haute ecole rider~ I'm actually unsure how to pronounce it :X A friend of mine found out about the fanfic and asked that I name a character after his middle name...and this conversation happened over text message I'll have to ask him how its said

Grits~ Wrothken thinks its cute too when I cook and I come back with flour all over my clothes

SubRosa~ Yyaevonnte was actually supposed to be in the original draft. At one point, he was going to be a resident of the Isles, then a thief that Lilitu takes under her wing, then a friend of Awour's...but he didn't fit proper! So when I did the redraft I added a Breton friend of Kirsty's....but then the light went off and -ding!- perfect place for him!


Nothing like waking up from a steamy dream to a dog (or these days a very vocal tuxedo cat!) pouncing on you and ruining it


mALX~ Thanks mALX ♥ Though my BHC has nothing on yours!





Atrea stood in front of the arena, watching as Lilitu disappeared down the bustling street. What was a girl like her, who hung out in dumps like the Dancing Minotaur, doing in such a posh place? And the very one owned by Kirsty.... She narrowed her eyes. Lilitu must have had something to do with her stolen jewelry. Now that she thought about it, Kirsty wasn't the type, but everyone knew who exactly hung out at the Dancing Minotaur. There might as well have been a Thieves' Guild banner flying over it.

She wanted to follow her and see if she still had her jewelry, maybe even steal it back, but she was afraid she would be too obvious. She was no thief, after all. Maybe after a few days, when her guard was down, she could find a way to get them back. Instead of stalking, she turned and went home.

She frowned, looking into the messy living room. Remnants of last night's lunch and dinner was still sitting on the coffee table, next to a pile of books. Crumpled papers littered the floor.

The kitchen wasn't much better. A bouquet of flowers, once fresh and fragrant, now smelled sickly sweet and the lightest brush on a petal nearly turned it to dust. Empty bottles were all over the counter, along with pots and pans caked with burnt food.

As usual, she felt the sudden urge to clean so she could entertain friends, but a few minutes into it, she gave up and left for Erissanda's house. She promised herself she would clean later on, though she had made that same promise nightly ever since Wrothken left their house.

Erissanda was home, thank the Gods. Atrea knew that if she had to look for her in the marketplace, she would be out of money by the end of the day. As Erissanda greeted her cheerfully and let Atrea in, Atrea was taken aback by how beautiful her home was. Sunlight bathed the living room from behind white lace curtains. The rose couches were so inviting, as was the wine and food platter sitting on the chestnut coffee table, as if Erissanda had been expecting her.

"Sit, sit!" Erissanda said, pulling Atrea to the couch and taking a seat next to her. "What brings you here? I thought you were going to get your jewelry back from Kirsty!" Erissanda snorted, tucking her brown hair behind her ear.

"You know," Atrea said, taking a slice of cheese onto a cracker. "I don't think Kirsty has it. Could you imagine her sneaking around anywhere? It’s a wonder she doesn't knock around everything in front of her!" She said, cupping her hands in front of her breasts.

Erissanda laughed a little. "Then who has it?"

"I think it was someone from the Thieves' Guild."

"Oh, please! You don't actually believe in that, do you?"

Atrea shrugged. "It's the only explanation I can think of." She sighed, laying her head in Erissanda's lap. "I miss Bacchus. If he were here, no one would have broken in.... or lived to tell about it!"

Erissanda stroked Atrea's long hair softly. "How long is his training?"

"A whole year! Can you believe I'm already getting so lonely? I don't know how much longer I can wait for him!"

"Awww, poor baby!" Erissanda said, starting to braid a lock of Atrea's hair. "Meanwhile you've bedded how many men this year?"

"Just two, thank you very much."

"Two more than I have," Erissanda muttered.

Atrea shrugged. Nothing she could do about that. She turned slightly, looking out the window. A man with an axe walked by the road and Atrea remembered Wrothken's axe still hanging up on the wall. Her heart fluttered, remembering his strong arms...those big hands...broad shoulders...plump, soft lips... She growled softly. Why didn't he fight back? Of course, she knew exactly why and she wanted to kick herself for it.

"What?" Erissanda asked, starting a new braid.

"Oh, just Wrothken."

"That he's vanished off of Nirn without so much as a goodbye or at least getting his dreck out of the house?"

"Not exactly.... I'm just wondering why the hell he had to run off like that instead of fighting."

Erissanda snorted again. "You just wanted to be fought over?"

"No!" Atrea said defensively. Of course that would have been nice, she thought.

"Look, I think it’s pretty obvious. You had dear Wrothken's balls in your purse! What did you expect from a guy like that?"

Atrea stood up and looked out the window. "It's not his fault. It's all mine."

"How so?"

Atrea turned around, her eyes shimmering. "Would you believe that Wrothken used to fight in a dirty pit back in Bruma?"

"They've got an arena up there?"

"Pfft." Atrea placed her hand on her hip. "More like a seedy little tavern with a huge basement. You should have seen it! It was packed full of men betting on people beating the daylights out of each other."

"And Wrothken was part of it?"

"He was a main event!" she looked up at the ceiling. "When I first laid eyes on him it was like someone lit a fire in me. His eyes..." Atrea sighed as she stared out the window. “The thing was, I was too scared of him to approach but one day, he came over to me and you can imagine my surprise when it turned out he was just the sweetest thing.

“Wrothken was just so kind and so very eager to please. Turns out he never really had a girlfriend before me. Well, there was one, but that was only for a week so she doesn't count. I mean, the only thing was, he had a bit of a temper problem, but I figured that if I could get him to get rid of it, I'd have the perfect guy! After all, he really was sweet under all that violent behavior and he spoiled me quite a bit. Soon enough he got out of the pit fighting."

Erissanda poured them both some wine. "Sounds just like your type!"

"Exactly!" She laughed. "I mean, it took a long time. The littlest things would set him off, but all I had to do was cry big, juicy daedroth tears and whimper, 'Wrothken you're scaring me,' and he'd calm down." She crinkled her nose. "Then he'd start to cry. By the Nine that was irritating. That's where I went wrong, though."

"How?" Erissanda asked. "You got him away from those bad influences, you got his temper in check, what could possibly be the problem?"

Atrea sighed. "He lost his spark." She leaned in, lowering her voice even though they were alone in the house. "Before, we used to have the most fiery passion you could imagine. He was rough, demanding, oh by Dibella it was..." She grunted, balling her fists. "But....afterwards..." She sighed. "It wasn't what it used to be, I guess."

"That's normal. All relationships go through that."

Atrea shook her head. "Not like we did. Not that I don't want Bacchus!" She added quickly. "He's gorgeous! And Wrothken put on a little weight when he started hanging around Kirsty. And while Bacchus is perfection in that department, he's nowhere near as good as Wrothken was in bed. Even with the fire doused, at least he was attentive, pleasing."

Erissanda took a sip of her wine. "Then why'd you keep at him for so long? I remember a couple months ago you were trying to figure out how to dump Wrothken and get with Bacchus as quick and as painless as possible."

"I know, I know!" Atrea groaned, burying her face in her hands. "But when Bacchus left for the night, it was wham, bam, thank you ma'am," she said, clapping her hands. "And that was it. With Wrothken, even if it was for just a few hours, he made sure I was taken care of, whether it was leaving me septims or just leaving food out for me. And my gods, can he cook! And he cleaned too! Without me even asking. Not to mention he bathed regularly. Do you know how bad it is when Bacchus came back after exercising? Or even just a romp in the sack? He smelled awful! But good luck convincing him of it," she said, crinkling her nose again. "And maybe he could live off stale arena food and beer, but I certainly will not!"

She leaned on Erissanda. "But why in Oblivion am I even thinking of Wrothken? I made my choice."

"Yeah, but you don't seem very pleased with it. Lack of passion aside, you've got to admit that Wrothken sounds like the better match for you. He's a nice guy."

"Exactly!" Atrea moaned. "I don't want a nice guy! They're so boring! I need a man who will light my fires, pounce me like an animal, who will make me scream! If I only knew what would happen, I could have avoided this mess in the first place."

Erissanda shrugged. "Oh, well. You can't have it all."

A spark lit up Atrea's eyes. "Or can you?" She stood up and began to pace. "You can't change a man, but you can train them. After all, that's just what I did to Wrothken. Well, what if I can untrain him? Find ways to bring back that part of him that I so stupidly repressed." She smiled. "It's certainly worth looking into, don't you think?"

"Sure," Erissanda said. "That is, if he ever comes back."



Kirsty was glad to have Capaneus with her all day. She had been tense, jumping each time a guard entered the bakery for a quick snack, but it was like Capaneus could read her thoughts and he never hesitated to say something to make her laugh. So strange that he was able to put her at ease so quickly.

He even helped her close and before leaving, he bowed and kissed her hand. What a gentleman!

Kirsty had always been too busy to even consider dating and each time she was witness to a horrible break up or its aftermath, she would be thankful that she had avoided such heartbreak. Capaneus, however made her feel so blissful. His compliments, not a single one related to her figure, were wonderful. His jokes hilarious. His very presence was powerful, though he wasn't a large man at all. Even still, a voice deep within her told her that something was wrong.

As she sat in her bathtub, she recalled Dolce's sudden outburst. The previous night when she had been the target of the dog's vicious growls, Dolce was instantly calmed by Lilitu. She had not only quieted, but immediately retreated back to her bed on command. Even the fact that Dolce walked just at Lilitu's side, without a leash, showed that the dog was well-trained. Then again, he did smell a little funny. And Lilitu mentioned that Dolce had been poisoned, she rationalized. Capaneus could remind Dolce of her assailant.

She spent the entire bath trying to give herself reasons not to worry until she realized what she was doing. As she crawled into bed, she simply chalked it up to nervousness about these newfound feelings. However, the voice refused to silence and it carried on until she entered the blackness of her dreams.

ROFL!! Nothing sexier than a man that cooks and cleans ... unless they can also fix your car horse-drawn carriage of course. But...what about Wrothken's ...deformity ... GAAAAH !!!

Its a wonder she doesn't knock around everything in front of her!"


Of course that would have been nice, she thought.
Yep, that is a straight girl for you.

I don't want a nice guy! They're so boring!
And so is that!

The scene with Awour was so much better this time around. The addition of Erissanda as a sounding board to bring out Awour's feelings really made the entire thing flow so much better.

So Cap is working his magic on Kirsty then? Such a complicated web of relationships you are building up back in Kvatch! If Wrothken ever gets back, I doubt he will recognize the place! (assuming it is still standing that is).

May I interject that a boring guy might be quite good on the tunneling side...

SPEW !!! Er ... er ... [covers mouth with hand, gives discreet cough to camoflage talking] "Oxy-Fay ... O-nay ... Ot-nay Othken-Wray - OFL - Ray !!!

The dead bouquet of flowers is so sad.

Awour plots to get Wrothken back, I like it! Still would like to give her a slap, though.

mALX~ Lol! poor Wrothken! Maybe she's into "deformed" ones.... In fact I'd be willing to bet that she has seen many like it

SubRosa~ I think it will take Wrothken some time to adjust...though there is something I have in store for him upon his return that will be sure to distract him!

Foxy~ Well, if he's that good, then he certainly can't be all that boring

Grits~ Ah, Awour does tend to have that effect on people



"Mania? Or Dementia?" Wrothken wondered, looking to either side. He watched the arrogant Golden Saints walk around with their chests puffed out and their noses stuck up so high, if it rained, they'd all drown. He didn't want to be anywhere near them, honestly.

