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Cheeses of Skyrim

Author: 
B

At the behest of my correspondents, I have made great efforts to restrict the contents of my travel journal so as to not lose my reader's interest. In touring the holds of Skyrim, I was unsure through what lens I should present my travels. After a sumptuous meal at the start of my journey, I knew it must be food — and thus, my catalogue of Skyrim's cheeses was born.

The land is diverse as are its climes, and both mean the panoply of cheeses are vast. Again, for the sake of brevity, I sought to capture only the most noteworthy cheese from each hold I visited.

-B

GREENEDGE

Greenedge is a festive cheese, which I found to be rather peculiar due to the dour reputation of Hjaalmarch (and, in particular, its capital of Morthal). The name of the cheese is derived from the charming "baskets"— for there can be no other word for it — of rushes plucked from nearby bogs and woven together. The cheese is brined and pressed within these baskets, and the latter process imbues the rind of the normally cream-colored cheese with a verdant hue.

The process for eating it is also curious. Greenedge is customarily eaten at the end of feasts, where young hunters make a game of holding the rush-encased cheese over a burnt torch until its casing is burnt off and the cheese is melted into a nearly-molten state. Veterans of this ordeal are lauded for the showmanship they add to this feat, dancing the highly-combustible cheese along the torchflame without pausing too long, lest the cheese blacken or fingers burn.

Thus prepared, the cheese is flipped onto a table and guests immediately plunge bread — or, occasionally, sliced apples — into the melted cheese. This is particularly a joy to children, for it is at this point that the cheese's secret contents are revealed — dried fruits and berries, and (in wealthier households) a single amber plum. The lucky eater that spears the plum before all others is named the king of the feast.

SOLITUDE EIDAR

The greatest of the cheeses in Skyrim, I must admit — not for its flavor or bizarre nature, but for its extreme rarity. Solitude Eidar is, as its name implies, an eidar cheese, being aged and inoculated with the spores of some fungus. And, like Eidar, it is aged underground, in this case in the vaults below the ancient city. But here are where the similarities to Eidar end.

First is the source. Solitude Eidar is a masterful translation of Western Skyrim's staunch traditionalism to the practice of cheese-making, and this starts with the milk. It is said that only cows that belonged to the herd of Jarl Svartr, first king of Western Skyrim, can provide milk for the cheese. The royal herd, descended from these cows, is maintained by loyal retainers. Milk is shipped regularly to Solitude, where it is inspected by a royal cheesemonger — a hereditary office within the Blue Palace. This connoisseur of dairy has exacting standards for the milk he inspects — indeed, for I have seen him — and only one out of every dozen barrels is deemed fit for the making of Solitude Eidar. The milk is led to curdle, in a precise fashion using a series of hourglasses custom-made for the purpose. Lastly, a crumb of cheese from the previous batch is used in the next one — thus creating an unbroken chain of eidar dating back generations.

The result is, as I am led to understand, a cheese that has the precise appearance, aroma and taste as it had in Svartr's day. I was skeptical until I was given two pieces of cheese, one preserved from decades ago, and one that only recently had been cut. I was instructed to sample both and tell the difference.

I could not, and I wept.

This continuation of my travel journal, which focuses on the cheeses prevalent in the holds of Skyrim, explores a land and its cuisine that is as diverse as the multitude of flavors that danced across my tongue. Again, for the sake of brevity, I sought to capture only the most noteworthy cheese from each hold I visited.

B.

Riftwash
Once reserved exclusively for the jarls of Riften, riftwash is a cheese with a glassy, violet-black exterior, which belies a pallid and crumbly core. As a goat's milk cheese, it is uncommon in the more temperate of Skyrim's climes. Pressed to remove much of the water within the cheese, unlike the goat's milk cheeses of Stormhaven, which the Bretons prize for moistness, riftwash is comparably dry.

Rumor says that the cheesemakers bathe wheels of riftwash in the muddy waters of Lake Honrich, which results in its dark hue.This is, of course, an outrageous falsehood. In truth, the cheese is washed several times in Riften's famous blackberry mead before being shrouded in wax which has been dyed with blackberry must, a by-product of the city's burgeoning meadworks.

