F A M O U S  Q U O T E S

"I am Soris Uvula! And my name is whispered in the nightmares of children. And homeless folk. And small puppies".

-Soris Uvula

"I will mount your frozen corpse in my gallery of frozen corpses."

-Soris Uvula

"Maybe it would be better to just look around for a trail of destruction and vomit.... and follow that."

-Soris Uvula

"YO! Youse guys! How's it... hangin'?"

-Soris Uvula

"Look, I know the following statement will bear less weight, considering the source, but... you creep me out, man. For real.

-Soris Uvula


Soris Uvula, Elder (Second Echelon), House Telvanni


Dunmer. That means “Dark Elf” if you’re an uneducated fool. (Yes, Keeg, I am addressing you directly. Not that you can read this. Fool.)

Home Town

Sadrith Mora. Again, for all of you monolingual idiots out there (you know who you are… or perhaps in some cases not…), that means “Mushroom Forest”. I’ll have you know I am not an educator, nor do I appreciate being cast in that lowliest of roles.


Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold. There, I said it. And I’m not saying it to appear arrogant; that is hardly the case. I am simply elucidating the concrete fact that I am indeed effectively the most highly ranked and therefore (one must assume) most talented mage in the entire province of Skyrim. And I do realize that, frankly, that’s not saying much given the deplorable dearth of magical talent in this mountain-riddled spat of backwards rock, but you asked for my occupation and there it is. Arch Mage. As my dear friend Ynroh would say, “Suck on that”. And please understand that the term “dear friend” above was typed with literal tears of sarcastic laughter in my eyes. It took the full extent of my considerable self-control to put those words to the page.

Favorite Weapon/Fighting Style

I cut my substantial teeth on a Silver Longblade (1.33 meters, excluding crossguard, grip, and pommel, honed with an edge mere atoms in breadth), but I lost it in a wager with this ridiculous talking mudcrab (don’t even ask; I was quite inebriated at the time). I have since turned to the eldritch arts for all of my melee needs. I conjure a seething, rippling blade of pure malice, ripped from the very heart of Oblivion by nothing less than my will alone. And to put it as bluntly as possible for all you muggles out there, it kicks prodigious amounts of ass. It kicks degrees of ass your feeble mind can barely fathom.

Magical Aptitude (If Any)

One thing I love about this quaint medium for information dissemination is that pages can scroll and scroll, conceivably forever, while the author humbly rambles on about his accomplishments. Please note that out of concern for what I presume to be your utter lack of any quantifiable attention span, this will be a long list, but I have magnaminously separated it into bulletpoints to better assist you in grasping the true magnitude of my ridiculously formidable powers.


Easily my most proficient skill, developed tirelessly over literal centuries. I elected to focus on frost damage simply because Sadrith Mora was a freakishly balmy environment (I could go into the principles of thermodynamics and entropy and of course the CO2 needs of giant bloody mushrooms as they influence a magically-induced quasi-swamp ecosytem but I digress, again out of respect -giggle- for your limited intellect) and I figured I could use what began as recreational cooling as an instrument of murder, mayhem, torture, and of course, dead enemy storage.


I have already enlightened you regarding my ability to easily pluck an ephemeral Daedric sword from the clutches of Dagoth himself. I can also summon semi-sentient minions to do my bidding, though I am loath to do so; I prefer to engage the services of my Argonian manservant. Though… upon reflection, I realize he disappears with even more reliability than a summoned Daedra. Curious…

Necromancy (Yes, I totally went there. You don’t get powers this vast without spending some time on the Dark Side)

I am aware that in recent centuries there is something of a stigma attached to the Darkest of Arts, but in my defense I only use this skill to frighten the bejeezus out of small children. Usually with a close family member. Oh, the lilting melody of a child’s horrified screams is the closest I get to joy in these trying times. And in my further defense (not that I feel I need any, but purely to mollify you, the self-righteous viewer), the Nords to whom this land is home appreciate a child with a strong backbone, and let me just say, if you can survive an attack by your “supposedly dead” Uncle Bjalfi, you can pretty much handle whatever life throws at you. From a certain point of view, this can be considered Community Service, and I am comfortable if you elect to see it that way.


Again, I feel the use of physical weapons is clumsy and stupid, so don’t come to me if you want your sword “mage-ified”. You’ll get an icicle to the eyeball if you display such insolence. I do however feel that jewelry makes the man or mer, and I have a staggering array of enchanted raiment and “bling bling” to satisfy the taste of any discerning man-or-mer-about-town. I should also point out that it is mine, and that you may not have it, in deference to the aforementioned ownership of it by me. And no, you may not purchase it, as I am wealthy beyond your laughable ability to imagine. I don’t need your gold; I can barely keep track of my own.


