Crucible, never has there been a more wretched hive of scum and villainy! Though the rats on a stick do seem deliciously amazing! I loved the mention of some of the other realms! Quagmire's and Peryties(sp?) arm Pits.

The descriptions, as always, was great. You painted the demented side of the city! I freaking love Cutter! The bloody promises of a new gear has be dancing in anticipation! WOO! I did like how they escaped the fanged walls, that was something new and unexpected. Our gladiator is in for a hell of a ride unlike the which he has ever witnessed in Tamriel! But first . . . he needs to sleep at the inn, along with his lady friend. . I kid, I know it is too soon. She's just a friend, after all!

The artwork is beautiful by the way, I remember checking them out months ago. RIP, Adam! He was such a talented artist!

Crucible, never has there been a more wretched hive of scum and villainy! Though the rats on a stick do seem deliciously amazing! I loved the mention of some of the other realms! Quagmire's and Peryties(sp?) arm Pits.

The descriptions, as always, was great. You painted the demented side of the city! I freaking love Cutter! The bloody promises of a new gear has be dancing in anticipation! WOO! I did like how they escaped the fanged walls, that was something new and unexpected. Our gladiator is in for a hell of a ride unlike the which he has ever witnessed in Tamriel! But first . . . he needs to sleep at the inn, along with his lady friend. . I kid, I know it is too soon. She's just a friend, after all!

The artwork is beautiful by the way, I remember checking them out months ago. RIP, Adam! He was such a talented artist!

*

Indoril - great name!



ROFL!!! Suuure! Lol.



Still, I have to look at this and think of Roy (of Siegfried & Roy), or that lady whose pet ape of twenty years (that she bathed, slept, and drank champagne with) had a sudden change of tune one day - or the "Bear Man" and his new bride. Domestication can give you a measure of trust, but that beast is always inside and one never knows what day/time/incident will set it off. It is the way of nature to revert to its own (and usually at the worst possible time).


I'm running a chapter behind, don't have time to read two today. Great write !!!


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DE (and your identical-in-every-way twin): Thanks to the both of you!

I'm still going for the whole inter-realm trade thing (Mania would probably be more likely to swap goods with Sanguine, for example) and that seemed like a prime example to show it off, and a rat on a stick seemed like quite a Shivering Isles kind of snack. I do believe it's Peryite, by the way, and while we're on the topic I've got some exciting strains of Ebola all for a very reasonable price...

And Cutter was great; for a self-harming, psychotic masochist she was easily one of the most fun characters I've written so far. The alley walls, on the other hand, were more there for a reminder that this is the Isles and here more than most places, things can turn violent at the drop of a hat. Even with the buildings.

And It's a pity Adam passed away; it's thanks to his sketches I've actually started to develop a bit of an interest in Surrealist artwork, and he was a truly talented individual.


mALX: Yeah, I'll admit Haella is somewhat biased in her opinion on the matter of the Oblivion Crisis, though I'm not sure most of the people in the Daedric Realms would have been that upset about the Crisis, really; better Mehrunes invades somewhere they don't live rather than try and muscle in on their territory.

The animal analogy doesn't really work all that well for Daedra, though, does it? They are, as a general rule of thumb, largely self-aware (I'm unsure about Clannfear's and Hungers), sentient beings who are as intelligent as humans and are entirely capable of making their own choices. That example then only really works if they suffer from anger management issues, and seeing as people suffer from them as well, I'm not sure it's the best one.

And enjoy the next chapter when you have time for it!

SPEW!!! I scrolled up to see what you were talking about, ROFL !!!



Part of that was written with (a very twisted sense of humor) - but only part. Being capable of making their own choices - that is biased by each person/species individually. What one may never number in their choices may be considered a standard option by another. I'm relieved to hear that Kallix won't turn, he must be like Fawkes in Fallout 3, and can actually be trusted then. That will help me going forward because I won't always be eyeing every move Kallix makes suspiciously, lol.


*

This was a great chapter; I loved the Marketplace of the Mad

Or as I like to call it, the Bazaar of the Bizarre!

Also, mALX, I apologise for posting an argument that, looking back on it, was somewhat incoherent (I was rather tired when I was writing it). But long story short, not quite animals; influenced by their nature but still able to make choice. Just like humans are, but they're wired slightly differently. Though you have seem to have somehow sifted that point of there anyway, so, yeah. Good work, I doubt I coud have done that.

Meeting the dunmer trader and her dremora was a really cool touch and a great way to show the rest of the journey to the city without just skipping over it.

The description of the Crucible was brilliant, and the random danger of the walls eating people very fitting for the realm of the mad. Cutter was certainly interesting.

Wow.Just read through this. And the only thing I can think to say is "wow".This is brilliant. I've never read an SI fan fic before, but this is excellent. I look forward to reading more of this.

KC: I wanted to do more than just have 'they then walked to Crucible' and having the trader from Moonshadow both let me do that and also explore the idea of what other Daedric realms might be like. And that carnivorous alleyway has certainly caused a bit of comment, hasn't it? I honestly didn't think it would cause such a stir.

TheBrume: Thank ye kindly, good sir! Do you hope you enjoy the rest.


To everyone reading, my apologies for this taking so long; I spent the last two weeks being afflicted by a case of epic writer's block, hence why this was so slow coming. I'm not sure this part is entirely up to my usual standards, and it was more written to try and break through the block than anything else. I might come back to it later and touch it up then.



Chapter 13-Lord of the Deranged

“So you’re telling me that everything in Crucible has an opposite in Bliss, and vice versa?” Carnius asked as a colourful procession from the Sisterhood of Immolation danced past them, chanting and crying in praise of what he guessed was Sheogorath. Fireballs arced from the fingers of some, while others whirled spheres of flame around them on strings and staffs, all the while accompanied with drumming. “Like there’s the Frozen Brethren in Crucible for the Sisterhood of Immolation, or the different breeds of Rayat I’ve seen.”

“It’s the case with the entire Isles,” Salyan replied, watching them pass along the street. She had said it was the best that he avoided getting in the way of their processions. “Everything in Mania has a counterpart in Dementia.”

“So you mean there’s an…an anti-Salyan somewhere in Dementia?” Carnius asked. “Somebody who hates music and is always miserable, that sort of thing?”

“It’s not always that specific,” Salyan said. With the procession now passed, she hurried across the street, Carnius following as she headed along a road lined with pillared and domed buildings of golden stone, decorated with flowers and flowing silk banners. “But the thing about the Islands is that they aren’t really so much of a place as they are a kind of metaphor for Sheogorath; they’re split down the middle, reflecting the same way he varies between manic and demented moods.”

The streets of Bliss that they were walking down were much more spacious than those of Crucible, but something about them put Carnius off; where Crucible was squalid and impoverished, Bliss flaunted its wealth and opulence, bright morning sunlight glaring off the ornamentation that decorated each house. For all its hostile strangeness and carnivorous architecture, Carnius had found Crucible more welcoming than Bliss; he’d felt more like he was at home there, while Bliss seemed to sneer at him all the time. And the golden-armoured guards that patrolled the streets certainly did as much.

“Is the palace that far?” Carnius asked as they passed through a bazaar packed with people of all races. The air here had an overwhelming stench of spices, perfumes, foodstuffs and other things that he could not identify.

“Not too far,” Salyan replied. She disappeared from view as she slipped around a figure covered in head to tow in sashes of red and purple silk, reappearing again as Carnius stepped around it. He knocked into it, and muttered a quick apology over his shoulder as the person in question let off a string of curses at him in a language he didn’t understand.

Salyan cut through a street leading out of it, Carnius following. The road they found was lined with buildings on one side, the other a thick wall of hard stone rising skywards, blocking the view of whatever lay behind it. Salyan lead Carnius up along the street, to a series of steps up to the wall leading to a gate. Two guards, women in golden armour, were standing on either side of it.

“What is your business, mortals” one of them asked, leaning forward on the spear she carried. Now that he thought about it, both of them looked familiar, but Carnius was unable to place them.

“We seek audience with the Lord Sheogorath,” Salyan said. “My companion, Carnius Hackelt, has been bidden to meet him by the Madgod’s Chamberlain, and we also bear news of a possible threat to the Isles.”

