#jephre

[killing-questing-healing]

Dibella-Yffre

I revised a theory of mine recently. Note that this theory will assume that mirror theory (the theory that most of the aedra are cultural analogues of greater beings from the Dawn Era) as fact.

While Dibella isn't seemingly considered a nature goddess, she is associated with it. The Nordic mural of her seen in Skyrim's burrows has moths (her totem) and branches, and Dibella is well-known for her symbol being the lily. The Worldly Spirits of Amun-Dro says that Y'ffer created the first flower (which convinced Nirni to be his mate). And then Dibella's Mysteries and Revelations has this to say:

"If the Aedra sacrificed themselves, each to add something to the making of the world, what did Our Lady contribute to the world?" "In reply, I scooped a double handful of fallen blossoms from the sward and rained them over his astonished brow." "No matter the seed, if the shoot is nurtured with love, will not the flower be beautiful?"

Y'ffre is also a god of art, music, and dance. To the point that, some of the masks wore by the House of Revelries are dedicated to Y'ffre.

"This otherworldly mask evokes the moment when the Breath of Y'ffre gave the entities of creation their names and shapes, and order merged with chaos to birth the Green." "This is the mask chosen when an actor of the House of Reveries must represent growth, nature, or an aspect of Y'ffre. Ready to perform your interpretive dance of springtime? Here's the mask you need."

Dibella is also considered a god of art.

An artifact of Dibella is the Brush of Truepaint. The Brush of Truepaint allows one to enter a painting canvas and paint life-sized things within it, whatever they imagine basically. And Tales of Bosmeri Spinners has this to say:

"If Y'ffre created this world by telling a story, Bosmeri spinners weave new worlds out of their stories, sometimes crafting an illusion so complete that it seems real to the listeners, who are woven into the stories as characters. Inside these magical stories, spinners can influence their listeners in profound ways, stirring them to empathize with strangers, hate enemies, or have compassion for the suffering."

Y'ffre is said to see everything (at first anyways). Compare that to how Dibella described in the Atmoran Cult Writings.

"Y'ffre taught the birds to sing and the waves to lap against the beach. Through Y'ffre's song, he also gained sight-perception of all that occurs within the sight of birds and the reflection of waters, and he echoes their songs and crashing waves." "Wrapped in soft night, she sings to us. One flap of her great wings dusts the landscape in silver-powdered sleep. She bids us live well by day, but savor the shadows. For what would light be if there were no darkness to compare it to? Mother Moth sees all. Her many-faceted eyes hold all of Atmora within them, thus is she able to see the faithful and the unfaithful. Only we few know her secrets, have heard her song, and pay her homage."

Dibella is associated with singing and sight like Y'ffre, but also light and darkness.

"Day, night, and the places between are the realm of the sky, as Y'ffre interpreted the time-law Anui-el established within Nirn."

Dibella has associations with more than just romantic relationships.

"Treasure the gifts of friendship." "The Bones of Y'ffre surround us, giving us food, shelter, warmth, and companionship."

The Crusader's Helm was created by Dibella lets the wearer cast a calm spell, enhances bartering ability and increases skills in the magical school of illusion. A Tale Forever Told has the Silvenar calm the Green Lady. Why is this is important? Well, we go back to Amun-Dro.

His story has Y'ffer, Nirni, and Hircine being in a love triangle, with Y'ffer winning over Hircine (because of that flower). This parallels the story of the Silvenar, the Green Lady, and the Hound. Notably, the Silvenar can be any gender (like how Y'ffre is sometimes male and sometimes female) in contrast to the Green Lady's female and the Hound's male. A Tale Forever Told also has some interesting words used.

"With his touch, she saw the dance of frond and leaf, and learned the ways and wiles of Valenwood. His emptiness filled with her passion, and his nameless longing waned."

Y'ffre is primarily known for their association with shape. In multiple myths they give the Ehlnofey solid forms with their sacrifice.

"Water is yours to command with this eldritch chalice. It is especially useful when used to honor Anu, who shaped the cosmos in the Dawn Era, and Y'ffre, the Earth Bones. Scarcely should we credit those who claim we were better off in the time of trading body for root, or root for limb. I, for one, am grateful to wake each day as the same, in both thought and form, as the day preceding."

The Nine Coruscations says that when Magnus was making Londa-Vera, he drew upon Dibella's body as inspiration among others.

Y'ffre is said to become corrupted by Namira in Amun-dro and The Nine Coruscations. You can compare that to Y'ffre's dual nature as the All-Growth and All-Wither to the Druids of Galen. Meanwhile, Magne-Ge pantheon has Daubella's connection to Nana Null (a very Namiran figure).

