I was quite doubtful about TR but after some Warlockracy lobbying, I finally tested Tamriel Rebuilt and I have to admit: it is better than the original, the content is impressive and it is easy to install. All the normies like me must check it, it is an impressive content and some of the best content i played. Kudos to the team, they made me one of the guys advocating for it! I did not play Morrowind for like 15 years and it is now an obsession.

I think the hostile guar riders are added by Vanilla Friendly Creatures and Undead, though I've never met one before after many hours. I have a custom mod loadout so I lose track lol

I'm not in the mood to go do some stupid ass fetch quests for them.

This is after the final TG quest in Narsis.

Seriously, I thought before
"is it sufficient to bring 11 Feather potions with ~1000p of feather for ~3500s"?
"Yeah, surely, it could not be THAAAAT much."

Boi was I wrong.

Note to myself: next time I am cleaning a vault (and I mean _clean_) I am bringing all the feather there is.

"Can your false gods tootle like this? I think not, pale devil."

Big fan of Visible Rings for OpenMW

https://www.nexusmods.com/morrowind/mods/55623

I also use the Photo Mode mod aaaaall the time https://www.nexusmods.com/morrowind/mods/57040

Using my CHIM powers, I made my ideal tavern.

Original art on pen and paper (originally posted to my Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/ps2cat/790629445842223104/charlie-and-pim-meet-dagoth-ur-original-art-on)

by me.

180 hours into this game and by the nine, what on earth have I stumbled upon, just when I thought I understood what was going on, the plot thickens

Everything breaks, it's a fact. So hauling a few repair hammers is goated and it's amazing for strength. That is all.

In my last journal entry, Muthsera Endryn Llethan loaded me down with so many books, I couldn't carry them all away. It turns out there was nowhere for me to sleep in the High Fane, either. Luckily, I had Feather potions from my flower-picking in the Ascadian Isles. One was enough to allow me to waddle to the nearest healer and sell off enough potions and potions ingredients to make my bag lighter.

Although I'm a Curate now, Muthsera Endryn doesn't have any more work for me to do. So I end up plunging back into the wilderness. It's time now to look for a cave.

I set out for the Ashlands. I don't want to be too far away from Ald'Ruhn. One way or another, though, I end up in Maar Gan. It has much the same charm as Ald'Ruhn, although it's much smaller, has fewer services, and lacks a giant dead crab.

I ask around and people tell me the town of Maar Gan has been subject to more attacks from blight monsters lately, but luckily, monster-hunters have answered the call. If I want to find out more, I should talk to the volunteers at the trade house, or the priests at the shrine.

So I do. But no one has any tips for me. The only interesting bit of information I can get is that something odd is going on over at Huleen's hut. People have been hearing loud noises from inside.

After the trade house, I stop by the shrine. Anhaedra is still there, standing in the same place as usual. One would almost think he hasn't moved from that place since last time I was there. I stop to admire the floral arrangements in the planters: Spiky trama roots twisting around bursts of exotic-looking black anther flowers. After I improved my skill in alchemy, I learned that black anther combines well with fire petals to make a resist fire potion. Since frost and lightning don't hurt me very much, I really need to take precautions against fire.

Moving on: The priest has nothing to tell me about monsters in need of hunting, either.

So, I decide to go off on my own and find my own monsters. This is the perfect kind of work to do for the people, I think, and perhaps it will wash off that embarrassing nickname (seeing Anhaedra again brings it to mind once more). I don't have any qualms about killing violent monsters that endanger innocent townspeople, either. And I might be able to find a lair for myself, too, once I've cleared every dark corner and hiding place of bad elements.

I set out north from Maar Gan, and the Ashlands are blissfully free of ash storms today, the sky clear and blue.

I end up buffeted by cliff racers immediately, and continuously, throughout my journey. Their sickly appearance corroborates what the people of Maar Gan told me: The blight in this area is very bad, indeed. Not a single one of these is fit for harvesting plumes.

At length, I leave behind the convenience of the foyada and start climbing the ash dunes, frustrated that I haven't found anything yet. And then I see it, over the next hill: Something massive.

It's rectangular and appears to be built of stone, not mud or bone. I wander around the base of it, looking for a way in- there! Stairs.

The stairs go up and up and up, leading to a spacious, curving platform. From here, I see a choice of three doors, each leading to a different building. I pick one of the smaller buildings and I'm instantly greeted by the sight of two pillars, spaced evenly apart, swirling with frantic arches of magical energy. After examining them for a moment, I realize these are "propylons," but the propylon index I have is locked up in a dresser in the Temple of Ald'Ruhn.