The two guards exchanged a glance before one of them said; “Wait here.” She opened the gate and stepped through, shutting it behind her and leaving Carnius and Salyan to stand under the stony, imperious gaze of the other guard. They were left to wait for a minute, before the gate opened once more as her comrade returned.

“Haskill says that you are permitted to speak to the Madgod,” she said. “Follow me.”

She lead them into a courtyard, two sides lined with pillars, walking along a pathway that cut through a carefully kept lawn towards large building that occupied the other side. The courtyard and the structure bordering, Carnius noticed after a moment, was split in two; lawn on the other half was untended and sported twisting fungi and moulds instead of grass, and the ornamental stream of clear, pure water that they passed over on their side was a stinking quagmire on the other. Even the building, a huge, vaulted edifice decorated with banners, gargoyles and statues, with a crystal-topped tower reaching high into the sky at its back, was half constructed from the golden stone typical of Bliss and the grey of Crucible.

The golden-armoured guard opened a door on the Manic side of the palace and lead them into a large entrance. Like its outside, the innards too were split, with a luxurious red carpet running along one side that was lit with braziers burning with a crimson flame and a threadbare blue rug along the other. She pointed at a set of couches and recliners on the right hand side of the hall.

“Wait there,” she said. “You will be called for shortly.”

She swept out, and Carnius watched her go with a shake of his head.

“Well she was nice,” he remarked.

“The Golden Saints can be a little superior with mortals,” Salyan conceded. “But they’re still better than the Dark Seducers.”

“I’m sure they are,” Carnius nodded.

They waited, the only other people in the hall a Golden Saint and a purple-skinned woman Carnius guessed was a Dark Seducer standing on either side of the doorway at the far end. Salyan leant back in her seat a little, and said; “You’re not much of a drinker, are you? You only had one ale at the inn, last night. I was surprised.”

“I’m a not a great person to be around when I’m drunk,” Carnius replied.

“Why’s that?” Salyan asked.

“Get angry, most of the time, try and pick fights or hit someone,” Carnius said. “Something I got from my dad. I find it’s better not to tempt fate.”

Salyan nodded.

“I wonder if Sheogorath will want to hear me play,” she said.

Carnius blinked at the sudden change in conversation topic.

“It would be good exposure if I played for his entire court,” Salyan continued. “I could earn some coin that way.”

She frowned, and added; “And we’re actually going to meet the Madgod himself. I didn’t think I’d ever do that, you know. Thank you, Carnius.”

“It’s not a problem,” the gladiator said. “I need to be here anyway, after all.”

The doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a creak and an pronouncement from an all too familiar voice of; “Oh, you brought a friend.”

“Haskill,” Carnius said, standing up. “I see you’re well.”

“Indeed,” the chamberlain replied. “His Lordship awaits you in the throne room, if you will please follow me.”

“Lead the way,” Salyan said, already on her feet. Haskill nodded and stepped back through, the two travellers heading along the hallway. Salyan glanced over at Carnius and grinned, hissing; “We’re actually seeing Sheogorath!”

Carnius nodded as they stepped through into the throne room of the Madgod. Like the palace’s antechamber, this room too was split in twain, straddling the border between Mania and Dementia. Its end was curved and domed, but that was not what caught the eye of Carnius and Salyan; what drew the majority of their attention was the throne, a pedestal of golden marble veined with grey, ten feet in height with arms and a back protruding from its top. From a spigot on either side, a stream flowed, one runnel a channel of clear, pure water, the other a thick brown slurry. A stone snake coiled around it, tip of its tail touching the floor and its head serving as a footrest for the bearded man in purple silk finery that sat upon the throne. Sheogorath; that was beyond doubt.

“Well look who has arrived!” the Daedric Prince of madness exclaimed in a cheerful tone as the two entered, clapping his hands together. “The famous slayer of the Gatekeeper. And a friend who is not, as far as I know, famous. Are you famous, young lady?”

“Not yet, my lord,” Salyan said. She attempted to curtsey, before remembering she wasn’t wearing a dress and converting it into a hasty bow. “I am merely a humble maker of music.”

“I see,” Sheogorath said, leaning back in his throne. “Well then, seeing as you are not yet famous, would you be so good as to tell me your name?”

“Salyan Irrenius, my lord,” she said, raising her head.

“Salyan Irrenius My Lord, eh? Hmm!” Sheogorath said. He stood, balancing without effort on the head of the snake that was coiled around the throne. “Your friend here has caused quite a stir, you know. Killing the Gatekeeper and enraging a very dangerous, powerful mage in the process too. Took away a rather important defence for my Isles, too. Bad news, that.”

The snakes head moved with a grinding of stone, lowering Sheogorath to ground level. He hopped off, strode up to Carnius, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him face-to-face with surprising strength.

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” the Madgod snarled, enraged amber eyes with slit pupils staring into the gladiator’s.

“You wanted it dead,” Carnius managed after a moment. “Otherwise you would have never invited people into the Isles but put it in their way. That was a test.”

Sheogorath was quiet for a few moments, squinting into Carnius’ gaze, which the Imperial kept as cool as he could while face staring down a Daecric Prince. His grip was released, and Sheogorath stepped back, clapping his hands.

“Well said, well said,” he exclaimed with a grin. “Why, I’m so pleased with that answer of yours I could rip Salyan Irrenius My Lord’s hair off and make it into a wig. Didn’t see my dear Relmyna getting quite so upset about the whole thing as she is now, but that’s more my fault than yours. Well done, you passed the test.”

“So what now?” Carnius said with a slow, cautious nod. “I’ve come here like you asked; what did you summon me for?”

“Because I need you,” Sheogorath said. “Well, not you in particular, but somebody who is capable and not from the Isles. Preferably with a good head on their shoulders. You killed the Gatekeeper, and that’s a start, certainly.”

“And what do you need me for?” Carnius asked.

“I need your help,” Sheogorath said. “It’s all a little complicated, but there’s trouble coming on the horizon and it’s trouble I’d rather avoid.”

“You mean the Greymarch?” Salyan asked. “It’s coming, and you want to stop it.”

“What makes you believe in that old story?” Sheogorath said, turning on the bard.

“I…we saw an Arbitrator be summoned,” Salyan said. “That’s one of the reasons we were here, to warn you.”

“An Arbitrator, you say?” Sheogorath asked. The mirth in his voice had suddenly fled. “You’re certain of this?”

“Definitely,” Salyan replied. “It was only summoned for a short time, but it managed to turn a whole band of Heretics into…something else. It ‘blessed’ them, it said.”

Sheogorath was silent, rocking back on his heels. He turned about from them, stepping away, before he said, more to himself than anyone else; “An Arbitrator here already. Deary deary me, that isn’t good news at all. He must have been planning too, while he was away. Or maybe when he was here last time. Probably when he was here last time, I suspect.”

He glanced around at his two visitors, and said; “You two are still here, then? Good. Well, this does complicate things; I thought I could take my time but it appears that time has taken us. Not much to waste, for either of you. So on to your first task; we need to secure the Isles now that the Gatekeeper is gone. At the moment, all sorts of riffraff are going to come through, and we don’t want that. So the two of you are going to put a stop to that.”

“Why?” Carnius asked.

“Why? Why? Why why, eh?” Sheogorath challenged, rounding on Carnius. “I’m a Daedric Prince, you know. And you are a little squishy mortal. You have to do what I say, you know.”

“No I don’t,” Carnius said. “What’s to stop me leaving this place? I don’t have anything here, after all.”

“That is a very, very selfish thing to say, young man, and frankly I am disappointed,” Sheogorath said after a moment’s silence.

“That still doesn’t mean I have to stay,” Carnius said. “What’s here for me, then? Why should I help you?”

“Well, I could say fame, fortune and renown, but I’m not sure you really strike me as the type to be all too interested in that,” Sheogorath said. “But what I do see in those eyes of yours there is more than a little regret; you’ve something you’d rather you hadn’t, and now you want to make up for it. And if you helped me, you would save an awful lot of innocent lives, and perhaps even a few things more important than that, and that should probably absolve you of whatever crime you committed. You’ll have a chance to put things right. I won’t claim to be good, Carnius, but I won’t claim to be evil, either and I do have good people here in my realm. If you want, think of these errands as working for them, not me.”

“Besides,” Salyan added. “I could probably do with your help doing this.”