Barrowost
The people of Falkreath seem to earnestly appreciate their hold's longstanding association with battle and death. The shops, and indeed many families, draw their names and personal heraldry from the seemingly boundless graveyard that abuts the city. It is no surprise, perhaps, that one of Falkreath's most reputed cheeses relies on the dead for a key part of its production.

Barrowost, or more commonly, barrow-cheese, much resembles the common eidar cheese found throughout the holds of Skyrim. Whereas eidar cheese is aged in cellars or caverns, however, barrowost is exclusively aged in barrows—the crumbling, draugr-infested tombs of Skyrim's dark past. Be it the stagnant air, the endlessly sweating stone, or the dark magic within its walls, the cheese gains an intense earthy sweetness, punctuated with sharp notes I find impossible to resist.

As an aside, I learned that Falkreath still practices an ancient Nord custom, the "grave curd." According to the practice, a fresh farmer's cheese is interred atop a loved one's coffin. Every year, on the anniversary of the departed's death, the grave curd is exhumed and a fifth of it is consumed by the bereaved. Many would balk at eating from a grave, but gods help me—the piece that was served to me was delicious!

I continue my travel journal through the holds of Skyrim with this look at the cheeses of the Reach and the Pale. Again, for the sake of brevity, I sought to capture only the most noteworthy cheese from each hold I visited.

B.

Doe's Ire
Karthald and the Reach's rocky passes and sheer cliffs make goats the only practical animal for herders to keep. As such, the area's principal cheese is made with goat's milk and flavored with berries from the seemingly ubiquitous juniper bushes that grow across the region. Most curious about this cheese is not its flavor—which I find cloyingly salty—but, rather, its strange role in the politics of the area. The Reach often gives rise to rebellious and ambitious rulers. They live under the armed watch of soldiers from Solitude or Evermore, who often do what they must to suppress the lust for conquest that seems to beat in the heart of every Reachfolk.

In tramping down these ambitions, many of the Reach's traditions become surpressed—save for the making and eating of doe's ire cheese, so named because a goat doe's milk is curdled in the stomach of its own offspring to produce the cheese. The cheese is eaten on feast days dear to the Reach, in stark disobedience of those that would suppress the Reachfolk's spirit. Some say the cheese's salty profile comes from the tears of the doe, whose milk is soured in its offspring's carcass. Patriots of the Reach say the cheese is salty to remind those who eat it of the sorrows that befell the Reach, punishment for unfulfilled destiny.

Bjenost
Bjenost is most curious among Skyrim's offerings, being more of a "cheese of cheeses" than a cheese in and of itself. It is eaten almost exclusively by the people of the Pale, who do so to mark the end of winter and the return of spring.

As with many cheeses, bjenost almost certainly originated among the poor of the hold, though now high and low tables alike enjoy this delicacy. Made in the style of many of the hold's sausages, stuffed into the intestines of a slaughtered pig. As the thaw approaches, they take the rinds and crumbs of cheeses that were consumed over the course of the long, dark winter, soak them in a tun of ale (a brown slurry of yeast and malt, the kind of drink that can be a meal in and of itself), then stuff it all inside the intestines. The bjenost is then hung to dry, to be taken down only at the High Spring Fest. It is sliced into golden disks, said to resemble the sun in springtime and enjoyed by all.

I continue my travel journal through the holds of Skyrim with this look at the cheeses of the east: Whiterun, Winterhold, and Eastmarch. Again, for the sake of brevity, I sought to capture only the most noteworthy cheese from each hold I visited.

B.

Ald Umber
One of the most decadent cheeses of Skyrim hails from the kingdom's breadbasket, the fertile and expansive Whiterun Hold. Though I have to admit, for all of the luxuriousness that one feels when eating ald umber, it is neither the most complex nor challenging cheese I've encountered on my tour of the holds.

Many assume by the name alone that ald umber is an extremely aged cheese, in the tradition of eidar. That cannot be farther from the truth. Rather, the name is a sign of how long this cheese has been a part of Whiterun's culinary landscape. I hazard to even call it a cheese, frankly, for its method of production is unlike any other cheese I know. They collect whey from curd-pressings, and rather than discard it, they combine it with cream. This mixture is boiled in a wide, shallow pot over the course of many hours. The liquid becomes solid over time, and in doing so, it adopts a pale brown color and caramel-like aroma, hence the name "umber."

