"Divines and the Nords
by High Priest Ingurt
A text on how ancient Nordic totemic religion transformed into modern worship of the Eight Divines
Nord religion has taken a number of interesting turns over the centuries. Our earliest beliefs were thought to have originated in Atmora and revolved around the worship of animal totems. These animals—Dragon, Hawk, She-Wolf, Snake, Moth, Owl, Whale, Bear, and Fox—seem to correspond to the Eight Divines plus Lorkhan. Later, the Dragon rose to prominence and gave rise to the Dragon Cult. It was either during or soon after the move to Tamriel that the Dragon Cult became more malevolent and forced its will throughout the land. It took the Dragon War to overthrow the Dragons and their priests, but that's a tale for another time.
Eventually, the animal-totem gods transformed into the eight gods we worship today. We call them by their true names: Alduin, Kyne, Mara, Dibella, Stuhn, Jhunal, Orkey, and Shor. We understand that our gods are as cyclical as the world itself, so we also remember the Dead Gods (Shor and Tsun) who fought and died to bring about the current world, the Hearth Gods (Kyne, Mara, Dibella, Stuhn, and Jhunal) who watch over the present cycle, and the Twilight God (Alduin) who ushers in the next cycle. Add to these our so-called Testing Gods, who we do not worship but instead guard against to protect the hearth. These include Orkey, Mauloch, and Herma-Mora.
When the Imperials arrived, they brought with them their southern religion and worked to unify the worship of the Eight Divines. That's how we got this wonderful Temple of the Divines that graces our fair city of Solitude. We agree with the general notion that there are eight gods, more or less, but we view them quite differently and call them by different names. Our temple has adjusted to the needs and desires of the current rulers time and again, yet we have grown used to some of the more prominent Imperial notions and practices even though we no longer find ourselves beholden to the Ruby Throne.
Probably our biggest difference relates to the head of the pantheon. We Nords consider Kyne as the leader of the gods and find the Imperial fascination with Alduin (who they call Akatosh) to be both perplexing and mildly disturbing. We work diligently to keep Alduin asleep, while our southern neighbors try time and time again to get his attention! Which is why I begin every service in the temple with a prayer to praise Alduin (oh great god of time!), followed by a prayer to keep him at bay (may your slumber stretch on for a thousand generations!)."
Mehrunes Dagon pounded on the forcefield which bound him repeatedly, and with great fury. With four powerful arms, he slammed and hacked with battle axes against the clear wall of energy with reckless abandon.
The Daedric Prince had but one thing on his mind: destruction.
With one final, demonic roar, he cleaved the barrier wide and tore the veil to shreds in an explosion of white light.
"All will either worship me, or be annihilated!" the dark god bellowed over the mountains. He thrust his axe forward. "CHARGE! SLAUGHTER ANY MORTAL WHO REFUSES TO BEND THE KNEE! THERE WILL BE NO MERCY FOR TAMRIEL!"
Valkyn Methats and his battalion roared in response as they stormed the cliffs on their Daedric horse's, battleaxes spinning through the air.
"And soon; very soon; the Doom Strider shall emerge... and lay waste to these lands." Mehrunes Dagon looked back at the Mountain cavern where the portal lay exposed, and then thundered down the mountain, himself, heading due west.
Inigo tossed and turned that early morning. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw one of three things; the dead Cura with her throat gashed, the beautiful Lamae, warped by the corruption of Vampirism, and the deaths of his friends at the hands of a large black monstrosity.
Unbeknownst to himself, his distress was plain to see for his friends.
"No... no... No! I will not allow this! No! You will not destroy my home! No!" Inigo protested viciously, drawing his bow. He loosed an arrow towards the black beast, but it simply burned to cinders on contact.
"Inigo! Buddy, are you all right?" Lucien attempted to shake the delirious cat awake.
"Uhh... what?" Inigo snapped out of his stupour. He sat upright on the old bed, surrounded by people in this tight room. Strangers to him, in all cases.