Carnius glanced at the her with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, this is my home,” she said. “If you won’t do it, I still will. I still should.”

“Fine,” Carnius said. “I’ll help you, then.”

“Excellent!” Sheogorath said. “Now, as I said, we need to sort out first things first; keep the Isles safe from marauders and ne’er-do-wells. And for that, we need Xedilian!”

“What’s Xedilian?” Salyan asked.

“A trap,” Sheogorath said. “Or alternatively, a rehabilitation facility where I can make the aforementioned marauders and ne’er-do-wells into functional citizens of the Isles. Of course, with the Gatekeeper about, I never needed it and shut the place down, but with him gone, I need something else and Xedilian fits the bill. So get over there and reactivate it, would you?”

“How?” Carnius asked.

“Ah, good point, good point,” Sheogorath said. “Haskill, do you still have that book?”

“It’s right here, my lord,” the chamberlain said, pulling a slim volume from a pocket of his dark velvet jacket. “Assuming, of course, that these two will be able to read it.”

He got a glare from Salyan as he held it out, the Bard taking it and flipping it open at a random page.

“So how do get there?” she asked. “And do we need to pick up this Attenuator of Judgement on the way, or there, or what?”

“The Attenuator is right here,” Sheogorath said, holding out a hand. A staff topped with a glowing white crystal shimmered into being in his palm, and he passed it to Carnius. “As for Xedilian it’s…it’s somewhere in Dementia, I know that much. Hmm. Ask Sentinel, he should know.”

“Sentinel?” Carnius asked.

“Oh, he keeps an eye on things for me, so to speak,” Sheogorath said. “He’ll know where it is. His tower’s just around the back of the palace, Haskill will show you the way.”
“If I must,” Haskill said.

“Well, off you go,” Sheogorath said. “Time’s wasting, you two. Go on!”

The two of them dithered for a moment, before Haskill said; “You heard His Lordship; follow me.”

Sheogorath stepped back up onto the snake head, where it rested on the floor. It began to rise, carrying him back up to his throne. Haskill set off, and without much choice, Carnius and Salyan left, the bard stopping only a moment for a hasty bow before she followed the Chamberlain. He lead them out of a doorway at the back of the throne room, through several corridors, coming to a halt at another door.

“He is through there,” he said. “There is only one opening at the top, so I’m sure even you two will be able to work that one out.”

He left as Carnius opened the door to a round room dominated by a spiral stairwell. He looked up, and shook his head. They had a long climb ahead.

Excellent! The Mysterious Sentinel is finally revealed.
I like your own additions to the isles, like the Frozen Brethren, Sisters of Immolation and inter-Oblivion trade. It's a nice little touch which adds a lot to the story.

I eagerly await the next part.

Sisterhood of Immolation. Sounds . . .dangerous. You made the Shivering Isles twice, possible thrice, as deadlier as the original concept of the game. Nice! You did tell the truth about the different sides; Mania and Dementia and explained how they contrast each other.

Quite the lovely descriptions of the courtyard and the interior of the palace as you went through, too. And at long last, we meet Sheogorath! This is awesome, indeed! You truly captured the Mad God's personality well, and added his natural dialogue. I look forward to seeing what is in store for Carnius and the Bard Lady.

Attenuator of Judgment, it is, huh! Let the adventure begin with the two! I foresee many insane things going to happen, some of might be troublesome for our duo! I loved this chapter!

What I enjoyed the most about this one was the portrayal of Sheogorath. His changes from cheerful and joking to angry and brutal was well done. Haskill was delightfully dry and sarcastic as usual. I’m not quite sure what Haskill is. He looks like a person, but is he?

Fantastic!!...

Loved the whole duality to everything...

Sheagorath was funny as the proverbial...Brilliantly done there... ...

Loved the way that Carnius was slightly uncomfortable in Bliss, I felt a bit like that meself...Odd place... ...

Aaaaamywho...Looking forward to much more questing...And then some Sentinel action too!!...

Aaand not one Mike Oldfield in sight!!... ...

Absolutely nice one matey!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

When do we get another chapter, Colonel?

Hello everyone

Apologies for this taking so long, and for my general absence from the forum, but I should, hopefully, be able to stick around a bit longer this time and actually get a more consistent output of chapters, as well as catch up on all the updates for other people's stories that I've missed.

TheBrume: At last indeed! I took my time about it, didn't it?

One of the things I enjoy in writing fan fiction is adding extra detail to the worlds I write about, and the Isles is ripe with potential for all sorts of interesting factions, groups and practises. Not to mention details themselves are one of the most important things to add to a story.

DE: I've always imagined the Isles to be a very dangerous place, which is something I wanted to reflect in the story (and I hope I've done so already, too!); the Sisterhood of Immolation were actually one of the first ideas I had when planning the story, and I liked the idea of a pyromaniacal Hari Krishna-style religion so much I knew that it had to come in somewhere.

And I enjoyed writing Sheogorath a lot; he's one of those characters that is just pure fun to write.

KC: Thank you very much! I had a lot of fun writing Sheogorath, and the sometimes dangerous way he seems to jump between Manic and Demented moods; "Come back soon, or I'll pluck out yer eyes!" is one of my personal favourite lines to appear in any of the Elder Scrolls games and I wanted to reflect that kind of cheerfully psychotic insanity in him. As for Haskill, I've wondered much the same as to whether he's a person or not; I've got some headcanon for my own answer to that question, which I plan to delve into later in the story.

McBadgere: Thank you very much!

As nice and fancy as Bliss can be, it's probably not everyone's cup of tea, especially for someone like Carnius. Though I really have to point out that Crucible isn't much better, is it?

And it's finally time to meet Sentinel! I'd make a Mike Oldfield joke here too, but I'm not actually sure who he is! (I suck at watching movies...)

Zalphon: You get one right now. Again, my apologies for the delay.


For those wondering, I based the piece sung by Salyan on an old Irish folksong, "Soul of a Harper", which I adapted somewhat to fit with the Isles instead of Ireland.


Chapter 14-The Watchman

The rapping of Carnius' bare knuckles against the underside of the trapdoor was answered almost immediately by a deep, genial voice saying; "Come in, please!"

He pulled himself up the top of the ladder through the trapdoor, into the great glass globe at the tower's very top. He stared at the figure sitting cross-legged a few feet from him on a cushion, and the eyes of the man stared back at him.

In a deep, rich voice, Sentinel said; "Ah, you're here. I saw you coming, you know."

The most distinctive feature of Sentinel was, without a doubt, his eyes. Some people had an unusual eye colour, or a piercing gaze, but this was not so with those of Sentinel. In his case, his eyes were distinctive because he had dozens of them.

Where his hair should have been, stretching all across his head, eyeballs of every colour gazed in all directions. Some where those of men or mer, while others held slit pupils and large irises, or were deep black orbs Despite himself, Carnius stared, and several of them swivelled around to look right back.

"It's rude to stare, you know," Sentinel said with a grin.
Carnius managed to break the sudden shock that the sight had knocked him into him, and nodded. The rest of the room that seemed to make up Sentinel's home was nothing more than floorspace, surrounded by a great ball of faceted clear crystal. Beyond that, the view crazed and distorted by the lenses, the Shivering Isles stretched. The floor itself was strewn with cushions and seats, a few low cabinets lurking on the perimeter, and there was a hookah of beaten bronze lying to one side, the pipe coiled around it like a snake.

"You're right," he said. "Sorry."

Salyan pulled herself up through the trapdoor and stared.

"Hello there," Sentinel said, grinning once more. He turned around towards a chair and slumped upon it, a disconcerting thing to see on account of him maintaining perfect eye contact as he did so. "Do you two know how many visitors I get nowadays? Not many. Not many at all."

He blinked, a wave of shutting and opening eyelids rippling across his head.

"Nice to have come company," he said. "Especially two of you. So what can I do for you both?"

"We're looking for somewhere," Salyan said. "A place called Xedilian."

"Xedilian, you say?" Sentinel asked. "Ah yes, I remember there. Used to be a busy place, back in the old days, before Relmyna finished off making that Gatekeeper of hers. I saw that fight of yours against that thing, by the way. Hell of a spectacle; usually I just watch it to see a bunch of adventurers get pounded into nothing, but actually seeing somebody beat it was something else entirely. Very impressive indeed."

