anachronism

Middas, 26th Rain's Hand 1E 306 It almost seems quizzical how often my ideas are still considered even after multiple groans of frustration and occasional cries of fear. It takes a lot to scare a Dwemer, especially when it comes to machinery, yet I still manage to raise the bar every single time. I cannot decipher whether that is a compliment or not.

For example, the other day I proposed a horseless form of transportation that involved balancing upon two wheels and pedalling to power it. If the individual was feeling particularly lazy and preferred the ease of a horse, I also suggested that a steam powered engine could be attached to it to move the wheels for you. It was rejected, but not unanimously. I did spy the engineers at the back of the room furiously scribbling. I have yet to find a suitable name for this contraption, because the name 'horseless transporter' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. I was also considering the name 'bicycle', but I am still undecided.

Loredas, 15th Second Seed 1E 306 I almost could not believe my eyes when I peeked through a slightly adjacent door and caught one of the council members who shot down my 'bicycle' idea trying to build it for himself! Of course, I kicked the door open and rained upon him every single swear in my vocabulary, which is ashamedly quite a lot. He couldn't escape into The Calling either, I am especially loud within our hivemind. It’s supposed to ensure that others stay away from my lab. I wish it worked.

besides, i dont feel like justifying my own headcanons with lore elitists.

looks like the player character struck a nerve with kalec.

“Manarion, but Mzchindhir is the name my father gave me.” The Altmer-Dwemer tilted his head slightly, deep golden eyes gazing intently at the smaller and slighter elf. Despite his reserved nature there was something about him that almost exuded a deep-seated joy and excitement. “I suppose, between the two of us, I would prefer Mzchindhir, or even Mzchin.” Manarion rumbled curiously, a notched ear giving a slight flick as he dredged up ancient memories of what his father did. “My father, Arnamac Staangthuumz was an Engineer as well.” The smile he gave was the epitome of bittersweet agreement.

“No problem at all.”

Kalec whips out a rag and cleans his glasses, squinting back up at Mzchindhir with a subtle, yet warm smile. He could hardly believe it. One of the descendants of his people standing before him, alive! It had been so long since he had felt so comfortable in his own skin. Even though Mzchin was clearly Altmer in appearance, the fact that he had such close relations to the Dwemer was more than anything Kalec could have asked for.

“But obviously I will switch it up when we speak in common, yes? Unfortunately I haven’t quite devised a cover name for myself but it seems like a lot of people don’t question my birth name beyond unashamedly intrusive remarks about it.”

Kalec’s eyes widened at that name. How familiar!

“Arnamac Staangthuumz? I have a feeling I may have seen his work before, please do tell me more. What clan do you hail from? I myself am from the Rourken clan.”