"Some say that Daubella is the most important constellation of all, at least for now; that her issue includes Grey Could, Mud That Might, and the Non-Nymic That Helps. Others declare that the Magne-Ge lay under a spell of Daubella’s own invention, with her true role being merely another avatar of Nana Null."

The entire thing about Daubella in the Magne-Ge Pantheon is also another connection. Her entire conclusion brings to mind her title of "Queen of Heaven." Atmoran Cult Writings also has a astral hint.

"Her mysteries unveil themselves to us in the flickering of flames, the twinkling of stars, the light in the dark." "I speak, and through me sings Y'ffre. My tales are echoes and echoes of songs He once sang, of threads woven by his throat into tapestries ingrained in the minds of we faithful. The calls of birds, twinkles of stars, and lap of the sea live within me." "Aetherius is the sea of light, the Immortal Plane, the origin of magic. Y'ffre sings not of Aetherius, but to it, weaving a song so beautiful that stars were compelled to dance and sway. They still wink and blink in memory of that song."

[aetherialfalmer]

Back from the dead for Snelf headcanons bc Skyrim is my coping mechanism rn

The order of Jephre had no magnificent chantry but a hidden grove very similar to the Eldergleam Sanctuary. Bosmeri exiles from Valenwood weren't uncommon to see there, but they often worked to repent for their exile. The priests would tend to the hidden natural wonders across their landscape and soothe the spirirs of nature. Or even answer their requests to promote peace between the parties.

Archivists fell under the order of Xarxes. They were known to keep archives in a few major cities, but not just anyone could wander into their collections. Obviously, they were protective of their secrets and knowledge, so only highly esteemed snelves could have clearance. Even if they had permission, they were still highly monitored. Good luck stealing from their archives when they stood.

Initiate Paladins had grueling entry exams such as the pilgrimage of the Forgotten Vale, but it went much further after that. They'd be made to sit in the cold with just their robes and recite teachings of Auriel. Usually, their training sessions were held during the day so Auriel could witness.

Trinimac wasn't as popular as others in the Falmeri pantheon, but his order was far from weak. Those devoted to Trinimac often pledged to uphold the image of an honorable warrior like their patron god. However, they could be a bit brutal at times, so they were effective executioners of justice.

The Chantry of Magnus was theorized to be where current day Winterhold stands, but scholars debate on the myth.

Magnus was very popular among any mage in the Falmeri dominion. When a Snow Elf won a magical duel, they'd give thanks to Magnus for their survival.

Necromancy was looked down upon unless it was for channeling purposes. It was a rare practice but often used for guidance from previous masters in desperate times. In all practices, they tried to steer away from using a corpse. They viewed it as tearing the soul from Aetherius.

The priests and priestesses of Mara cared for children orphaned by their mother perishing at birth.

Interestingly, there was a phenomenon coined by Falmeri healers called "Mara's Rage." It was said when a falmer was horrifically assaulted, Mara would give the victim a piece of her aedric anger. Her anger would fuel the victims, and they would pursue their assiliant for revenge.

Syrabane's order was very popular among alchemists and healers. His legends of warding off disease were the inspiration for many young apprentices to begin their studies.

[stabbyapologist]

I downloaded this mod called Scrimshaw Expanded (used with Hunterborn) and I basically only use weapons and armor that I create through that mod. It doesn’t level smithing nor affect smithing because the evolution of what you can create relies on your ability to skin pelts, harvest ingredients, and grind bones into alchemy ingredients. 

Above is armor and weapons made through scrimshaw; even the amulet of Hircine’s Hunter Moon, made from scraps of bone and deer pelts. 

The Bosmeri antlers are under the same name of the mod “Bosmeri Antlers” because that’s one thing (along with granting Bosmer the ability to use Frost) that ESO got right.

More details beneath the Keep Reading line if interested: 

TL;DR: Bosmer uses primitive tools, weapons, and armor by using scrimshaw mod which makes the hunting process more immersive; Bosmer druid uses frost spells, alteration, and restoration as utility. Live in the wild and be free.

It works so well with a Druid playthrough. I don’t ever use fire spells; I only ever use frost spells like frostbite or frost rune. Most of my damaging spells are restoration (paralysis rune, poison rune, poison bolt, poisonous spray) and because Bosmer are known for their Illusion (being invisible in the wilderness) and for being able to use alteration (oakflesh, ‘druidcraft’, transmutation).

