared from history. Perhaps he obtained immortality, assuming his place in the Aetherius as he always wished, or perhaps, through his own ignorance, he committed such an atrocious act that his existence was purged from all things.
 
I personally choose to believe that Vesper, if he ever did exist in the first place, which is highly unlikely, did obtain massive power, but, in his frail condition, was unable to sufficiently wield it, and faced death as a consequence. But one thing is certain; if he did indeed construct such a staff, now known as Vesper's Requiem for the part it played in his demise, though it has appeared many times throughout history with other names, then it would be incredibly powerful, for it would have absorbed some of the power of immortality.
 
And I do indeed believe that Vesper's Requiem, even if this myth of its creation and source of power is entirely false, was and still is a real artifact. There have been countless other stories detailing the discovery of a strange, circular staff with immense power being wielded to change history, then lost to time.
 
The most recent of these stories claims the staff was used by the Nerevarine themself to vanquish Dagoth Ur. Before traveling on an expedition to Akavir, Nerevar had the staff and many other rare, priceless artifacts sent to the Museum of Artifacts in Mournhold, as a sign of charity. The caravan transporting the items went missing, supposedly attacked by Argonian rebels from Black Marsh. The rebels, recognizing the value of the artifacts, attempted to return as fast as they could to Black Marsh.
 
When they neared the border, the rebels found that patrols had been raised to search for them. Rather than trying to sneak passed, the rebels traveled west along the border, hoping to go through the Valus mountains and into Cyrodil, then travel south before entering Black Marsh. Just as they were nearing the border, a group of patrol guards spotted them. After a brutal battle, the guards returned the artifacts to the museum in Mournhold, but it was discovered that Vesper's Requiem was not among them.
 
The guards also reported that the group was smaller than had been reported, so the most likely explanation is that some of the rebels, knowing their impending doom, grasped some of the weapons and fled into Cyrodil. Be that the case, they most likely found a quick death in the strange wilderness of the Valus mountains, their treasure lost somewhere with their bones, atop the mountains east of Lake Canulus where Black Marsh, Morrowind, and Cyrodil intersect.
 
Whatever the truth may be, such an artifact that was created so near to the creation of Mundus itself would be a remarkable find for anyone capable of discovering it. A double solar eclipse with both of the moons has only happened a few times in all of the established history of Tamriel, and if one could capture the crepuscular magic of the celestial cosmos in a weapon, it would be powerful indeed. 
Author's note: In my explanation of the myth of creation, I attempted to be as unbiased as possible, though I do not doubt that it may have offended some readers. But to any who are interested in learning more, I used information from the following books, all of which should prove no difficulty to find for one adamant in procuring them: The Monomyth, The Annotated Anuad, Varieties of Faith in the Empire, and The Lunar Lorkhan. Do note that these will likely not assist you in discovering Vesper's Requiem, but are simply listed for academic purposes.
 
 
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Though closer in proximity to civilized Cyrodiil than the more populous towns in the South, few tales exist of the nomadic Khajiit tribes of Northern Elsweyr. While it is occasionally a matter of scholarly debate, the fragmented accounts of Jaleel, a noted Ra Gada adventurer of the First Era, are generally held to contain the first record of these mysterious nomadic tribes and their culture.
 
Unfortunately the entire tale was never properly preserved, though the remains still provide an interesting analysis of the often conflicting aspects of desire and selflessness within the mortal mind. Indeed, some scholars even go so far as to suggest that the Ra Gadan intended the tale to be read purely as a fable, left open to the reader to interpret for themselves. So sit back, good reader, and decide for yourself the outcome and accuracy of the tale.
 
-Valermos: The Undying Blade-
 
In an age long-obscured by the sands of time, there lived a great nomadic chieftain revered as much for his charisma and leadership as for his strength. In his years as chief, his tribe flourished in the lands now known as Rimmen in the province of Elsweyr. Under his leadership, the tribe was able to successfully drive their enemies from their prized hunting lands to the east and the west.
 
Many new customs were also adopted during this time as the great chief was ever a champion of justice among his people. But time leaves no life untouched and the chieftain's strength ebbed as his spirit prepared to depart for the great beyond.
 
Despite his long reign as chieftain, none of his wives were able to produce a single male child. There was much anxiety among his clan over who would take on the mantle of leadership when their beloved chieftain passed on.
 
Before his spirit departed this world, the chieftain passed stewardship over his tribe to Awassi, the tribal mystic. She was much beloved throughout the tribe for her beauty, kindness, and selfless deeds. According to custom, she would preside over the rites by which a new chieftain would be crowned.
 
