For the past few weeks, my recreation time in Skyrim has been spent... well, not within Skyrim (the in-game, mainland province). After the challenge of slaying Alduin the Worldeater - firstborn of dragons, devourer of souls, and harbinger of the world's end - I was faced with a more difficult choice. For in order to muster efforts toward averting apocalypse, it was necessary that my character negotiate a truce to Skyrim's civil conflict... yet now with the dragon threat vanquished and the world saved, men's attention returned to the war for their country.
This was no surprise. A true peace was never achieved, only temporary cease-fire of a kingdom still divided (while an aggressive elven regime watched and schemed, eager to invade if they remained in that splintered state). What Teira did realize, however, is that as prophesied dragonborn and famed dragonslayer, he would be coveted by each side as a mascot to justify their renewed hostilities.
So Teira fled by boat in the night, seeking refuge in the obscure northern island of Solstheim (a secondary setting added to the game in an expansion, with its own independent storyline). He knew this was only delaying the inevitable... for even if the Imperial and Stormcloak armies postponed their campaign during the dragonborn's absence, his strength alone could bring war to finality with the least amount of bloodshed.
Yet my character is more than a mere dragonslayer (though I initially replayed this game to assume that exact aspect), and his virtue is other than sheer strength. This lesson, learned through Teira's solitude on the island, is the subject I mainly desire to record and reflect on right now. It's like a personal parable embedded into the open world epic of Skyrim... only everything else above was added into the game's plot by my own imagination, whereas this is a thoughtfully woven theme I scarcely realized and attribute to God.
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To begin with, Teira has been something of an anomaly among my fictional avatars because of the class I selected: Pilgrim. Despite my smiling, sensitive, and peaceful self in reality, I (for whatever partly misled, peer-conditioned reason) tend to fantasize of a battle-mage or nightblade grim, aloof, and deadly.
A Pilgrim is not those things-- his skills are evenly split between defensive magics, subtle craftiness, and clever swashbuckling; his advantage found in being a dynamic learner (mechanically, this is represented in the game by his health, stamina, and magicka reserves gradually increasing as I read in-game books). So at times, Teira can avoid violence through gentle persuasion or mercifully sparing a yielding opponent... but for all other frequent occasions of conflict, Teira succeeds through creating his own enchanted equipment beforehand, then patiently wearing down larger opponents with the bow, shield, and spells.
I like this, for it's easier to relate with personally, and fits the Biblical concept of an unlikely warrior used by God in his weakness.
Next, I look at how this concept plays into his choices and mission, first with side quests, displaying the virtue of humility. Teira needs no reminder that he is the dragonborn-- a legendary messianic figure who alone can permanently kill dragons. This is true, and yet the Pilgrim isn't above retrieving an old heirloom, delivering a letter, or even playing tag with children.
I actually made it a point to put off fulfilling Teira's epic destiny (for a reasonable time), in order to be a servant-leader and tarry in one town at a time. Neither grand skill nor ominous fate is what makes him a hero then; it's just that he's an outsider entering into their community, compassionate to listen to their struggles, and willing to act on their behalf even in small ways.
I like this too. It hits close to home (pun!), because of my own decision to be a missionary in my city, even while knowing the epic global calling of Christ's ministry and Japan as one specific destination for me.
Finally, as Teira progresses from uplifting a city to defending Skyrim's future as a whole, I see that humility evolve into something greater-- charity. How easy it would have been for him to instead develop cynicism and vengefulness... from the costly complexities of civil war, bitter racism of the rebel Nords, overlooked religious persecution under Imperial government, and threats to his life from elven conspirators without any refuge. Moreover, as a man born with the soul of a dragon, grasping for power is in his very nature and can descend into corruption.
Against all this, Teira only grew in love and self-control.
Being hunted like a beast forced him into hiding away, effectively banished from the city he first settled in... but then he met a Dark Elf and great friend named Erandur-- a former worshiper of the evil spirit behind nightmares, now a repentant priest of the goddess of love and compassion. Teira learned much wisdom from Erandur, in addition to receiving instrumental help as the latter disguised himself as one of the High Elf agents, as if Teira has been taken captive (but in reality giving him freedom). After their first quest together, they traveled through Skyrim doing good deeds. Erandur would comment - when not musing on his lack of a real childhood, or the atrocities of his past he prays the goddess will one day forgive him for - how enjoyable it was to journey together... not for the wealth they accumulated, but simply to spread the goddess' will across the land. The pilgrim agreed with the priest.
However, Teira did not forget that first city he visited and made his home in, Whiterun (based off of Edras/Rohan!!!). Particularly, there was an assassin-for-hire (also Dark Elf) named Jenassa... who he did hire to adventure with him, and who could be just a tad creepy ("I am the shadow at your back . . . so many dark corners here to hide and strike from!"), but who also hid a surprisingly sensitive heart ("We're one and the same, you and I. I'm glad to have met you"). As he embarked on a specific quest with Erandur to answer prayers made to the goddess by various troubled couples, Teira's own heart was kindled by her memory... but first he had his own troubles to endure.