"Thanks," Carnius said, wondering how this many-eyed peculiarity of a person had witnessed that. "But as we were saying; Xedilian?"

"In Dementia, if I remember right. Let me check where it is for you."

A few of the eyes on the top of his head swivelled to face a direction, and he announced; "Found it."

"How did you do that?" Carnius asked. "Magic?"

"In a sense," Sentinel replied. "It's a bit more complicated than that, you see."

"How so?" Salyan asked. "I mean, you're obviously a Daedra, so you did something, didn't you?"

"I am a Daedra, yes," Sentinel said. "Then again, I'm not, either."

Carnius shook his head.

"You've lost me," he said. "Surely you're either a Daedra or you aren't?"

"Of course not," Sentinel said. "There's an awful lot of middle ground between being a Daedra and not being a Daedra. In my case, I'm just a facet of Sheogorath."

"You mean like the angels?" Salyan asked. She saw Carnius' confused look and added; "I'll explains some other time." She glanced over to Sentinel and added in a conspiratorial tone; "He's new here."

"I know," Sentinel said, causing Salyan to blush slightly with embarrassment. "Though, I suppose I have something in common with the angels; in my case, I'm Sheogorath's omniscience."

"His omniscience?" Carnius asked.

"It's a bit of a tale," Sentinel said. "Have yourselves a seat, and I'll explain it to you. I wouldn't mind a bit of a chat before I send you off to Xedilian."

Salyan found a cushion and sat, Carnius following suit a moment later. Sentinel picked up the hookah, took its top off and peered into it before nodded. He flicked a finger, a flame dancing on its tip, and lit the small collection of hackle-lo leaf at its base. Holding the pipe, he leant back in his chair, the delight having an audience clear on his features.

"Now, in each of their realms, every one of the Daedric Princes is, for all intents and purposes, a god," Sentinel said, taking a puff and blowing out a cloud of scented smoke. "They know everything that happens there and can do anything in it, shaping and controlling it to their desires. You know what the problem with that is?"

Salyan and Carnius thought for a moment.
"I'm having a hard time seeing it," Carnius said.

"It's dull," Sentinel replied, shaking his head. "Boring, predictable, drab, uninspiring, call it what you want, but it gets tedious, quickly. Nothing surprises you, nothing interests you and you get tired of it. So, aeons ago, in order to actually have things in the Isles be interesting for him again, Sheogorath made me, Sentinel, the Watchman of the Shivering Isles."

He leant forward, holding out the tip of the pipe as an offering. Carnius shook his head, but Salyan accepted it.

"So you're just part of the Madgod?" she asked, taking a lungful of smoke.

"Exactly," Sentinel said. "As I said earlier, his omnipotence. Of course, even then he put a few restrictions on me; I can only see the present, and for some reason I can't look underground or through walls."

"Why'd he do that, then?" Carnius asked.

"It's the Madgod," Sentinel replied with a shrug. "Who knows? He always liked putting limits on people, though, just to see how far they'd go to overcome them. He said it makes things more interesting."

That, Carnius decided, made perfect sense when you considered the character of Sheogorath.

"So Sheogorath's still all powerful in the Isles, then?" he asked.

"I suppose so," Sentinel said. "He just chooses not to use that power. It makes things more interesting for him. The only thing he doesn't have the power to stop is something like another Daedric Prince, or an Aedra."

"Like Jyggalag," Salyan said, to which Sentinel nodded.

"Thinking of which, we need to get to Xedilian," Carnius said. "Activate it, help keep the Isles safe. Where is it?"

“I’ll tell you,” Sentinel said. “In exchange for one thing; your friend carries a lyre, and it’s been some time since I heard some music. You play me a song, Salyan, and I’ll tell you where to find Xedilian.”

Salyan nodded, pulling her lyre free. She plucked a few strings, hummed a few lines of a tune for a moment, and started playing a melody.



"Oh, they say 'tis a hanging that soon I will be," she sang. "My body twisting from yonder mushroom tree. For daring to dream that a harper could sing free, I now die, for Order's hands end me.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can ever kill.

"Oh the tyrant king on his cold crystal throne, fears song's freedom he never has known. Our bright Shiv'ring passion comes through in the tone, so he orders it silenced and broods all alone.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can ever kill.

"He'll string out my guts and drag me on the lane, blood streaming on out of my open veins. I'll kick and I'll scream in my terrible pain, and as I die my blood the ground shall red stain.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can kill.

"For one of the road, death holds no sting, 'tis another adventure, a wondrous thing. And I know that my music shall evermore ring, in the hill and the rivers of Mania's spring.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can ever kill."

There was silence in the crystal-walled room that Sentinel called home, before the quasi-Daedra nodded. He blew out a cloud of smoke that he had inhaled.

"Well, that's fair," he said. "You gave me my song, so I'll give you the location of Xedilian. You have a map?"

"Right here," Carnius said, slipping the folded parchment from his pocket. Sentinel examined it for a moment, before opening one of his cabinets and pulling forth a quill and a pot of ink. He wrote something on the map and handed it back to him.

"We have to go back to Dementia again?" Salyan asked, looking over Carnius' shoulder at the mark Sentinel had made, at a place called 'Madgod's boot'.

"I'm afraid you do," Sentinel said.

"It'll be fine, Salyan," Carnius said. "Dementia isn't so bad, anyway. Might be a bit gloomy, but it's alright."

"Says you," Salyan said. "But I suppose it needs doing."

Carnius stood and nodded to Sentinel.

"Thanks for your help," he said.

"A pleasure," the strange being replied. "Please come again soon, the both of you; I enjoy your company."

"We will," Salyan said. "And I'll play you another piece when we do."

They made their farewells and opened the trapdoor for the stairwell, bid sent on their way with a promise from Sentinel that he would keep an eye or three on them during their travels.

"Well he was nice," Salyan said as they decided down the stairwell. "Cheerful. Helpful too."

Carnius nodded as they revolved down the stairs.

"I know a place in Bliss where we can get some travel supplies, by the way," Salyan said. "And we can pick up your gauntlets from Cutter's, too. If we get everything together we can be on our way tomorrow."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Carnius said as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. He pushed open the door, and glanced at the corridor they were in. "Which way was it?"

"Left, I think," Salyan said.

They made their way through the back rooms of the palace, the kitchens and laundry rooms and servant's quarters that the great building relied on to support its few rich owners, and they found an exit from the structure that was clearly meant for staff. Together, they made their way around the front of the building and out of the courtyard, into the cramped, twisted streets of Crucible. Finding Cutter's forge took longer than expected, but before long they reached it.

Carnius pushed open the door to the building and glanced around at the plethora of blades and other instruments of bloodshed that adorned its innards. The fire in the hearth was crackling low, but the smith was nowhere to be seen.

"Cutter?" he called. "Are you there?"

His answer was a husky moan and a low, breathy panting from one side of the building, from a room just out of his view. Frowning, Carnius and Salyan rounded the corner, and it was there they found Cutter. Her eyes were rolled back in their sockets as she twisted the tip of a dagger into the flesh of her arm, an expression of pure ecstasy on her features as the limb was worried by the blade, cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat dusting her skin.

It was one of the most disturbingly erotic things Carnius had ever seen.

After a moment of horrified enthrallment, Salyan cleared her throat. Cutter jumped, startled out of her activity, pulling the dagger free with a wet squelch.

"Madgod!" she exclaimed, grabbing the wound as blood began to run down her arm. "I wasn't expecting customers."

The tips of her fingers glowed with arcane energy as she shut the wound, giving them both baleful looks in the meantime.

"You're here about your gauntlets, aren't you?" the bosmer said, waiting a few moments for the injury to suture itself shut.

"I am," Carnius nodded, feeling acutely embarrassed despite himself. "I'll collect them, and then we'll go."

"Agreed," Salyan said. "We have things we need to do."

"Of course, of course," Cutter said. Satisfied that she was no longer bleeding for the moment and ignoring the ribbons of crimson that had snaked down her arm, she headed to another part of her shop, gesturing for Carnius and Salyan to follow as she flexed her fingers. She unlocked a chest, and drew the two gauntlets from within. She gave a quiet snort of amusement. "I'd almost like to keep these for myself, you know."