Another mod that I’m really fond of (and I only just started using it, but it is so immersive, is Tamriel Culture. 

Of course the only thing my Bosmer uses are things that are nature-related (big fan of that wolfsbane extract). It’s beautiful. 

As far as the religious beliefs, I have always believed that Bosmer (whether they follow the Green Pact or not) are still lycanthropes who either live free with Hircine in his Hunting Grounds or struggle to keep the beast within, so I play with a werewolf mod called “Manbeast” which enacts Hircine’s curse if you don’t turn into a werewolf at all. 

I also wear the ring of Namira for RP. 

I don’t eat any vegetables, not even for alchemy. Nothing that contains vegetables. It makes for an interesting playthrough, upscales the difficulty as far as what you can or cannot do. Quite fun. 

My own personal note: I don’t own a home. Instead, I use a thief mod where you can keep caches hidden throughout Skyrim (as long as you personally remember where you hid them) and I keep my things in there. I would be tempted to live in Shadowfoot Sanctum only because technically, it’s more of a hide-out than say Tundra Homestead out close to a city. 

[alandrosul]

as you wish: it's called 'on the felling of the oak-father' and you can find it by googling it because i can't put links in asks, lol

this is really great so i’m posting it here for everybody ‘on the felling of the oak-father’

One of the few surviving fragments from a collection of ancient Nordic legends supposedly dating back to the founding of the first empire, 'On The Felling of the Oak-Father' tells of Kyne and the death of Jyrth, who, while now regarded as nothing more as an archaic forest spirit, here is clearly conflated with the Elven god Y'ffre. It's unclear whether it's simply Alessian propaganda or an authentic myth.

-

Long had Shor and his brother Ald fought, having been fated to do battle, having been born with this one purpose, having been shaped in the image of the conflict eternal. Before both of them laid great armies of elves and men, creatures born from the breath and will of the gods. Before each stood their thanes, spirits from before, gods of old, brothers and sisters, kin, broken from each other their hearts and their fates, kin broken from each other like Shor and Ald, like Man and Mer. Of these countless kin, brother and sister, were Kyne, Sky-Mother, Storm-Wife, and Jyrth, Tree-Father, Story-Teller.

With Shor Stood Kyne, Mother of Men, bound to Shor through love; with Ald Stood Jyrth, Lord of Oak and Pine, bound to Ald with oath. Kyne stood with Shor, for her nature was of righteous fury. Kyne stood with Shor, for she was kin to thunder, mother to lightning. Jyrth stood with Ald, for his nature was that of harmony. Jyrth stood with Ald, for he was lord of oak and ivy, of growing things. Though they sought not to meet in combat, though bound as kin, though their love burned brighter than dragonfire, Kyne and Jryth at last did battle, for this was the will of fate.

And so they fought, and they did this with their full power, for they knew that only one would live out this day. And so they fought with fury that broke the earth. As they fought, elves and men, warriors who fought for both kings, fell silent around them; they looked upon the spirits, they looked upon the great battle, and their hearts were filled with terror. As they fought, the sun passed beyond the horizon and back again thrice over. As the sun set on the fourth day, Kyne’s spear finally pierced Jryth’s oaken hide, and so Jryth was felled.

But there was no glory that day, for Kyne had never before felt love for one she had slain. Kyne, Lady of Storms, fell to her knees and wept. Her grief was so great that her tears washed the battlefield clean of the blood of man and elf. Kyne held her fallen kin, and threw down her spear. Kyne held her fallen kin, and at last her great fury was tempered. She swore to herself and to all who could hear that from that day and for every day since, she would take upon herself the duties of her brother; she would care for the trees, the vines, for all that grows. To honour her fallen kin, she would forever be Kyneryth, for she took upon it upon herself to love and care for all of her brother’s creations. Jryth’s spirit passed into the land, and where his blood fell a great forest grew. It is said that the storm-mother still walks there sometimes, deep in the forest, where her fallen brother still whispers.

[vosh-rakh]

“I, er...like what you’ve done with the place,” Kynareth said, making her presence known. It was a lie of course, but she hadn’t yet been given reason to put away politeness.

In truth, she couldn’t tell exactly what Boethiah was trying to do with this realm. It seemed to consist entirely of haphazard islands on an infinite sea of lava. Geography and architecture alike seemed works in progress, mountains missing peaks, towers missing stairs, fields missing grazers. Kyne couldn’t make heads or tails of the design philosophy Boethiah was laboring under — if there was any at all.