Ghostflesh
The people of Winterhold, at least those who don't practice magic within the hold's illustrious college, are a simple folk that eke out a living by working the Sea of Ghosts. There is little pasture for grazing, and the bitter winds coming off the sea are oft as not to see a herd of cattle stricken with ague. Both cow and goat's milk are in short supply. What little is at hand is made into a fresh, soft farmer's cheese. But despite the humble circumstances, the people of Winterhold make one of the most delicious cheese dishes I've ever experienced.

The elderly and the children of the hold, too young to brave the waters of the Sea of Ghosts, spend the day collecting seaweed, which they dry for several weeks. The simple farmer's cheese is smoked over a pile of burning seaweed, imbuing it with an aroma of the sea. It is then—and this is the most marvelous part—baked, being wrapped in a pastry that is composed of flour and horker suet. This permits the brave fisherfolk to eat while working the sea, where often they can only spare one hand at a time.

When freshly baked, the molten innards of these dumplings steam and crackle, while the crust remains flaky and light, as though one were biting into the flesh of an ethereal creature. They are best enjoyed after walking several hours on Winterhold's frozen shore, chased by the onset of dusk.

Mammoth Cheese
The good people of Eastmarch, who proved such kind hosts to me on my travels, will likely never forgive me for glossing over their contributions to the art of cheese making. But given the number of Giant camps within the hold's borders, I would be remiss if I did not take this opportunity to wax on the singular dish mentioned in every bedside fable about Skyrim—mammoth cheese, the single commodity produced by Giants.

It is cheese of a primitive sort. They fill the stomach of a young mammoth to near-bursting with the milk of a Giant's mammoth herd. The milk curdles and the resulting curds are placed into hide sacks and wrung to release moisture. What remains is a paste-like mammoth cheese—unappetizing to any connoisseur and not worth the risk to acquire.

What is worth remarking on, however, is the strange behavior of Giants that graze their herds near the sulfurous pools in the countryside. They take their sacks of curds and boil them in the mineral-rich waters, giving the cheese a pleasing and complex bouquet, that I can only liken to ash used in glassmaking, called potash. Once this is done, the mammoth cheese becomes something worthy of the finest tables in all the land.

Guide to Western Skyrim: Haafingar

Author: 
Imperial Surveyor Buntara Gravius

The reclusive kingdom of Western Skyrim, reputed to be isolationist and close-minded, nevertheless contains much that intrepid travelers can find to enjoy in its holds and among its people. The details in this guide reflect this sentiment—though it should be noted that Western Skyrim is no place for the foolhardy traveler. With terrain as rugged as its people, neither the land nor its inhabitants suffer the ignorant with grace.

As with Eastern Skyrim, Western Skyrim consists of several holds, each with its own capital and ruling jarl. All swear fealty to the Jarl of Solitude, who rules over the strongest of these territories and wears the crown of the high king.

HAAFINGAR, in the northeast portion of the realm, is dominated by mountains and frozen coastlines. The Sea of Ghosts sends an ill wind to the shore, chilling all to the bone.

Solitude, astride a massive arch of stone, serves as capital of the hold and seat of the jarl and high king. The venerable and defensible Castle Dour watches over the city, which counts its fortifications among the city's first structures. The city features two main districts: the Well District, home to the city's bustling market, and the Avenues District. Scholars of architecture will find many charming homes among the Avenues, while those seeking more worldly entertainment may prefer the Wells. It should also be noted that the Blue Palace abuts the Avenues. This fine example of High Nord architecture serves as home and ruling seat for the jarl, who also carries the title of high king. I should also make note of the Arch—a spectacle of stone that hoists Solitude above the Sea of Ghosts.

Kilkreath Temple, set in the mountains of Haafingar, stands as a monument to the Daedric Prince Meridia. Though worship of the Daedric Princes is, at best, a controversial subject in Tamriel, the architectural splendor and calm environs alone make this temple worth the visit. Those willing to take part in heretical conversation will find the priests of Kilkreath Temple warm and hospitable, and more than willing to provide travelers with foodstuffs and warm beds. Visitors are advised to avoid travel during feasts of High Sun and Low Sun, when the temple's caretakers close its doors to conduct secret rites.