Lucien was cornered, sitting at the edge of his bed. "You were having a nasty nightmare, buddy. I wanted to make sure it wasn't the Daedric Prince Vaermina's machinations. You never know these days."
"Thank you. I am all right now." Inigo expressed relief by wiping his forehead with his arm.
His nightmare was of the Doom Strider. What would it look like? What was it going to do? How long would it be until he had to face that furious beast?
And with Mehrunes Dagon lurking in the mountains, how could they survive?
Was it doom? Would the building come crashing down on all of them soon?
He shuddered and his throat clenched. "Lucien, I do not know if I can fight that thing."
"What thing?"
Inigo grunted. He knew very well what he was referring to. "The Doom Strider."
"Say, when's that Langley chap going to contact you again? I think he's long overdue." Lucien wondered.
"I do not know what is keeping him. Perhaps we should go and visit him." Inigo proposed.
One of the people in the room who hailed from Wretched Spire looked at Inigo funny. "What do you think you can do against the Doom Strider? I've never even seen the thing, and yet all of the Daedra in the Deadlands shudder when they talk about it."
"Gee, that's comforting. Thank you for your invaluable input." Lucien scoffed sarcastically.
"We should have stayed in Wretched Spire. We were safer there. And we were already in Oblivion, so there was no guesswork of our afterlives." one of the others responded angrily. "We never should have listened to that stupid Breton girl."
Inigo snapped upwards at him. "Are you talking about Cura? Don't you dare insult her like that! She took a big risk in sending your pathetic hides here!"
Lucien was surprised by Inigo's sudden anger, but agreed fully. He added in, "Yeah, you should be thanking your lucky stars that it was Cura! I don't think anybody else would have given a damn about the lot of you!"
The man quieted down and turned away from them and back to his conversation with the other denizens of the Spire.
Inigo was impressed by Lucien's assertiveness. He grew a lot from the meek, posh little fellow they'd first met. "Wow, I never would have imagined seeing you snap like that before. Hehehe."
Lucien was stern in his sentiment. "I only said it because I meant it. Candle... she's a saint. She has the care and patience of a saint. Someday she'll be right up there with Alessia."
Inigo smiled. He hoped Cura was doing all right. Was she in the Deadlands still, or had she finally moved onto Coldharbour?
Unfortunately they weren't in the best shape, or in the best conditions to contact her again at the moment. Who could focus in a crowded inn?
Other denizens of the city of Windhelm were poking around to see what was going on. The inn had never been so crowded before.
Elda Early-Dawn finally was able to rest for a while as Faltonia and Delphine tended to the refugees dutifully.
Everyone was exhausted to the bone. Esbern, Mjoll, Cosnach, Annekke, Darkeethus, Marcurio, Erik, Stenvar, Lucien, Inigo, Vilja, and even Serana.
Annekke held her daughter Sylgja's hand. "Don't worry about me, dear. I'm going to be all right."
"That injury looked so bad..." Sylgja massaged her mother's hand tenderly.
"Darkeethus took the worst of the onslaught. I'm more worried about him. The health potion may have saved his life, but there's no denying what may have happened to his innards during those hours of travel like that." Annekke looked at the wounded Argonian in the adjacent bed, between four people.
Vilja continued to spend time with Lilian, trying to take the child's mind off of the tragedy that befell her family. The little girl was not very receptive to her attempts for the most part, crying sporadically. Vilja hugged the girl to try and soothe her pain.
Viola Giordano pushed her way inside, knocking Tarvyn and Sunel aside when she squeezed the doors open and entered Candlehearth Hall in an angry huff. "What in Oblivion is going on here, Elda? I'm hearing all sorts of craziness everywhere! Something about Wuunferth - never liked him, by the way. Always knew he was fishy - Daedra, and, and Refugees?" Though, she knew that the Refugee part was certainly true. That much was plain to see all around. "What's going on? I thought our troubles ended with the damn Dragons."