Boethiah didn’t turn to face Kynareth. He rubbed his chin in thought, considering what Kyne, with some imagination, assumed was a grove of trees.

“What fruit should these bear?” he asked, gesturing at the bare branches vaguely.

“Hm. Pomegranates, I think.” She began to carefully approach his turned back. “Surely you didn’t call me here for gardening advice.”

Boethiah turned his head to glare at Kyne and scowled. “You’re right, for once. I didn’t.”

The trees burst suddenly into flames. Kyne gasped and took a step back from the heat. Boethiah turned to face her, his dark silhouette wreathed in flame.

Kynareth held her ground, frowning. “Then what do you want, Boethiah? You should know Lorkhan and I are very busy.”

Boethiah scoffed. “Aren’t you always.” He marched up to his guest until he could almost feel her breath on his cheeks. “I want your support.”

Kyne waited a moment, then sighed. (Boethiah definitely felt her breath then, nearly shivering his spine with its spirit.) “Alright, I’ll bite. What scheme are you up to?”

“The Dragon’s ‘Prince of Order’ needs to be dealt with.”

“Jyggalag?”

Boethiah nodded. Kynareth searched his scarlet eyes. Boethiah’s intense glare, as always, was relentless.

She came away with nothing so tore her eyes from his. “Why?”

“He’s a threat to all of us, and none of us can do it alone.”

“So by ‘all of us’, you mean you lost souls out here in Oblivion, then.”

“Not just us. I’m told Azura of Dibella’s entourage, and even some among Magnus’s posse are concerned.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Even Trinimac tells me he worries.”

“Trinimac?” Kynareth took a step back and let loose a breathy laugh. “You, of all people, close enough to be his confessor? If I knew you were just going to lie to me, I wouldn’t have come.”

Boethiah grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. “I’m serious,” he barked. “And I’m not lying.”

“Yet no doubt you have some ulterior motive. Something to gain.” She wrested her wrist from his grip, rubbing it gently.

“Everyone has a motive. Everyone seeks outcomes that benefit them. Even you. Even Lorkhan.” The flames in his eyes burning into Kyne’s. “He has a reason for doing all this. Whether or not it’s actually what he says, some world of change and evolution, or maybe just so he can strike the others when they’re weakest, it doesn’t matter. He has a reason.”

Kynareth’s eyes began to glow with myriad sparks. “He’s sincere about what we’re doing,” she said. “It’s a world that can change within itself. That’s what we’re making.”

Boethiah’s eyes dimmed a shade, and he lowered his voice. “Even assuming that’s the case, do you think Jyggalag is conducive to that? Do you trust Auri-el and his ilk that much? Who’s to say when all is said and done, he doesn’t set Jyggalag to straightening out all that chaos you spent so long crafting? To make it his instead of yours?”

Kynareth shook her head but said nothing, letting her eyes wander the incomplete landscape. Something about it bothered her, but she couldn’t tell quite what. She kept searching and searching until it hit her.

“You’re just copying him,” she said, a gust of cold air that hugged their ankles.

“What?”

“All of this.” She gestured around at the featureless features of the realm. “So many ideas you think tell you who he is, what he’s like. So if you just study them and copy them enough, maybe you’ll understand him, maybe you’ll see.” She laughed dryly. “You’re just walking yourself in circles like all the rest. You’ll never understand him. All you care about is yourself.”

“Shut up, you bitch!” Boethiah’s eyes were miniature infernos set into his sockets. He drew his pitch black blade and pointed it towards Kyne. “I understand because I’m more like him than you will ever be. You’re just another Anuic fool, and he’s using you like he’s using all the others.”

“Is that so, void-wound?”

“You’d best watch your tongue! This is my world, built of my own power. I have control over every inch of it, including where you stand.”

Kyne laughed as if she had been told a mediocre joke. “That threat might have worked,” she said, “if you’d bothered to think of a way to hold me here.”

And before Boethiah could lunge at her, she was gone, and he fell screaming through the empty air left behind.

- - - - -

On the first day, it rained for the first time.

Kynareth had long since ran out of tears in her eyes, but the skies weren’t finished. The attendees of this Convention were deliberating finer points after the main event. Both Mara and Jephre, who had helped keep her steady through the worst of it, had left with small apologies to help iron things out. Kynareth was alone, drenched in rain. Magnus had insisted on giving her the same magic protection from the torrents he had cast upon the others, but she insisted with the numb shaking of her head to be left alone.

She struggled on that Tower with her soul. She struggled with faith. She struggled with love. And she struggled with anger.