Dragon Bridge, a small encampment and town beside the River Karth, is named for the spectacular bridge that fords the waterway. Astride the river sits the Dragon Bridge, an ancient causeway of rough-hewn stone and, curiously, a pair of Dragon skulls set into its apex. The difference in stonework detail between the bridge's stone and these skulls has led some scholars to posit that these are actually petrified bones of ancient beasts. Others deride these claims as poetic nonsense. Remains or not, the skulls and bridge have inspired the imaginations of travelers for centuries, as they doubtless will for centuries to come.

Giant camps spring up throughout the Haafingar wilderness. These aren't permanent settlements, but are instead temporary sites set up by the nomadic Giants as they move from place to place. They do have a habit of utilizing the same locations over and over, so if you find evidence of an abandoned Giant camp one day, it might be occupied by the large humanoids the next. While approaching these camps is a foolhardy endeavor, there are many experienced guides available for hire that can provide curious explorers with a chance to observe these creatures from a safe distance.

Author's Note: As with many of Skyrim's holds, Haafingar contains barrows and caves that may appear deserted but often prove to be quite dangerous. Given the author's desire to keep readers safe, she has elected to excise reference to these dangerous locales from this edition.

Guide to Western Skyrim: Hjaalmarch

Author: 
Imperial Surveyor Buntara Gravius

My guide to the reclusive kingdom of Western Skyrim continues, with a look at the region's easternmost hold.

HJAALMARCH, drawing its name from Western Skyrim's River Hjaal, stands as the largest of the kingdom's holds. The Drajkmyr, an immense saltwater marsh formed by the estuaries of the River Karth and River Hjaal, dominate the region. This largely uninhabited marshland, frequently shrouded in an eerie mist, features a proliferation of the sinisterly reputed Deathbell flower. Though exploring the wetlands can be difficult, earnest travelers can find much to discover and enjoy in the hold.

Morthal, a lumber town in the southeast of the Drajkmyr, serves as the jarl's seat of power in the hold. The houses are built on pylons by necessity, and connected by docks to provide safe passage over the mire. Structures here are a prime example of Nordic rough-hewn architecture. The people of Morthal can be gracious hosts, if unaccustomed to travelers given the arduous routes to and from the town. Many make their living from the saltmarsh, fishing and trapping creatures for meat and hide. In warmer seasons, timber is sent to Solitude's docks on pole-driven barges. Morthal is considered an essential destination due to its neighboring barrow, one of the few still safe for unarmed travelers to explore.

The ice shelves abutting the Sea of Ghosts are a popular spot for explorers and travelers, though they require proper outfitting to traverse safely. The ice has trapped numerous ships and vessels across the ages, and many of these wrecks offer collectors and hobbyists an opportunity to uncover trinkets or souvenirs from a bygone age. As with most of Skyrim's wilderness, hiring a well-informed guide is a practical necessity for those seeking to visit these floes.

Labyrinthian, an enormous barrow found in the foothills of southeastern Hjaalmarch, stands as a dangerous curiosity. Scholars know this complex to be the ruins of the city of Bromjunaar, a capital of the Dragon Cult in Skyrim's ancient, sordid past. Rumor speaks of an intricate and maddening maze housed within these ruins, though its existence has never been confirmed by a reputable source. Insofar as Labyrinthian is a notable landmark within Hjaalmarch, it is included in this list, though it is frequently a site occupied by foul creatures and black-hearted folk. So, best to avoid it.

Author's Note: As with all of Skyrim's holds, Hjaalmarch contains additional caves and other locations where the safety of travelers is by no means guaranteed. Given the author's desire to keep her readers safe, she has elected to excise reference to these dangerous locales from this edition.

Guide to Western Skyrim: Karthald

Author: 
Imperial Surveyor Buntara Gravius

My guide to the reclusive kingdom of Western Skyrim continues, with a look at the region's southernmost hold.