On the other side, he saw the Mazken sashay around their half of the Palace district. They were the epitome of strength, confidence, and authority. Wrothken couldn't help feeling a slight attraction to them.

After thinking about it on the way to pick up his armor from Cutter, he still couldn't figure it out. It wasn't a life or death decision, but as he wasn't sure what to expect, he was nervous. After all, the last job had been nothing he had been prepared for. He sat down once he was back in the Palace district for another fifteen minutes before deciding to summon Haskill.

"I see you couldn't be bothered to walk the extra twenty feet to the palace," he said with a sigh. "What is it you require?"

Wrothken didn't bother repressing a smile. "I just wanted to ask you who I should visit first."

With an exaggerated eye roll, Haskill replied, "Thadon is aware you are here, and should be waiting for you. See him at once. Would you like me to accompany you? Hold your hand, maybe?"

Wrothken clenched his fists. He should have known that there would be a smart comment along with it. He tried to avoid making it obvious that Haskill got to him, as the chamberlain vanished. When there was no longer a trace of him, Wrothken headed to the House of Mania.



The House of Mania was the picture of decadence. As Wrothken entered the smoke-filled place, he saw a banquet table filled to its edges with roasts, pastries, fruit, bottles of wine, eggs, and anything else Wrothken could ever imagine eating. As people stuffed their faces while smoking pipes and what appeared to be rolled pieces of parchment. Nude women poured wine for the people at the tables and some sat amongst themselves feeding each other sugar cubes and looking around the room as if they were seeing the most wonderful things in the world. The Golden Saints stood at the door, their expressions neutral, as if this happened all the time.

Wrothken was so busy staring at the women that he nearly bumped into a fully clothed Argonian woman. She was dressed in simpler clothes than the others, a gold gown with embellishments around the collar and a blue skirt with amber trim. Small horns wrapped around her head with ribbons hanging from the backs. Her pupils were so dilated that it appeared her eyes were black with a thin orange ring around them. "How can I help you..." She squinted at him. "Sir? Miss?" She shook her head. "You all look alike to me. It's so hard to tell." She waved her hand. "I am Wide-Eye, Steward to His Grace, the greatest Duke of Mania in all of history, Thadon. He is my reason for being. My purpose in life. Are you here to see him?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting toward the other women.

She nodded as well. "I heard that you were coming, looking for Thadon. Yes, yes. Heard it all. Bored to tears by it. He's waiting for you. Unless he isn't. He wasn't, but then he was. Maybe he still is."

She motioned him to the end of the table, where a Bosmer in a large throne was sitting, surprisingly without any female company. Out of all the guests, he was like a proud peacock in his turquoise and gold finery and crown. When Wrothken approached, he stood up, smiling widely. Wrothken couldn't help noticing a dusting of green powder on his nose and several lines of it on a small tray by his full plate.

"Ahh yes, there you are!” He said lazily to Wrothken. “You couldn't imagine how long I've been waiting for you. So little to do, and so much time. Hmm, could you, in fact, imagine just how long I've been waiting? I don't think you could, but I might be wrong. I might also not care. Which is it?"

Wrothken tilted his head. "Not very long?"

"Hmm... It felt like rather a long time, but then long times get longer when you're standing around thinking about them. A curious thing, that. Long roads get longer too, if you're thinking about them, but what about long words? They don't change nearly as much." He shrugged. "Long, short -- it all ends up the same. Dust and tears. Usually tears first, then the dust. Dust can't cry, you see. That would be... well, amusing." He chuckled, then abruptly stopped. "You know what's not amusing? I don't have my Chalice of Reversal. It makes me sad," he said, dragging his finger from his eye to his chin. "When I get sad, I don't care to do much of anything. I certainly don't care to help people who show up on my doorstep wanting something. Are we getting the picture here?"

Wrothken sighed. He got the picture alright. "Do you know where your Chalice of Reversal is?"

"Oh, so you've heard of it?"

"No."

"You haven't heard of it, yet you know its name? What a strange creature you are." Wrothken didn't bother pointing out that Thadon gave him the name. Somehow, he knew it wouldn't do any good.

"One of my favorite toys," Thadon said. "Does wonders for creativity. Well, not by itself, but it helps. Those Elytra, clever little bugs that they are. Is this making sense?”

Wrothken shook his head. Not very much made sense lately, but this was even worse.

“Look, you eat the Felldew, then use the Chalice, and find the world a much brighter and happier place. Honest. But I don't have it. So I can't eat Felldew, because that would just be bad. I mean, really bad. Damn her!" He snarled, glancing to his left.

Wrothken looked over as well, but he didn't suspect either of the women, who were feeding a roasted leg to a large man, had anything to do with the lost Chalice.

"Do you know who took it?"

Thadon looked back at him with a sly smile. "Opposites repel, strangely enough. All that... pleasure... and pain locked away now, as if it never happened," he said bitterly. "Unfortunately, the Chalice is locked away as well. I have no wish to retrieve it myself, but fetching it might do you some good." He groaned. "My head is positively throbbing now... can you see it? I need to lie down. Find someone to tell you the rest of the story. Get the Chalice." He stood up and wobbled to a door in the back.

Wrothken's head was starting to throb as well. He took an empty seat to try to sort out what Thadon had told him. Thadon's Chalice of Reversal was missing. The Chalice helped him eat something called felldew. A woman took it, after a love affair, which is now being treated as if it didn't happen... Sympathy ran through him for a moment, but that still didn't tell him where the Chalice was hidden.

Wide-Eye returned, taking the seat next to him. "You've been speaking to Thadon. I can tell. He has a certain... effect on people. Did he mention me, perhaps?" She asked hopefully. When Wrothken gave her a confused look, she asked disappointedly, "Or was there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"He wants me to get his Chalice of Reversal."

"It's precious to him, and that's all that matters. It's his own business. But, didn't he mention where it is?” Wide-Eye paused for a moment. “Oh... I see. How brilliant of him." She seemed to be swooning every time she praised him. "This is for you as much as it is for him. Oh, very good Thadon! Dunroot Burrow is your goal, my friend. And what a goal it is."

"Dunroot Burrow..." He said, taking out his map. "Where is this place?"

She pointed. "Yes, right there. A most unique place. Of course, the Chalice would be there!" She cupped his face in her scaly hands. "Don't you see? It's the Elytra! They're the reason. The Chalice, Felldew, Elytra... it's all connected." She poked his nose. "One without the others is no good, poison. Oh, a rough road awaits you. Some Elytra there are... different. You'll need to get Felldew from them, and eat it. Can't get in without it. But once you do... He wants you to learn for yourself. Learn, grow, experience. It's his way. I shouldn't say more."

Wrothken looked around the table. "What's felldew?"

She tapped her lip, lowering her eyes. "Well, perhaps Thadon would want you to have a bit more guidance. He did say that you should talk to me, did he not?" She stroked his cheek softly. "Felldew is a poison, little one. A very dangerous drug. You'll feel good at first, but that wears off, and if you go long without it, you'll suffer."

Wrothken felt a numbing throughout his body. A drug? Thadon was trying to get him addicted to drugs? Without a word, he got up and dashed outside.

He paced by the stairs, trying to think of another way. He didn't want to risk it. He just couldn't. After all, he was able to keep a hold of his sanity so far. Why would he risk losing it to addiction?

Once again, Haskill does not disappoint!

Are we getting the picture here?"
We are now! Thadon is the manic whirlwind one would expect from a Duke of Mania.

Opposites repel, strangely enough. All that... pleasure... and pain locked away now
A nice little bit of foreshadowing about Thadon's relationship with another Bosmer, (but this one not a blond bowgirl from Bravil).

Oh, Thadon, Thadon, Thadon. So full of life, so full, so full, and yet, empty. 'Twould make any mortal Manic.

With another fanfic I'm caught up on, I am realizing more and more that my own personal rules of not reading others' stories for Oblivion and Oblivion related material was a mistake. Glad that's corrected now...

I find myself perplexed by Wrothken. While I've known a few men put through his sorrows, I've never actually known one that had been truly, absolutely in love with a woman, only to have her stomp on his heart. As a character, he intrigues me, and his already shaky psyche means he could trip and fall into either of the halves of the Madgod's Divided Mind.

Nit:

This is a sentence fragment, you may want to drop the "As" at the beginning. It suggests that there should be more to the thought to make this a whole sentence.

Makes you wonder if Wide-Eye isn't the one that hid the Chalice, lol. You made a very memorable character with her - and even though I did that quest I did not remember her from the game, lol. Awesome Write !!!!!

After thinking about it on the way to pick up his armor from Cutter, he still couldn't figure it out. It wasn't a life or death decision, but as he wasn't sure what to expect, he was nervous. He sat down back in the Palace district for another fifteen minutes before deciding to summon Haskill.

This makes perfect sense to me, since he doesn’t have Kirsty to tell him which way to go. And Haskill’s snarky response, very funny!

He paced by the stairs, trying to think of another way. He didn't want to risk it. He just couldn't. After all, he was able to keep a hold of his sanity so far. Why would he risk losing it to addiction?

I like to see Wrothken’s thought process here. He does seem to be one who stomps around smacking himself in the head instead of staring moodily off into space when he’s agonizing over a decision.

SubRosa~ I love his "Are we getting the picture" remark. At least he's straight forward about it

Captain Hammer~ I'm glad to have you reading as well that you are intrigued by Wrothken

mALX~ That would be an interesting twist of events. She makes it clear through other dialogue that she is insanely jealous and furious with Syl...

Grits~ Lol! Its true. If Kirsty were there the Greymarch would be done before it even began!


After hours of deliberation, Wrothken decided to make the trip to Dunroot Burrow. After all, Sheogorath made it pretty clear that he was to do what the duke asked him, under threat of bodily harm. He would just have to find a way to get through it minus addiction.

He walked down the steps to the door leading to Bliss. He expected it to look like Crucible, but he was completely surprised.

Bliss reminded him of Kvatch, only nowhere near as bustling. No horses, no vendors, no arena. The streets were clean, the buildings were in good shape. Everything looked positively normal.

"Sa-weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet rollllllllllll!"

Wrothken was jarred by the call coming from an old Bosmer man.

"Fimmion hungry!" He said, holding his hands out. "Fimmion wants sweet roll!"

Wrothken sighed. What was he thinking? He'd find normality around the Shivering Isles when Kirsty joined the Thieves Guild. "Sorry, I don't have a sweet roll."

Fimmion sighed. "Fimmion saaaad....."

Wrothken walked around Bliss, squirming inside every time a Golden Saint glared at him. Something about their accusing eyes made him worry if he actually did something wrong, though the rational part of his mind knew he had done no such thing. With each stare, he would quickly lower his eyes to the ground, as if to disappear from their view.

He sat in front of a tavern in order to think of his predicament with Thadon. There was no other option then to get the Chalice of Reversal in Dunroot Burrow, where he was supposed to get addicted to a drug. He buried his face in his hands. There had to be another way. There just had to. He refused to become an addict.

He looked around and to his surprise, he saw a sign for a bookstore. People actually read here? He wondered. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't imagine anyone he'd met sitting by the fire with a good book. Even still, there was a small chance that there would be something relating to the Chalice in one of those books. Without further hesitation, he ran inside.

The bookstore itself was dilmly lit with red and black candles on every available surface, save an empty table where a whip and a set of shackles sat. Books were on the sides, set on the shelves in disarry. The room was filled with the pungent scent of sweat and body fluids, causing Wrothken to gag slightly. He noticed shackles hanging from the ceiling, directly over the desk and on the walls. As domineering as it was, it had nothing on the woman inside it.

