These were the days of Rebec the Red, she-captain of the longboat Nail-Knock, whose Reaver-Husbands were [long loved] by High King Ysgrim [Shorebreaker] and all the Sons and Daughters of Kyne...[and so great was their renown] that grim-bearded Shor himself shouted his lamplight back into some of their hearth-fallen after the Sack of Sarthaal from [his Ten Tusk Chair (?)] in faraway Svongarde.

And these Returned were as ash, [and impaired] against the Winds at times, [so they were] specially armored to vouchsafe their old forms, wearing hang-wigs for beards built by the [War Wives of Clan (unspecified)] for theirs had blown away in the gust of the Tenpenny Winter wrought by the Fool of New Kreath, his Cleverness cut into throat-ribbons for his trespass into climate magic [and whose] neck-remains became a meat-string game for all the children of Rebec the Red…[text lost]…and still yet for the eight Returned, they lived their [Again Chance(?)] as best they could, and made manly unmention of their ash-make, and instead were properly grateful…[for] in those days, [in that kalpa], the skies of the Rim were plagued by dragons, and so many of their countrymen had suffered Burning but [they] were not by their individual glory similarly Returned.

Three god-guisers came to the ice-lined shoreline of Rebec’s holdings, to see these ashen stalwarts of the Nords, all dress-fleshed in Greybeard aspect. The first of them was tall and long of limb, whose [flanks] could not fully hide the scale-bright hide of his true celestial station. He was the Aka-Tusk, a somewhat foreign spirit (yeah, right) from the Totem Wars, and known mainly in the tongue of Men as the enemy-brother of Shor, and he said, “Look on them, my friends, and how the North has gone insane with the beating and beating of the Doom Drum, whose father they fool-talk call their All-Maker.”

The second was full-bound in furs, [his bulk] so great that he looked more like the shaggy centipedes the Orc Tribes herd than a true Greybeard…[he needed so many furs] because he refused to surrender his second set of war arms even in this preset parley (plus he was just plain cold) and [nor did he undo his horns, despite] the [text lost] advice of his companions…but the legendry fatness and odd-wrought shape of Merry Eyesore the Elk, the Greybeard Deer (what, you thought animals couldn’t join the Men of the Throat?), was his hope for excuse should he be seen by the shield-thanes or warriors of the icy shore holds of Rebec the Red. And the Dagon said, “Who gives a ****? I’m FREEZING out here, and see no lesson to be learned that really I care about at all. Aka, while my exile in the utter dark is no fun either, pray send me back to [the oblivion] if all you’ve done is bring us here to lament [the Silver (?) Convent]. Yet again.”

And the third, who looked akin to a Karstaag-man, [gigantic], and adorned in storm cloud and endless, endless yellowtooth… [he] was Alduin the World-Eater, and he only said, "Ho ha ho."

“You will eat nothing here, aspect Ald,” said the Aka-Tusk, sensing trouble. “Do not forget that it was Heaven itself that shed you from me.”

“Who cares,” the World-Eater said, “You speak of the Prolix Laws, which do not bind me if you strain our kinship. You awoke me. That bell-sound has consequence. And the Dagon here, well, he’s going to tell me right now where he’s hidden all the additions to the World he has hoarded in the long aeons of salmon-leap which he calls his own survival.”

“I am no salmon!” Dagon said. “I’m just smarter than either of you. If that grants me an association with the ineffable ocean, I’ll take any weirding I can, and in red. The ocean, in the end, will avail us no answers we can acceptably parse. Bring it, big man.”

Now [what] hasn’t been said up until now is that a very bored Nord was listening to all of this, Korl-jkorl the Pity Husband of Rebec, whose clan was destroyed at Sarthaal and, unbrave, he was not one of the Returned but [rather] one of the Running instead. (A tally has always been kept of Those That Ran from the Sack, mind you. Sometimes our memories won’t let things go, even if thinking on the same thing too much risks a frozen thought-set. Anyhow.)

Most of those that are Pitied accept their station. These are those Nords who, for various sanctioned reasons (Orc rape, unforeseen winter-taking, ashamed-but-acquiescent affiliation with the Borgas Clan when Wufharth Roared most of them straight past the Underworld into [Hell])…these are wed to their new Wives or Husbands in the special traditions of Mara, the Handmaiden of Kyne, whose pity is endless and especial.

Korl-jkorl had been spared because of [it doesn’t matter], but he had never been comfortable with his taking of the saving-ring from Rebec the Red (though he probably should have been), and so often wandered mooncalf-fashion to the extents of her holdings, thinking his [hope-to-finally-thaw (?) thoughts]. This day, though, and his arbitrariness interrupted, Korl-jkorl watched the three Powers [of the Around Us] bicker, lament, and tummy-rumble their various agendas and he found himself most upset. This was god-talk, and we Nords have always felt nuisance with that. We blame having to live in the here and now for the most part for the most for that.