Who deserves her faith? Her husband, she would tell you. But she would be told otherwise. “Betrayal,” they’d said. A faith misplaced, at best. At worst, complacency. Accompliceship. 

Who deserves her love? Her husband, she would tell you. But she would be told otherwise. “We will help save you from what he did to you, to us.” “Trust us to love you and have your best interest in mind.” “Trust us ...” with the implicit “... so that we might trust you.”

Who deserves her anger? Her husband, she would be told. But what would she tell you?

The answer roiled in the heavens with a pure energy, sparking across itself from the friction of gears turning, lighting up the sky with its arcs, and shaking the stones of the Tower with its roar.

Everyone looked up from their huddled conversations at the sound. Dibella and a few of the Magna-Ge screamed. Xarxes dropped his quill. Trinimac nearly jumped out of his silver skin. 

Auri-el shifted his immaculate form to glance at Kynareth, and some others followed. But they all just smiled faintly at her and peeled their eyes from the pity, returning to their banal bickering.

Who deserves her anger? So many options, Kynareth was overwhelmed by them. So she closed her eyes and let nature decide.

CRACK.

The Tower became a beacon, cast in brilliant light, even if only for the briefest moment. Everyone but Auri-el was knocked right off their feet, some even flung almost off the edge of the Tower’s top. 

The first few to raise their heads to see what happened saw Jygglag, Auri-el’s Prince of Order, his head aflame, his grey, crystalline body vibrating faster and faster and faster until it shattered. The witnesses braced for the shards, but they weren’t deadly grey crystals anymore — they were small flittering things, bright purple, dancing in the vaguest shape of the great spirit that just a moment ago stood there, before dissipating and flying away in all directions.

The others looked around to make sure everyone else was okay. No one else had been struck, but Kynareth had vanished.

[nerevarout]

Big thank you to @kagrenacs for the inktober prompts! Although I didn't get to do all of them, I had a lot of fun with the ones I did.

Day 1: Warrior, mage, thief

Day 2: Atronach

Day 4: Y'ffre

Day 7: Argonian Treeminder

Day 8: Thu'um

Day 8: Trinimac/Malacath

Day 10: Breton Pirate [ship]

Day 12: Ashkhan (a bit rough around the edges)

[varondiil]

tiny possible excerpts for new Snow Elf character:

"Ha! You think because I wield a bow I will not face you in combat? Before your time I was once a knight, and a prospective Paladin to that. Do not mistake my personal choice of living as fact of my abilities." (when provoked)

"Weakness? No, no. Auri-El loves this world, for all that suffers within it. He partook in creation!! why else would he ask Jephre, my patron, to mould the clay he provided? To allow the bounty of wilds, the beasts of the earth?" (when faced with the idea auriel regards this world a mistake)

 "We do not hate this world. Nor did we, even the most pious among us, I'd think, believe this life to be suffering. Aye we pursued enlightenment, as is the wont of most faithful to any degree, and to be closer to Auri-El was a goal and an honor to have. But this is our world; our cradle. Should we not love it as a babe loves the swaddle of their mam?" (continuing this belief)

 "For me, Auri-el was not enough; there was allure in the wilds, in the purity of snow and tree and stream. Should we not protect such things as vigilantly as we do the faiths, the cities? I may not have been born among the nomads in their simple yurts, or within the plains' mer's cottage, but I adopted their ways regardless. To follow the wind, the trail, and record the sun's kiss all where His light may fall." (recalling their choice of life)

[aetherialfalmer]

Snow Elf headcanons electric boogaloo 2

Jephre (Y'ffre) was often referred to as a male god but it wasn't uncommon for some priests/priestesses to refer to Jephre by she/her. They saw nature as an ever changing fluid entity and Jephre fit that notion as being both a father and mother of the forests in their eyes.

The shrine of Jephre was similar to the hidden nature sanctuaries scattered around Skyrim. The Snow Elves made sure it was made with nature preservation in mind, with scarce constructs around the shrine. Those who tended to it followed similar teachings as the Green Pact.

Snow Elven hair colors varied from platinum blonde, white to silver. However some had hair that appeared white but looked blonde in certain lighting.

If taken to different provinces or countries they might suffer from the occasional headaches caused by the weather. Especially if the areas weather is drastically different than Skyrim's.

Survivors that live tucked away in hidden enclaves might not even know what became of the Falmer. If they are truly cut off from the outside world(including the one under their feet) they might never know what became of those who took the Dwemer's offer.