She was an Altmer in a strapless corset that pushed her breasts up almost to her neck. Her eyes were light hazel, with a green hue, covered in heavy black liner and thick black lashes. Her pupils were dilated heavily, suggesting the use of belladonna drops. Around her neck, she wore a red collar with a long chain attached to it, connecting to a ring on her thumb. Her skirt was the tightest and shortest he'd ever seen in all his life. Her shapely legs were covered in black netting. Her lace-up boots reached all the way to her knees. Her ponytail was tied tightly back.

"Hmmm... how do you do?" She said, looking him over. "I'd say, very well from the looks of things. I'm Sontaire. Spend one night with me and I'll remind you why they say 'love hurts.'"

His jaw nearly hit the floor. She was direct at least, and even though he liked that in a woman, there was no way he was getting involved in....that. Not with a stranger, anyway. "I.... No, thank you, though, but..." He shook his head. "Do you have anything on the Chalice of Reversal?"

She pouted at his rejection. "A book? Is that what you came here for?"

Wrothken felt like slapping himself. Of course it wouldn't be an ordinary bookstore. No, that was far too much to ask for.

A devilish smile returned to her face. "Honey, I don't know if you've heard, but men don't come down here to read. No, they come for much better things." She stepped closer, peering down his armor. "Oh, my. I love me a big, hairy beast of a man," she said, pressing her body against him.

Wrothken nearly jumped out of his skin. She sure was persistent. "Sorry, but... um..." He tried to think of something other than "you're creeping me the hell out." He backed away, placing his hand on the knob. "You know what? I have a... a thing. So why don't I just go?"

"Go if you want, but I know men. You'll be thinking of me later tonight when you're alone. Just remember where my shop is. I'll give you a night to remember."

He laughed nervously. "Yeah, sure," he said, quickly dashing out the door. With no other ideas, he opened the gate leading out of the city to Dunroot Burrow.



The terrain leading to Dunroot Burrow was the complete opposite of the area that led to the Fringe. Where the Demented path was dreary and almost always cloudy, the Manic path was covered in bold colors and bright sunshine. Rich colored flowers and plants ruled the area. He wrinkled his nose at it. At the moment, he preferred the depressing scenery of Dementia.

For once, Atrea wasn't the one haunting his mind, at least not directly. Instead, the requirements of Thadon's request brought to mind the last time he spoke to his mother.

She had hated Atrea almost from the moment she met her. At the time, Wrothken was very defensive, thinking that his mother just wasn't ready to cut the apron strings. After several months of constant arguments that usually left at least one of them in tears, Wrothken left with Atrea to Kvatch. The last words his mother had said to him was, "You're going to be just like your father."

Those words stung more than any physical blow ever did. He was told that his father was a dealer in skooma and moonsugar. His deals and association with bandits were why his mother had to take his sister from Skyrim to Bruma. She could have been jailed for her association with him if the authorities suspected she was part of the dealings. His father stayed with them for a while, until Wrothken's mother revealed that she was pregnant. That was when he chose the drug to his own family.

Though he never spoke of it, Wrothken hated the man for his choice. He spent his whole life trying to make up for the lack of a male figure in his home. He was the one who went out and hunted their food with the other men in Bruma. He even prepared and cooked it. He did his best, but when he was faced with the choice of being her little boy forever, or so he had thought, or beginning his own family, he felt it was time for him to move on.

Though he told Kirsty that he wouldn't even consider it, he had originally longed to return home. He just couldn't bear the guilting that he was sure he'd receive. Instead, when he returned home, it would be with his head high.

"You're going to be just like your father." The words rang in his mind once more. If he did develop an addiction to felldew, would she be right? No, this was different, he told himself. After all, his father's addiction had nothing to do with Sheogorath. This was a life or death dilemma and working with the felldew was what was going to save his life! But didn’t most addicts believe their drugs were lifesavers?



When he arrived at Dunroot Burrow, a large ant-like creature was standing by the entrance. He wasn't sure what to do until it rushed over him, green gel bubbling around its mouth. The rest of its body had an unnatural looking green glow around it.

It let out a shrill noise, crawling over to him quickly in a way that plainly said it was not friendly. Wrothken took out his mace, and swung it, hitting its side. It’s tough exoskeleton remained intact and it grabbed Wrothken's arm with its pincer. If he didn't have his gauntlets on, his arm would have been crushed.

He reached over, grabbing the mace with his left hand. It felt wobbly, but he gripped it the best he could, hitting it weakly. The insect gripped tighter, trying to pull him in closer to its mouth. It wasn't fazed by Wrothken's shaky blows. He tried to pull back, but to no avail. He needed to figure a way to beat it. He wasn't good left handed, but what else was there?

His heart froze with fear when he figured out a way. He focused on the cold feeling in his chest, allowing it to blossom into his hand. A frost ball exploded into the insect's face, shocking it into letting go. Wrothken held the mace in his right hand and swung it at its head. The insect raised its pincers and he bashed them out of the way, making room to get to its head. Finally it went down.

Wrothken panted, putting his mace away. The insect's mouth bubbled with green ooze. Wrothken stared at it, and the unnatural green glow around its body. Could that be the felldew? He decided to ask Haskill. There was no way he was putting that stuff in his mouth without being absolutely sure about what it was.

"Yes, is there something you need?" Haskill asked impatiently.

Wrothken pointed to the insect. "What is this?"

Haskill sighed. "That is an elytra. They are found in high concentrations in root tunnel systems and near caves, but inhabit almost the entire Isles. They can block weapon attacks and walk on water. Their spells can be potentially damaging if you meet one unexpectedly."

"Alright..." Wrothken said. "And this green stuff?"

"That is felldew, a highly addictive drug. I wouldn't recommend it. It may be a little much for you to handle."

Wrothken rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh, well that's all I needed."

"My work is never done..." Haskill muttered as he vanished.

Wrothken removed his gauntlet and scooped a handful of felldew. His sniffed it first, shuddering at the foul smell. He was tempted to fling it off his hand and wipe the rest on the ground, but he knew it was necessary in order to find the Chalice. Crinkling his nose in disgust, he stuffed some in his mouth.

"Mmmm..." He said licking his lips. It wasn't the taste he was enjoying. That was horrible, though with each lick it was starting to grow on him. It was like lemony kerosene. It was the feeling that he enjoyed. He felt relaxed, calm... happy even. He licked his hand clean of the remaining felldew. He felt a pleasant tingle all over his body. "This isn't half bad."

He approached the door to Dunroot Burrow. He couldn't think of why he was so worried in the first place. He felt great, better than he had in a long time. As he entered, he considered grabbing as much as he could, just so he could remain in such a great mood.

@ Grits: instead of staring moodily off into space when he’s agonizing over a decision.
This reminds me of something Willow once said about a boy she was smitten with in the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (or maybe it was the second?) : "He can brood for forty five minutes straight. I timed him!"

Sheogorath made it pretty clear that he was to do what the duke asked him, under threat of bodily harm.
The whole playing jump rope with the intestines is quite a motivator!

when Kirsty joined the Thieves Guild.
He might be in for a surprise when he gets back!

I loved your description of the intimidating presence of the Aureals. How they make Wrothken feel guilty even when he had not done anything. So very true to life!

Bliss was wonderfully described. Especially Sontaire and her 'bookstore'! I love the BDSM slant you put on it, and her! I was grinning the entire time I read it.

The part about Wrothken's father was again powerful. Here we see another piece in the puzzle that has made Wrothken who he is today. At the same time, it puts an entirely new amount of depth into what is otherwise another fetch and carry quest in the game. The final sentences are chilling, as Wrothken eats the felldew.

Oh, the irony of this in view of recent events in Kvatch just made me bust out laughin'!

I couldn't remember ever meeting Sontaire the two times I went to SI, so I went over to the UESP wiki to look her up. The dialogue she gets is downright delicious! And I loved what you did with it - the shop, her behavior, all of it!

And Wrothken's musings about daddy are interesting. So his father abandoned the family? That does explain quite a bit of Wrothken's tendency to overcompensate in certain areas.

And I won't even discuss the discomfort I felt at the scene with the elytra and the felldew. Ugh.

So Wrothken meets Sontaire, and comes away walking without problems? I could just imagine what would happen if you put her in a room with Awour. Maybe have Sontaire bring some oil. Let Awour bring the mud...

*The Cap'n hurries off to his cold shower.*

Ah, okay, back, and better now. Ahem, interesting run-in with the bookstore proprietrix in Bliss. And more of Haskill's razor-sharp wit and melancholy on display. Always useful to have him around to explain things.

And so we also learn about Wrothken's background, and why he doesn't go back to Bruma. Great material here, especially about Wrothken's need to be everything his father wasn't.

Like a state trooper in your rearview mirror, lol.

Poor Wrothken, it seems his 'deformity' is in high demand in Shivering Isles, lol. You covered a lot in this chapter, and have a huge gift of being able to describe Wrothken's emotions throughout - Awesome Write !!

"Sorry, but... um..." He tried to think of something other than "you're creeping me the hell out."


He backed away, placing his hand on the knob. "You know what? I have a... a thing. So why don't I just go?"
Oh, on the knob.

The last words his mother had said to him was, "You're going to be just like your father."
A mother’s words can be so hurtful. She was right about Awour, but still.

SubRosa~ Oh yes, Sontaire is another of my favorites in SI. If you check out her bedroom, there are indeed chains and shackles!

haute ecole rider~ I wonder how Wrothken would feel if she were secretly the Grey Fox? And I love her dialogue too! I guess they figured since they have an M rating, they could give it a reason other than the naked mods

Captain Hammer~ My word, what interesting imagery.. Awour and Sontaire...?

mALX~ Exactly! Once I was on the side of the freeway with a blown tire and no clue how to fix it and when the CHP officer came to see what was wrong, I swear I thought I was in trouble!

Grits~ Oh my I didn't even think about the "knob"





Wrothken stood in front of the door to Dunroot Burrow. It still wouldn't budge when he tried pulling the hole open. He tried hitting it with his mace, but it got caught in the hole. He stopped and stared at it for a moment and a chuckle escaped his lips. He wiggled the mace around a little and laughed more. He pulled it out and placed it back in repeatedly, laughing so hard, he couldn't stand straight. He leaned on the door and the hole expanded to allow him entry, causing him to fall on the ground as he laughed. When it finally died down, he picked himself up and entered the burrow. He had a good feeling about it.

The halls of Dunroot Burrow were similar to Knotty Bramble. It was dark and dank, though Wrothken was pleased that it didn't smell like grummites. Instead of croaking, the tunnels were filled with the sounds of rapid skittering. Normally, he would've felt a little jumpy, but it didn't bother him at all. In fact, it was almost soothing. Was he getting used to explorations? Or was it just the felldew? He couldn't be sure. He didn't even care, really.

It wasn't long before he came across an elytra. It didn't glow like the one outside did, but it was just as hostile. Wrothken lifted his mace, surprised that it felt lighter than it used to, and made sure to go for the head. He was easily able to dodge its pincers and take it out. Was that thanks to the felldew as well? Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.

The slain elytra didn't start to spout felldew, much to Wrothken's disappointment. He had a craving for some more, though he supposed it could wait a moment. First he needed to figure out where to put any extra felldew. He couldn't hold handfuls of it while he fought or he might lose it.

"Hmmm...." He said looking around. For a brief moment, he considered using his boot to hold it, but he didn't want to risk stepping in anything foul. "What to use, what to use?" He growled when nothing around him seemed to be suited for carrying around. Maybe I'll come across something later...