KARTHALD, which did not exist when this guide was first written, lies to the south of Haafingar and to the west of Hjaalmarch. This territory had, until half a decade ago, been nominally in the control of the Reach. However Nords and Reachfolk have hotly contested the area's ownership since time immemorial, and none can definitively claim proprietorship of the area. The hold was established recently, though Nords have lived in the area for centuries. Karthald occupies a land of flinty ridges and sweeping bluffs, as well as pine forest. The pocketed landscape hides many wondrous sites, as well as many potential dangers.

Karthwatch is the seat of power within the hold. The jarl and its people are stewards of Western Skyrim's southern border, and their charge is to stand fast against the encroaching Reachmen. Though hospitable to travelers, the people of Karthwatch have little to offer in the way of amenities, and they make no excuse for any discomfort that visitors might endure while staying in the settlement. Though technically Karthwatch is a town, its inhabitants very much view it as a fortification.

Mor Khazgur, an Orc mining settlement, sits in the mountains on the western border of the hold. Visitors to the clan grounds are advised to avoid referring to the lands within and around the camp as belonging to Karthald, though it is a legal and logical truth. The Orcs prefer to think of their territory as a sovereign outpost of Wrothgar, subject to the rules and customs of Orc-kind. To that end, visitors to the area are advised to be well aware of Orcish protocol and behavior, at the risk of upsetting their hosts (and having their persons injured). That said, the Orcs of Mor Khazgur are no different from their kin in Orsinium—spirited, enthusiastic, and eager for friendship.

Author's Note: As with all of Skyrim's holds, Karthald features caverns and caves where the safety of travelers is by no means guaranteed. Given the author's desire to keep her readers safe, she has elected to excise reference to these dangerous locales from this edition.

Cheeses of Skyrim: Hjaalmarch, Haafingar

Author: 
B

At the behest of my correspondents, I have made great efforts to restrict the contents of my travel journal so as to not lose my reader's interest. In touring the holds of Skyrim, I was unsure through what lens I should present my travels. After a sumptuous meal at the start of my journey, I knew it must be food — and thus, my catalogue of Skyrim's cheeses was born.

The land is diverse as are its climes, and both mean the panoply of cheeses are vast. Again, for the sake of brevity, I sought to capture only the most noteworthy cheese from each hold I visited.

-B

GREENEDGE

Greenedge is a festive cheese, which I found to be rather peculiar due to the dour reputation of Hjaalmarch (and, in particular, its capital of Morthal). The name of the cheese is derived from the charming "baskets"— for there can be no other word for it — of rushes plucked from nearby bogs and woven together. The cheese is brined and pressed within these baskets, and the latter process imbues the rind of the normally cream-colored cheese with a verdant hue.

The process for eating it is also curious. Greenedge is customarily eaten at the end of feasts, where young hunters make a game of holding the rush-encased cheese over a burnt torch until its casing is burnt off and the cheese is melted into a nearly-molten state. Veterans of this ordeal are lauded for the showmanship they add to this feat, dancing the highly-combustible cheese along the torchflame without pausing too long, lest the cheese blacken or fingers burn.

Thus prepared, the cheese is flipped onto a table and guests immediately plunge bread — or, occasionally, sliced apples — into the melted cheese. This is particularly a joy to children, for it is at this point that the cheese's secret contents are revealed — dried fruits and berries, and (in wealthier households) a single amber plum. The lucky eater that spears the plum before all others is named the king of the feast.

SOLITUDE EIDAR

The greatest of the cheeses in Skyrim, I must admit — not for its flavor or bizarre nature, but for its extreme rarity. Solitude Eidar is, as its name implies, an eidar cheese, being aged and inoculated with the spores of some fungus. And, like Eidar, it is aged underground, in this case in the vaults below the ancient city. But here are where the similarities to Eidar end.