"They're not for sale," Carnius said, holding out his hand for them. A look of reluctant displeasure on her features, Cutter placed them in his palm.

"Remember our agreement," she said as Carnius examined them. "These gauntlets come back to me for repair and me alone. If any other smith touches them…"

She ran the tip of the dagger along her throat.

"I know," Carnius said, refusing to be intimidated.

They left, stepping out into the contorted maze of Crucible's streets.

"I know a few places in Bliss where we can get the supplies we need, by the way," Salyan said. "I could do with a few health and magicka potions, for a start."

"Lead the way, then," Carnius nodded.

The next few hours were taken up with scouting around shops and market stalls within Bliss, haggling over prices of food, potions and other supplies. Carnius couldn't shake the feeling that they could probably get them cheaper in Crucible, but decided against voicing that opinion for Salyan's sake. There was really no point getting into an argument about where they shopped.

The sun was setting by the time they were finished, and they made their way through the streets of Bliss for the Choosy Beggar, for a meal and a night's sleep. As they entered Raven Biter called them over to the bar, the proprietor of the inn holding an envelope in his hand.

"A courier left this for you, Carnius," the Argonian said as the two approached. "Not sure what it's about, but he asked me to pass it on to you."

"Thanks," Carnius said. He slid his finger under the wax seal and broke it, unfolding it. His brows knitted in concentration as he began to read, Salyan peering at it over his shoulder.

"I wonder who that old friend of yours is," she said after a few moments.

"What?" Carnius said, concentration broken.

"The 'old friend' who sent this to you," she said. "You know, at the bottom."

"I hadn't read that far yet," Carnius admitted. "I was only on the second sentence."

"Just give it here," Salyan said.

A look of wounded pride on his face, Carnius handed it over.

"'Dear Carnius Hackelt,'" Salyan read. "'I hope this letter finds you in good health now that you have arrived in the Isles, and I wish to extend my congratulations to you on defeating the Gatekeeper and gaining entry. I would not be surprised if you were finding this place somewhat strange, and I am sure that you would appreciate a helping hand in whatever you are attempting to achieve here. With that in mind, I would like to meet with you in order to offer any support that I am able to; if you are interested, please come to the Golden Baliwog this evening to meet me. Yours, an old friend.' Very enigmatic, certainly."

Carnius nodded.

"What's the Golden Baliwog?" he asked.

"A, ah, gentleman's club," Raven Biter supplied. "Very exclusive, very fancy. Caters for the high-ups, usually; Duke Thadon himself goes there, even."

"Might as well go there and see what this is about," Carnius said.

"Are you sure?" Salyan asked. "It might be a trap."

"Why would somebody want to ambush us?" Carnius pointed out. "I've only just arrived here and we've hardly caused a stir. Unless…"

"Unless what?" Salyan asked.

"Relmyna Venerim," Carnius said. "She didn't take kindly to me killing the Gatekeeper; swore revenge. If there was anybody who would want to do that, it would be her."

Salyan nodded, before she said; "But knowing her, she would probably do something like build some kind of specially made Flesh Atronach creature just to kill you. So it's probably not an ambush."

"And yet all of a sudden I don't feel better," Carnius remarked.

"So I am assuming that you won't be eating or staying here tonight?" Raven Biter asked.

"Depends," Carnius said, to which the Argonian shrugged.

"I'll hold onto your rooms for a while, yet," he said. "Just don't stay too long or you'll need to find somewhere else to sleep."

The Golden Baliwog was easy to find, the building somewhat of a landmark that Salyan tracked down through Bliss' twilit streets with little trouble. It was a large mansion building, off the street up a driveway, surrounded by a small garden with the perimeter marked by an iron fence. There was a pair of Orsimer guarding the entrance to grounds, one of them leaning on the head of a heavy warhammer forged of some golden-coloured metal as the two of them approached he stood, suspicion in his eyes; they didn't look like the regular sort of customer, Carnius guessed.

"What's your business here?" the Orc challenged.

"My name's Carnius Hackelt," Carnius said, letter in hand in case it was needed. "I was invited here."

"You're him?" the Orc asked. "Good. Come with me, please. Gorak, keep an eye on the gate while I'm gone."

"What else was I doing?" the other bouncer said.

They were lead up the driveway by Orsimer, past the ornamental shrubbery that decorated it. At one point they had to step aside as a Rayet-drawn carriage clattered up the drive, pulling to a halt before the mansion's entrance. A servant waiting there pulled open the door and helped the carriage's passenger down and through the large, ornamented doorway as the vehicle headed around the rear of the building to wait.

The bouncer lead them through the doorway and into an atrium hall of some kind. The room itself was large and extravagant, decorated with velvet curtains, portraits, and a stairwell leading up to a balcony above, covered with a lush red carpet. From the room beyond the sound of conversation and music filtered through.

"He's here," the Orc remarked to a Bosmer standing behind a mahogany desk off to one side, nodding to Carnius. The Elf nodded and hurried off after a moment, and the Orc turned back to Carnius and Salyan. With a brusque "wait here" he left.

"Well, here we are," Salyan said, looking around. "Noble certainly know how to have a good time, don't they?"

Carnius nodded. He'd been in places like this before, a privilege afforded to him by his celebrity status as a gladiator and if there was one thing they could do, it was host a party.

The clerk reappeared back behind the desk, and said; "If you would be so good to wait just a minute."

"Fine," Carnius said.

"Excellent," the Bosmer said.

He began to say something else, but Carnius' attention was grabbed by the person who had appeared at the top of the balcony. His eyes widened.

"Carnius," Her Ladyship smiled as she descended the stairs. "I'm so glad you finally made it here."

Chapter 15-The Golden Baliwog

“You know,” Carnius said as he looked over the theatre below them. “You’re probably the last person I would have expected to see here.”

The room that he, Salyan and Her Ladyship were looking down upon was a large, opulent one, largely populated by groups of nobles. Dice were clattering on the tables that occupied its floorspace, while servants went to and fro with trays of drinks and foodstuffs. At a stage occupying the far end, women and men in varying states of undress were dancing and being watched by the hungry eyes of the clientele. Now and again a customer would point at one of the dancers and give a few orders to a servant; dancer and client, sometimes more than one of each, would disappear into a side doorway.

“These are the Isles, Carnius,” Her Ladyship replied. “I generally find that it’s a good idea to not expect anything except the worst when it comes to them; it’s the best way to avoid any nasty surprises.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Carnius nodded. “Still, my point stands; how on Nirn did you manage to end up here?”

“I was invited through quite some time ago,” Her Ladyship said. “Nowadays I move back and forth between the Isles and Nirn to accommodate business and to enjoy the occasional Arena match.”

“Business,” Carnius nodded, looking back down at the room. “Never pegged you as the sort to be working as a brothel madam. I always thought you were a noble of some kind.”

“I can be both, you know,” Her Ladyship replied. “I’ve own quite a large amount of land on the Laughing Coast and, if I do say so myself, have rather considerable political clout here in New Sheoth.”

Carnius shook his head.

“Impossible,” he said. “No noble would ever associate with someone in your job aside from personal pleasure; they’d sneer at you, wouldn’t they? New money, like me. And all earned in a low-down way, too.”

“In Cyrodiil, perhaps,” Her Ladyship said. “We do things rather differently in the Isles.”

“Can’t argue with that last point,” Carnius said. “So if you’re one of the noble types, what’s with the Golden Baliwog, then?”

“The Baliwog is just the tip of the iceberg, really,” Her Ladyship said. “This is the most expensive of the brothels I run, but it’s far from the only establishment I have; every whorehouse in New Sheoth and the Isles is owned by me.”

“Pretty impressive,” Carnius said. “How did you manage that?”

“Cunning, intimate knowledge of the business and the desire to do some good,” Her Ladyship replied. “The men and women working in my establishments are paid fairly, looked after and protected. Their children, who are all but invariable in this sort of job, are educated and if their parents wish to leave at any point they are allowed to; this business isn’t going to go away, so as far as I can see it might as well be regulated and have some standards applied to it.”

“So it’s philanthropy, then,” Carnius said.

“Indeed it is,” Her Ladyship said. “Come, I’ll show you and Salyan around the place.”