He continued down the tunnel when he ran into another elytra. This one, to his delight, was glowing. The strange thing was, it didn't attack. It didn't even seem to notice him. Either way, he needed more felldew. "No," he corrected himself. "I want more felldew."

He eagerly swung his mace at the elytra until it died and the felldew glistened off its mouth. Wrothken shoved its pincers to the sides so he could easily gather it all up. Prepared for the foul taste, he shoveled it in his mouth, swallowing it quickly. Within seconds, he was feeling even better than before.

He went deeper into the tunnels when he came across a tree stump with green mist sprouting from the top. He got closer and prodded the round green top with his mace. It jiggled for a moment before it spread open wide. Inside, he saw a few pink bottles filled with liquid, along with a ring, a spoon, a tomato, and a doll. He emptied the contents of the potions to the floor. "Here we are," he said, sticking the bottles in his pack. He also took the tomato for later. Strange thing about it, it was hard as a rock and glittered like a gem. He wondered if the felldew made him perceive it that way.

He looked at the doll. She was dressed in a velvet green and amber dress, complete with ribbons and lace. Her brown hair was curled perfectly and tied up into pigtails. Wrothken turned her over and saw a string in the back. He had seen dolls like that before. They were supposed to make a strange wailing sound when the string was pulled. Something about them drove little girls crazy. He didn't get their appeal. Wrothken pulled the string anyway. Her eyes opened and seemed to look directly at him. "My name is Talking Tina," she said in a child's voice. "And you're going to die down here."

Taken aback, Wrothken tossed Tina to the ground. What sort of thing was that? And how could the doll have spoken? He couldn't believe it! The doll couldn't have said such a thing! His mind had to be playing tricks on him. He picked it up and pulled the string again. "Throw me again and I'll snap your neck, snowman."

Wrothken's insides froze up and he buried the doll in the tree trunk. As he walked away, he was sure that he had heard a voice call out, "You'll be sorry!"

The halls were quiet for a while. No elytra, glowing or otherwise, skittered around. At first, he was fine with it. He actually welcomed the silence. After a while, something began to gnaw at him. He didn't feel as strong as before and it suddenly felt like something was sitting on his chest. He felt almost sluggish. When a glowing elytra walked toward him, he didn't hesitate to kill it and gather all the felldew he could get. After scooping some into his mouth, he squeezed the rest into the bottles.

He grinned as his heart fluttered. It had been far too long since he felt anything like that. He felt a strong urge to lie on the ground and just revel in the feeling, but he continued on. The Chalice was necessary, or else Sheogorath would not be pleased. "Who cares?" He said. "It's his realm, why is he sending me to do his dirty work?!"

His heart pounded angrily as he thought more about it. Daedric prince was just another term for god, right? A real god would stop a realm destroying crisis himself! Why should he be the one to carry the weight of the Isles on his shoulders? Why couldn't Sheogorath do it himself? Or, better yet, he could send that pompous, smart-mouth Haskill to do it.

All he wanted was a break. Not to get sucked into some apocalyptic scenario, having to save a realm he didn't really care for. Besides, it wasn't what Kirsty had meant when she suggested a break... Or was it?

Could it have been possible that she had known all along what would become of him? Did Sheogorath come to her in dreams with promises of enchanting recipes in exchange for a hapless champion? Was the whole ordeal a carefully made plan?

The brief paranoia drained as Wrothken began feeling sluggish. He passed by a tree trunk with gold resin crusted on top. He looked down at it and fury began to bunch up in him. When he looked into it, he saw Atrea's face. Why in Oblivion was there so much damn gold in the Isles?!

"Dirty, rotten, hussy," he growled through clenched teeth. "Filthy tramp." His breathing grew ragged as he stared into the resin. Every second he spent staring into it, the more visions flashed before his eyes.

Finally, the Iron Champion closed for the night and it was time to go home. His feet ached, but his stomach was filled and he got his share of the septims for the night. Instead of heading straight home like usual, he stopped to buy some flowers for the kitchen. Atrea recently mentioned that the house looked a little plain compared to other people's house. This would be a good start until he could take her shopping.

He was late, but not by too much. He knew she wouldn't worry. That wasn't like her at all. He just hoped she would like the flowers. He didn't know her favorite kind. The lady had called these ones irises. They were the prettiest ones he'd ever seen.

The door was locked. Strange. She didn't usually lock up until he was already home. As much as he tried, he couldn't think of why she would lock it. Good thing he always carried his key, just in case.

The first thing he saw was a dress on the floor by the stairs. He felt a rush of excitement, imagining her waiting for him in bed, or even better, in a hot, scented bath. He set the flowers on the table and as he headed upstairs, he heard a light gasp followed by hurried whispers. He went numb. He looked back at the table, finally seeing men's clothing scattered across the kitchen floor.

He ran up the stairs and pushed the door open to see Atrea rolling off of Bacchus, covering her body with a blanket. The same one they purchased together upon first buying their house.

Millions of questions ran through his mind all at once, but nothing escaped from his dry mouth. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, his mind roared.

"Wrothken, I can explain," she said. "I.. We got caught up in the moment." She stood up, still covering herself and reached out for his hand.

He slapped it away, unable to meet her eyes. He turned and left before his fury led him to do something he would be imprisoned for. It wasn't until he was down the street, halfway back to the bakery, that it hit him. He sank to his knees and cried.[i]

Wrothken picked up his mace and bashed the trunk repeatedly while screaming out words and phrases that would make Molag Bal blush and reprimand him for such talk. As the golden chips littered the ground, he tossed his mace to the side and just began beating the trunk until it was nothing more than a pile of broken wood.

He panted heavily, tears streaming down his face. He didn't even know he had all that in him. Maybe the Isles finally got him....or maybe it was time for his bottle of felldew.

He didn't even finish the thought when he pulled out the bottle and guzzled it down. His heart slowed down. He stopped crying. He smiled. Everything was fine again. All he needed was felldew.



Back in a good mood, he entered another section of the cavern, where it was flooded. He had forgotten that Haskill had told him that the elytra can walk on water, until he saw a small group of them. Not one of them was glowing and all of them rushed over to attack. It wasn't long before they had him pinned against the wall, each of them thrusting their pincers at him at once, as if they could smell the juice of their brethren on his breath.

By the time he finally killed them, he was feeling down again. How long was it going to be until he finally got the Chalice? He looked down at his armor, unsure of how much more it could take before breaking. He heaved a sigh, not even hesitating to drink the last of his felldew. It was such a great pick-me-up.



Wrothken's heart raced with worry. The entire hall was filled with regular elytra. Not a single drop of felldew. His body was covered in a greasy sweat as he ran down the halls looking for a glow. He ran aimlessly, trying to evade the elytra. He didn't want to waste time on them. Time was precious. Time demanded felldew. Felldew or he would die in the tunnel.

He would do anything...anything to get his hands on more. He cursed himself for drinking it all so quickly. Why didn't he save some, just in case? He walked along until he passed another steaming trunk. A thought suddenly occurred to him. The top was green and mushy... it had to be made of felldew! With a burst of joy, he popped up and took a bite, retching in disgust. It wasn't felldew! It tasted like...tree!

He spent too long spitting the moss from his mouth and picking chunks of it from his teeth. His body didn't want to move anymore. His vision started to blur. His body demanded that he find more felldew, yet he remained where he was, his vision blackening.

When his sight finally came back to him, he looked around and saw wooden walls all around him. A few simple paintings hung on the wall, mostly warm pictures of summer days and cozy homes. He was laying on a bearskin rug, facing an old woman holding a young, blond child. Though her face was etched with age, her hair remained a deep auburn with only a few streaks of silver. Her clothes weren't fancy; just a pale yellow shirt with long sleeves and a long beige skirt. Her blue-green eyes twinkled at the little boy.

"My diamond-eyed bear cub," she cooed. "You know I love you very much. My precious dove."

The little boy grinned with delight and hugged her close.

"Diamond eyes..." Wrothken repeated, his body still refusing to move. He reached toward the old woman. "Grandma...."

The little boy turned and faced him, his piercing blue eyes clouded with disgust. Wrothken recognized himself in those eyes. What was going on?

"You're a bad man!" Little Wrothken declared, pointing. "You were thinking bad thoughts!"

His skin crawled at the way Little Wrothken looked at him, and the fact that he had indeed been thinking bad thoughts earlier. He pulled himself up and was barely able to stand straight. "Felldew," was the only word he was able to get out.

"Oh, dear," his grandma said. "It looks like someone's been dabbling in drugs." She tsked, shaking her head. "What do we do to those people?" She asked Little Wrothken.

"They go to the cornfield."

"That's right,” she said, ruffling his bright golden hair. “Good boy!"

Little Wrothken glared at him. Wrothken turned to run, but couldn't move. In fact, he couldn't even feel his body anymore. He looked down and to his horror, he had been turned into a doll, with his lower half stuffed in a box! This isn't happening, can't be happening!

"Nice work, honey," his grandma said. "Now banish him to the cornfield."

The room faded away and was replaced with the caverns of Dunroot Burrow. His body was back. There was no sign of the house in Bruma, his grandmother, nor himself as a child. He shuddered uncontrollably. [i]Wide-Eye wasn't lying when she said felldew would mess you up, he thought. He still could barely move. Part of him just wanted to curl up and die in the caves. It would be less painful than going on.

He was reduced to crawling when he saw it. The glowing elytra was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It skittered towards him, unfazed by his presence. He was so happy, he didn't have the heart to kill it. Instead, he crawled over to it and suckled the felldew directly from its mandibles.

It was the strangest feeling in the world. They continued to move rapidly while in Wrothken's mouth. When they were sucked dry, Wrothken stood up feeling absolutely disgusted. Was this what he was reduced to? It was almost no different than degrading acts performed in alleys in exchange for a bit of skooma. He wanted to sink back to the floor and cry, but he knew he didn't have time. He had to get the Chalice before the cravings got too bad.



Sanctum of Decadence. Wrothken stared up at the words in awe. At the end of the maze-like tunnels stood a sturdy wooden door, complete with carvings of a party, most of them naked, and drinking from jeweled goblets in front of a large banquet table. It was very similar to what he had seen in Thadon's palace.

He opened the door and was assaulted by a pungent smell. It wasn't an animal. It was people. People who must have skipped bathing for a very long time... and by the nauseating mound in the corner of the room, couldn't do "business" in a sanitary manner.

When he headed up the stairs, he saw it. A large goblet sitting on top of a pedestal. The Chalice of Reversal. All he needed to do was drink from it and he'd be cured.

He ran toward it and it was inches away from his fingers when he was struck from behind with a chair. He stumbled, almost knocking the Chalice over. He looked behind him and saw a naked man, wild with fury. The man grunted and three other people, just as insane as he was, rushed out from the other room.

Wrothken pulled out his mace and backed up so he could see all of them. As he glanced around, he caught sight of several plates, bowls, cups, and bottles of felldew. He didn't understand. If they had their felldew, why were they acting so hostile? Maybe if I show them I'm not here to hurt them... He set his mace down and raised his hands up. "I just want the Chalice," he said.

The leader looked to his comrades and at once the atmosphere changed. When the first pitcher was flung at him, he scooped up his mace and thrust it forward, forcing the people to back up. He grabbed the Chalice, which sent them into an uproar. He looked around, seeing a door at the other end of the room. First things first, he thought. He looked into the Chalice, surprised to see a bit of felldew inside it. As he dodged a plate, he took a drink from the Chalice.