So Korl-jkorl revealed himself, saying, “Get off this hilltop, all three of you; [your intrusions] have only ever caused upset and you full well know it. What authority do you have to observe the lands of Rebec the Red with such potent intent that has yet to be decided among any of you?” And then, like most Nords when they are ready to settle matters, he brandished a weapon, that Nordic gesture which really translates to “I don’t really care your answer to my question.”

Alduin said, “Oh ho, good. A fight. Finally.”

The Aka-Tusk straightened, surprised that their guises had been so easily [seen through], and purposely sighed enough to let [dragonfire] out to perhaps frighten the mortal standing before them. But, as has been said, dragons were at flight in the skies in these days, and this type of fear, if even halfheartedly divinely-wrought, didn’t work on Korl-jkorl. “Wait,” Aka said, and those around him felt his hold on Time. “We came merely to look upon your allies in ash, fallen in a place you regard in glory and that the Drummer has seen fit to--”

“No, we didn’t,” the Dagon said, shifting in his furs. “Who knows why we came, except at your summons. And if this Northman wants to fight, I agree with Old Ald here: good.” And the Lord of Tumult and Foul Tempers then shed his guise, and held weapons and High King heads in each of his fists.

“Come then, little Nord, let me beat you dead into the snow with the brainpans of your ancient forebears.”

_____

I'll finish this one, I pinky swear. Oh right, the +.

Azura, whose sphere is dusk and dawn, the magic in-between realms of twilight, known as Moonshadow, Mother of the Rose, and Queen of the Night Sky.

Boethiah, whose sphere is deceit and conspiracy, and the secret plots of murder, assassination, treason, and unlawful overthrow of authority.

Clavicus Vile, whose sphere is the granting of power and wishes through ritual invocations and pact.

Hermaeus Mora, whose sphere is scrying of the tides of Fate, of the past and future as read in the stars and heavens, and in whose dominion are the treasures of knowledge and memory.

Hircine, whose sphere is the Hunt, the Sport of Daedra, the Great Game, the Chase, known as the Huntsman and the Father of Manbeasts.

Malacath, whose sphere is the patronage of the spurned and ostracized, the keeper of the Sworn Oath, and the Bloody Curse.

Mehrunes Dagon, whose sphere is Destruction, Change, Revolution, Energy, and Ambition.

Mephala, whose sphere is obscured to mortals; known by the names Webspinner, Spinner, and Spider; whose only consistent theme seems to be interference in the affairs of mortals for her amusement.

Meridia, whose sphere is obscured to mortals; who is associated with the energies of living things.

Molag Bal, whose sphere is the domination and enslavement of mortals; whose desire is to harvest the souls of mortals and to bring mortal souls within his sway by spreading seeds of strife and discord in the mortal realms.

Namira, whose sphere is the ancient Darkness; known as the Spirit Daedra, ruler of sundry dark and shadowy spirits; associated with spiders, insects, slugs, and other repulsive creatures which inspire mortals with an instinctive revulsion.

Nocturnal, whose sphere is the night and darkness; who is known as the Night Mistress.

Peryite, whose sphere is the ordering of the lowest orders of Oblivion, known as the Taskmaster.

Sanguine, whose sphere is hedonistic revelry and debauchery, and passionate indulgences of darker natures.

Sheogorath, whose sphere is Madness, and whose motives are unknowable.

Vaernima, whose sphere is the realm of dreams and nightmares, and from whose realm issues forth evil omens.

[Especially marked for special interest under the heading "Malacath" you find a reference to SCOURGE, blessed by Malacath, and dedicated to the use of mortals. In short, the reference suggests that any Daedra attempting to invoke the weapon's powers will be expelled into the voidstreams of Oblivion.]

"Of the legendary artifacts of the Daedra, many are well known, like Azura's Star, and Sheogorath's Wabbajack. Others are less well known, like Scourge, Mackkan's Hammer, Bane of Daedra...."

"...yet though Malacath blessed Scourge to be potent against his Daedra kin, he thought not that it should fall into Daedric hands, then to serve as a tool for private war among caitiff and forsaken. Thus did Malacath curse the device such that, should any dark kin seek to invoke its powers, that a void should open and swallow that Daedra, and purge him into Oblivion's voidstreams, from thence to pathfind back to the Real and Unreal Worlds in the full order of time."  