Ever the busybody, Viola always seemed to know what was going on.
"Didn't we all." Delphine responded snarkily as she swept some broken bottle glass from the floor. "Well, as it turns out the Dragons were just one massive issue among many that we were woefully unprepared for." A fight was gaining speed down the hall, where the citizens of Kynesgrove were having a dispute over the cutting of trees in their settlement being the cause of the chaos. "Damn it - BE QUIET OVER THERE!"
One of the Nords clapped back. "Fine, quit naggin' us!"
"DON'T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE!" Delphine barked back, waving the broom handle in their general direction. Suddenly, she missed the Sleeping Giant Inn. She thought about Orgnar. How was he doing? It's been a long while.
"You were saying?" Elda snapped her back.
"Huh?"
"About the Dragons and stuff."
"Oh! Uh, yeah. The Dragons, the Civil War, the Thalmor, Vampires, and the Mythic Dawn, too. Guess the Vigilants had it right, about Daedra wanting to rip us to shreds." Delphine owed Cura an apology, but sadly, it was far, far too late for that now. She gripped the broom so tightly that it cracked in her palm. "Damn it." she murmured regretfully.
Delphine looked over at Lilian and Vilja, who were sitting on the stairs together. "What kind of world is this gonna be for these poor kids? What are we leavin' them with?" she was thinking towards the many orphans littered throughout the province due to all she'd mentioned. "Are we really this damn powerless?"
Vilja was beginning to show signs of exhaustion, herself, having not slept right since even days before Cura's demise. She'd been running off of Mead and Coffee for the last few days, and had sunken bags under her eyes. She attempted to stand up, and collapsed from fatigue to the hardwood floor then and there.
"Oh, no! Vilja!" Lilian cried out in terror as she reached forward to help the Nord woman.
Delphine hurried over and used her index fingers to feel where Vilja's jaw met her neck, checking for a pulse. When she felt it, she was relieved. "She's not dead; just unconscious. Guess the tiredness finally caught up to her."
"Well, don't just leave her on the floor!" Faltonia expressed her confoundment from across the crowded main hall. "I'm sure there's a mattress somewhere..."
"There's not. They're all taken. Even the spares. All laid out upstairs." Elda groaned from her seat behind the counter against the corner of the wall. She was blunted by exhaustion, herself, and leaned her forehead on her hand. She turned her face to Nils, who approached anxiously, and knew the news was dire. She sighed. "What is it?"
Nils scratched the back of his neck. "Our extra supplies are running low, Elda. The surplus of food is growing shorter and shorter. I don't know how much longer we can..."
A loud, ominous rumbling shook the land in that instant, causing everyone to shake.
The gray skies began to subside from above. Now, the daylight was visible to the naked eye, though something was happening to the blue skies; they were growing darker and the sun was slowly moving away.
"What on Nirn was that?" one of the people of the Spire remarked.
Tarvyn shuddered with fear and squeezed through the crowd and made his way outside with Delphine and Esbern both.
"Why's the sky like that, now?" Delphine asked with all the energy of a janitor who'd seen someone track mud on their freshly-polished floor.
It was foreboding.
"I recognize that horrible power!" Tarvyn cried out. "Dagon!"
Lilian clenched Vilja's side tightly as fear drowned her sorrows. Carene came outside and gazed hopelessly at the dread above.
The sky slowly began to darken and turn red. Thunder roared in the skies above, and more people exited Candlehearth Hall to investigate.
Sunel turned to Ninette. "I'll wager you seven hundred gold that's Mehrunes Dagon."
"We know it is; you're not leaving me a fair option, you jerk!" Ninette clapped back at him, though neither took their eyes off the sky.
Lucien helped Vilja stand, leaning her on his shoulder and they looked up into the hopeless sky. "That's... I'm fairly certain that's not sunset."
Inigo gazed sternly into the boundless crimson. "Jyggalag's shield has run out. We must get everyone to safety!"
