Spirituality of the Roscreans

"You want to know about we Roscreans and our gods? Very well. I know of your continental gods and will try to put this in terms that will make sense to you.

We follow the Cults of Atmora, brought with us from the land when war and ice consumed it. Our siblings who sailed to the west think the spirits are men; men are fickle, but the beasts of the wild are violent and unconcerned. We have kept the old ways of worship through the ages, or rather they have kept us, even through our strife.

Numbered among our gods are the Snake, the Fox, the Wolf, the Eagle, the Bear, the Owl, the Whale, and the Moth. I myself am of the Owl, but I will do my best to give you an account that is good and true from all sides. Heh, do you think I do this because I am the Owl's, or in spite of it?

You would call the Bear Stuhn. Those of the Bear believe that the Hunt and the Battle are two edges of the same blade, and they take their prey captive and mount their foes' heads. They take pride in strength and think you should too, they take many prisoners, and they are brothers to the Whale.

The Whale is your Tsun. They too are martial men who enjoy testing themselves. One of their tales is of a Whale swallowing a fisherman on the sea, carrying him to a kingdom of riches faraway where he may by his strength win the desires of his heart, and the whalers all hope in secret that their prey will take them from the nagging of their wives.

The Owl? You would call him Jhunal. The continental teachers say he was cast from the fellowship of the gods, but that is not true. He flew off on his own, and he still visits the rest at times. The Owl is wise and thoughtful, and he taught men the Clever Craft. Some might say one will freeze if one's mind is decided, but we simply decide not to freeze.

There are two sides to the Wolf you call Mara, the mother and the hunter; seemingly different, but one begets the other. The Wolf is mother to all mothers, and hunts for all her children who hunt for all their children. That is why Roscrean mothers are all so fierce, even to their own kin.

Dibella is our Moth. The Moth watches over lovers and artists, and she reminds us of what we have made of a hard land such as this, that we have food and shelter, and so we can have beauty as well. Our stonemasons are often of the Moth, as are our carvers and artisans. In my day, I was known to make the Moth flutter about on the gossip of a few young washwomen.

The Eagle flies to bless our matrons of war and tradition, and she is Kyne. She lands on the shoulder of our warriors when they fall and cries out thunder and rain. She flaps her wings and blesses us with clear skies when we hold her favor, and when we need a test she brings great storms on us to purify us.

The Fox is Ysmir. He is quick and clever in coming to the aid of men, and is the spark to our hunters and scouts. It is the one envy of the Roscreans that the Fox makes himself known more on your Tamriel than he does here.

I believe you have guessed that the Snake is your Shor. He too is wise, but not in the way of the Owl. He has secrets and the fangs to act on them, and some hate him, call him a deceiver. But we know he has visions not all can see.

Most do not worship them, but we also recognize the Troll, the Stag, the Worm, and the Octopus. You would say we have a contract with them; we give the one you call Malacath our warriors, to test their mettle and earn his favor. We hunt for your Hircine and he hunts for us, and we see who has the sharper nose. We go into Namira's depths and try to endure. We dive deep into the sea to meet Herma-Mora and challenge his wit. These are not our gods, but they are something else. Testers, patrons.

Where is the Dragon? We have struck him down. His followers held us in chains once, their leader named Chrahlotnos and his lieutenant. But when the whole island was theirs we took to their temple and burned it with them within.

You have said a Dragonborn has shown himself? Our prophets had seen this coming long ago. We drove the Dragon from our island, but their chief still roams, and we have waited for one who would slay him. I have not seen it myself, but I am told there is is great wall somewhere where our priests recorded all the prophecies the Thovachiin would fulfill, many of them contradictory but all of them true.

We have no Dragon among our gods; we have no end to tell our time by, so we mark ourselves with blades to tell our stories. Our scars are landmarks to the beginnings and ends in our lives, but they are also symbols of permanence that will not go away."