"When thou enterest into Oblivion, Oblivion entereth into thee." -- Nai Tyrol-Llar

The greatest mage who ever lived was my master Morian Zenas. You have heard of him as the author of the book 'On Oblivion,' the standard text for all on matters Daedric. Despite many entreaties over the years, he refused to update his classic book with his new discoveries and theories because he found that the more one delves into these realms, the less certain one is. He did not want conjecture, he wanted facts.

For decades before and after the publication of 'On Oblivion,' Zenas compiled a vast personal library on the subject of Oblivion, the home of the Daedra. He divided his time between this research and personal magickal growth, on the assumption that should he succeed in finding a way into the dangerous world beyond and behind ours, he would need much power to wander its dark paths.

Twelve years before Zenas began the journey he had prepared his life to make, he hired me as his assistant. I possessed the three attributes he required for the position: I was young and eager to help without question; I could read any book once and memorize its contents; and, despite my youth, I was already a Master of Conjuration.

Zenas too was a Master of Conjuration - indeed, a Master at all the known and unknown Schools - but he did not want to rely on his ability alone in the most perilous of his research. In an underground vault, he summoned Daedra to interview them on their native land, and for that he needed another Conjurer to make certain they came, were bound, and were sent away again without incident.

I will never forget that vault, not for its look which was plain and unadorned, but for what you couldn't see. There were scents that lingered long after the summoned creatures had left, flowers and sulfur, sex and decay, power and madness. They haunt me still to this very day.

Conjuration, for the layman unacquainted with its workings, connects the caster's mind with that of the summoned. It is a tenuous link, meant only to lure, hold, and dismiss, but in the hands of a Master, it can be much stronger. The Psijics and Dwemer can (in the Dwemer's case, perhaps I should say, could) connect with the minds of others, and converse miles apart - a skill that is sometimes called telepathy.

Over the course of my employment, Zenas and I developed such a link between one another. It was accidental, a result of two powerful Conjurers working closely together, but we decided that it would be invaluable should he succeed in traveling to Oblivion. Since the denizens of that land could be touched even by the skills of an amateur Conjurer, it was possible we could continue to communicate while he was there, so I could record his discoveries.

The 'Doors to Oblivion,' to use Morian Zenas's phrase, are not easily found, and we exhausted many possibilities before we found one where we held the key.

The Psijics of Artaeum have a place they call The Dreaming Cave, where it is said one can enter into the Daedric realms and return. Iachesis, Sotha Sil, Nematigh, and many others have been recorded as using this means, but despite many entreaties to the Order, we were denied its use. Celarus, the leader of the Order, has told us it has been sealed off for the safety of all.

We had hopes of using the ruins of the Battlespire to access Oblivion. The Weir Gate still stands, though the old proving grounds of the Imperial Battlemages itself was shattered some years ago in Jagar Tharn's time. Sadly, after an exhaustive search through the detritus, we had to conclude that when it was destroyed, all access to the realms beyond, the Soul Cairn, the Shade Perilous, and the Havoc Wellhead, had been broken. It was probably for the good, but it frustrated our goal.

The reader may have heard of other Doors, and he may be assured we attempted to find them all.

Some are pure legend, or at any rate, not traceable based on the information left behind. There are references in lore to Marukh's Abyss, the Corryngton Mirror, the Mantellan Crux, the Crossroads, the Mouth, a riddle of an alchemical formula called Jacinth and Rising Sun, and many other places and objects that are said to be Doors, but we could not find.

Some exist, but cannot be entered safely. The whirlpool in the Abecean called the Maelstrom of Bal can make ships disappear, and may be a portal into Oblivion, but the trauma of riding its waters would surely slay any who tried. Likewise, we did not consider it worth the risk to leap from the Pillar of Thras, a thousand foot tall spiral of coral, though we witnessed the sacrifices the sloads made there. Some victims were killed by the fall, but some, indeed, seemed to vanish before being dashed on the rocks. Since the sload did not seem certain why some were taken and some died, we did not favor the odds of the plunge.

The simplest and most maddeningly complex way to go to Oblivion was simply to cease to be here, and begin to be there. Throughout history, there are examples of mages who seemed to travel to the realms beyond ours seemingly at will. Many of these voyagers are long dead, if they ever existed, but we were able to find one still living. In a tower off Zafirbel Bay on the island of Vvardenfell in the province of Morrowind there exists a very old, very reclusive wizard named Divayth Fyr.

He was not easy to reach, and he was reluctant to share with Morian Zenas the secret Door to Oblivion. Fortunately, my master's knowledge of lore impressed Fyr, and he taught him the way. I would be breaking my promise to Zenas and Fyr to explain the procedure here, and I would not divulge it even if I could. If there is dangerous knowledge to be had, that is it. But I do not reveal too much to say that Fyr's scheme relied on exploiting a series of portals to various realms created by a Telvanni wizard long missing and presumed dead. Against the disadvantage of this limited number of access points, we weighed the relative reliability and security of passage, and considered ourselves fortunate in our informant.