"Yeah? Where?" Cosnach snapped at the Khajiit. "Ya dumb cat, there's nowhere we can hide if Mehrunes Dagon comes stomping in here! Ask the old Imperial lady what he did to their city!"
Viola Giordano took immediate offense. "One, I'm not even from there, and two, are you insinuating that I'm over 200 years old?!"
"I ain't insinuating nothin'." Cosnach denied it as he chugged down a bottle of ale. "I'm just sayin' it was nice knowin' you all. Adios. Goodbye. Farewell, my dear Colovian Lady. We're all gonna die."
"No! We are not going to die! I will not see it happen!" Inigo snapped at the drunkard.
"So, what, if you put on a blindfold it'll just magically go away?" Cosnach scoffed at his choice of words.
"Shut up, Cosnach. Let's hear the cat's idea." Delphine admonished her subordinate and granted Inigo the platform, to the surprise of others around.
Inigo thought about how he could articulate his idea in such a way that wouldn't immediately repulse the people he was trying to protect. "Er, yes. Okay. So... we discovered recently that there is the ruins of an old city underneath this one. It is deep underground and the tunnels are long. They start inside the Dungeons of the Palace of Kings. It could make for excellent shelter! We can all pretend to be Skeevers!"
Elda Early-Dawn looked a tad disturbed. "An old city? That can't be right! This city has been here since the first era! This is Ysgramor's city!"
Stighelm raised his hand, interjecting quickly. "I come from the 1st Era... most of us do." he gestured towards the Wretched Spire's citizens among them. "This is not the city I grew up in."
The nearby Stormcloak soldiers looked baffled by this news.
"Maybe the Numidium had something to do with it?" Lucien proposed as he sat down with Vilja leaned on him. "From my understanding, when Tiber Septim - Talos - used the Numidium, he fundamentally changed aspects of our world. Perhaps that could explain those old ruins."
"You think Talos changed our world?" Thorald Gray-Mane asked the Imperial inquisitively.
Lucien was nearly offended by so basic of a question. "Of course! Anyone with a brain could understand that!"
"Then... you recognize that Talos is a Divine?" Ralof stared at him as he asked. His demeanour was that of a man discovering something new.
Lucien was confused at first, but spoke frankly. "I think so, yes. I'd say most Imperials think so, too. Just, what with the nonsense with the Thalmor they've been forced to hide it."
"Exactly! Finally, someone who isn't me can explain it to these boneheads!" Viola Giordano nodded. "Do you think I'd be living in Windhelm if I didn't believe in Talos? There are many nicer places in Skyrim to live in, but here it's safe to worship him."
The people of Wretched Spire had no idea as to who this even was.
"In my Day we Nords worshipped the Hearth Spirits, mixed with the Imperial faith." Stighelm admitted. "Though, I guess we really didn't know as much as we thought we did. Mehrunes Dagon was definitely not what I was expecting when I travelled to Mournhold that week."
Inigo pondered as to why this seemed so familiar to him, until it dawned on him that these animals were depicted across the ruins he and Cura had explored; on turning stones, slabs, and on ancient trick vaults.
It was true, though, that who the Gods were and what they wanted, and how many there were was a great deal of mystery to mortals. Perhaps that was why even in the current Imperial religion people would devote themselves fully to only one of the Eight rather than to all.
Hence, Priests of Mara, Vigilants of Stendarr, Priestesses of Dibella, Priests of Arkay, et cetera.
Inigo felt the cold winds breeze through his fur. "Whatever problems or gripes or differences we all have can wait. We have to bring the citizens of this city down there!"
The group unanimously agreed. Whatever was brewing in the southeast was nothing they wanted to deal with.
"Viola, you're the town's grapevine. Tell everyone in Windhelm to head to the Blue Palace." Ralof requested of the Imperial woman.
Viola agreed. "Yeah, sure." She took the mild shot in stride and raced down the stone road and headed east to the Gray Quarter.
