"Gods have mercy on your souls!" There was a new prisoner in the Whiterun dungeon that day. He was dragged in by three guards, all of them together struggling to repress the indomitable might of a Vigilant of Stendarr. They hauled him in the cell farthest from the entrance and slammed the gate shut. "He's a fiesty one," One of the guards said. "Aye to that," another one said. "You can not lock me up for my religion! Talos is a god!" Months crept by, the Vigilant refusing any food except for one meal in the evening, and prison suppers weren't much cares for. When asked why he refused most of the well-needed food, all he would answer was "The Nine will provide." Eventually the month of Sun's Dusk came along, the month of fasting for worshippers of the Nine Divines. But for the Vigilant, this meant a pure emptiness of all nourishment. Most could survive through magic and proper treatment, but in such conditions, the other prisoners urged him to reconsider. "No, my friends. No matter what the circumstances, the Nine will provide." He fasted for twenty-eight days, and on the 29th of Sun's Dusk, the Jarl himself strode briskly into the filthy dungeon basement. "All prisoners are to evacuated from the premises immediately. There's a dragon loose somewhere in Whiterun, and all of you are to keep quiet and orderly while the guards escort you to the emergency bunker. Is that clear?" After a few eager nods, the prisoners were quickly moved out of the dungeon. A guard turned back before exiting: "Hey! Vigilant! Come out here, we almost forgot about you!" A pitiful whimper was all that was replied. The Jarl was irritated. "Come on, let's get a move on it! I don't pay you by the hour!" The guard looked at the door, and back to the far end of the dungeon. He ran back to the Vigilants' cell, and dived through the cell door to snap it off its hinges. "Get up or you'll die! You have two more months before you get out of here!... It's that blasted fasting that's the done this to you, hasn't it?" The Vigilant opened his swollen eye slightly. His vision was blurred, and he couldn't feel any of his limbs. "Get up, you...!" A rumbling sound reverberated through the ground. "By the Eight..." The guard scrambled off, leaving the Vigilant of Stendarr to rot in his own filth.
Three days had passed. A wall of rock had caved the Vigilant inside of his cell, erasing any slim chance of survival. He could no longer move, and he was filthy. He raised his hand one last time, and cried out to the Nine: By the Nine, have mercy on me! For I am in need; as you have had my undying service in life, you shall also have it in death." His hand wavered and crumpled to the cobblestone floor. The stubborn Vigilant of Stendarr finally died.
Soon after, the Vigilant became a martyr and an important symbol of justice and religious freedom toward Skyrim and the Stormcloak rebellion. This also pushed Ulfric Stormcloak to send his forces to cities such as Whiterun, in order to prevent the unnecessary deaths of men because of religious freedom.