This time, the felldew made him feel different. He felt back to normal, both with the good and the bad. Then he felt the sting of a silver bowl across his face.

He looked back at the people and felt a wave of pity. They must have been so strung out, they weren't thinking straight. He rushed to the door and slammed it shut behind him. If they came after him, he wasn't sure what would happen. On one hand, he was weighed down by his armor and they were naked as jaybirds. On the other, that made them more susceptible to weather, creatures, and the Golden Saints. He didn't wait to see the outcome. He ran down the trail as fast as he could.

I love your story! I can't wait for the next update!

I have never been in Sontaire's bedroom. An oversight I must correct! Unfortunately, since I always play female characters, she is never very friendly.

Wrothken's entry to the Burrow was good. It would not open until the felldew began to take its effect on him. Then it let him in, recognizing him as belonging. Excellent and creepy!

In fact, it was almost soothing. Was he getting used to explorations? Or was it just the felldew? He couldn't be sure. He didn't even care, really.
This was a nice example of the wonderful way that you showed the effects of the felldew on Wrothken, rather than told them to us.

He couldn't hold handfuls of it while he fought or he might lose it.
As is this!

Talking Tina was lovely! She reminded me of The Exorcist, when the girl looks at the astronaut and says: "You're gonna die up there."

It tasted like...tree!


As before, the flashback to Wrothken discovering Awour was excellent, and perfectly placed in the midst of his felldew delirium.



nits:
He just hope she would like the flowers.
I think you lost the 'd' in hoped.

I echo what's already been said.

And it seems I'm the only one who read this: My mind went to a place that was XXX rated.

Dhertee Innu Endo strikes again!

Wow. You really capture the mood here. Felldew is...something else. And yet you nail the atmosphere perfectly, and you bring to life Wrothken's psyche with amazing skill. The flashback to Wrothken's discovery of Awour's infidelity is the icing on the cake here.

Wrothken going from trying not to taste the felldew to sucking directly from the elyta was very effective and disturbing. As was Talking Tina. Yikes! And yeah, I had to laugh at Wrothken macing the hole in the door.

GAAAAAAH!!! I remember this part from the original ... and still gagged !!! Awesome Chapter !!!!

King Coin~ Aww thank you ♥

SubRosa~ Talking Tina is actually a doll from my favorite Twilight Zone episode (Living Doll). I figured there was no better place than the Isles to see her

haute ecole rider~ Unlike most of the innuendo that one was intentional

Captain Hammer~ Thank you This chapter took longest out of all the ones in the original posting to do. And I figured it would be the best place to put the memory since he was already hallucinating

Grits~ That part was disturbing to write...and imagine

mALX~ Lol! I'm glad it got the point across!






It was early in the evening when Wrothken made it back to Bliss. As much as he wanted to hurry up and be rid of the stupid Chalice, he desperately needed a break. He entered the Choosy Beggar, a stark contrast from Sickly Bernice's Taphouse. It was bright, like the rest of the city and spotless. In the center of the room was a low arch which didn't seem to serve any purpose.

Walking around the tables, there was an Argonian man dressed in light green pants and a pale pink shirt. As Wrothken sat down, an Argonian woman rubbed his shoulder and said, "Good to see you. We should drink together sometime," with a wink.

The man growled as the woman sauntered away. "What do you want?" He barked. "Other than my wife!"

Wrothken looked at the Argonian woman, who was seated with another man downing shots. "Your wife?" Wrothken looked back at the man. "No, I don't want your wife--"

"What?! Is my sweet Sheer-Meedish not good enough?"

"No, I didn't mean..." he stopped himself. As his grandmother often said, there was no reasoning with crazy. "I just came in for a drink."

The Argonian huffed. "Just like all the men around here. Some women too! Just know that I'll be watching you, snowman," he warned, running his hand over his short sword. "Now what do you want?"

"Just some beer."

The Argonian muttered under his breath before slamming a bottle down in front of Wrothken. Any other time, he would have gotten upset and chewed him a new one, but the addiction and exhaustion of getting back to civilization wore him out too much. Instead, he quietly sipped his beer.

As he was finishing, a shaky Breton approached the table. He was crouched down, eyeing the room suspiciously.

"Hey, Raven Biter?" He said, tapping the table. "It's me, Amiable. Can I get my usual?"

The Argonian, still in a mood, huffed again and set a cup of black coffee on the table. Amiable felt around for it, daring not to stand up. Wrothken looked down at the man and moved the cup closer to his hand.

"Oh, thanks friend. Usually by time I find it, it gets cold and I have to buy a new one. It’s a vicious cycle."

"No problem, but why don't you just stand up and get it?"

Amiable looked at Wrothken as if he had just asked the stupidest question in the world. "Don't you know?" When Wrothken didn't say anything, he continued. "You don't, do you? Well, it's lucky you met me. Here you've been walking around as if nothing could happen!"

Uh-oh... Wrothken thought. What can of worms had he opened this time?

"It's the walls, you see. They've got something against me. I know too much, it seems. If I stand up, they'll tumble down and squish me like a bug! At least crouched down like this, I can hurry under a table or something."

Wrothken looked around the room. The walls looked perfectly fine. No cracks, no dents, nothing that would hint that the walls were anything less than sturdy.

"Don't look! They'll know I'm talking to you," Amiable hissed. "I haven't slept properly in ages! If the walls catch me off guard, they'll crush me for sure!"

"Why not get out of the city then?"

"I've tried that," he said, his grainy eyes darting from wall to wall. "Let's just say, they won't let me out alive." He took a gulp of coffee. "To be honest with you, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to go on like this. If I'm going to win this damned war, I need to sleep so I can think clearly."

All the sleep in the world won't help with that, Wrothken thought.

"Please," Amiable said. "If you can find me a safe place to sleep, I'll give you something that I’m sure will help you out."

He wasn't quite sure what he meant and was almost afraid to find out, but Wrothken felt bad for him. He couldn't imagine being unable to indulge in a good sleep at least once in a while. That would drive anyone crazy.

"Please?"

"Alright," Wrothken said. "What do you have in mind?"

"I just really need someplace to sleep. I’m not picky. I've seen some people sleeping out on the street, but they huddle too close to the walls. I need someplace safe. I can't just sleep anywhere. There're walls and statues and all sorts of things that can fall on me. Can't have that. Nope. But... if you find me a good place to sleep, a safe place -- outside -- I'll reward you!”

Wrothken nodded. "Then I’ll keep my eyes open for a bed."



When Wrothken entered Thadon's palace, he was greeted by another large party. This time, instead of snorting green powder, Thadon was smoking what appeared to be a large glass vase with tubes sprouting from the top, from which Thadon and other guests were inhaling musky smoke.

"The triumphant champion returns!" Thadon said. He offered Wrothken one of the tubes. Wrothken declined. He had his fill of Thadon’s vices. "So, do you feel any different? Now that you've been through this experience, I mean. You know what it's like now... Always wanting that next fix, hating it but craving it at the same time, and hating yourself for all of it.” Thadon took a long inhale from his tube. “Ah, well. All over now. The Chalice helps, doesn't it? Indeed it does, and I could use some helping right now. I'll just take that back from you," he took the Chalice. "And as a token of my gratitude, I grant you the role of Courtier of Mania, with all of its entitlements. Which is to say, none."

"Wonderful. A pleasure meeting you," he said sarcastically. He was beginning to understand the source of Haskill's attitude.

ROFL !!! That had me rolling !!!

Poor Amiable! I’m with Wrothken, I’d have to help the guy sleep.

Uh-oh... Wrothken thought. What can of worms had he opened?
I think that question applies to much more than Amiable!

This time, instead of snorting green powder, Thadon was smoking what appeared to be a large glass vase with tubes sprouting from the top, from which Thadon and other guests were inhaling musky smoke.
I feel like I walked into a Cheech and Chong movie!

A fun episode, with the beginning of one of the simpler, and few non-evil, quests in the Isles.

nits:
He was could almost understand the source of Haskill's attitude.
I think Haskill slipped in that extra was when Wrothken was not looking!

ROFL !!! Haskill the Scapegoat, lol.

The Shivering Isles was fun but I preferred Cyrodiil over it. I really like it though Wrothken's eyes though.

And Wrothken learns more about Mania. I wonder how he's going to enjoy meeting Syl. At least the paranoia about the walls, vs. the paranoia about the people guarding one's walls, should help him a little.

mALX~ Those kinds of arguments are always fun!

Grits~ Exactly! To be unable to sleep is a shame That poor man! Though too bad you can't just slip him some NyQuil....

SubRosa~ Damn Haskill always causing trouble I hope I got the hooka description okay...I've yet to try one

King Coin~ I'm glad you're enjoying Wrothken's trip

Captain Hammer~ Very true. Once you've dealt with a paranoid person you can almost get used to it...that's been my experience anyway...





Lilitu awoke to the scent of pumpkin bread. At first she thought maybe her neighbors might've made it but it was too strong. There was no doubt it came from her own kitchen. But how? She was paranoid enough to not just lock the door, but add a chain and stick a chair in front of it. Windows were also locked tight and the door leading to the basement did only have one lock, but after hearing Dolce's ferocious barks most people would run. And why on Nirn would they make pumpkin bread in her house?

He's back... The thought came unbidden from her mind. She shook her head, trying to keep paranoia from taking over. After all, he was in prison. That and she certainly didn't tell him where she had left. And she had moved twice since then. Besides, he couldn't bake if his life depended on it.

Could have bought the bread and poisoned it... "Stop it!" She hissed, holding her hands in front of her ears, as if trying to block out the words of a ghost.

If he were here, or anywhere nearby, Dolce would go crazy. Like her sudden reaction to Capaneus weeks before, Dolce hated him with a passion. If he were to have somehow gotten past the locks, Dolce would have woken her up with her barking or at least have run in the bedroom and woken her up.

She crawled out of bed, grabbing a silver dagger that was kept behind her headboard at all times. She held it in the sleeve of her robe as she opened the door.

Silence. Not even a peep from Dolce. That was the most unsettling part. If she didn't manage to get in Lilitu's room in the morning, she always ran upstairs the moment the door opened. Her stomach started to flutter.

"Dolce," she called. No answer.

Poisoned again...

Her heart raced and tears began to well up in her eyes. He tried to poison Dolce once before. The monster. Abandoning her stealthy approach, she ran down the stairs, mental images of Dolce's dead body sprawled out on the floor, refusing to go away.

"Dolce!" She dropped her dagger at the sight of the dog.

"Woof!" Dolce looked up at her, halfway through a basket of meat. She sat, staring at Lilitu with her tail wagging and a smiling pant.

Lilitu snatched it away, ignoring Dolce's whine. "You know better than to eat food from..." She saw a basket of bread on the counter. It was still warm and smelling of pumpkin. There was a note attached.

Lilitu,

The Gray Fox is in need of your expert services. Meet him tonight at Durzum gro-Khazor's house, here in Kvatch, at eight-thirty pm.

Signed,
X

She relaxed, giving Dolce back her meat. "X" was the way that man in Anvil signed his name. Not helpful in the least. For some reason his name was always just beyond the tip of her tongue. She could remember the name of her every friend, enemy, lover, or even most acquaintances, but his... She shook her head.

She took a slice from her basket when it finally hit her. The Gray Fox himself wanted to meet with her! She grinned. She needed to find something nice to wear.



Eight-thirty came and Lilitu was a bundle of nerves. The Gray Fox, the man who she had emulated since joining the Guild years ago, wanted to speak with her specifically. She saw an Orc standing outside. "The Gray Fox is inside," he said as she approached his house.