Morian Zenas then left this world to begin his exploration. I stayed at the library to transcribe his information and help him with any research he needed.

'Dust,' he whispered to me on the first day of his voyage. Despite the inherent dreariness of the word, I could hear his excitement in his voice, echoing in my mind. 'I can see from one end of the world to the other in a million shades of gray. There is no sky or ground or air, only particles, floating, falling, whirling about me. I must levitate and breathe by magickal means...'

Zenas explored the nebulous land for some time, encountering vaporous creatures and palaces of smoke. Though he never met the Prince, we concluded that he was in Ashpit, said to be the home of Malacath, where anguish, betrayal, and broken promises like ash filled the bitter air.

'The sky is on fire,' I heard him say as he moved on to the next realm. 'The ground is sludge, but traversable. I see blackened ruins all around me, like a war was fought here in the distant past. The air is freezing. I cast blooms of warmth all around me, but it still feels like daggers of ice stabbing me in all directions.'

This was Coldharbour, where Molag Bal was Prince. It appeared to Zenas as if it were a future Nirn, under the King of Rape, desolate and barren, filled with suffering. I could hear Morian Zenas weep at the images he saw, and shiver at the sight of the Imperial Palace, spattered with blood and excrement.

'Too much beauty,' Zenas gasped when he went to the next realm. 'I am half blind. I see flowers and waterfalls, majestic trees, a city of silver, but it is all a blur. The colors run like water. It's raining now, and the wind smells like perfume. This surely is Moonshadow, where Azura dwells.'

Zenas was right, and astonishingly, he even had audience with the Queen of Dusk and Dawn in her rose palace. She listened to his tale with a smile, and told him of the coming of the Nevevarine. My master found Moonshadow so lovely, he wished to stay there, half-blind, forever, but he knew he must move on and complete his journey of discovery.

'I am in a storm,' he told me as he entered the next realm. He described the landscape of dark twisted trees, howling spirits, and billowing mist, and I thought he might have entered the Deadlands of Mehrunes Dagon. But then he said quickly, 'No, I am no longer in a forest. There was a flash of lightning, and now I am on a ship. The mast is tattered. The crew is slaughtered. Something is coming through the waves ... oh, gods ... Wait, now, I am in a dank dungeon, in a cell ...'

He was not in the Deadlands, but Quagmire, the nightmare realm of Vaernima. Every few minutes, there was a flash of lightning and reality shifted, always to something more horrible and horrifying. A dark castle one moment, a den of ravening beasts the next, a moonlit swamp, a coffin where he was buried alive. Fear got the better of my master, and he quickly passed to the next realm.

I heard him laugh, 'I feel like I'm home now.'

Morian Zenas described to me an endless library, shelves stretching on in every direction, stacks on top of stacks. Pages floated on a mystical wind that he could not feel. Every book had a black cover with no title. He could see no one, but felt the presence of ghosts moving through the stacks, rifling through books, ever searching.

It was Apocrypha. The home of Hermaeus-Mora, where all forbidden knowledge can be found. I felt a shudder in my mind, but I could not tell if it was my master's or mine.

Morian Zenas never traveled to another realm that I know of.

Throughout his visits to the first four realms, my master spoke to me constantly. Upon entering the Apocrypha, he became quieter, as he was lured into the world of research and study, the passions that had controlled his heart while on Nirn. I would frantically try to call to him, but he closed his mind to me.

Then he would whisper, 'This cannot be...'

'No one would ever guess the truth...'

'I must learn more...'

'I see the world, a last illusion's shimmer, it is crumbling all around us...'

I would cry back to him, begging him to tell me what was happening, what he was seeing, what he was learning. I even tried using Conjuration to summon him as if he were a Daedra himself, but he refused to leave. Morian Zenas was lost.

I last received a whisper from him six months ago. Before then, it had been five years, and three before that. His thoughts are no longer intelligible in any language. Perhaps he is still in Apocrypha, lost but happy, in a trap he refuses to escape.

Perhaps he slipped between the stacks and passed into the Madhouse of Sheogorath, losing his sanity forever.

I would save him if I could.

I would silence his whispers if I could.

Treatise on Ayleidic Cities:
Varsa Baalim and the Nefarivigum
Test of Dagon

Chapter the Tenth

I will not be the first scholar to point to a combination of benign intent and arrogance on behalf of the Ayleids as the source of many ruinous affairs for the old heartland elves.

The Nefarivigum, a foul construct of Mehrunes Dagon, was erected to be ever watchful for the pilgrim who would approach it and best an unknown trial of worth. It is said that such a pilgrim would be rewarded with the blessing of Mehrunes Razor, a vicious blade through which Dagon himself can claim the very souls of those it strikes.