Possibly the attribute I like least about myself (I know, it shocks me to even type that sentence). I am indeed skilled in the “art” of Illusion, as it was mandated in the curriculum of the guild in which I was trained. I find it incumbent upon me to speak out about the uselessness of this laughable “talent”. Bear with me here, and engage your imagination, limited though it may be. If you are truly a force with which to be reckoned, as indeed I am, any illusion thrown at your unsuspecting enemy can only DILUTE the terror your visage should rightfully engender. Illusionists have spells to induce artificial fear, while any real mage worth one’s salt pile should be able to induce it as a matter of course. Illusionists can inspire confidence as some sort of pathetic “rallying cry”, but a real mage should be able to bark commands which are unquestionably obeyed. If you need light, why not simply cause an enemy (or lacking that, your least useful ally) to burst into flames? This provides not only light, but also heat to brace you on those cold Skyrim evenings. Even if you don’t need heat or light, it’s a great deal of fun and should not be missed. But illusion? It is an insult to the very Magicka expended upon it. But yes, in a pinch (and I mean an extreme pinch) I can do that.


College of Winterhold

(Arch Mage, and no, I am not Savos Aren; he was my predecessor. Yes, we look very similar to one another. We’re of the same race. It’s simply because our people are so much better than the rest of you on any number of levels. That’s why we can’t help but become Arch Mages of second-rate magical institutions. Why must I constantly educate you? Seriously, read a book. I must also point out that the title of Arch Mage does not necessarily mean that the holder is an instructor at the college; merely possessed of more knowledge than anyone else within its walls. I’m more of an administrator, less of a professor. Because, ew.)

House Telvanni

(Elder, Second Echelon)

Tamriel Mage’s Guild

(which doesn’t exist in this province, a fact which succinctly proves how backwards these people are. Oh, and I achieved the rank of Master Wizard in the Guild, literally without breaking the merest drop of sweat)


Ice, frost, sleet (mere snow is for the weak), frozen corpses mounted in ridiculously embarrassing poses, engendering fear, karaoke singing (there seems to be some overlap with the fear-engendering here), proclaiming orders to my manservant, spending gold on frivolous decor, cultivating tubers, gazing at myself in the mirror (resplendent in silken finery or simply in the nude, as is customary), moonbathing, frightening children, vagrants, and household pets with my trademark “Oogety-Boogety-Eyes” or reanimated dead.


I’d imagine anything that Sebastian wrote in the “Turn-Ons” section should simply be copied and pasted here to conserve my valuable time. Please show the slightest bit of effort on your part to kindly do that for me as I simply cannot be bothered with such menial tripe.

What is your ideal recreational activity?

Recreation is for the weak. But I do enjoy the occasional snifter of sujamma whilst strolling through my gallery of frozen corpses. It’s the little things, you know?

What is your best feature?

To list these (I cannot choose but one) would likely cause the household bandwidth quota with your ISP to be summarily throttled. I would spare you that. Simply be assured in the knowledge that all of my features are vastly superior to your own.

Let’s be honest. What’s your claim to fame?

I once conjured a frost atronach to lay siege to the town of Windhelm, simply out of whimsy and also because the locals pissed me off on a fairly consistent basis. Unfortunately the atronach was waylaid by a six year-old girl and subsequently named “Frosty” by the waif; the foolish child actually BEGGED me to make the enchantment permanent. Now, think about this for a moment, if you can spare the neurons for the task. This creature was torn from the deepest recesses of Oblivion with the sole purpose of razing this child’s home, and here she is, knocking politely on my door… asking me to help her (chuckle) FRIEND to not melt in the unseasonably warm winter. Meanwhile the atronach is standing there, obviously as besieged with laughter as I (in its own limited capacity to do so). The child had stuck a carrot to its face, for Sithis’ sake! And little pieces of coal fashioned into a crude smiley-face.

I was so entertained by the child’s foolishness that I granted her request and utilized my nigh-limitless power to make the summoning permanent. But here’s the most hilarious part. The town hailed me as a hero! They held a bloody parade for me for making this whelp’s dream come true! So, to sum up, I summoned a creature to destroy a town, and that town’s inhabitants celebrated the fact not only that I did so, but that I made the creature a permanent resident. If there is any more damning evidence that these people should be put to work in kwama mines, I’ve yet to see it. I should, however, point out that the atronach was indeed quite useless and I have yet to see any return on investment with the whole “town destruction” thing. Again, this is why I am loathe to summon daedra when a perfectly adequate (if not tolerable) Argonian minion will do. Daedra, it seems, are averse to chains.

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