First is the source. Solitude Eidar is a masterful translation of Western Skyrim's staunch traditionalism to the practice of cheese-making, and this starts with the milk. It is said that only cows that belonged to the herd of Jarl Svartr, first king of Western Skyrim, can provide milk for the cheese. The royal herd, descended from these cows, is maintained by loyal retainers. Milk is shipped regularly to Solitude, where it is inspected by a royal cheesemonger — a hereditary office within the Blue Palace. This connoisseur of dairy has exacting standards for the milk he inspects — indeed, for I have seen him — and only one out of every dozen barrels is deemed fit for the making of Solitude Eidar. The milk is led to curdle, in a precise fashion using a series of hourglasses custom-made for the purpose. Lastly, a crumb of cheese from the previous batch is used in the next one — thus creating an unbroken chain of eidar dating back generations.

The result is, as I am led to understand, a cheese that has the precise appearance, aroma and taste as it had in Svartr's day. I was skeptical until I was given two pieces of cheese, one preserved from decades ago, and one that only recently had been cut. I was instructed to sample both and tell the difference.

I could not, and I wept.

Ysmir the Forefather, Volume IV

Author: 
Anonymous

At the end of his life, Ysmir, who had ruled the peoples for over a thousand years in the time before history, the time of myth, sought a burial place and death befitting a king of men and dragons.

He summoned his champions and men-at-arms and asked them: "Where can I find a burial place and death befitting a king of men and dragons?"

The first housecarl stepped forward and said "Go East, where the ocean touches the sky."

The second bowed humbly and said "Go West, where the sun kisses the earth."

And again the third said "North to the very frozen tips of Nirn, to a tomb of ice."

And the fourth, "South to the pillars of smoke and fire."

But Ysmir. king of men and dragons, whose greatness preceded time, despaired and said "I have traveled the whole of Mundus and conquered many peoples, but where will I rest my head? If I rest to the East or the West or the North or the South, it will only cause division.

"The local peoples will claim my tomb as their own. They will say, 'Ysmir is our king, for he rests among us.' And my children will fight amongst themselves and divide my body among them, sending my head one way, my hands another, and my feet, and my mighty heart."

From among his thanes and housecarls, a young man, not more than a boy, whom none of them had seen before, then dared to speak. Bowing low, he said "Then do not go anywhere on Nirn, but go to the sky, where you can watch over all your peoples."

Ysmir king of men and dragons liked this idea. He said, "But boy, how would I reach the sky? Is there a mountain, or a ladder built by men that can reach so high?"

And the boy said "There is no such thing, neither mountain nor ladder nor staircase. But I know of a place, a single stone. This is the path to Aetherius."

"Where can I find this stone?" cried the king of men and dragons, intent on ascending to the sky.

"Follow me," the boy beckoned.

And Ysmir summoned all of his champions and housecarls and told them how he was intent to end his life by ascending to the sky. And all of them, every one, agreed to follow him to the place where the boy led.

And when they reached the place, they found as the boy promised, a single stone. And Ysmir, who was by now very old, laid at the foot of the stone and was taken up into the stars.

The champions and housecarls looked up into the heavens and saw their king, the great Warrior, riding across the sky. And he was accompanied by three servants, a Lord, his Lady, and his mighty Steed.

And the champions and housecarls all pledged to guard the valley and the way to Aetherius. But when they looked for the boy who had shown them the way, he was nowhere to be found.

Rilaso's Guide to Tamriel, Ch. 21

Author: 
Rilaso

Chapter 21: Surviving the Rift

The key to surviving the Rift is to never go there. The Rift is no place for anyone but Nords. If you're not a Nord and you end up in the Rift, you will die in a horrible fashion.

If you don't freeze to death or get lost and fall off a cliff, you're going to be killed by wild animals. Bears and sabre cats are only too happy to eat you. Mammoths go out of their way to step or sit on travelers. Giants will kick you into the highest reaches of the nearest tree.

But for my money, the Nords are the most dangerous part of the Rift. They have hair-trigger tempers, an enormous capacity for mead, and very sharp weapons that they swing around constantly.

If they don't drink you to death or choke you with their noxious bodily odors, they'll chop off your head. You'll be in a tavern, say the wrong thing to a Nord, and next thing you know, your head will be flying through the air, spraying another layer of blood over the already gore-caked walls.