Inigo massaged his aching neck. "We will head inside the Blue Palace. Bring the people to us and we will begin the journey back down."
"Sounds like a plan. I'll help round the people up on the west side of town." Mjoll agreed and raced off.
Vilja and Lucien both groaned from exhaustion.
Elda shuddered. "By the gods - what's going to happen to our city?"
"Elda! ELDA! You've got to see this!" Nils came out, shouting in terror.
"What is it now, Nils?" Elda sighed with exasperation.
"You've got to see it." Nils beckoned her to follow him. Lucien, Vilja, Delphine, Esbern, Faltonia, Tarvyn, and Lilian and Carene came with them.
Nils went upstairs to the main hearth and pointed at the candle, which was unlit.
Elda clasped her hands over her mouth and stifled a gasp, but the others were confused.
"It's... a candle." Lucien shrugged, not getting her reaction.
"It was lit one hundred and sixty-three years ago, back when this building was the home of a grand warrior named Vundheim. When word came that he'd fallen, his son Deroct lit the candle in his honor." Elda explained. "It's not once gone out. Not once. Why now?"
Even Lucien had to admit; even if it were a coincidence, the timing of it was uncanny.
Lilian looked down into her pouch at the ruined wreath of flowers. Then she looked back at the candle with fright. She took Vilja's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Vilja took notice of this and turned to Lucien. "It's a bad sign. An omen of something very, very bad."
"We already know the Daedra are comin'." Delphine sneered.
Esbern placed a hand on Elda's shoulder and led her downstairs. "Take whatever provisions you can and we'll do the same. We've got to evacuate down below. Quickly. We cannot afford to lollygag right now."
Inigo was already on it. He was packing squashes, cheese wheels, carrots and potatoes into a sack.
The others began to gather important utensils, drinks, meats, blankets, tankards and pillows.
Thunder roared in the skies above.
Inigo and Delphine peeled into Darkeethus and Annekke's room, where Serana was speaking with them about the Skyguard and what it was. Inigo crouched before Darkeethus, pushing Serana to the side lightly. "Come, friend. We must get out of here." He offered himself for support and the Argonian cautiously lifted himself from the mattress.
"What's going on?" Darkeethus sluggishly leaned against the Khajiit.
"We need to relocate you both. You are too injured to fight this next battle." Inigo warned him.
Erik and Marcurio hurried inside to lend a hand, as well. "Inigo, what do you want us to do?" Erik asked.
"I want the two of you to follow Delphine's lead - stick with the Skyguard for now." Inigo relinquished his control over the large group. "There is too much to consider alone. Delphine, direct them as you see fit."
Delphine serenely nodded. She was a tad surprised, but when she saw the exhaustion washed over his face she understood. "Right." She gestured to Marcurio. "You know how to make potions, right? Go upstairs in the Palace of Kings. Go to Wuunferth's old laboratory, and whip up as many potions as you can."
Serana interjected. "I can help speed that up. I'm an Alchemist."
"By all means!" Delphine waved her hands permissively. "And maybe ask the Breton woman in the green dress - Carene - to help as well. She, too, is an Alchemist. We'll need hundreds of health, stamina and magicka potions. Don't know how much time we have, so make every second count!"
Serana thought back to the High Elven scholar she'd seen amidst the refugees of Wretched Spire. "Maybe I can ask Nafyromir to lend a hand, too. I'm sure Windhelm hasn't given him the best first impression, but I think he would want another chance at a life."
"Fine." came Delphine's indifference.
Sylgja helped her mother up from the bed, taking great care to watch her broken arm as she pulled her up. "Where's Filnjar? He was here earlier, but -"
"He's on his way to the Palace of Kings. You go with Erik." Delphine turned to the young man. "Erik, when you've brought them, I want you to scour the city; find stragglers."
"Yes, ma'am." Erik proclaimed as he led the women outside. Inigo and Serana followed closely with Delphine and Marcurio.
"And what will you do, Delphine?" Inigo asked.