The two of them stepped away from the balcony, heading for the stairwell. After a moment, Her Ladyship glanced over her shoulder to where Salyan was still leaning on the rail.

“Salyan, my dear, are you coming?” she asked.

“What?” the bard asked, looking up in sudden surprise. “Oh, right, sorry. I’ll be right with you. I was just a bit distracted.”

“Of course,” Her Ladyship said as Salyan caught up with them. She lead them down the stairs, and into the bustling main hall. The staff parted before her with respectful nods, and she gestured to one of the gambling tables. “This is one of the Baliwog’s main sources of income, along with our prostitutes. We tend to be a little more generous in allowing people to win than most gambling den, though.”

“They spend the money on a girl or boy anyway, don’t they?” Carnius said.

“Exactly,” Her Ladyship replied. “Many of our customers have great success at the gambling table yet still seem to come home poorer than when they arrived.”

“Clever,” Carnius said.

“Your Ladyship!” one of the clients called, noticing the presence of the brothel’s madam. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you concerning some business.”

“I’m afraid I’m entertaining a guest,” Her Ladyship replied. “Perhaps another night, Kalran.”

“A shame,” the guest said, before he glanced at Carnius. “Perhaps him and I could share your attention?”

“Not tonight,” Her Ladyship replied. “Now don’t let me keep you; there are more than a few women here who I am sure you can lavish your attentions upon.”

She stepped away, and noticed Carnius’ raised eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said. “It’s part of the job. And, I’ll admit, one that can be quite enjoyable at times.”

“Suppose I used to kill people for money,” Carnius conceded with a shrug.

“Indeed,” Her Ladyship said, opening a side door from the main room. “Through here, if you will.”

The room that it opened onto was a far plainer corridor, and its main occupants appeared to be staff and servants. Her Ladyship took a left, Salyan and Carnius following as she led them down one way. People stepped out of her way as before, and she stopped one of the women as she was walking by.

“Ysren,” she said. “Would you mind taking Salyan with you and showing her around?”

The woman glanced at Salyan, and that gave Carnius an opportunity to see her face. He started as he saw the too-upturned nose, the gaunt cheeks, pale skin and red-orange eyes.

“Is she new here?” Ysren asked.

“Just a guest,” Her Ladyship replied. “She isn’t working here.”

She glanced over at Salyan and added; “Unless you’d like to, of course.”

“Er, no,” Salyan shook her head.

Her Ladyship nodded, and said; “Very well, then, she’s our guest.”

“Of course,” Ysren nodded, smiling at Salyan. “Come on, Salyan, let me show you around.”

The two of them left, Carnius staring after them. Her Ladyship turned to leave, and paused for a moment as she saw Carnius wasn’t following.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

“You do realise,” Carnius said. “That Ysren, who you just sent Salyan off with, is a vampire, yes?”

“Yes,” Her Ladyship said. “What of it?”
“A vampire,” Carnius repeated.

“She’s a vampire, yes,” Her Ladyship said, a look of confusion on her face. “Oh, right, of course. My apologies, I often forget the way Nirnians react to the undead.”

“And vampires are perfectly normal in the Isles?” Carnius asked.

“We rub shoulders with daedra on a daily basis here, and random acts of violence are a hallmark of our society,” Her Ladyship replied. “People drinking blood in order to survive is rather mundane for us.”

“Should have guessed,” Carnius said, shaking his head. “So why does she work here, then?”

“For a start, she does an excellent job of managing the place,” Her Ladyship said. “Which is especially useful when I’m not here to do it myself. And secondly, there’s quite a number of our clientele who enjoy a woman who’s cold and clammy to the touch, and her ability to lie as stiff as a board is quite often in demand.”

She saw the expression on Carnius’ face.

“Believe me, I had just as hard a time adjusting to this place,” she said. “But it can be hospitable enough in its own way, once you get used to its oddities.”

“Oddities like necophilia,” Carnius said.

“Among other things, yes,” Her Ladyship replied. “If I’m frank, that’s hardly the worst of it. Besides, it’s an alternative to digging up graves; most families find that rather upsetting, after all. There are certain bragging rights to be invoked with that, too; we are the only brothel in the Isles to have a vampire working there. The only other establishments that can boast such a thing are Sanguine’s realms and Coldhabour, and Bal’s realm is hardly that hospitable.”

Carnius shrugged. There was little else he could do in light of such information.

“So why did you send Salyan off?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?” Her Ladyship asked.

“You said you were going to show us around,” Carnius said.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Her Ladyship said. “I was hoping to talk to you in private, though, and I realised that now is a good time to.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Carnius conceded. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“A number of things,” Her Ladyship replied, setting off down the corridor again. “We’ll have plenty of privacy in my personal chambers.”

“You don’t think people would talk?” Carnius asked.

“About what? A brothel madam inviting a man into her bedroom?” Her Ladyship said. “The Isles will be alight with the scandal!”

She reached an unadorned doorway, and pulled a key out from where it was tucked in the sleeve of her dress. She unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a large, sumptuously decorated bedroom beyond; every item of furniture within it was well made and lavishly decorated, and at the end a large bed built to house more that two lay. Everything within, from the soft red wallpaper to the flowers arranged in vases was designed to lend it an air of comfort and sensuality.

“Please, take a seat,” Her Ladyship said. She clapped her hands together and the candles placed about the room flickered into life as flames danced on their wicks. She headed over to a cabinet. “A drink of any kind? There’s wine, brandy, whiskey, flin, matze, even some skooma if you feel so inclined.”

“I’ll be fine,” Carnius said.

“Suit yourself,” Her Ladyship said, opening its door and pulling out a bottle of wine. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to have myself a goblet of Surilie Brothers’ Three-Ninety-Nine; I have a terrible weakness for the stuff.”

She poured herself a glass and sat. The long pin the back of her bun was pulled out, and she shook her head as her blonde hair fell about her shoulders.

“So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Carnius asked.

“A few things,” Her Ladyship said. “Mainly, however, I feel I owe you somewhat of an apology.”

“What for?” Carnius asked.

“It’s somewhat complicated,” Her Ladyship said. “But the fact is that Sheogorath and we in the Madgod’s court have all seen the Greymarch coming for some time now. Jyggalag will march upon the Isles, he will crush the life from them and leave nought but ash in his wake; quite understandably, none of us want that to happen.”

“Hold on a moment,” Carnius said. “I’ve heard all this talk of Greymarches and Jyggalag but nobody’s actually explained any of this to me beyond Salyan saying some things about old legends and armies, and even that wasn’t all that clear.”

“Of course,” Her Ladyship said. “I should have realised that you wouldn’t know much of it. The Greymarch is an event that occurs on the Isles every few thousand years, an invasion of unprecedented scale lead by Jyggalag, the Daedric Prince of order. Every time it happens, the Isles are razed, their population massacred and Sheogorath is forced to rebuild them. Naturally, I’m not particularly keen on that happening; this place is my home and it’s my duty to protect the people I rule.”

“But this is Sheogorath’s realm,” Carnius said. “Sentinel was saying to me earlier that Sheogorath is omnipotent here; he could stop the Greymarch easily, couldn’t he?”

“Unfortunately not,” Her Ladyship said. “The problem is the nature of Sheogorath and Jyggalag; Sheogorath cannot stop Jyggalag, or directly prevent his minions, because Jyggalag and Sheogorath are one and the same.”

“I’m going to have to risk pointing out the obvious here, but the two of them seem like polar opposites,” Carnius said.

“Indeed,” Her Ladyship said. “Before the Isles were created, you see, there was only Jyggalag and no Sheogorath; the Prince of order was a powerful force in Oblivion, and the other princes feared his might. So they cursed him into becoming Sheogorath, the embodiment of that which he despises, and Jyggalag only gains respite from this once every millennium when Sheogorath once again transforms into him. From there, he calls forth his armies and Arbitrators from the limbo realm they inhabit to march upon and destroy the Isles.”

Carnius nodded.

“I can see why you’d want to stop that, then,” he said. “But why does that mean you owe me an apology?”

“Well, around twenty or so years ago, Sheogorath gathered his court,” Her Ladyship said. “In a rare moment of lucidity, he told us of the Greymarch and the threat the Isles face, and gave us an order; ‘find me a champion. Find me somebody not of the Isles who is worthy of stopping the Greymarch and saving this place.’”