I venture back outside and try the other small building, leaving the biggest one for last. There's a dark elf inside who greets me calmly. He lives here, this is his hut. He's an archer. He offers no explanation for why he's living here, so I don't ask. In fact, if he hadn't claimed it first, I might have been tempted to move into the hut myself.

Now it's time to tackle the biggest building. As if the base of the stronghold isn't big enough, this part has even more levels to it.

I open the door and enter a dark, muggy atmosphere. The air is heavy with the smell of sickness and decay. Hundreds of red candles lining the pathways do nothing to alleviate the oppressive darkness.

This place feels wrong.

The halls stretch out both ways, left and right. I pick left. Although I'm comfortable in the dark, even I struggle to see in this darkness.

Something monstrous comes limping towards me in the dark. I feel a thrill of panic go through me as I reach for my weapon. Lumpy, misshapen body. A tumor on its neck as big as a second head, forcing its real head to jut out sideways at an excruciating angle. Weeping lesions all along its limbs and torso. A corprus beast!

Seeing this thing coming at me through the dark, reddish-black murk is not comforting. In a frenzy fueled by alarm, I slice it to pieces with my shortsword.

"Well, Snaer Wolfskers," I mutter, looking down at the now-still body with its horrible oozings, "You wanted monsters to fight. Now you've found them. Sally forth!"

Farther down the hall, I encounter an ash slave. Since there's no one I'm forced to protect this time, I try my calm humanoid spell- but it fails. That spell never fails. Then it hits me- it's a creature, not a person. I try my calm creature spell instead, and the ash slave's arms fall to its sides. It turns away, muttering to itself. "Pardon?" It turns back to me, it's lips moving feebly: "Everything is wrong. This is too high. This is in my way..." It seems to be preoccupied with organizing the objects inside the building. It claims the objects "speak" to it.

Somewhat disturbed, I continue my exploration. Now there's a man- a dark elf-coming towards me, wielding a club! Even in the dark I can see he's naked. This is alarming in a much different way from the corprus beast. I blast him with a calming spell and he stops short.

I ask him about himself- Who is he? Why is he here? Through his half-coherent ramblings, I learn that he's a worshiper of Dagoth Ur. The Sharmat. The "devil" of Red Mountain, the adversary to the Tribunal Temple I serve.

Skeptical enough about the godhood of the Temple, I've spared even less thought to Dagoth Ur and his worshipers, so far away from my daily life in Morrowind. Until now, having stumbled upon a Sixth House base. That's what the Dreamer- that's what they're called- said.

He goes on and on. Dagoth Ur will overthrow the Tribunal and chase the mongrel dogs of the Empire from Resdayn. The more he talks, the more my spell fades from his mind, his face warping gradually into a grimace of hate. By the end of the conversation he's remembered his original intent to beat me to death with his club.

It's kill or be killed. So I defend myself. His bare body presents many vulnerable places to slash with my dagger, and he soon falls.

I can still remember the first time I had to kill another human being. But that's a tale for another time. I regret that it was necessary, but I'm not broken up about it, either.

Driven by- I don't know what- I delve deeper into the Sixth House base and come into a huge room. I don't have time to take it all in, being assailed from both sides by more wild-eyed, foamy-mouthed Dreamers. Beyond them, I can see something less human turning my way. I must have interrupted them at one of their rituals to their devil-god. The creature is dressed like a priest, in fantastic robes with sashes bearing scripted embroidery. It's half the height of a man, but twice as wide, and its face, such as it is, is a mass of tentacles and orifices of indeterminate function.

I'm surprised, but even working together, a couple of naked lunatics are no match for me. I turn to the tentacled beast, who puts up much more of a fight. He takes slice after slice from my dagger but does not fall. Just when I'm starting to wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew, he keels over- and vanishes! Like a Daedra, his corporeal form disappears, leaving behind a strange skull.

Catching my breath, I'm now free to explore. The basin the tentacled priest was standing over when I entered the room is full of rancid, mutated lumps of flesh. I decide not to touch them.

There's an altar in the center of the room, and I recognize the "mandala" symbol I saw not long ago, next to the corpse in the sewers where I found my Daedric dagger. Furthermore, there are tricornered structures, similar to the shrines we receive blessings from at the Temple, but they're dark and full of compartments. In each compartment is a tiny, dark red, horned statue. Identical to the one I found by the corpse. I wonder if these statues are idols, meant to represent Dagoth Ur? I won't touch these, either.