Benign intent compelled Ayleid folk to seek out the Nefarivigum. Arrogance let them believe themselves capable of disbarring any who would seek the Razor. So was built Varsa Baalim, a great, ringed, labyrinthine city, during the height of Ayleid rule.

Sure as death, pilgrims came to Varsa Baalim, and for years the Elves drove back many, until it came to pass that a vampire slipped into the city unnoticed. Merfolk were touched with the foul affliction, throwing the city into a gathering storm of madness and ruin, and soon it seemed none was left to prevent the Razor from being recovered.

Then, suddenly, Varsa Baalim was gone. Historic accounts dispute whether it happened through some final safety, a natural cataclysm, or by the touch of the Divines themselves. Whatever the cause, history agrees on the result: the mountains of the Eastern Niben swallowed Varsa Baalim, and the Nefarivigum with it, where has remained hidden since the early days of the First Era.

If the tale is true, then somewhere on the eastern fringes of the Niben Valley, where man's rule has scarcely reached through the years, the Nefarivigum still lies in wait, among a city of unliving abominations entombed within the cold bowels of the mountain.

Varieties Of Daedra

by
Aranea Drethan
Healer and Dissident Priest
 

There is little chance of our ever understanding the various orders of Daedra and their relationships to the Daedra Lords and their dominions. Of the varieties of Daedra that appear in our world, and the varieties of their relationships to their fellows and their Daedra patrons, there is no end. In one place and time they are seen to be this, and in another place and time they are seen to be the opposite, and in another place and time they are seen to be both this and that, in completely contradictory terms.

What Daedra serves this Prince? What Daedra gives orders, and what Daedra serves, and in what hierarchy, and under what circumstances? What Daedra exist in fellowship with one another, and what Daedra have eternal enmity to one another, and what Daedra are solitary, or social, and by turns solitary or social? There are no limits to the varieties of behaviors that may be observed, and in one place they may be this, and in another place they may that, and all rules describing them are always found to be contradictory and in exception to others.

Further, from whom may we seek answers to our questions about these orders? From mortals, who know little but what they may observe of another world? From the gods, who speak in riddles, of enigmas wrapped in mysteries, and who keep things from us, the better to preserve their dominion over us? From the Daedra themselves, who are never the models of straightforwardness or truthtelling, but rather are famous for misstatements and obfuscations?

And even were the Daedra to speak the truth, how can we know if they know themselves, or that there is any truth about them that is to be known, or are all arrangements among the Daedra protean and ever subject to change?

In short, what is to be known is little, and and what is to be trusted is nothing.

These things being said, I shall venture to relate what I have observed and heard of the relationships of the servants of Lord Dagon in my brief service to the Telvanni Wizard Divayth Fyr, when I sought him out and offered to bring peace to the victims of corprus in his sanitarium, once the Prophecies of the Incarnate had been fulfilled, and Dagoth Ur had been destroyed, and the Blight had been banished from the island of Vvardenfell forever.

Divayth Fyr told me that he, by choice, trafficked only with two Daedra Powers -- Mehrunes Dagon and Azura.

Azura, he said, knew and understood all things, and declined to speak of these things, or only spoke in riddles.

Mehrunes Dagon, on the other hand, out of pride, fixity of purpose, and a predictable lack of subtlety in thought, knew nothing and understood nothing, and was inclined to speak freely and without falsehood.

Divayth Fyr said that Dagon's chief servants, the Dremora, were like him in pride, fixed purpose, and lack of subtlety, with the addition of the peculiar traits of honor and loyalty, both within their class and within their relationship to Lord Dagon.

And Divayth Fyr said that the Dremora were ordered into clans and castes, and these clans and castes were well-defined. Individual Dremora might rise or fall in ranks, or move back and forth among clans, but only when regulated by complex oaths, and only at the will and pleasure of their Lord Dagon.

The Dremora refer to themselves as 'The Kyn' ('the People'), contrasting themselves to other Daedra, whom they consider unthinking animals. The term 'kynaz' refers to a member of the Dremora race ('he of the Kyn').

The least of kyn castes are the Churls, the undistinguished rabble of the lowest rank of Dremora. Churls are obsequeous to superiors but ferociously cruel to humans and other Daedra.

Next in rank are the Caitiffs, creatures of uncalculating zeal, energy without discrimination. Caitiffs are used as irregulars in the faction wars of the Daedra, as berserkers and shock troops, undisciplined and unreliable, but eager and willing.

The highest of the regular rank-and file of Dremora troops are the Kynvals, warrior-knights who have distinguished themselves in battle, and shown the deliberate steadiness of potential war leaders.

