“The heroic Nerevarine, sacrificing all to protect Morrowind from the mad Sotha Sil. But you live! You live! Fear not. I will tell the tale myself when this is done. I will tell my people how with your dying breath you proclaimed your devotion to me, the one true god.”
My piece for @dotzines‘ Boss Rush! The zine can be downloaded for free over here!
All of Morrowind seemed to be silent the day Vivec emerged from the Clockword City with the bodies of his fellow Tribunes.
The Living God walked in a dignified stride in front of the few Buoyant Armigers who had accompanied hir. Lady Almalexia and Lord Sotha Sil draped lifeless over the arms of the two uncomfortable mer stationed behind Vivec. Holding the corpse of your deity was not ideal to the soldiers, but they had little choice but obey when Vivec told them to carry them. Crowds of nobles and peasants alike parted to allow the procession to pass through on their way to pyre where the Tribunes would be honorably cremated. Young children hid behind legs, while their mothers stared wide-eyed. Men looked to the ground with lumps in their throat as older, thoroughly religious women quietly wailed into the arms of their sons.
The Dunmer were terrified. The Blight, though over, still weighed heavy on their souls. When the news that not one, but two of their gods had perished, chaos ensued. The Great Houses, Indoril especially, panicked. What did this mean? House Dunmer culture was rooted in their faith, how would this affect politics? Day to day life? Would the citizens turn their back on the Temple? Morrowind would surely perish without the Tribunes protection and wisdom.
Their Lord Vivec’s expression was unreadable as ze took his god-siblings and placed them on the pyre. Deep inside hir, ze felt hir supposedly lost mortality flare in anger at the sight of the Nerevarine solemnly standing with her head bowed. But hir composure was kept as ze turned to face the fearful crowd. Hir speech was swift and short, unlike the usual beguiling words his people expected from hir. An uncomfortable grief had made itself home in hir, now was not the time to use metaphors and a magical tongue to confuse and reassure hir subjects. Ze allowed the Nerevarine to tell the story of the Tribunes’ demise- how a powerful sorceress had murdered the Clockwork God and released his mechanisms into Almalexia’s beloved city to lure her in and drive a sword through her heart. Ignoring the people’s bewildered expressions(how had one woman defeated two gods?), Vivec sent a subtle nod of thanks to the Nerevarine for her deception, for ze knew her words were fabricated without having been told. “Lady Almalexia and Lord Sotha Sil were once heroes, let them be remembered as such,” the Hortator would later tell hir. The irony of those words being spoken by Nerevar-reborn was not lost on hir.
Vivec saw how hir subjects looked towards hir for guidance. The Nerevarine was their hero of legend, and her presence was of great significance, but Vivec was their God. Ze was meant to be their guidance in trying times, to lead them to the next great chapter of Morrowind’s story. Ze had been there through terrible wars and occupations. Hir sharp tongue blessed them with laughter and hope and hir riddles gave them motivation to love and care for their homeland more than any race on Tamriel (even at the expense of others). Today, ze offered them nothing.
The Living God was weary, and hir weariness was continuing to grow into exhaustion. Divine power being drained out of you like a cosmic vacuum was not a pleasant nor an easy experience. Hir empire, once greater than the warriors of Yokuda, was dying. Hir Divine Brother and Sister (who he once called his friends, long ago) had fallen. Everything they’d built from the ashes of a troubled land had perished.
And ze’d known the day would come. Ze was a god, after all. Ze knew everything and nothing all at once. What ze didn’t know was the grief that would follow. The aching sensation of a long forgotten feeling, deep in hir body, squeezing hir lungs and pounding on hir stomach. What was ze meant to do now? How could ze console an entire province, keep an entire race stable when ze can’t even predict hir own reaction to an event ze’d already foreseen?
The Nerevarine followed hir with a watchful eye as ze retreated from the ceremony prematurely, dismissing the Armigers who attempted to follow hir. The crowd of Dunmer now hardly noticed hir absence in their mourning. She felt what ze was feeling, to an extent. Someone inside of her, someone she didn’t know but was a part of her, felt the same sadness; the same longing for a different time. A happier time.
The Great Temple meant to house the remains of Mother Morrowind and Clockwork God took four months to build, from Rain’s Hand to Last Seed. Located in the heart of Necrom, it was a great temple of lava rock and stone, crafted by the finest materials Morrowind had to offer, guarded by the fiercest Dunmeri warriors. The magister’s of House Telvanni assisted in the construction, as the magic used to build this holy place could only be done by those adept in ancient Dunmeri practices, of course. House Indoril nobles bickered over schematics and design, and even House Hlaalu offered their finest craftsmen for the construction. All the while, Vivec stayed holed in hir chambers for most of this time, only accepting the occasional pilgrim. Ze never dared visit the temporary temple the Tribune’s ashes were being held during the construction. Did ze even dare visit the Great Temple after it’s construction?
Ze did. After a long while, of laying in piles of crumpled up parchment with failed poetry, ze made the trek to Necrom to visit hir friends. The temple was grandeur, far from hir own humble beginnings. The inside was littered with candles and offerings of all sorts; flowers and fruit and clockwork gears and unlit incense. Large, intricate statues of the ALMSIVI reached the ceiling. In the center sat the ash pit of Almalexia, Mother Morrowind, the heart of the Dunmer. To the left, Sotha Sil, and to the right, at Vivec’s request, an empty ashpit, meant for hir.