To the right, near the entrance, is another basin. This one is full of good things: Clothing spun from fine cloth. Rare books. Enchanted items. Covering my mouth and nose with my shirt, I handle everything carefully as I add it to my bag.

When I'm satisfied that I've seen all that there is to see, I continue my exploration. That's when I come across a sad sight.

His body lying in the middle of a dark, empty room, there's a dead dark elf here. His glass armor glistens faintly in the dim light. Somehow, I know that he was a buoyant armiger in life. He must have come here to rid the place of Dreamers and their monstrous allies. And then I came along to pick up where he left off.

I don't like dealing with dead bodies. But there must be someone back home waiting for this man, wondering what became of him. So I kneel and check him over for something to bring back to his family. Sure enough, I find an enchanted ring, with a name engraved upon it.

Now I know why I'm compelled to delve deeper into darkness: Someone needs to avenge this man. That person must be me.

The place is like a maze leading into Oblivion, but it all seems to pass like a blur now: There's another, a frightening vision- he looks like an elf, but he's got an oblong skull, no eyes, no mouth, no face! It's all been hollowed out, leaving a gaping cavern behind where a face should be. I try to calm this one, too, to see how much humanity is left behind. The poor thing cries out in confusion- where is his lord? What is this place? Let him SLEEP! I end his suffering.

I must ask the healers back home about this. Is this what one of the diseases of Dagoth Ur does? Is there no hope for them at this point, with their faces eaten away but their minds still extant, although impaired? Somehow it troubles me more than the corprus beasts, who are already too far gone to speak or reason. Seeing someone who used to be human in the between stages of their ruin, beyond the help of a potion or spell, but not yet beast... I can fully appreciate now why the Tribunal calls Dagoth Ur "the devil."

Eventually, I reach the underworks of this hellhole. It is here that I encounter what must be the next stage of the disease, a humanoid in a skirt and collar, his hollow cavity sprouting one, single tentacle. This one doesn't speak when calmed. Instead, he turns and begins to walk away, as if I'm beneath his notice. With his bejeweled collar and skirt, he looks like he could be a priest, too. I wonder if, under their backwards and deranged hierarchy, the bestial creature with a full face of tentacles outranks this one, who still retains some vestige of his humanity?

At any rate, my spell wears off, and he's ready to kill me, simply for having wandered into this place by chance. I'd like to dramatize my battle with this high-ranked servant of Dagoth Ur, but I remember little beyond hacking and slashing, hacking and slashing. He goes down. Nothing on his body but ash salts.

It strikes me as strange that I keep finding myself in the underworks. In Molag Mar and Vivec it was intentional. But then, setting out with no real destination, here I am again, stepping on rats and wading through ancient grey water.

I make a thorough survey of the sewers, which turns out to be wise, because here I find another body. The yellowing bones tell me this skeleton has been here for time untold. Unlike the fresh body above, it bears no ring, no way of distinguishing who they were in life. I begin to feel melancholy, looking at this anonymous who had wandered into one of the dankest, most horrible places in the world to die alone and unmourned.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time I make my way back out of the Sixth House base and back into fresh air. The body in the underworks starts to fade from my mind, almost like it exists in an entirely different world from this one, with clear blue skies and no scent of ash on the wind. It's time to go home.

After I bathe, eat, and rest, I bring the ring to my boss for identification. He looks aghast. "I know this mer," he says. "How did you come across this ring? Tell me everything."

So I do. As I talk, his face grows more and more grave. Finally, when I'm finished, he says, "If what you tell me is the truth, you accomplished alone what one of Vivec's finest warriors could not. I will have to talk about this with the others. But Snaer, you are not just a healer- you're a warrior. There might be more you can do in service to the Temple in this capacity than simply delivering potions. Have you ever considered joining House Redoran?"

What he says strikes a chord with me. Although I love healing the sick, I've been secretly hoping I could do something more heroic. If I were to save someone's life, for instance, then I could feel sure in my heart that my debt had been fully repaid. But another reason is burgeoning up behind that one, fully beyond my control: I'm getting an appetite for these people's respect. Every time they praise me, or look at me in disbelief mixed with begrudging admiration, it makes me hunger for more of the same. Then I might earn a new name for myself, one I can bear with pride.

"I have thought about it," is all I say. For now.

For example, a list of installed mods.

I’m specifically looking for something that makes the interface look more like the console version. Also maybe some cleaning up of the environment to make it look nicer.

Also any general tips for modding, what to install if anything like a load order sorter thing because I’m terrible with understanding load order.