High Rock

“Face of potato, and half as clever”

This insult of course belittles the target’s appearance and intelligence, but it bears mentioning that Bretons possess a love of two things when in it comes to curses, cusses and name-calling: ordered, traditional exchanges of meticulously thought-out insults…and potatoes. One opponent’s crushing verbal attack may be prepared weeks in advance to flawlessly leave their enemy speechless, and defeated. As for the potatoes, well, it seems that potatoes are the lowest of the low in High Rock. Upon inspecting one of these exotic vegetables, I found it to be lumpy, dull, thick, and bland. Hardly a flattering connotation.

“Knave”

General, all-around word for anyone the speaker dislikes. Scoundrels, thieves, low-lives, and idiots, unscrupulous indivuals of dishonest means; all knaves to the opinionated and foul-mouthed Breton.

“Your stench suggests athleticism.”

A cutting jab at one’s physical ability, and odour. A slow-burner that will leave the target hurt, and checking their armpits.

“An ego as high as Direnni”

For the egotistical Breton mage, (of which there is no lack, let me assure you) this will knock them from their tower of supposed intellect back among the still extremely magically capable people of High Rock. Of course derived from the famous Direnni Tower, famous for it’s incredible height and grandeur.

“Zutierre”

Meaning one lacking in magical ability. This is a particularly nasty insult, as magic is deeply-engrained in the culture and hearts of all true Bretons. To call a child of Heiroc a zutierre is to call an Orc a coward; it cuts deep. The word is derived from an old Breton word “zut” meaning something along the lines of “damn”.

“Orque”

In High Rock, being referred to as an Orc is an insult in and of itself. Bretons living particularly close to Orsinium are slightly more tactful in their choice of words, but truly, the Pariah Folk take a beating from their closest neighbors. They’re the butt of every joke, such to the point where the poor Orcs’ name are synonymous with idiocy and backwardness. For such a Daedra-aware culture, they seem to be tempting fate with Malacath…

“Gums-a-flap”

A rude description for one who speaks too much. Is especially popular in western High Rock.

“I’d disarm you further, but my words would fall on deaf, potatoed ears.”

A good end to a battle of wits, of course punctuated by a killer riposte of potato comparisons. I’ve heard tell that these potato insults are a popular insult in Cyrodiil too, but I’ll have to research that in a future expedition.

“More of your droning drivel would infect my brain”

Another way to end an argument, but can also be used dismissively, such as when one’s Daedra servant is chattering on about this Prince and that Prince. Comes specifically from the Bjoulsae River tribes, but has mostly been absorbed into the bulk of Breton society.

“Your lack of wit is most plentiful.”

Meaning is self-evident, but is a clever play on words. Derived from a quote from an otherwise unassuming Breton king named Mordastyr, who was quoted as such while holding court with a Nordic leader in the First Era.

Now, for an example exchange between two sharp-tongued Bretons:

“_Ah, here he is, finally returned to Wayrest, the all-powerful sorcerer supreme, gums-a-flap with tales of his great deeds, and an ego as high as Direnni._”

“_Be silent, Orque! I am in no mood for such games, least of all with the likes of a knave like you. Now if you’ll excuse me—_”

“_Ah, not so fast, zutierre. with ears-a-potatoed and a visage to match, your ambition may exceed your cleverness. Perhaps you need someone more level-headed to do such complex tasks as crossing streets and such. Don’t strain yourself._”

“_Your stench suggest athleticism, but the booze in your limp, dirty hands would say otherwise. Your lack of wit is plentiful, surely, but my time is not. Had I more I might grind your words to dust, but your droning drivel could be infectious, and I’d rather not chance it. A’good day._”

(Stunned, the losing Breton slumps back down the wall of his filthy alley, and sobs to himself over a cheap bottle of witchbrew wine)