By custom, if there was no heir to the previous chief, the next chief would have to be selected from any of the tribal sons who had reached the age of adulthood during the final year of the chieftain's reign. To prove worthy of the mantle of leadership, each in turn would have to pass a test of fate or strength. If fate was not on the side of the warrior, he could win the respect of his people by proving stronger than the fate he was dealt.
 
Each warrior was presented with two sealed scrolls to choose between. Though identical in their external appearances, the difference between the two was often the difference between a life of glory and a terrible death. If the warrior chose the scroll of fate, he would immediately be granted the mantle of chieftain, awarded the respect and honor of his tribe, and a daughter of the previous chief would become his wife.
 
The other was the scroll of strength. The scroll of strength contained a map that would lead the warrior to a place of almost certain death. Once a warrior had drawn the scroll of strength, he was dead to the tribe.
 
Only by returning victorious could he hope to be restored in the eyes of his people. But if that warrior could defeat all the horrors therein and return to the tribe carrying Valermos, the undying blade, he would be named chieftain and enjoy all the honor and respect of one chosen by fate alone. That being said, there was no living memory of the last warrior to successfully complete the test of strength. The decision to undertake the test of fate was not one to be taken lightly.
 
The first of the eligible tribesmen to stand forth and accept the challenge was a boisterous young Khajiit by the name of Nokhji. He was the youngest of the eligible tribesmen, only reaching adulthood the day before the passing of the chieftain.
 
Many in the tribe were perplexed by his effrontery as he possessed no combat training, electing instead to work as a manservant in the house of mystic worship. Perhaps he will be blessed by fate, they thought, for he could certainly not trust his own strength to preserve him.
 
As the sun dawned on the appointed day of his ritual, Nokhji stood before his tribe as Awassi placed the two scrolls on the altar before her. As the young Nokhji advanced to the altar, he turned as the custom dictated, to kneel before the altar. But his attention was not fixed upon the two scrolls before him. His eyes were fixed upon the mystic who stood behind the altar.
 
Though the scrolls were sealed long before she was born, through her powers of divination, Awassi had done what no other had done. She had possessed herself of the secret of the scrolls. She knew which of the two contained the scroll of fate and which contained the scroll of strength. Not only did she know the secret of the scrolls, but she knew which daughter the scroll of fate would select as the new chieftain's bride. It was the fairest and loveliest of the chieftain's daughters.
 
Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair creature throwing glances of adoration upon Nokhji, her manservant and perhaps those glances were even returned. Though the daughter of the chieftain, she had dared to seduce Awassi's manservant. And for that, she despised the woman chosen by the magic scroll.
 
When her manservant looked across the altar at her and their eyes met, by that power of quick perception which is given to those whose souls have joined as one, he understood that she knew which scroll would mean the difference between his glory and his death. He expected her to know. He was assured by her nature that she would never rest until she had discovered this secret, hidden to all others. The moment he looked upon her, he saw that she had succeeded and in his soul he knew he would succeed.
 
Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question: "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in a flash and must be answered in another. Her right hand lay on the stone altar behind the scrolls. She raised a finger and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but Nokhji saw her, for every eye in the tribe was fixed upon Nokhji as he knelt before making his choice.
 
He stood and, without the slightest hesitation, seized the scroll on the right, tearing through its bindings to open it.
 
It is here that the fragment ends. Only the age old puzzle remains, which fate did the scroll reveal --death or glory? Did Awassi, in her jealous hate, doom the innocent Nokhji to a fate he was not meant to burden? Or was was it the mystic's sense of selfless kindness that won the day? Perhaps it is for you to decide.
 
This much is known, while the tribe and its people were lost to time and obscurity, the location of the sword has been long sought after as a means of confirming the story as historical fact or as an ancient morality tale. Perhaps amidst his exploratory accounts of traversing the Niben, Topal the Pilot may have encountered this specific Nomadic tribe along the eastern shores of the Upper Niben, as his voyage would have occurred during the approximated time of the original story. 
Adventurous explorers should take special note of any Ayleid structures located in this area, as evidence of skirmishes between the nomadic Khajiit and the burgeoning Ayleid empire has been dated back to the time of the story. Indeed, the name of the sword itself is suggestive of Ayleid origin. If the story is in fact a historical account and the blade does exist, it would likely be well protected by the remnants of the Ayleid city in which it once rested.

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