“So that explains why you visited the Imperial Arena,” Carnius said. “You were looking for talent.”

“Indeed I was,” Her Ladyship replied. “Though admittedly, I have always found something terribly exciting about watching two people try and kill each other for my entertainment. But a decade and a half ago, at the start of a match between two humble Pit Dogs, I saw a young man no more than fifteen years of age enter the ring. He fought with his fists, which was certainly a first, and even though his choice in weapons was unconventional, he won. And I saw something in him; potential, raw though it was, somebody who fought with their mind as much as their arm, who appeared to be a good man when I finally had a chance to speak to him and of noble character.”

“So your sponsorship and the funding that you gave me…that was just so I might one day come here?”

“You were a long term hope,” Her Ladyship said. “But I knew that were of the right sort of character for what Sheogorath needed, and that all that was required was to somehow get you to the Isles of your own accord.”

“And me becoming Grand Champion was all part of your plan?” Carnius asked. “You mean Agronak being killed by me was-”

“I had no idea that you were planning to enter the ring to fight for the title of Grand Champion until the Arena announced it officially,” Her Ladyship said. “Believe me when I say that I had no part in Agronak’s death. Yes, I’ll admit that it was useful in giving you the push you needed to come to the Isles, but it certainly wasn’t my plan, and the timing of him dying and Sheogorath opening his doorway was fortunate coincidence and little else. In fact, I don’t think the Madgod is even aware that I had a hand in getting you here; he opened that door out of desperation more than anything else.”

Carnius leant back and sighed.

“Are you alright?” Her Ladyship asked.

“It’s just…this,” Carnius said. “Just over a week ago I was Grand Champion of the Arena, and life was normal. Suddenly I find myself in a world full of insane people, where everything tries to kill me and the one familiar face here turns out to be in league with a Nine-damned Daedra, and who had been manipulating me for fifteen years!”

“Come now, I was not manipulating you!” Her Ladyship snapped. “The Isles needs somebody and I thought you might be that person. Yes, I realise that what I did was somewhat unfair, and I didn’t like steering you along a path that wasn’t necessarily the one you were destined for, but I did it for all the right reasons. I’m sorry if you’re angry about that and I can understand why you are, but please don’t doubt that I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“Right thing?” Carnius asked. “Your Ladyship, Sheogorath is a Daedra. Daedra are evil. Helping them isn’t doing the right thing.”

“Evil?” Her Ladyship asked. “Really? You’ve met Sheogorath, Carnius. Would you call him evil? And what about Salyan? This is her home; if the Greymarch comes then she’ll be killed. Does she deserve that?”

“I…” Carnius was thrown. “Well, she could leave.”

“And I suppose all of us could evacuate the Isles?” Her Ladyship asked. “Uproot ourselves from a place where we have lived for centuries and live as a displaced country, going where? Nowhere in Nirn would take us, not if we’ve associated with Daedra, and I somehow doubt the other Daedric Princes would be particularly accommodating for an entire nation of refugees.”

She shook her head.

“Our only real hope is to trust in whatever plan Sheogorath has to see the Isles through the Greymarch, and to hope that there’s somebody to stand and fight it when it come,” Her Ladyship said. “And when that day comes I’ll certainly be one of those taking up arms, but I’d feel better doing such a thing in the knowledge that I’m not fighting for a lost cause.”

Carnius was quiet for a few moments, before he said; “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Her Ladyship said, smiling. “I’m sure you can do this.”

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Sentinel said with a grin.
I like the Sentinel already! He would be quite unnerving to be around however, no matter how friendly. A part of Sheogorath that explains quite a bit. I like the reason he was made too, I imagine it would be rather dull to just know everything.

He blinked, a wave of shutting and opening eyelids rippling across his head.
Like I said. Unnerving.

Cutter lives up to her name.

Carnius and Salyan are quite a pair. He leans dementia and she make it very clear she’s a maniac.

At first I wondered if his Khajiit friend sent him a letter from the Arena, but after reading the note for myself, I knew it was his sponsor. I expected her to turn up here.

“What?” the bard asked, looking up in sudden surprise. “Oh, right, sorry. I’ll be right with you. I was just a bit distracted.”


I like Carnius’ concern about the Lady sleeping with clients, then remembers that he made his fortune killing people.

The Watchman:

Ooh, I like the Sentinel and his multi-eyed(in color, too!) face! And the idea that he's Daedra and not Daedra at the same time is wonderful and unique.

“It’s dull,” Sentinel replied, shaking his head. “Boring, predictable, drab, uninspiring, call it what you want, but it gets tedious, quickly. Nothing surprises you, nothing interests you and you get tired of it. So, aeons ago, in order to actually have things in the Isles be interesting for him again, Sheogorath made me, Sentinel, the Watchman of the Shivering Isles.”

This is so true about Daedric Princes! They are what they are and they can't change their stripes. Like Azura would never turn her realm into a Hunting Game or Boethia would never make Oblivion into a rose garden . They do what it's in their power to do, and that power is always the same. It's why Daedra have such an interest in mortals, because they're different! I'm glad you wrote this part and added since it makes perfect sense.

And hehe, the "Golden Baliwog," clever name for a gentleman's club . . .in a Daedric Realm. So instead of placing dollars into boots they stick coins into . . .erh . . .hehe. That would be madness, wouldn't it? I like the trip there!

The Golden Baliwog:

Ahaha! I loved the moody atmoshpere you set here and the shady things going on about and all the horny men. I particularly liked the Lady and you probably know, I fancy Ysren already!

"We are the only brothel in the Isles to have a vampire working there. The only other establishments that can boast such a thing are Sanguine’s realms and Coldhabour, and Bal’s realm is hardly that hospitable.”

Hahaha, yeah, because the sexual favors that goes on in Bal's realm happens in Charnel houses . . .and he's not gentle when it comes to booty pleasures.

So, Carnius sees Daedra as evil, then? Hmm. Interesting! Superb dialogue, awesome details, great story and unique additional content not seen in the game and lore, too!
Hahaha

King Coin: Thanks very much! I was going for an 'amenable but unnerving' vibe with Sentinel, so I'm pleased I managed that. And I felt his origin would also make perfect sense when you consider the nature of Sheogorath; he seems probably the only being in Oblivion that would abandon local omniscience on a whim. And his nature also eliminates any potential plot holes of 'why don't they just call on their friend the insanity god?' with the answer of 'the insanity god is too insane to be bothered to help'.

And yeah, Her Ladyship turning up in the Isles had, as far as I understood, been taken as given by this point.


Darkness Eternal: The nature of the Daedric Princes and Oblivion, and the insane metaphysics that accompany them, are probably one of my favourite things about TES, and Sentinel was a good way to explore part of that.

And yep, Dishonoured reference right there. Awesome game; best stealth-em-up I've played since Thief 2. Though I'll admit that the notes into garters system wouldn't really work in the TES-verse, would it? Hmm, I'm going to have work something out, then.

Magnets, maybe? Hmm, I'll have to investigate further...


Well, Coldhabour's inhabited. And where there's civilisation, there's commerce. Sometimes it's awful, morally reprehensible commerce for things no decent person would buy, but commerce nonetheless. Ayn Rand would be proud.

And Carnius has been brought up in a culture that overwhelming views Daedra is being evil, so it's hardly surprising that he's going to be thinking along similar lines. That said, what he's encountered so far, and what he is going to encounter, may well force a bit of a rethink on his position.


And now on to the next chapter! Enjoy your reading, everyone!

Chapter 16-Xedilian

He found Salyan the next morning, the bard exuberant and cheerful after a night spent with the Baliwog’s staff. She had been treated, if not like a queen, then like somebody of notable celebrity and had managed to get to know the rest of the staff in the space of one night. She had been keen to show off her lacquered fingernails and had dyed her blonde hair an alarming shade of purple, and when they had left the Baliwog she had bid both the bouncers farewell by their names.

“You had a good time last night then, I’m guessing,” Carnius said.

“Oh, it was great,” Salyan said as the two of them headed through the streets, cutting through a bustling market square on their way to Crucible’s gate out of the city, the road from which would take them to Xedilian. “I met a whole load of people, made friends, indulged in a little vanity. It was fun. Oh, and what about you and Her Ladyship?”

