Reymon Ebonarm: The Once and Future King

For millennia, scholars have debated the existence of the folk god Ebonarm, and where particularly he fits within the Cult of the Nine. Some say he is simply the Breton version of Stendarr, while others say that he is related to Trinimac. And there are others who have the strange idea that his ebony armor is sign of the dunmeri god Boethiah manifesting. Many of his devotees will even tell you that the Divines themselves were moved by his actions as a man, and rewarded him with minor godhood. The truth, if there is any however, has been difficult to pin down. No doubt due to the extreme variations of tales and legends referring to Ebonarm. The stories of the god’s appearance are so many that I won’t be dealing with them in this particular work, but instead focusing on what scholars hold to be the general consensus for the god’s origin.

Reymon of Evermor was a Dunlish woodcutter who plied his goods up the Bjoulsae towards Hammerfell, trading with the dwarf-orcs who lived in the mountains as well as the tribes around the river banks. Again and again, he would roll the bone-timber into the roaring rapids and stand upon them, beaming with the gaze of the sun upon him. He was not known as a wealthy man, but he was successful in being one of the sole traders willing to not only cut down the bone-trees, but also to take them many miles from their source. The difficulty of this can not be understated, as the bleeding trees attract wild animals, and it is likely that Reymon had to fight off many a foe to keep his prize.

If Reymon had chosen some other profession, who knows what would have transpired. But it so happened that on a cheery spring morning, the rapids lashed up and buried him under the curtain of logs. He battled the waters and his wares to get to return to Kynareth’s blessing, but he was ultimately unable to do so. The fickle Bjoulsae would claim another beneath its watery domain.

It is not known how much of the next part of the story is true, but it is said that he was saved by the merrish folk living in the river. He awoke upon the banks of the river, far from home and any supplies with the strange river folk gazing upon him. They blessed him, calling him Ebonarm, and kissed his nine apertures with river muck, and glazed his forehead with mud, which would come to be known as a symbol of priesthood. Then from among their company, it is said that a she-fish of very regal stature approached him, carrying aloft in her fins the black armor that would christen him with his new name. Some say it is the armor of Trinimac, others Boethiah’s ebony mail, while the skeptics believe that it was just regular old tarnished armor. Whatever the truth, it is at this point the historical records become unclear. Some indicate that Reymon returned to Evermor, where his people rejected him, saying he smelled of dung, while others say he wandered aimlessly, contemplating the meaning of life. Whatever the case, the records begin again with him ascending Wrothgar to the very peak of her highest mountain.

Fighting through orcs with naught but fists, the bloodied warrior reached the peak and received the embrace of her Holiness, the Blue Star. She came unto him and granted him Memory, teaching of him the portents of fate as well as the nature of men. She anointed him as her once and forever champion, and he descended Wrothgar under the alignment of 108 stars, conquering and to conquer.

Through some strange luck, scholars have found no record of the specific dates, which means it is likely that they did not survive the passage of time. Many records are contradictory with the dates they do indicate, making it possible that he ruled during the “Lost Era” of 1008 years that some scholars lecture on. It is traditionally taught that within 13 years, he had conquered High Rock, becoming the supreme ruler of all Bretons, and instilling worship of Mnemoli and the Magne-ge as the national religion of High Rock.

Some scholars blame him for his lack of initiative against the Redguard insurgents near the borders, but this may be a tad unfair. Reymon had turned his focus on ruling and giving his subjects a peaceful High Rock, while sending a trusted general to deal with the borders as he pleased. While this may be strange for what most may consider a god of war, it should be noted that Ebonarm historically always fought with a clear end in mind. He would unmercifully slaughter a single village to prevent the others from rising against him, for the purpose of it leading to less war and less death in the end. As a king, his focus was always on peace, which explains his lack of expansionist policy against the Ra’ga, which until the Miracle of Peace, was unheard of.

His ambitious commander however, went too far, and plunged into Hammerfell seeking to bring the Redguards under foot. This may seem like a betrayal against his liege, but the general probably assumed he would be forgiven for his success. His military victories were quick and successful but incited the full wrath of Hammerfell. In his final battle, south of what is now Sentinel, the strongest god of the Redguards, the Hoon Ding, came out to battle and crushed his army entirely. Immediately after, the Redguard horde pushed towards High Rock.

By the time Reymon had heard the news of his trusted general’s defeat, the Redguards were already in High Rock. Mustering an army as quickly as he could, the black-mailed war savant rode out to meet them, in the hopes to limit casualties. Most consider it a mistake, and unlikely of him, that he rode with the cavalry ahead of the infantry, but it was probably to draw out the enemy army into a trap.

Not much is known about the actual strategy used, but we do know that the battle raged for days, with Ebonarm taking the field to meet the Hoon Ding each time. The Alik’r hold that it was three days that Reymon stopped their god of Make-Way’s blows on his shield. On the final day, it is said that the armies sat and watched, seeing that the victor between the two would decide the other side’s fate. According to Alik’r tradition, on the fourth day, Ebonarm’s shield was broken, and he was struck down. The wound proved quickly fatal, and Reymon Ebonarm died, in sight of all of his men, the rays of High Rock shining down through the clouds upon him. This is a very lofty depiction, and likely not factual, although the occasional scholar will surmise that perhaps the Hoon Ding’s blow parted the skies. Strange Yoku mysticism of the relation between the sword saints and Tava besides, this is clearly an over-glorified portrayal of the mighty king brought low. Bretons have a flair for the dramatic to be found in every corner of their culture after all.

What happens next is again graciously described by the tribes of the Alik’r. It is said that their god was so moved by the strength of Reymon that he carried his body himself from the field and brought it to his generals. A truce was called, and the Redguards returned to Hammerfell while the grieving Bretons buried their King. He was buried in the place of his birth, Evermor, but it was seen as disgraceful that he could no longer be connected to Wrothgar, so a tradition began, which would later become the Pilgrim’s Path for entering priesthoods. A pilgrim would walk from Evermor to Normar, around the mountain of Wrothgar, from where they would take some soil, and empty it on Reymon’s tomb. It is a tradition for whom the ordinary citizens of High Rock have forgotten the purpose, and many mounds of earth may be found in Evermor’s cemetery.

Strangely enough, history does not leave off here. Legend has it that a certain Cyrod noble had a crest which was believed to be one that the descendants of Reymon later adopted. A Ra’ga sword piercing a black stone set upon a bright green hill. The noble in question is believed by many to be the parent of a certain Reman, who later become the Emperor of Tamriel. There is even a tradition in Evermor where dirt from Reman’s hill is stacked up upon a shrine to him there. From here, the connection continues to Talos, and Ebonarm falls into obscurity, becoming a small, local god of whom even many Bretons are ignorant. His aim for a unified and peaceful High Rock was a failure and never truly came to fruition, and he is now ironically a god of war to bloodthirsty barbarians wishing to become a new “King upon the Mountain.” For many however, he will forever be the Rock of Altbal. Always ready to defend her, when he is needed.