The Age of Oppression

Polytheist

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We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone.
For the age of oppression is now nearly done.

The Priestess

Danica Pure-Spring sighed as she finished sweeping the Temple floor; the quiet, no matter how short, was a welcome relief.

It had been a difficult month.

First Mithopa Nasyal had injured himself working on his farm and his bones had refused to set correctly; resulting in nasty case of rockjoint that, once treated, manifested into helljoint.

Then Helgi had returned from Morthal with a rather stubborn bout of Swamp Fever all but immune to the standard healing potions, with restorative spell just curing the symptoms rather than fighting the disease. It was a welcome relief when the fever finally broke.

Which reminded her: she must collect her order of Blue Mountain flowers from Arcadia and see if Belethor had received the wheat shipment from Rorikstead he was expecting. Her store of tonics was running low.

This had not been helped by the main issue.

The injured from the conquest of Whiterun had clogged up the Temple for weeks; at least the farmer and housewife had left donations, despite how little they had. The soldiers had simply declared it was their Nord-given right to be waiting upon while they healed, considering they had "liberated" the city; and that was before the petty ailments and complaints. But they were now gone, the last stumbling out after she had healed the cut on his thumb, leaving Danica to clear up their mess.

Furthermore the haphazard shots of the Stormcloaks' catapults during their siege had damaged the Gildergreen and, to top it all, the resulting fire had cooked and crystallised the sap used to sustain it. The Gildergreen wasn't showing any signs of rejuvenating and there were reports coming from brave pilgrims that the Eldergreen's sacred sanctuary had been desecrated by Spriggans, Danica was worried that there wasn't a chance to save the ancient tree again; a doubt slowing growing into a despair filled fear.

She repressed another sigh as the door to the Temple opened.

"Welcome to the Temple," a tired smiled forced on her lips as she turned towards the door, hoping it was Ahlam or a mere worshipper rather than another injured. "Kynareth's blessing upon you."

She trailed off when she saw it was Sinmir and a company of five guards; not a walking wounded among them.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as Heimskr brought up the rear.

Sinmir approached, producing a roll of paper.

"By order of Jarl Gray-Mane," he read, "you are hereby commanded to vacate this temple."

Danica blinked.

"What?"

Sinmir glared. "You heard me woman. Following the honourable example of the Temple of Windhelm, the Jarl has declared that this temple be reattributed to Mighty Talos. You have half an hour to gather your things and leave."

Danica stared as Heimskr proceeded to move around the Temple, performing loud blessings in Talos' name; complete with erratic arm movements and borderline nonsense intonements.

One of the guardsmen approached Kynareth's shrine, picked it up and raised it high above his head with his intentions clear.

Unlike Danica, Acolyte Jenssen was startled from his stunned inaction and moved to stop him, only to receive a gauntleted fist in the face from Sinmir. He went down, a substantial amount of blood seeping from his mouth onto the floor.

With a mighty effort the guardsman threw the shrine to the floor.

Something tore through Danica as it crashed on the ground, the sapphire flying from it in a spray of moonstone chips; the echoing sound causing her legs to buckle as she fell to her knees.

"You can't." She whispered, eyes fixed on the broken remains of the shrine.

"Careful Priestess," Sinmir sneered, "such treasonous words could land you in Dragonsreach."

The other guards sniggered.

Danica did not seem to hear them as she continued to stare at the shattered corpse of Kynareth's shrine.

The Temple doors banged open as several labourers manoeuvred the large statue of Talos from its place in the Wind District to the centre piece of the Temple.

Heimskr followed them, holding aloft the shrine to Talos. With great reverence he placed it at the feet of the statue.

A rough hand gripped Danica's shoulder, yanking her to her feet.

"Time to go Priestess," Sinmir sneered, her title sounding like some vile epithet.

He and his men manhandled Danica and Acolyte Jenssan out of the Temple; shoving them towards the Gildergreen.

As angry black clouds rumbled overhead, Danica fell to her knees, placed a hand on the decaying bark of the Gildergreen and sobbed.