She nodded. "Dolce, stay," she commanded.

Dolce snorted indignantly but sat on the porch anyway.

Lilitu stepped inside the house. She was taken aback when she saw him. The Gray Fox. He was a Colavian man, wearing the infamous Gray Cowl. The words, "shadow hide you" were inscribed in glowing letters down the center of the mask. He wasn't dressed in jewels or finery, as most would expect from a master thief. Save for the Cowl, he could have passed for an ordinary man on the street.

"Lilitu Serano, I presume," he said. "Have a seat, please."

She sat across from him, her heart racing. "It's an honor to meet you," she said breathlessly.

He smiled. "I am well aware of your devotion to the guild. Though I know you are no longer an active thief, I have need of your special gifts. There is an item, hidden away in a remote monastery. I need you to go get it for me. The monastery is extensive and well-guarded, so you should make sure to be well prepared. Should you succeed, I will pay you well for your services."

Her heart sank. She had been promoted over a year ago, well before her transfer to Kvatch...but how could she refuse him? It would be like refusing a favor from the emperor himself! Except Lilitu held the Gray Fox in a higher regard than the emperor. At least he did more than loaf on a throne all day, stuffing himself with suckling pig. "Of course," she said.

"Capital!" He clapped his hands together. "The monastery is called the Temple of the Ancestor Moths. It is where retired, blind Moth priests go to wait out the rest of their days.” He pulled out a map of Cyrodiil.”It’s up here, north of Cheydinhal." Lilitu tried to mask her shock at just how remote it was. "I need you to acquire Savilla's Stone. It is a large crystal with special properties that I need to gain... advantage." He handed her a drawing of what looked like a large crystal ball. "Remember," he said while she looked it over. "Do not shed innocent blood. However, there is no blood price for slaying the stone's guardians, human or inhuman. When I receive word that Savilla's Stone is missing, I will be here waiting for you."

Human or inhuman? Given it was a monastery, she hoped he simply meant some rats. Lilitu folded the drawing and the map and nodded. "I'll leave at dawn," she said. She glanced away for a moment, about to ask him a question but when she looked back he was gone. She left the house, sighing. A quick look at the map showed her that it was on the way to her family home, just a couple of miles from Cheydinhal. Oh this was going to be a long trip.



Dawn was breaking. She was already in her leather armor. It had been so long since she'd worn it, that she had forgotten how comfortable it was. It was like slipping into a second skin. Tight, but not overly so. Her favorite part about it was the plush rabbit fur lining on the inside. Not only was it incredibly soft, but it kept her toasty warm.

She grabbed a tan guar-hide sack that rested on top of her wardrobe. She crinkled her nose at the dust caked on it. "Disgusting," she said. After making a mental note to dust the house upon her return, she shook it clean and packed her supplies for the trip. Judging by the map, she would most likely reach the monastery the next afternoon, if she didn't make any detours. Detours included, extremely late next night she would reach Savilla's Stone.

"Dolce!" She called. The dog trotted up the stairs and sat, looking at Lilitu with a gleeful expression. She had obviously seen the mound of meat and rice overflowing in three separate bowls. "I need you to be a good girl while I'm gone. Don't cause a fuss. Don't eat everything at once. And for the love of all things holy, do your business on the papers. So help me if I find mess in my bed! I want you to behave for Caminda. She'll be checking in on you until I get back." Dolce's expression didn't change, save for the wagging tail. Lilitu got on the floor and held Dolce tightly, tears threatening to fall as she rubbed her cheek on her soft fur. "I love you, my baby." Dolce returned the sentiment by licking Lilitu's cheek repeatedly.

After making sure all the windows were locked and curtains shut tightly, Lilitu left. "Dolce, lock," she said, not moving until she heard the latch lock into place. She hated to leave Dolce behind, but she couldn't have her running off trying to take on bandits or worse, wild animals. Before leaving the gates, she looked back toward her house, her stomach knotting. She'll be fine, she thought. She's stayed home alone many times and everything is always fine. Besides, Caminda is trustworthy. Still, she worried. She didn't know how she would live if anything ever happened to her.



Capaneus plopped himself right at the bar, his head resting on his hands. Kirsty said yes! He couldn't believe a girl like her would actually agree to see him...then again she hadn't yet seen the inside of his house. But he bet she wouldn't care. In the week that they'd been seeing each other, he was able to tell that she wasn't like other girls. The ones that bothered him about bathing, cleaning, cooking. He snorted. That was woman's work! And boy, was she good at it!

"Need anything?" She asked.

For a moment, Capaneus could only stare. Her hair was tied back in what was once a neat bun. Now locks had escaped and framed her face. She was wearing a simple violet shirt under her apron, and it was covered in flour. Her eyes sparkled. He could tell at a glance that she loved what she did.

"Are you okay?" She leaned in with a smile. He realized his stare had gotten blank as he got lost in thought.

"Yeah!" He said sitting up and clearing his throat. "I'm just thinking."

She smiled and went to the basement for a moment. While she was gone, he sighed. What would become of her when Lord Dagon walked? He lowered his eyes. Unless she agreed to join the Mythic Dawn, she would likely die along with the rest of Cyrodiil. He wanted to spare her, but he knew Mankar Cameron would not allow it. He had been warned about consorting with the unsaved. But what was he supposed to do? He was a sleeper, not dead!

Kirsty returned with a large sack or cocoa powder and she poured it into a large bowl. The chocolatey clouds surrounded her and she sneezed a little. Capaneus sighed. Even her sneezes were adorable...

He closed his eyes. There had to be a way to save her. There just had to.



Lilitu walked down the Gold Road, head high, chest out, the very epitome of confidence. However, she was jumping at every twig's crack, wind's sigh, or animal chatter. When in the city, sure she was paranoid, but at least she could duck into alleys or even houses if needed. Out in the wilderness, she felt more than unprotected. She felt like she was a naked target and all of Cyrodiil was watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Going on foot was a mistake.

Looking around, it was a pretty sight. Everything was green and the sky was cloudless. Bright flowers sprung up from the ground and birds chirped merrily. It should have been calming, but it wasn't. She needed the security of walls and crowds.

As the Gold Road curved, Lilitu was able to barely make out the Waterfront of the Imperial City. She walked off the path onto the beach, staring ahead. "If only I could swim," she said aloud. She took her smooth ponytail in her hands. If she got so much as a drop on it, it would blossom into wild curls. She couldn't have that.

Though she desperately wanted to find an inn before nightfall, she couldn't help sitting down and getting lost in thought. While she certainly didn't miss living at the Waterfront, she did miss Methredhel immensely. The very thought of the Bosmer brought a smile to her face. Naughty little imp, she thought. It was Methredhel who had introduced Lilitu to the hidden world of the Thieves Guild. It had been so long since they'd seen each other, as Lilitu couldn't persuade Methredhel to join her in Anvil years ago. She understood, though. Methredhel came to the Imperial City seeking fame and fortune. She wasn't leaving until she got it.

She half considered making a quick visit, but as she'd have to go all the way to the bridge and possibly run into some people she'd rather not see, she decided against it. After all, Dolce didn't know the meaning of restraint and probably already ate up all the food left over for her so she wanted to get back quickly. Maybe she could go another time. Definitely on a caravan.

She continued onward, wishing with every fiber of her being that she had at least brought Dolce. Then she could talk to herself without really talking to herself. Breathing heavily, she figured she needed a way to distract herself. She collected a handful of flowers.

"He loves me," she said, plucking a petal. "He loves me not. He loves me, he loves me--"

A Redguard stepped in front of her. "Your money or your life." His hand rested on his hand axe. Lilitu knew only too well where this was supposed to head. Even if she gave him her money, there was always a chance of him attacking anyway in order to keep her from coming back with a legionnaire.

"Come on, wench, I don't got all day!"

He was much bigger than her and he was suited in heavy armor. Her dagger would have to get him in a weak spot to do lethal damage. Besides, she hated using it. The idea of the squish from driving a blade into human flesh always repulsed her.

She knew what to do.

She held out her purse. As he reached to snatch it from her hand, she reached around his neck, pulling him in for a firm kiss.

The Redguard was not prepared for that, nor was he prepared for the paralysis holding his body in place. Lilitu wasn't prepared for the awful taste of the man's mouth. "Oh, good gods!" She gagged, spitting on the ground.

She pushed him to the ground and knelt down next to him. She looked his axe over and stuck it in her bag and took his coin purse "Hmmm..." She said, looking inside. "Only fifteen septims? You know, you'd do a lot better joining the Thieves Guild." His armor was beaten and filthy, but looked like it was once expensive. She would have loved to strip him and sell it, but she would never be able to carry it all. She took the axe and flung it deep into the woods.

"I'm....gonna....kill....you..." He forced out with great effort.

She believed he would if given the chance. Luckily, by time the spell wore off, she'd be long gone. She dragged him into the brush to keep him from watching as she continued down the road.



She could have hugged each and every person at the Faregyl Inn. At last, people! Not as many as in Kirsty's Bakery, but enough to put her mind at ease.

Most people were already in groups at the table, either singing along with the bard or talking amongst themselves. Something each group seemed to bring up was a door.

Maybe someone busted the door down recently? Lilitu couldn't imagine why. Inns and taverns weren't hot spots for thieves. Quite the opposite, really. Making sure her crimson locks were tucked away behind her hood, she took a seat at the bar.

A Khajiit woman behind the counter approached her. After bringing Lilitu a plate of food and offering a bed, she asked, "Is the huntress here for the door?"

Lilitu raised her eyebrows. "What door?"

"It hasn't heard?"

Lilitu shook her head.

"Some moons ago a door appeared out in the water. S'Jirra has not gone to see it but many travelers come, seeking gold and fame. It has been said that they become touched by Skooma Cat and never come out the same."

She looked around and indeed most of the people in the inn were young men, each with the glow of hope. Listening closely, she could hear some of them brag about what they'll find and how nothing will tamper with their minds. They were stronger than that.

One in particular caught her eye. A young Colovian, possibly of Nordic descent. He was big and broad shouldered, with brown hair and green eyes. His shirt was untied at the top, allowing a patch of brown hair on his chest to peek out. He was delicious.

He caught her eye and approached her. "Are you in the Thieves Guild?" She asked.

He laughed. "Why, are you going to accuse me of stealing your heart?"

She shook her head. He wasn't in the Guild. He was fair game.

Once more, I love how you described the way Lilitu could not recall the name of that man from Anvil, no matter how hard she tried!

Also again, I love the depth you put into Lilitu's relationship with Dolce. That is exactly the same way I feel about my cat.

The ones that bothered him about bathing, cleaning, cooking.
Ewwwww!

If she got so much as a drop on it, it would blossom into wild curls. She couldn't have that.
Yep, welcome to girlsville!

And again, her use of her birthsign against the bandit was just perfect!

And we see darling Lilitu Marleen yet again. I really enjoyed this tidbit from her perspective. It just makes her even more mysterious in my imagination, and that's just how I like her.

But why do I have a sinking feeling about her leaving Dolce behind? Is it because I feel the same way about leaving my own two kitties behind when I go out of town on a trip? Let's hope it's just that!

Lilitu is taking an unusual way to Cheydinhal, but I can see why we would want her to hear about the door....

Edit:

Ah yes, the Italian mother who gives her son two ties for his birthday. No matter which he tries on first she says, "What's wrong, you don't like the other?"


