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Sithis is the start of the house. Before him was nothing, but the foolish Altmer have names for and revere this nothing. That is because they are lazy slaves. Indeed, from the sermons,´stasis asks merely for itself, which is nothing.´
Sithis sundered the nothing and mutated the parts, fashioning from them myriad of possibilities. These ideas ebbed and flowed and faded away and this is how it should have been done.
One idea, however, became jealous and did not want to die, like the stasis, he wanted to last. This was the demon Anui-El, who made friends, and they called themselves the Aedra. They enslaved everything that sithis had made and created and created realms of everlasthing imperfection. Thus are the Aedra the false gods, that is , illusion.
So Sithis begat Lorkhan and sent him to destroy the universe. Lorkhan! Unstable mutant!
Lorkhan had found the Aedric weakness. While each rebel was, by their nature, immeasurable, they were, through jealousy and vanity, also separate from each other. They were also unwilling to go back to the nothing of before. So while they ruled their false dominions, Lorkhan filled the void with a myriad of new ideas. These ideas were legion. Soon it seemed that Lorkhan had a dominion of his own with slaves and everlasting imperfections, and he seemed, for all the world, like an Aedra. Thus did he present himself as such to the demon Anui-El and the Eight givers - as a friend.
Go unto the Sharmat Dagoth Ur as a friend.

AE HERMA MORA
ALTADOON PAD HOME
LKHAN AE AL

In your dream, an old wise-woman treats you for burns on your hands. As she applies a salve to your skin, you feel the tingle of magic as the pain begins to subside. But as you watch, the flesh of your hands begin to bubble, crack, and split, falling in chunks to the flor of her hut. As the wise-woman smiles, you wake up.

In a dream from your childhood you remember playing hiding games with your young friends on a warm summer afternoon. You hide in your parents´ barn, sure you will not be found. Soon, the sweet smell of hay is replaced by a darker, sickly smell. You move deeper into the barn, only to stumble on the rotting corpses of your parents, their throats ripped out. You try to scream as your parents rise and pull you into a sweet embrace.

You dream of walking through the cool night air. Your body cries for blood, having not fed for days. Weakly, you stumble to a small pool. As you bend down to it, you see that it is not water in the pool, but warm, fresh blood, steam rising off it. You lower your head to drink, but cannot open your mouth. As you realize in horror that your lips have been sewn shut, a pair of cold, white hands reach out from the pool and draw you under.

A warm, gentle breeze causes a tickle on your face, but as you go to brush it off, you find you cannot move your arms. Looking at your skin, you realize that it has turned to a brittle, green, glass. Standing perfectly still, you breathe in shallow gulps of air, knowing that moving would cause your skin to shatter into thousands of pieces. The tickle on your face worsens, and you know that you are about to sneeze. As your skin shatters, you wake up sweating.

I walk the groves of Damherung.
Below a dappled sun go I
And sing of Volrath´s coming doom
Beneath a brilliant sky.--------------
O forest, hold thy wand´ring son
Though fears assail the door.
O foliage, cloak thy ravaged one
In vestments cut for war.--------
For what are leaves but countless blades
To fight a countless foe on high,
And what are twigs but spears arrayed
To slay the monstrous sky--------------
O forest, hold thy wand´ring son
Though fears assail the door.
O foliage, cloak thy ravaged one
In vestments cut for war.--------
Though death has guille and killing power,
Though bloodlust rules the steaming tides,
It´s life that wrestles hour by hour
And finally abides.-------------------
O forest, hold thy wand´ring son
Though fears assail the door.
O foliage, cloak thy ravaged one
In vestments cut for war.

blaugh The skies are dark
The moon is hidden
All the while
Nothing is forgiven
Oblivion is everwhere
And everywhere is what we are
So why i ask, why has the sky fallen to awe
Our eyes look up to the heavenly bodies
Our thoughts in the air where our dreams float away
Still we believe in our own destinies
Still we believe in our own fate
We love, we cry
We stare at the sky
Stargazers are we all
Stargazers keep staring
Why in the sky do we look now
Why on the ground, does look the clown
Our tears well up in streams of light
Our dreams float by, day or night
Fire smoke is what we make
Yet our feelings we can never fake
In a world so seemed as the making of dreams
Then why do our tears flow in rivers, not streams crying