So, don't go to the Rift

Temples of the Dragon Cult

Author: 
Cirantille

In the distant reaches of Skyrim, beyond the remote farming communities and hunter shacks, you may stumble over a broken stone, half buried and covered in moss and ivy. Look closer, in case these are effigies to animal gods, worshiped by Ysgramor's primitives. The deification of the bear, dragon, fox, moth, owl, snake, whale, and wolf have all been recorded by our field agents, and many believe these totems stand as sentinels over lost ruins. These tumbledown temples, guarded by half-woken draugr and worse, are from a time when the Dragon Cult supposedly ruled this province.

While no modern Tamrielan need believe these hopelessly fanciful fables, the Nords' simple-minded veneration for these places betokens their fear of the return of the Dragon Priests. During the worship of Akatosh (the dragon) as god-kings over men, these priests were the conduit through which dragons spoke, made laws, and were honored with grand and elaborate temples. When Alduin, Akatosh's firstborn, was defeated atop the Throat of the World during the mythical Dragon War, the cult that sprang up around these dragon guardians soon receded into the soil, buried among dragon mounds with the remains of these beasts. They were finally vanquished in the Rift mountains by High King Harald in 1E 140. The veneration of animal gods was soon replaced by the Eight Divines.

Varieties of Faith: The Nords

Author: 
Brother Mikhael Karkuxor of the Imperial College

The Eight

Kyne (Kiss at the End):
Nord Goddess of the Storm. Widow of Shor and favored god of warriors, she is often called the Mother of Men. Her daughters taught the first Nords the use of the Thu'um or "Storm Voice."

Mara (Goddess of Love):
For the Nords, Mara is a handmaiden of Kyne and concubine of Shor. As the goddess of fertility and agriculture, she's sometimes associated with Nir of the "Anuad," the female principle of the cosmos that gave birth to creation.

Dibella (Goddess of Beauty):
Popular god of the Eight Divines. She has nearly a dozen different cults, some devoted to women, some to artists and aesthetics, and others to erotic instruction.

Stuhn (God of Ransom):
Nord precursor to Stendarr, brother of Tsun, shield-thane of Shor. Stuhn was a warrior god who fought against the Aldmeri pantheon. He showed Men how to take (and the benefits of taking) prisoners of war.

Jhunal (Rune God):
God of knowledge and hermetic orders, precursor of Julianos. Never very popular among the mercurial and warlike Nords, his worship is fading.

Shor (God of the Underworld):
The Nord version of Lorkhan, Shor allied with Men after the creation of the world. Foreign gods (that is, Elven ones) conspired against him and brought about his defeat, dooming him to the afterlife, Sovngarde. Atmoran myths depict him as a bloodthirsty warrior king who led the Nords to victory over their Aldmeri oppressors time and again. Before his doom, Shor was the chief of the gods. He is sometimes called the Children's God (see "Orkey.") Considered a "dead god," Shor has no priesthood and is not actively worshiped, but he is frequently sworn by.

Orkey (Old Knocker):
God of mortality, Orkey combines aspects of Mauloch and Arkay. He is a "loan-god" for the Nords, who seem to have taken up his worship during Aldmeri rule of Atmora. Nords believe they once lived as long as Elves until Orkey appeared; through heathen trickery, he fooled them into a bargain that "bound them to the count of winters." At one time, legends say, Nords only had a lifespan of six years due to Orkey's foul magic. Then Shor showed up and, through unknown means, removed the curse, throwing most of it onto the nearby Orcs.

Alduin (The World-Eater):
Alduin is the Nord variation of Akatosh. He only superficially resembles his counterpart in the Imperial Eight Divines. For example, Alduin's sobriquet, "the World Eater," comes from myths that depict him as the horrible, ravaging firestorm that destroyed the last world to begin this one. Nords therefore see the god of time as both creator and harbinger of the apocalypse. He is not the chief of the Nord pantheon (in fact, this pantheon has no chief; see "Shor") but its wellspring, albeit a grim and frightening one.

Alduin destroyed the last world to enable the creation of this one, and he will destroy this one to enable the next. Alduin was once worshiped by the long-dead Dragon Cult, but that has been outlawed for centuries, so Alduin has no admitted worshipers.

Testing Gods

Herma-Mora (The Woodland Man):
Ancient Atmoran "Demon of Knowledge" who nearly seduced the Nords into becoming Aldmer. Most Ysgramor myths are about escaping the wiles of old Herma-Mora. Unlike his Bosmeri adherents, the Nords don't deny his Daedric nature.