Above the rank and file warriors of the Churl, Caitiff, and Kynval castes are the officer castes.

A Kynreeve is a clan sheriff or clan officer. Kynreeves are typically associated either with a clan fighting unit or an administrative office in the order of battle.

The Kynmarcher is the lord and high officer of a Daedric citadel, outpost, or gate. A Kymarcher's command is usually associated both with a unit and with a 'fief' -- a location or territory for which he is responsible.

Above the Kymarcher is the Markynaz, or 'grand duke'. A Markynaz is a lord of lords, and member of the Markyn, Mehrunes Dagon's Council of Lords.

The highest rank of Dremora is the Valkynaz, or 'prince'. This warrior duke is a member of the Valkyn, Mehrunes Dagon's personal guard. The Valkynaz are rarely encountered on Tamriel; normally they remain by Mehrunes Dagon's side, or serve as commanders of operations of particular importance or interest to Dagon.

Of the varieties of other Daedra I encountered while I served in Divayth Fyr's Corprusarium -- Ogrims and Golden Saints, Daedroths and Winged Twilights, Scamps and Clannfear -- there is much that might be said, but little that is helpful or reliable.

I did note, however, that when Divayth Fyr sought a Daedra of a character like unto the Dremora, but of greater power, and greater inclination for independence and initiative, or solely as a master, he summoned Xivilai, who are like the Dremora in personality and temperment, except that they hate subordination, and are liable to disloyalty and betrayal when they feel they have not been treated with the proper deference and respect.

The feral, beastlike Daedra like the Clannfear and the Daedroth appear in the service of many different Daedric Powers, and may represent common creatures existing like wild animals in the wildernesses of Oblivion. Other savage, semi-intelligent creatures like Scamps and Spider Daedra may also be found in the realms of various Daedra Lords.

The case of the Elemental Atronachs, on the other hand, is less certain. Flame and Frost Atronachs, for example, appear to be highly intelligent, but not all varieties of Elemental Atronachs seem to be social or to have the power of speech. Divayth Fyr preferred not to summon or deal with these creatures, had little experience with them, and showed no inclination to speculate upon their nature, so I learned little about them during my time at Tel Fyr.

This room appears to have been built around the original site of the Nefarivigum, but there is no sign of Mehrunes' Razor! There is some sort of statue of a man here, and some scattered inscriptions in the stonework. Perhaps they can give me some clues.

At first I thought the runes were useless, but I was able to piece together a phrase; Kynverum Dagon Nefarivigum. Speaking the words aloud in that order caused the Razor to materialize! Alas, the way to it is blocked, and I dare not risk force lest the gate is trapped. I must search for more clues.

I have discovered more inscriptions, etched as to be nearly imperceivable to my eyes. After much labour I discovered some clues as to the man entombed here. It seems he was a champion to Dagon who failed in some great task.

The Kyn, it says (Dremora?) carved his chest open, through flesh, armor, and bone, with the Razor itself. He stands guard now as a test for those worthy to claim the weapon. What sort of test can this be?

The runes mention the ability of the razor to instantly send a struck foe to Oblivion through Dagons' wrath. This corroborates many tales of the weapon, but can it really be so powerful as to kill instantly?

The task seems so simple, now that I've given it thought. He who travels here, draws the heart from the chest of the champion, and devours it must be worthy to wield the Razor. I'm wary to proceed, and wonder if there is another way, but the power of the blade is so near; I must ponder my next move...

Mehrunes Dagon, whose sphere is destruction, change, revolution, energy, and ambition.

Mehrunes Dagon (God of Destruction): Popular Daedric power. He is associated with natural dangers like fire, earthquakes, and floods. In some cultures, though, Dagon is merely a god of bloodshed and betrayal. He is an especially important deity in Morrowind, where he represents its near-inhospitable terrain.
- Varieties of Faith in the Empire

Mehrunes Dagon maintains realms called Deadlands. According to the "Doors of Oblivion", the realms are stormy with dark twisted trees, howling spirits and billowing mist. But from the records during the Oblivion Crisis the realms of Mehrunes Dagon are masses of small fiery realms with lava as sea and fire as the sky. Complete with twisted plants like Blood Grass, poisoned Spiddal Stick and bloodthirsty Harrada Root. The inhabitants are mostly Dremora with some lesser Daedra as their slaves.

The summoning date of Mehrunes Dagon is 20th of Sun's Dusk.

According to "Darkest Darkness", three lesser Daedra are associated with Mehrunes Dagon: the agile and pesky Scamp, the ferocious and beast-like Clannfear, and the noble and deadly Dremora. We will talk later in detail about Dremora.