“How sad of a sight this is, old friend,” Vivec spoke to Sotha Sil as if he were there, pouring a part of hir bottle of flin in the ash and settling hirself on the stone floor. “We’d spoken of this moment. What the other would have wanted of the temple. You, Ayem,” A memory of a smile ghosted across hir face and ze turned to Almalexia’s statue. “What a handful you are. You sent the Houses in circles trying their best to fulfill your wishes. But you deserve nothing less, my queen.”
Silence, again. Such a quiet and cold room for them to rest in. Their souls were too bright for this.
“We spoke of it often,” Ze continued. “However, we never considered that one, but not three, that two, but not all of us would go. What else am I to do now? How am I to look over our people without the other halves of me? I am unwhole.”
Vivec sighed. A sound that carried through the whole temple. A mouse in the corner scurried into its hide.
“They still love us, they still follow our teachings, but how long will that last? Time changes culture and tradition quickly and you are not here to help me guide it,” Ze whispered the next part quietly. “How long will Ilast?”
Somewhere, in a land unknown by anyone but herself, the Nerevarine woke with a start. An unbearable sadness settled through her and tears welled in her eyes.
“There is nothing left for me in Morrowind, my dearest friends. I must leave.”
Vivec was standing now, slowly making hir way to the temple door. Hir legs ached and hir eyes were sunken. Ze was sickly.
“Don’t be mistaken, this is not the end of us. We will not die out to history.”
The Nerevarine held her head in her hands, breathing harsh and fast.
[In the final days of the Second Era, Almalexia spoke to the people of Mournhold, to ease their worried minds after the signing of the Treaty of the Armistice.]
My Children, I have heard your murmurs. Concerns over the Treaty that Lord Vivec has signed with Septim, the Emperor of Men.
The news of Khalaan has also reached you and troubled you. You shall not deny it, for I know.
Even among my own priests there are voices of doubt and discord. Little scamps, whispering. Whispering that Lord Vivec may have made an error in his judgment. That the Tribunal have done wrong.
So be it then! I will play with you, my Children. I will entertain your whispers. You ask of us: why have you made peace with Cyrodiil? And in return I ask of you: who are you to question us?
I will remind you what you were, when the Prophet Veloth first led you to Morrowind, since you seem to have forgotten: superstitious savages, little better than the Guar and Shalk whose skins and shells you wore. The Daedra you turned to for aid tricked you easily. Your neighbors, the Men of Skyrim, took your land and killed you by the thousands and the Dwemer that you took for friends schemed behind your backs. Constantly, you were at war with each other and your life was misery.
This is how you were when we, the Tribunal, found you. But look at you now!
You live in Great Houses, Thrice-Sealed, where your hearths are warm and your walls are adorned with brilliant tapestries and trophies of your victories. This unforgiving land you have tamed: its fire no longer burns your skin and your caravans no longer lose their way in the ash storms. We have given you good Laws and good Traditions, and made you Councilors, Craftsmen and Learned Priests, you, who once were but witless Netchimen, Poachers and Hermit Doomsayers. Your Orphaned Sons I have raised and trained myself and now they serve as my Hands. You are clad in fine robes and jewelry and drink from goblets made of Glass and Godsblood, and the Beastfolk that used to terrify you are now slaves in your fields and in your mines.
I blessed you with the Long-Legged Velk, the sacred nectar of which you drink so eagerly, and I have protected you like a Mother.
Look what has become of the enemies who would do you harm while the Tribunal have watched over you! Go walk the shores of River Pryai and witness the bones of the Remanite Legions that Lord Vivec himself put there. And whose statue is that, in the Dorom Plaza, battling Mehrunes Dagon? Together with Lord Sotha Sil, I broke him and drove him back into the lowest pits of Oblivion. And what of Kamal, the Frost Demons of Akavir? I struck down upon them with all the Fury of the Stars and Lord Vivec washed away their taint with a tidal wave that reached the night sky. Perhaps one of you, my Children, could have done the same?
Or perhaps your deeds are greater still?
Where were you, tell me, when the Almsivi unified all of Resdayn and fought the treacherous House Dagoth? Who among you can say that they were there, at Red Mountain, when the vile race of Dwemer was eradicated from the face of the earth? Step forward! Let me hear how you held the Hortator in your arms as he succumbed to his wounds. Were you there with us when we laid the foundations of Morrowind? When the Inner Sea was created? Surely, you must have been, if you would dare to question us!
Witness, now, this damning silence!
Not one of you has stepped forward. Not one of you has staked a higher claim. It is because you all realize the truth: we are beyond mortal rivalry both in deed and in wisdom. Never have the Almsivi failed you. Claiming otherwise would be a Lie. And even as this new Third Era dawns, the Almsivi will unfailingly continue to protect and guide you. You all know this, deep down, in your hearts.
I have listened to your whispers and murmurs, such as they are. To a god, the voice of a mortal is like the buzzing of an insect. Easy to ignore. Or to swat aside and silence. But you are not insects, are you?
You are my Children, and I am your Mother. I am War and Mercy.
Out of love, I have chosen to hear you.
You will not disappoint us again.
[After this, Almalexia dismissed her Priests and retired to Her chambers accompanied by the Archcanon of Mournhold. She instructed him to have transcribed copies of Her Words distributed and read out loud in every town and hamlet in Morrowind. The Goddess Herself would not leave Mournhold again for many months, until She, together with Lords Vivec and Sotha Sil, made a Pilgrimage to the Red Mountain.]
I call hijinks! There is no way Sotha Sil invited all those people to his Clockwork City!
Mad props to @kangeera for making that Vivec Twitter post, all her memes were leading to this moment. Thanks to @tsulean for making that gif in the first place!