Mauloch (God of Orcs, "Mountain Fart"):
Clearly identified for the Nords with the Daedric Prince Malacath, Mauloch tests them through warfare. Mauloch troubled the heirs of King Harald for a long time. Fleeing east after his defeat at the Battle of Dragon Wall, ca. 1E 660, his rage was said to fill the sky with his sulfurous hatred, earning that year the sobriquet "Year of Winter in Summer."

Dead God

Tsun:
Extinct Nord god of trials against adversity. Died defending Shor from foreign gods.

Thenephan's Mysteries of Mead

Author: 
Thenephan

There's a reason I was kicked out of Daggerfall, chased out of Elden Root, and banned from Mournhold. I've tried every variety of intoxicant, wine, ale, and Argonian swill this world has to offer. I've sampled skooma with Khajiit, licked an Argonian Hist Tree, and hunted "magical" toads with the Bosmer.

None of that compares to Nord mead. There's nothing like it.

The purest stuff is made in Nord villages, but we're at war with the Nords, and a Breton has no guarantee of surviving a trip like that. Leave that sort of thing to the professionals. There is still hope, however. If you're ever at a tavern, and there's a cask of Nord mead, you'd be a fool to pass it up.

Mead is made by fermenting honey and water (though a few recipes call for molasses). Sometimes, you add grain mash and strain it, but that isn't necessary. Some of the High Elves call it "honey wine," but mead needs more than good honey. Every meadery has its own recipes. After you drink enough mead, you learn the names of the brewmasters who create them. A drunk Nord will gladly punch another in the face over the honor of a good brewmaster. Then again, a drunk Nord will punch anyone for just about anything.

Every brewmaster has a distinct blend of spices, fruit, and sometimes hops (which makes a mead bitter, which makes some Nords bitter, too.) I've even heard tales of mead mixed with the blood of heroes, allegedly granting them the words of a poet or skald. I'd like a mead named after me, but I'm not going to bleed for it.
An Altmer once told me that brewing is the basis of all culture. It's why our ancestors started farming and forming cities. It's what we do when we've got too much wheat and barley and hops and we're sick of farming. The culture of drinking seems to be what keeps Nords together.

Nords must be really sick of farming, because they brew and drink prodigious amounts of mead. Whenever a cask of really good mead is opened, Nords gather round because they know that cask won't last long. But if you don't know how to behave in the Nord drinking culture, you'll end up broke, broken, hungover, and helpless. I found out the hard way.

Nords love to drink. But more than that. Nords respect those who can endure adversity. I know that sounds flowery for explaining why two drunk Nords would have a "hit-me-hard-in-the-face" contest, but really, that's why their culture celebrates getting drunk.

A Nord can gain respect by consuming more mead than anyone else, just as he's respected for surviving a blizzard or killing a bear with a sharp stick. "Nord honor" is something they talk about endlessly when they're drunk, and even more when they're sober. So the first thing you learn about Nords is if you want their respect, never turn down a drink. It's a test. If you can't handle that next drink, leave. Otherwise you'll wake up somewhere they find hilarious, but you won't be laughing.

Nords also love their skalds. Songs and stories go over well with a drunk audience, once they've had enough of brawling, boasting, and throwing axes at each other. Their songs are all about how they're better than everyone else at everything. They've all heard these over and over again, so bring some of your own. They're desperate to hear something new.

Anywhere you go, drinking is also a good way to redress a mistake or make an apology, and it's the same with Nords. If you lose a contest, you need to buy a drink. If you make a mistake or offend someone, you need to buy a drink. If you're insulted, stand there and take it, then you need to buy a drink.

You don't have to be the best brawler around to survive a room full of drunken Nords. You can also impress them by being clever or by being talented, but you better be really good. When it's time to take a punch in the face, you better be ready for a punch in the face. If you don't like getting punched, there are some things you should never talk about, like politics, who's the best brewmaster, and who punches the hardest. And never demand to know why someone just punched you in the face.

If you want to hear more, buy me a drink the next time I'm in Daggerfall. I'll tell you a story.