The Gospel of Saint Roris

In the latter days of Dres' ascendancy, the monk Roris accompanied pilgrims from the city of Narsis, pedestal of Muatra to the outer fortress of lost Sotha Sil, the clockwork city of the Tinkerer.

As the caravan crossed into the depths of the Argon Jungle, they quickly became lost. The Indoril nobles grew ill tempered, demanding to be taken straight away to the nearest city, but even the guides had become lost. The patriarch of the nobles, Elammu Indoril called to Roris, "You there, priest. Can you not do anything?"

Roris lifted his arms into the eastern sky and formed his hands into a triangle. "The sun cannot guide us. The jungles of Argon are fickle, changing their paths and shades with the passing of the sun. Even the stars are blotted from the sky in the depths of these lands. Let only the blind faith of ALMSIVI guide us. Shokhun ALMSIVI."

Yet the heathen guide mocked him. "Your precious ALMSIVI is guiding you to your death, old priest. Beyond these woods lays the fortress of Arnesia and beyond the towers of Thorn. There is naught but death that way. Let us turn back now before the sun passes beyond these lands, leaving us in darkness."

The nobles and their entourage followed the guide back, not knowing that they would be ambushed by Argonian scouts and slaughtered. Roris, with his few poor companions continued on, hunger and thirst setting in, fear grumbling in their bellies. Yet Roris stood tall and followed the path set by his staff.

As morning approached, Roris and his men came before the towering fortress of Arnesia. Argonian warriors were quick to apprehend the monk and his pilgrims. In shackles, Roris was taken before the war-chief of that city, whose name was Visthalu. He was girded with a cuirass of Hist bark as well as a helm upon which was impaled the head of a Dres warrior. Roris did not kneel in supplication nor did he bow his head. Yet the pilgrims all fell to their knees, begging for mercy or pity.

Visthalu motioned at the priest. "You come from the north, do you not, Dunmer?"

"I hail from the kingdom of the eternal Triune, from the fair realm of ALMSIVI, the undying lands of Resdayn."

"Yet Resdayn is dead, Dunmer. The Kingdom of the Five was defeated by a Cyrod warrior. And now Argonia is reclaiming its lost ground, these territories, these parcels of land you call the fair realm of ALMSIVI, stolen and purloined as they are. And now you and your false prophets come to Arnesia, seeking what? There are no shrines to your mortal gods here. You will find no converts among the Betmeri."

"I follow the will of ALMSIVI as I follow my staff." Roris lowered his head and began to whisper his prayers.

The wicked sorcerer Ram-Kur descended from his palace atop the backs of thousands of slaves. "Listen not, Lord Visthalu! He casts spells upon our men. See how his lips quiver with heathen words."

Roris blessed Ram-Kur and Lord Visthalu with his gaze, hands, and lips.

Ram-Kur cried out, "See, my lord, he summons devils from his mouth. He makes wicked signs with his hands. He curses with his eyes."

Visthalu approached Roris, gouging Roris' eyes out with a golden dagger. "You follow the will of ALMSIVI? Then follow it without sight." Visthalu laughed, his men quickly fell into fits of laughter.

Roris remained calm, meditating and reciting prayers. He made the sign of ALMSIVI and spoke, "I thank you, Lord Visthalu, for my mortal eyes were flawed. Ayem shall be my eyes, removing from my sight all deceits and perfidies."

Visthalu became enraged. He threw down his dagger and drew his sword, severing Roris' hands from his arms. "You follow your rod? Then follow without guide or stanchion."

Roris prayed and meditated even more persistently. "I thank you, Lord Visthalu, for my hands were already broken. It is faithless to lean upon any other than ALMSIVI. Seht will guide my will. ALMSIVI's will be done before mine own."

Visthalu growled. He extended his iron tipped claws and tore open Roris' mouth, cutting out his tongue. "You wish to pray? Pray to the gods without words! Pray that they understand your mumbles!"

Roris, filled with divine ecstasy spoke with perfect and clear perception, "Praise be to Lord Visthalu, mortal instrument. See the divinity of ALMSIVI, for through this mortal shell speaks the will of God. Vehk will be my voice. Seht will be my hands. Ayem will be my eyes. There is naught that you can take from me that the Gods cannot give back tenfold."

Visthalu turned to Ram-Kur and ran him through with his sword.  Deceiver! You have killed us all! See what your wickedness has done! Surely his gods will destroy us!"

Roris began to gleam with flesh of sparkling gems and eyes of burning stone. "Glory be to ALMSIVI. Blessed is Ayem. Blessed is Seht. Blessed is Vehk. Take your final blow and witness the will of the Gods."

Visthalu's crown fell from his head. The prized cuirass of Hist bark splintered. With all his strength, Visthalu severed Roris' head from its shoulders. As the body fell limp to the ground, an earthquake was felt throughout those lands. The fires within the braziers of Almalexia and Vivec turned icy white and fiery gold. The River Thirr became as blood for a single day.

The martyrdom of Saint Roris led to the conversion of countless souls. Before the beginning of the Arnesian War, the Argonian heathen Visthalu converted and became the first devotee of Saint Roris.