He would solve the problem of those High Elf agents organizing his downfall, by joining the rebel Stormcloaks in liberating Skyrim from the Empire who would allow elven persecutors. This would begin by destroying the gates of Whiterun itself, decimating its guard force, and dueling its loyalist (but noble) Jarl Balgruuf in his own palace. This was a fate Teira could never avoid... but he wished to spare Jenassa, who had also recently arrived to work in Whiterun, from the lasting reproach that comes with storming a city in blood and fire.
So he had Erandur reveal to her how he escaped capture, but said no more, waiting against his own desire to share adventures with her. Teira reluctantly set off to the coldest and snowiest city, Windhelm, to swear loyalty to Ulfric Stormcloak as the true High King of an independent Skyrim. That said, he still recognized and spoke against how the Stormcloaks and their supporters so often pair piety with a distrust toward foreigners (most of all Dark Elves, who the previous two friends have already established as thoroughly awesome! >:( ). So Teira spent his days in a careful tension-- fighting for the protection of Nordic traditions, yet challenging these sons and daughters of Skyrim to also honor the culture of refugees dwelling in their land for the same reason.
As for the day Teira finally returned to attack Whiterun, it was Lydia the housecarl (a Nordic warrior/bodyguard) who fought by his side... for she was assigned to the dragonborn by Jarl Balgruuf who long before appointed him Whiterun's thane; her duty double required her to attend her city and her charge. Afterward, Teira rewarded Lydia with a position in the reborn order of dragon hunters known as the Blades (conveniently releasing her from constant surveillance of her thane). Following three days of repairing damages and mourning the dead, Teira passed once more through the city gates, yet in peace with forgiving praise by many citizens who remembered his works of justice... and on that day he had no hesitation in asking Jenassa to journey again alongside him.
At length and with many more acts of valor, together they uncovered an ancient weapon-- a shout of dreadful power, ripping dragons from the sky and rooting them unto the earth. It was even a dragon who guided the heroes toward this revelation. Parthurnaax, who dwelt atop Skyrim's highest mountain and taught a fellowship of monks to harness the voice while striving for balance (himself knowing the effort required to tame the hunger for power). Teira chose to honor that old dragon and that philosophy of restraint, for he would not obey the later urging of his advisors in the Blades, to slay Parthurnaax for his war crimes of a former age... and even in exercising that secret shout against dragonkind, it was only used in times of great need where nearby civilians might get hurt, otherwise Teira would allow his opponents their advantage of flight and counter with bow and arrow only.
Then on Solstheim, the theme of temptation echoes again. Another dragonborn preserved from a distant era, Miraak the Traitor, plots domination from the safety of Apocrypha-- the dimension belonging to Hermaeus Mora, the dark spirit of knowledge, secrets, and fate. Once more, Teira overcomes... yet only through attaining the same path of power through delving into that same realm (represented as passages through colossal pillars, towers, and tunnels of books amidst a green-black sea filled with writhing tentacles [can you believe that I actually kind of like it there for the book parts?]). To enter Apocrypha, one must pick up one of Hermaus Mora's books, open it, and allow chains and tendrils from its pages to engulf face and neck (as Jenassa protests while helplessly watching "I can't believe you do that on purpose!"), leaving only a spectral shadow of the reader for however long his spirit wanders its endless hall. It is an endeavor which plunges so many weaker minds to insanity and bends even the strongest wills to become tyrants.
But not Teira the Pilgrim. He obtains knowledge, but evades its snare that would either hold him captive or release him as a rabid monster. Why? Because all these reasons, I suppose-- he wasn't a master of any one force to begin with, but a broad learner; he didn't scorn the plight of the poor and oppressed, but gave his Voice for theirs and only through deliberation intervened in Skyrim's politics; he wouldn't live for slaying dragons or saving a country as ultimate, but valued true friendship as a part of his mission.
Six times over, Teira read the black books and emerged, both sane and himself. Now with the darkness of Solstheim exposed and a season of peace for the mainland purchased, the Pilgrim again returns to Skyrim and King Ulfric, ready to settle that civil war... yet also with an unbroken resolve to (in some limited sense) settle at home and (in the fullest sense) call an orphan girl his daughter.
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That's what I like. As I read so many books, seeking knowledge of history, culture, and theology... I feel like I'm wandering in Apocrypha. Sometimes, I return with nuggets of helpful insight, but often it feels more maddening and leaves me disillusioned. Will I ever translate this knowledge into practical action? What do I hold onto when learning only illuminates a past of confusion and future of uncertainty?
I'm encouraged to view Teira's story with this much imagination, character development, and reflective introspection. I don't know all the answers for which views in Church history are most right, and I'm also unsure of exactly where I should focus my long-term missions ministry... yet I know One who holds all answers and daily guides me. So I'll take sides when absolutely necessary, but still consider the tension of double-sided truths, and devote all pursuit of knowledge toward the end of reciprocating divine love.
I know the One who holds all answers and daily guides this pilgrim. That's enough.
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