Mehrunes Dagon is also one of the Dunmeri Four Corners of the House of Troubles. Four Corner of the House of Trouble consists of Molag Bal, Mehrunes Dagon, Malacath and Sheogorath. These Daedric Princes rebelled against the counsel and admonition of the Tribunal, causing great kin strife and confusion among the clans and Great Houses. They are holy in that they serve the role of obstacles during the Testing. Through time they have sometimes become associated with local enemies, like the Nords, Akaviri, or Mountain Orcs. As written in the "The House of Troubles", Mehrunes Dagon is the god of destruction. He is associated with natural dangers like fire, earthquakes, and floods. To some he represents the inhospitable land of Morrowind. He tests the Dunmer will to survive and persevere.

In the series of books titled "2920, The Last Year of the First Era", Lord Sotha Sil visited Coldharbour, following the destruction of the city of Gilverdale in Valenwood by Molag Bal. He made a deal with eight of the more prominent Daedric Princes. Azura, Boethiah, Herma-Mora, Hircine, Malacath, Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal and Sheogorath. The term of the deal is that during the war between Morrowind and Cyrodiil, the Daedric Princes should not accept any summon by mortal, unless it was done by witches or sorcerers.

However, a former spymaster of Vivec managed to summon Mehrunes Dagon by fueling the rage of a witch of the Skeffington Coven in High Rock. The witch wanted to take revenge upon the Duke of Morrowind, while the spymaster just wanted to see Morrowind suffered after what Vivec had done to him. Mehrunes Dagon overdid and destroyed the capital of Morrowind, Mournhold. The invasion of the city of Mournhold by Mehrunes Dagon is one of the most terrible destructions ever recorded by the historians. Although Mehrunes Dagon was eventually banished back to Oblivion by a joined effort of Almalexia and Sotha Sil, Mournhold had been totally destroyed, and the Duke of Morrowind was slain. A new city is constructed right atop the ruins of the destroyed Mournhold.

During the Imperial Simulacrum, Jagar Tharn dealt with Mehrunes Dagon. Mehrunes Dagon then assaulted the Battlespire, a proving ground and bastion of the Imperial Battlemages. Tharn had to destroy the Imperial Battlemages to smoothen his rule over Tamriel on Uriel Septim VII seat. However, the Prince of Destruction had a hidden agenda - he wanted to invade Tamriel. Since the Prince and his Daedric army cannot cross the realities directly, he conquered and used multiple pocket dimensions and the Battlespire (the final gateway) as the steps to the mortal realm. One of the invaded realms is Shade Perilous, one of the realms of Daedric Prince Nocturnal. Two Nocturnal's lieutenants, Deyanira Katrece and Jaciel Morgen were severely suffered by the invasion of Mehrunes Dagon.

Although the Battlespire had fallen; but an unknown hero managed to banish Mehrunes Dagon to Oblivion. The hero used Mehrunes Dagon's protonymic and neonymic; and then hit the Prince with the Daedric Broadsword of the Moon Reiver. The Broadsword of Moon Reiver is an artifact of great power that was personally forged from Mehrunes Dagon's own essence. With this action, Mehrunes Dagon's anchor to the mortal realm was severed and he was banished to Oblivion. The Battlespire itself was destroyed after the banishment of Mehrunes Dagon, due to the magicka anchors that supporting the floating citadel were also severed. More information on this issue can be found in The Story of Battlespire.

Another artifact that worth noted in this period of chaos is the Daedric Crescent Blade. These blades were used in the invasion of Battlespire by Mehrunes Dagon's army. After the event though, the Septim Dynasty declares this weapon illegal, and thus makes the blade highly prized among the collectors.

Other famous artifact of Mehrunes Dagon is Mehrunes' Razor. This mythical artifact is capable of slaying any creature instantly. This blade is highly prized among the assassins. The Hero of Daggerfall once was rewarded by Mehrunes Dagon after his service of eliminating a troublesome Frost Daedra. Decades later, the blade was recovered in the bad condition by the Nerevarine, and then Mehrunes Dagon in his shrine of Yasamiddan, restored the blade to its former glory. Detail conversation of the event can be read here.

In the south Cyrodiil, there exists the Nefarivigum, a foul construct of Mehrunes Dagon, was erected to be ever watchful for the pilgrim who would approach it and best an unknown trial of worth. It is said that such a pilgrim would be rewarded with the blessing of Mehrunes Razor. It seems that the construct is able to retrieve the razor from its current owner, and give it to the pilgrim that finished the trial. The Ayleids tried to prevent the blade to be released; therefore they erected Varsa Baalim, a city that surrounded the Nefarivigum. After so many years the city stood strong, some unfortunate events occurred, and the city were destroyed and lost from the history.