***

In game I have never taken that birthsign - I have to agree with SubRosa, your use of it in the story was Awesome !!!


*

I laughed when I read that. I wonder what Lilitu will think if/when she meets Wrothken. Will he be fair game by that point, or not? Can't wait to find out.



Yep. She's definitely talking to the Grey Fox. Nobody else on Tamriel uses that word so effectively.

Great chapter. The dialogue is entertaining and flows extremely well. You don't tell us what thoughts are flitting through your characters' heads, you show us. Very well done.

Wow, that was some way to wake up. I’m glad he left her some pumpkin bread for the upset he caused her!

Capaneus in the mythic Dawn, aha! Of course Dolce was right about him!!

She took her smooth ponytail in her hands. If she got so much as a drop on it, it would blossom into wild curls. She couldn't have that.
Abiene would say that curly hair doesn’t want to be straight!

I loved Lilitu’s calm handing of the highwayman. So different from the bloodbath that usually follows his opening statement.

What I have read of this story (through Chapter 5) is FANTASTIC! Which makes this post a little sad for me, because I think I am going to stop reading it for a while. I can always come back to it later. The reason is that I have never played the SI expansion, and the spoiler factor is weighing on me. I do hope you will understand, but I want to see SI for the first time and not know what to expect. I look forward to returning this great writing in the not-to-distant future.

SubRosa~ That feeling with Dolce is easy to recapture. All I've got to do is look at her picture or think of what I would do with Melaina ♥ And would it be girlsville or curlsville?

haute ecole rider~ Ohh not to worry, Dolce is a tough cookie

King Coin~ Well, ingame, I had her go this way. Its up the Gold Road, then the lower half of the Red Road then up the Blue Road to Cheydihal. It may be the way the roads all point to the Imperial City.

mALX~ Thank you! Its my favorite one to use, as its gotten me out of quite a bit of trouble at times

Captain Hammer~ By Lilitu's standards Wrothken is indeed fair game so long as he doesn't join the Thieves Guild... He may want to consult a certain other blond Nord about sleeping with Dunmer women before he acts though. Seems they have a tendency to wear people out!

Grits~ Dogs are like that. If they just do not like someone, I've noticed there may be a reason for it. And oh I can attest that curls do not want to be straight! They're about as stubborn as a certain Nord...

TheOtherRick~ I understand completely ♥ In fact SI's ending is quite a twist so I wouldn't want to ruin it for you ♥





Lilitu awoke with the arm of the Colovian draped over her chest. She gently moved it so she could sit up. She silently dressed and took her bag. As she opened the door, he awoke.

"You leaving?" He asked.

Lilitu turned. "Yes, my dear Jodin. Duty calls."

"Duty calls?" He echoed. "What are you, in the Fighters Guild?"

Lilitu smiled. "Sure," she said with a wink.

When she entered the washroom, she lowered her hood and loosened her hair so she could recomb it. She sighed a little feeling the slight grit and slickness of unwashed hair. She supposed it could wait a bit longer. It wasn't like she was heading out for a date. Then again, she hadn't been looking last night either...

"N'chow!" She swore, noticing that she had forgotten to bring her make up with her. "Wonderful," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Gods, I've been out of practice for far too long." She looked at herself in the mirror and pressed her lips together and pinched her cheeks until they were slightly reddened. Of course, that wouldn't last all day. She decided to buy some lipstick and maybe some khol once she reached Cheydinhal. Sure, she was just going for another long walk to her destination, but there was something about a coat of lipstick that made her feel better. Not to mention it kept her from habitually licking and biting at her lips. She didn’t want them chapped, which would only cause her to lick and pick more. It was a cycle.

She left the inn, purposely avoiding the gorgeous eyes of the Colovian boy, who was eating breakfast. As much as she would have enjoyed a morning delight, she needed to be on her way.



The sun was high when Lilitu reached Cheydinhal. It was her favorite place in all of Cyrodiil. The buildings were elegant with their white walls trimmed with burgundy and straw roofs. Best of all, there was a romantic river in the middle of the city. Many couples spent weekend afternoons having picnics and during the summer, several weddings took place on the banks. Ever since she was a child, she had sworn her own wedding would take place there as well.

Across the river, she headed for her grandparents' shop, Little Vvardenfell. Even from afar, she could always point it out. It was the only store that always had a steady flow of mainly Dunmer patrons.

Her grandfather was the first one she saw. He was on the yard, sawing some wood for what looked like a cabinet. Her heart sank as he had noticeably aged since she last saw him. His bald spot had gotten more prominent and the stubborn brown patches of hair around his temples were finally giving into the silver the rest of his hair had become. His face, even though he was relaxed, was creased deeply with wrinkles. When elves began showing signs of age, they were really old.

She approached cautiously, not wanting to startle him, especially while sawing. When he saw her, his eyes lit up and he hugged her warmly. He stepped back, taking a good look at her. She couldn't help but smile. He made several signs with his hand. She had never learned all of his signs, but she got the drift of what he was communicating.

He looked toward the back door to the shop and called out. "Mamamamama!"

A chorus of snickers caught her attention. A group of boys pointed and laughed at the old man. A flash of anger swept over Lilitu. She balled her fists and was about to go see what exactly was so funny, when her grandmother came out.

Mindyne was a large woman dressed in a bold red blouse with black and gold trim and a deep red skirt that swished when she walked. Her dark brown hair was stylishly flipped at the edges.

"M'ija!" She said, wrapping her arms around Lilitu. She leaned into her ear, whispering, "Ignore those s'wits. Just come in and we'll talk inside."

Lilitu glared at the boys, who were imitating her grandfather's call. She was near trembling with anger.

As Lilitu was led into the store, her anger vanished almost instantly. Though she had only known Morrowind for five short years, the very scent of the store filled her heart with a burst of comfort and home. The shelves were lined with bottles of matze, shein, greef, jars of scrib jelly and kwama cuttle, and even a few bottles of Telvanni Bug Musk. Boxes holding ash yams, hackle-lo leaves, marshmerrow, saltrice, racer plumes, scrib jerky, sat in neat aisles. Chitin shields bearing the crests of the great houses sat along the walls. A flag decorated with a scarab beetle, the symbol of House Redoran, proudly hung above the counter.

Mindyne sat down in a cushioned chair, sighing loudly. "Those boys are nothing but trouble, M'ija." She shook her head. "Your cousin got into a bit of a scuffle with them the other day over the things they say about your grandfather."

Lilitu gasped. "With all of them? Is he okay?"

"He's fine, you know him. He may be little, but he's smart. He could grow up to be head of the Fighter's Guild one day. Unfortunately for us, one of them is that fetcher, Ulrich Leland's son. Guess who got a five hundred septim fine over it."

Lilitu's jaw dropped. "Five hundred? Are they insane?"

She nodded. "They've been fining like crazy around here. It’s ridiculous. And does the count care?" She huffed. "As long as he has his suckling pig on the table, he doesn't give a damn." She looked outside for awhile before saying. "By the way, how is your store doing?" She said, obviously wanting to get off the subject.

"Good," Lilitu half-lied. "That's actually what brought me here. There's an item up north that a customer would like."

She shook her head. "Why don't you hire someone else to go get it for you? The roads are no place for a young lady." Lilitu silently agreed. What with all the marauders and bandits on the road, it was no place for anyone, really. "Or, better yet, why don't you open a general store like this one? People can still order whatever it is they want from you but then you'll have a steady flow of gold. I worry that you'll run out between orders."

"Well, actually, I don't normally go get orders anymore. It's a...special request."

"Hmm..." She said, still disapproving.

"Trust me, I'm doing fine."

"I know, M'ija, but I worry, not just for the money, but for you. You're all alone out there, all the way in Kvatch. I don't know why you didn't just stay in the Imperial City or move back home."

"I'm not alone, grandma. I have Dolce."

She snorted. "You have the dog still? Aren't you ever getting rid of her?"

"Never," she said defensively. She could understand not liking Dolce. The dog didn't seem to care much for Mindyne either, but she couldn't grasp why her grandmother was so vehemently against her.

"By the way," She said flatly. "Whatever happened to that young Imperial you were....seeing?"

Lilitu's insides went icy for a moment. She hated discussing him, especially with her family. "We broke up years ago. In fact, he's going to be serving time in the Imperial City prison for awhile. It’s one reason why I moved from there."

"Hmph. Good, I'm glad you're rid of him, M'ija. I was worried you'd actually marry him. Could you imagine?" She leaned in, lowering her voice. "What if you'd had kids with him? You turned out lucky, being able to pass for the most part, I suppose, but you've seen the teasing your brothers get for being obvious half-breeds. Not to mention what it’s cost this family..."

The ice inside of Lilitu turned to a quick fire. She hated that term. Yes, her mother was an Imperial and in the eyes of the census, Lilitu was as well, since children were marked down as the race of the mother. However, in looks, in culture, in her heart, she was was a Dunmeri woman. A whole person, mixed blood or not. Certainly not an animal that could be bred. Besides, it wasn’t her fault the traditionalists in House Redoran despised her father’s choice in marrying an Imperial and showed it. She certainly didn’t ask for it! Though Mindyne didn’t say it directly, Lilitu was always vaguely aware of the resentment held towards her birth. She took a sharp breath, wanting to say something when her cousin entered the store.

The boy grunted in greeting, heading straight up the stairs.

"He must still be angry," she said, forgetting the previous subject.

"Can't blame him," Lilitu said.

"You know the worst part? The fetchers that started this whole thing got a slap on the wrist. Three nearly grown men picking on a ten year old who just wanted to defend his deaf grandfather. Where's the honor in this place? I'll tell you, it’s in their pockets! So help me, if it wasn't for your brothers living practically by themselves in that secluded hole your father insisted on building, I'd pack my things and head back to Morrowind!" She stood up, as more people entered the store. "Why don't you go talk to him? Maybe you can offer some comfort."

Lilitu nodded. "I'll see what I can do," she said.



Mamisi sat on his bed, staring out the window. Lilitu couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was fuming. She sat next to him.

"It’s not fair," he said. "It’s because he's the captain's son. That's why he didn't get in trouble." He looked up at her. "And I heard Mama talking to Grandma... they don't know how they're going to pay for it. If they don't," his large red eyes welled up. "They might lose the store!"

Lilitu placed her arm around him. He was right. It wasn't fair. It was infuriating...but she had a plan. "Come on. Why don't you show me where those fetchers live?"



The following morning, the screams of three young men pierced the air, followed by those in their households. Not only had they been robbed, but each young man woke up with a knife planted firmly into their pillows, right beside their heads. Each knife held a note:

I could have easily done it. Leave the old man alone, or next time you will wake up in the void of Sithis.
Sweet dreams.

Though it was unheard of for the Dark Brotherhood to leave warnings instead of corpses, the Sithis warning left little doubt to who it had been. The Count insisted that crimes relating to the Dark Brotherhood be prosecuted if caught, but it was all talk. Nothing more, especially if it involved anyone seen in that supposedly abandoned house. Since there was no one to prosecute, Leland could only heed the note and move on. The boys didn't speak of it to each other, but they each knew they had all received the same warning. From then on, they wouldn't so much as look at the deaf old man without a chill running down their spines.

Meanwhile, a plump sack of gold sat on the counter of Little Vvardenfell. There was no note attached, but somehow, Mindyne knew that when she counted it out, she would find five hundred coins inside.

I just love seeing the girls play.

So Liltu's morning after was not too awkward I see. Although she did forget her makeup! Her homecoming to Cheydinhal was sweet. I especially liked the addition of Little Vvardenfell.