"I'm gonna go down ahead with Esbern, Cosnach and Stenvar. We're gonna ensure that it's safe down there - in case you somehow missed anything. Not that I doubt you - I just don't want any bad surprises." Delphine explained.
Inigo took no offense; on the contrary, he thought it was a good idea. "Yes. Do what you must." The group hurried out of the Inn and rejoined the large crowd that loomed outside. Were the situation not so bleak, one could be forgiven for mistaking it as a large social gathering.
Mjoll had teamed up with the Gray-Mane brothers and rounded up a share of citizens: they'd gotten Cura's Eastmarch Housecarl now-unbound Calder, Adonato Leotelli, Voldsea Giryon, Ulundil, Alfarinn, Lortheim, Luaffyn, Lygrleid, the Shatter-Shield Family, Ambarys Rendar, Torsten Cruel-Sea, Angrenor Once-Honored, Helgird the priestess of Arkay, Arivanya, Aval Atheron and the troubled boy Aventus Aretino to follow her.
The large crowd was forced to form organized lines as the numbers attempting to enter the Palace bloated considerably as even more citizens came from the east with Viola Giordano: Belyn Hlaalu, Brelas, Brunwulf Free-Winter, Captain Lonely-Gale, Faryl Atheron, Gjalund Salt-Sage, Gort, Grimvar Cruel-Sea, Hermir Strong-Heart, Hillevi Cruel-Sea, Idesa Sadri, the Priestess of Talos Jora, Niranye, Oengul War-Anvil, Quintus Navale, who was immediately flagged down by Serana for being an Alchemist, Revyn Sadri, the stubborn Rolff Stone-Fist, Scouts-Many-Marshes, Shahvee, Silda the Unseen, the little girl Sofie, Stands-In-Shallows and Suvaris Atheron.
Ralof kept a guard at the front gate of the city and looked up at the Palace of Kings from afar - it was visible over the high walls and the Candlehearth Hall. Its mighty stones could repel many a force; but could they withstand this?
Vilja stood by the entrance doors and ushered people through, and Tarvyn stood at the other side, keeping his people orderly amidst the chaotic traffic. He had managed to maintain his calm thus far, and now he needed to more than ever.
The citizens of Windhelm were beyond restless and the group murmured angry complaints amongst themselves, most wondering what was going on and why they were dragged out of their houses at so short a notice.
Ulfric Stormcloak stood on his balcony overlooking the city with grandeur, watching the hopeless group pile inside of the palace for protection, and he withstood the storm of emotions threatening to tear him apart from within: fear, regret, dismay, hopelessness, anger, fury, injustice, hatred, sorrow. He'd thought his last battle would be against the Imperials. Or perhaps against the Elves. He never would have imagined something such as this. Cold winds howled and burned him from above. He turned around to face Galmar. "War is coming, Galmar. Do you feel it? It threatens the land; more foreign invaders from accursed outlands come to pry Skyrim from us, her sons."
"Just like the old days, my Jarl." Galmar snarled. He readjusted his gauntlet and shifted his shoulder in preparation as his eyes caught the glimpse of fire far, far off in the mountains. "I will stand by you all the way. You know that. Even if we end up in Oblivion, I will dance and laugh as I crush the skulls of Daedra under my boot for the rest of eternity for the sake of your honour."
"Good. Round up all the Soldiers and let the Argonians into the city." Ulfric ordered. They never cared much for the Argonians, sure, but they did not deserve to be killed against the outer walls first.
"My Jarl?"
It was hard to see amidst the crowd, but it would seem the Imperials at the East Empire Company had already done so, regardless of the Jarl's permission. It did not matter at this point. All that mattered to Ulfric was the survival of his citizens. He looked up to the skies and hearkened to the voice of Talos.
"We fight. Until we breathe our last, we fight." Ulfric gripped the hilt of his war Axe and stared out into the red fields. "They will come for our city, and we will be ready. We will repel their forces, or die trying."
"Evgir Unslaad."