Some decades after the destruction of Battlespire, in 3E 433, Mythic Dawn, a cult of Mehrunes Dagon worshipper, managed to assassinate the Emperor Uriel Septim VII and the royal family of the Septim Dynasty. This started the event called the Oblivion Crisis. It is a period of time when the force of Oblivion under the lead of Mehrunes Dagon invaded Tamriel, with the assistance of the Mythic Dawn cult. The Gates of Oblivion appeared everywhere throughout Tamriel.

Brother Martin, a monk under the service of Akatosh in Kvatch, which is in fact a direct descendant of Uriel Septim VII, after being convinced by the Champion of Cyrodiil tried to prevent the fall of the mortal realm to Mehrunes Dagon. The Champion of Cyrodiil helped him recovering the Amulet of Kings and slain Mankar Camoran, the leader of the Mythic Dawn cult. However, when Martin was in his way to relight the Dragonfire to reseal the covenant made by Queen Alessia back in the First Era, Mehrunes Dagon and his minions had managed to cross the border between realities and invaded the Imperial City. Martin sacrificed himself while breaking the Amulet of Kings. This action summoned Akatosh. The Chief of the Aedra and the Daedra of Destruction clashed!

The titanic battle ended when Akatosh defeated and banished the Prince of Destruction back to Oblivion. Then Akatosh sealed the barrier between realities so that the Daedra will not be able to invade anymore. Alas, the last descendant of the Septim is no more; the Cyrodiil Empire has no Emperor. The future for the third Empire of Men is bleak.

Sometime during the Oblivion Crisis, Frathen Drothan, a rogue Telvanni tried to retrieve the blade in order to support his rebellion against the Imperial. He found the ruin of Varsa Baalim, and eventually he reached Nefarivigum, however the Champion of Cyrodiil thwarted his evil and retrieved the blade for himself.

Harvest's End, 3E 172

Chimere, Master Sorcerer, Summoner, and Direnni retainer:

Chimere Graegyn was a retainer of the ambitious Direnni clan. The Direnni derived the bulk of their power from their traffickings with Daedra, a very profitable but risky path to success. Chimere was perhaps the cleverest and most ambitious of the Direnni summoners. He dared to scheme against Lord Dagon, and won. When his trick succeeded, Dagon was cast into Oblivion. However, in the instant of his betrayal, Dagon struck out against the mortal who tricked him. Chimere's pact assured that he would live forever in his home town among the happy voices of his friends and countrymen. Twisting the literal words of Chimere's pact, Dagon scooped up tiny Caecilly Island (a small island off the coast of Northmoor) and hurled in into the void. All Chimere's friends and countrymen were instantly killed, though the sounds of their voices remained to torment Chimere's memory. Chimere was condemned to live forever, to grow progressively old and crippled with arthritis, and to contemplate the tragic consequences of his defiance of fate and fortune in cheating a Daedra Lord.

Armor of the Saviour's Hide:

Created by the Daedra Lord Malacath, this armor has the marvelous property of turning the blow of an oathbreaker. Chimere tricked Dagon into swearing an oath against the Powers which he had no intention of keeping. The Hide of the Savior turned Dagon's titanic fury long enough for Chimere to deliver his own attack -- an incantation invoked upon Dagon's "Protonymic" (i.e., Incantory True Name). Unfortunately, like many of Malacath's gifts, the armor is a mixed blessing. It also makes its wearer exceptionally vulnerable to magical attacks, so one should only wear it for particular occasions.

Dagon's Protonymic:

Chimere used Dagon's Protonymic in an incantation to invoke a sorcery that would gradually drain all of Dagon's power into the void. Chimere miscalculated, however, not realizing that Dagon's resistance could slow the draining of his power, even if it could not stop it. As a result, Dagon had the time to curse Chimere with a literal fulfillment of the terms of his bargain with Chimere. Rather than let his power drain into the void, Dagon cast it all into his curse. As a result, Caecilly Island was cast into the void, all its citizens were horribly slain, and Chimere was condemned to live forever among the ruins of his greatest ambition.

Rituals of the Hunt:

The Chapel of the Innocent Quarry: Chimere believes that Dagon had Caecilly Island established as the site of the Chapel of the Innocent Quarry to personally mock and torment Chimere. The green crystal structure was created by enchantments, and is the only building on the island erected since it was ripped from Tamriel and loosed in the void.

The Spear:

Supposedly the Spear of Bitter Mercy used in the Wild Hunts could not be handled by any mortal or immortal save the ones sanctified to the Hunt and bound by its strictures. However, Chimere has determined that though the Spear's power is great, it is not unlimited, and that certain enchanted items -- for instance, the Armor of the Savior's Hide, forged by Malacath -- are sufficient to protect a mortal or immortal bearer from its maleficent energies.