Plus you gave us a wonderful introduction to the Corruption quest in Cheydinhal, including Ulrich Leland's son as a bully and bringing Liltu's family into it. Liltu's solution to the immediate problem of them losing their store was wonderful, especially the touch of the note with Sithis mentioned. An excellent way of sidetracking the fetchers.


nits:
She sighed a little{,} feeling the slight grit and slickness of unwashed hair.
I think you meant for a comma where I inserted it above.

The buildings were elegant with their white walls trimmed with Burgundy and straw roofs
I think you meant for a lowercase burgundy there?

Chitin shields baring the crests of the great houses sat along the walls.
The Grey Fox heisted your 'e' in bearing.

We broke up years ago
He snatched the period at the end of this sentence too! Stop Thief!

The Count insisted that crimes relating to the Dark Brotherhood be persecuted if caught.
I think you meant criminals? That should also be prosecuted - taking one to court for a crime, rather than persecuted - which is doing nasty things to groups of people.

Loved this latest installment. Lilitu is turning out to be quite the character! I loved meeting her grandparents and her cousin - he reminds me so much of Midave Sendal - small but tough and determined to fend for himself.

While Lilitu's plan of warning is a bit over-the-top, it is perfect for the target audience. Boys love nothing more than big, dramatic gestures. I was a bit surprised to see that Ulrich had a son though - in game he never struck me as being the family man type. But you made it believable, and that's what matters.

Great job!

Lilitu has her own way of handling things that is really interesting - and have to agree with SubRosa - Loved the addition of Little Vvardenfell !!

Another thing SubRosa beat me to - Love the way you slipped in background for Leland's corruption quest - Awesome chapter !!!

Alright an update! Nice to see Lilitu taking care of business in Cheydinhal.

Wow, Lilitu really gets it done!! It seems she has a complicated family. I’m intrigued by her brothers’ living situation. I love your description of Cheydinhal. It’s so pretty! I can picture the outdoor weddings and the bridges all decorated with flowers.

SubRosa~ If only Lilitu had more time, then maybe she could have worked with Llevanna and come up with a fitting punishment.

haute ecole rider~ Well, originally it was Leland's son, but some other guard...but I wanted to tie in the corruption in Cheydinhal and he was a good fit.

mALX~ She certainly does, and its not always the most legal way in the world, but it gets the job done

King Coin~

Grits~ Complicated indeed, but aren't all families to some degree?

Everyone~ I'm sorry its been so long. I got burnt out on it and once I was ready to continue writing, I got writer's block! Here's the update ♥




Lonely. Secluded. Isolated.

Words that should never describe the warmth and comfort of home, yet Lilitu could think of no other ones as she headed up the path toward the Serano Manor. It was three miles north of Cheydinhal and a mile away from the nearest neighbor.

She wanted to go get Savilla's Stone before going to visit, but her plans changed when a small figure came running toward her. It was almost like a black-clad skeleton with a head of unruly, dark brown curls.

"LILITUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

She couldn't help but smile. Relemus caught her. She would have to stay for at least a little bit.

She remained in place with her arms out as the young Dunmer crashed into her. She wrapped her bony arms tightly around her waist. Lilitu smoothed her hair, smiling softly. "I missed you too. Have you been behaving yourself?"

She looked up at her older sister with impish brown eyes, her smile not even trying to hide. "Maybe," she said.

"Maybe," Lilitu echoed. "I see..." She attempted to run her fingers through her curls, but was halted by knots. She frowned. "When was the last time this was brushed?"

She shrugged and looked around. "Where's Dolce?"

"She's at home."

"Oh." Her face fell, her eyes lowering to the ground. "So you're not moving back?"

Lilitu sighed, kneeling to the ground. "I know you don't understand now, but eventually everyone moves out and starts their own lives. It’s what adults do."

Her brows furrowed. "Then why hasn't Titi moved out of Grandma's house?"

She blanked. Relemus did have a point. "Come on, let's go see Vardas," she said, changing the subject.



Lilitu crinkled her nose at the sight of the house. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in days! Dirt and muddy snow was tracked from one side of the house to another, stamped with footprints, large and small, and paw prints. Stacks of books sat in disarray on the table and on the floor, one dangerously close to the roaring fireplace. The Redoran flag, their father's pride and joy, hung crookedly above the mantle. Dishes were everywhere and a pile of animal bones remained by a dog bed. "What happened? Did a drunken troll run through?"

"No," Relemus said, bounding up the stairs.

"Where's Mama?"

"Chapel."

Of course. Lilitu buried her face in her palm. Where else would she be? "And Papa?"

"He left for Morrowind a few days ago."

"So its just the two of you, then?"

"Yeah." Relemus stopped at a door and began pounding on it, unnecessarily loud. "Hey fat fetch! Quit choking your chicken, and get out here!"

Lilitu's jaw nearly dropped. Was her mother insane, leaving the two of them alone together?

The door burst open, Vardas like a giant with his fists up, ready to knock Relemus into a wall. He was a large man, and his gut spoke of a love of sweet rolls. He face was much rounder than common Elves, though it was just as likely that was due to his mixed heritage as it was from his weight. His eyes, chocolate brown like his younger sister's, were blazing with rage. His wild look was matched by near-black curls tied back in a long, messy ponytail. Luckily, Relemus was quick enough to slip out of reach of his swing.

"Ahem!" Lilitu cleared her throat loudly.

Vardas dropped his fist and smiled. "Oh, hi Lilitu."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Relemus, apologize for that."

"What?" Relemus folded his arms. "It’s true! I caught him reading a dirty book and his hand was on his pants!"

Vardas went lavender, though Lilitu could tell it was more out of embarrassment than anger. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't care and would rather not hear about that sort of thing. You've been told about making fun of his weight, haven't you?"

"Yes.... Sorry Vardas."

"And you," she looked at Vardas. "Do be a little more discreet for goodness sake!"

Relemus stifled a laugh, clapping her hand over her mouth as her older brother and sister cast her glares.

Vardas looked back into his room. "Saint, come here, boy!"

A large black dog with a white muzzle and white going down his chest came running down the stairs. He jumped onto Lilitu, sniffing her, then licking his nose. Lilitu smiled and scratched his ears. "Oh, what a good boy! Though I see someone needs a diet!"

"He's not the only one..." Relemus muttered.

Vardas responded with a swat on the head. "Aren't you supposed to be practicing?"

Relemus sank. "Yes..." He groaned.

"Then get to it!"

Muttering strings of swears under her breath, she went down to the basement.

Lilitu cleared a pile of wrinkled clothes from the couch and she sat down. "I see not much has changed."

Vardas didn't bother moving the clothes. He plopped right on them. Lilitu was about to say something, but stopped herself. They weren't her clothes after all. Saint curled up on top of them, his head resting on Vardas' lap. "Nope. Mama spends all day at the chapel and when she gets home late at night she's up in her room buried in Lessons of Arkay." He rolled his eyes. "She still quotes that damn book every chance she gets! Sometimes I just want to toss it in the fire but it would do no good. She's got it memorized!"

Lilitu sighed deeply, looking up at the wall where a portrait of the Divines hung proudly. It was the only one in the house that wasn't crooked, caked with dust, or both.

"Papa is still making deliveries for Grandma's shop," Vardas continued. "Ever since you left he's been home more often, just to make sure things don’t get too out of hand. Relemus never listens to me anymore. Of course that means he can't pick up as much so it limits the money the shop makes. Not by too much, but enough for mama to complain. She says it’s your fault."

"Oh? My fault?" Lilitu said through clenched teeth. "Of course. Everything bad that ever happens around here is my fault. And I bet she wonders why I never come to visit."

"She says it’s your pride."

"Oh yes," she said her cheeks flushing. "Never mind that every chance she gets she has to start a fight. Or that she always has to throw everything in my face." She folded her arms, willing her heart to stop pounding.

"So what brings you up here, anyway?" Vardas asked, sensing that it was past time to change the subject.

"Gray Fox wants me to get something called Savilla's Stone." Lilitu leaned back on the couch. "It’s in a monastery up north."

"I thought you were a fence."

Lilitu smiled. "I am...but the Gray Fox asked for it in person."

Vardas gasped. "You actually saw him?"

She nodded.

"Did he have the Cowl?"

"Of course he did!"

Vardas suddenly sprang to life. "Lilitu, do you even know where he got it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "He stole it from Nocturnal, didn't he?"

Vardas nodded his head. "It’s an actual Daedric artifact!" He paused, calming down some. "Then again, I'm not sure if that one would be a good one to have. She cursed it, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"You see, whoever wears the Cowl no longer exists."

"What are you talking about? Of course he exists! I saw him the other day."

"No, no. He exists in the physical sense, but that's all he is. When he takes off the Cowl, he is no one."

"Of course he's no one. He wouldn't want to stand out."

Vardas sighed. "Lilitu, I mean he is no one to anybody. His wife, his kids, his own parents won't know who he is, even when he's not wearing the Cowl. Its like he never existed. He could stand in front of his wife with his name written above him in flames and still nothing. She would have no idea who he is. The curse wipes whoever wears it from history."

Lilitu looked down. "My goodness...." She looked back up at Vardas. "And to think at one point I wanted that Cowl." She chuckled a little. "I had little daydreams of swiping it from him and gallivanting around Cyrodiil, even robbing the Emperor..." She didn't include the part of the fantasy where she was subdued by a handsome guard and taken to be locked away, though not in a jail cell. She smiled, thinking about it. When she saw Vardas staring at her she cleared her throat. "Anyhow, it hardly seems worth it."

"Lilitu, I'm done," Relemus returned to the living room. Her plump cheeks were faintly violet.

"Done with what?"

"She's supposed to be practicing her fireball," Vardas said.

"Oh. Can you do it?"

She pursed his lips and looked away. "Not really." She sat on the couch, like Vardas, on top of the clothes. "Fetch it."

"Do you talk this way in front of Mama?"

"Are you kidding?" Relemus asked with wide eyes. "She'd kill me!"

"Alright, now let's see if we can help you with the fireball."

Relemus groaned loudly. "Do I have to?"

"It’s the law. Everyone had to learn it, just like everyone has to learn to heal themselves. You can't always count on weapons and potions to keep you safe."

Welp. I didn't think one could be racy and still be PG-13, yet somehow you pull it off so flawlessly.

Choking a chicken?

Subdued and punished by a handsome guard? Would that handsome guard happen to be Savlian Matius? Oooh, now my inner editor's getting jealous!

So learning the flare and the heal thyself are required by law? Like a license is required for driving?

I'm liking Lilitu more and more. Her interactions with her brothers are delightful and fun to read.

Glad to see more of her (and of your writing)!

YAY! To be honest I thought this story died. I so happy to be wrong! Well done

I wonder if the Serano's nearest neighbors are the Rugdumphs?

I nice, quiet visit home for Liltu! Well, maybe not nice, or mostly quiet. I loved the pigsty the place is, and the whole dysfunctional nature of her family. It is no wonder Liltu wanted out.

A nice bit of background on the Cowl of Nocturnal, and its curse. I wonder if Liltu will want to finish the Thieves Guild questline now!

nits:
Hey fat [censored]
The [censored] does not look very good. I know you want to use a stronger word than the forum allows. I suggest using a ES term, like n'wah, or s'wit. That bypasses the swear filter, and adds some setting-friendly flavor at the same time.

Great lead in for the Savilla's Stone quest in this chapter !! I have to mark this chapter as one of my faves due to the completely natural and believable dialogue - Awesome Write !!