“We talked a while,” Carnius said. “There was some air clearing that she needed to do, it turned out.”

“You talked a while?” Salyan asked. “Is that all?”

“Just about,” Carnius said.

The bard stopped, and a hooded dunmer who had been walking just behind her bumped into her. The elf snapped a curse as both Carnius and Salyan’s hands went to their purses, and the mer glared at them for a moment before deciding they weren’t worth the trouble, slinking away.

“Really?” she asked. “You get invited into the private chambers of a beautiful, charismatic, rich noble who clearly has her eye on you and you just talk?”

“She doesn’t have her eye on me,” Carnius protested.

“Yes she does,” Salyan said, shaking her head. “That’s why I left you to it and had Ysren show me around last night; I wasn’t wanted, that much was obvious. Though Ysren was nice.”

She set out again, adding; “So why didn’t anything happen, then? You’re not into men or something, are you?”

“What?” Carnius asked, following her once more. “No, I’m not.”

“Alright, I’m just asking,” Salyan said. “Still, that didn’t answer my question.”

“She’s a toff,” Carnius said. “I’m nobody. I didn’t think she’d want anything to do with me like that.”

“Blind s’wit,” Salyan muttered as they reached the gate that marked the divide between Crucible and Bliss. Somehow, Carnius felt more at home as they entered the intestinal, gloomy warrens of Bliss’ poorer twin.

“I heard that,” he replied.

“Good,” Salyan said, though the grin she flashed him said she wasn’t serious. “Still, I can’t say I blame her for it, even if you’re just being blinkered about it; you’re attractive enough in a kind of rugged, battered way, I suppose.”

She felt the need to clear the air, and added; “And before you ask, sorry, I’m not interested. You’re old enough to be my father.”

“I’m thirty,” Carnius protested.

“Alright, maybe not old enough to be my father, but that’s still a good nine years between us,” Salyan said.

“Fine by me,” Carnius said, before he sensed an opportunity to change the subject. “Thinking of parents, though, what sort of family do you have, Salyan?”

“Me? None,” the bard replied. “I was brought up in an orphanage, so I didn’t know them. I didn’t like it, and it didn’t like me, so I ran away. I found my way to the Isles when I was just small. What about yours?”

His parents. Yes, those two. His mother had been a quiet, demure, uncomplaining woman. Carnius had loved her, and she had loved him, and he’d taken good care of her as a dutiful should when quietly, demurely and uncomplainingly, she had passed on. His father, though, had been different. His father had been his hero, a boisterous giant of a man whose sheer personality would fill whatever room he was in. He had been respected by the others on the waterfront, and even though he had enemies they knew well enough to leave him be; he was a legendary brawler, and they had called him One-Punch Orannic for good reason. He was a huge arm sweeping his son up in an embrace as he entered the home, still in the thick work clothes he wore when shifting cargo, ones that stank of oil and sweat and grease and a thousand other things. He was a loud, proud and boastful declaration that Carnius was going to make it big and grand in the world. He was an angry, terrifying, pitiful monster that stumbled in late at night, struck angry blows and wept with regret the following morning, swearing on the Nine it would never happen again. When he was happy, the world glowed and resounded with bellows of laughter. When he was angry, his knuckles felt like stones contained by skin. And when he was laid out on the street, a stained, greasy coat covering his head so that his weeping wife couldn’t see the brains and blood seeping out onto the ground, his fifteen year-old son had looked at the body, hands curled into fists and decided that having his brains smashed out in a tavern brawl had been the stupidest way to die he could imagine.

“They were good people,” Carnius said after a moment. “Neither of them are around any more.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Salyan said. She grimaced as she hopped over a stinking puddle of stagnant, dirty water that had pooled in the middle of the lane, shaking her head at the filth. “For Sheogorath’s sake, why do people live like this?”

“Because they can’t afford better, maybe?” Carnius suggested.

“Maybe,” Salyan said. “Though there are still plenty of people here who could afford to go to Mania and Bliss. I just don’t understand why they don’t.”

Carnius just rolled his eyes as they reached the gate out of the city. It was open, a pair of guards on either side of it with their weapons sheathed. The road that lead from Crucible to the rest of Dementia stretched before them through the decaying swamplands that bordered the city, winding between the pools of stagnant water like a worm. Without delay, they set out for Xedilian.


It had taken them three days to reach it, this time without the help of any amenable merchants, but they had finally reached Xedilian. It appeared to be nought but a doorway built into a mountainside, overshadowed by the twisting roots of a colossal mushroom tree, a bridge of white stone leading up to it. The tree’s sides were slick and glistening with the drizzle that had been falling since morning, and the pair of them huddled underneath one of the roots as they looked over at the entrance.

“So this is Xedilian,” Salyan remarked, looking at the doorway. “It’s all underground then, it seems.”

“Looks like it is,” Carnius said. “Do you still have that manual?”

“Right here?” Salyan said, pulling the book from her pack. “It says that when the focus crystals are all in place on the judgment nexuses, you should ‘strike thrice the Resonator of Judgment with the Stave of Attenuation, and bring life to Xedilian.’”

“Judgement,” Carnius remarked, looking at the Attenuator from where he had slung it on his belt. “Wasn’t that Arbitrator thing we saw calling itself ‘Judgement’?”

“Yes,” Salyan said after a few moments. “Yes it was. But I’m sure Sheogorath knows what he’s doing.”

“I wish I could be as sure as you about that,” Carnius said. Salyan just shrugged.

“So,” she said, looking at the cavernous maw that was the doorway into Xedilian. “Shall we go in?”

“Alright,” Carnius said. “Yeah, let’s.”

After a hesitant moment, they set out along the bridge. Something about the place seemed to put their nerves on their edge, as if they were walking into a trap; as they stepped through the doors that lead into it, the portals half open, they could not shake the feeling that they were stepping into the mouth of some massive stone predator, ancient and malicious.

They stopped at the entrance, Dementia’s weak, cloud-filtered sunlight not reach far past the threshold. Both of them pulled torches from their packs, and lit them after a few strikes from tinder and flint. The floor of the entranceway was weather-stained and eroded, but what caught their attention were the bones scattered across the floor, and the skull that was suspended by a rope, hanging at head height. Blue paint of some kind had been daubed over it, forming markings or runes of some kind.

“Grummites,” Salyan said. “I should have guessed that they would be here.”

“Grummites?” Carnius asked.

“They’re a kind of…vermin, I suppose,” Salyan said. “They can use tools and weapons and a little magic, but they aren’t properly intelligent. And they always end up infesting caves and old ruins like this one; I suppose they make good homes for them.”

“Makes me think of goblins,” Carnius remarked.

They descended the staircase that lead into the rest of the complex, two morsels walking down the structure’s gullet. More filth and debris from the Grummite squatters was scattered along the floor, while symbols were daubed on the grey-black stone of the walls. The stairway lead onto a large room, a giant, high-ceilinged box with its centre occupied by a large, raised pedestal. Atop that, a shining white crystal twice the height of a man sat, looking as if it had burst upwards from the ground like snapped bone through split skin. Three large doorways occupied every other wall of the room, leading off to other parts of the facility.

“If the guide has it right,” Salyan said. “That’s the Resonator of Judgement right there. Strike it thrice, I suppose.”

Carnius unslung the Attenuator and tapped its crystalline head against the Resonator. There was a faint ringing, but nothing more.

“So I suppose that that means the focus crystals aren’t where they’re supposed to be,” he said after a few moments.

“Looks like it,” Salyan said. “And if I know Grummites, they’re probably the ones who have them; they’ll grab anything that shines.”

“So let’s go and put them back,” Carnius said, cracking his knuckles.

They took the left doorway, into a corridor occupied by a looming totem pole that had been hacked from an old pillar. They skirted around it, scanning for any possible threat that might emerge into the circle of torchlight that surrounded them.

Rounding a corner, they found an enemy. There were a few crude structure of carved wooden poles, mud and animals hides around a pool of water in a large square room, all hung with fetishes and daubed with paint symbols. Within them, a gaggle of flabby, froglike creatures were gathered around a fire, something turning on a spit, and they turned as Carnius and Salyan came into view.

For a moment, the two groups froze, before one of them howled and they grabbed crude weapons of stone and wood, shrieking warcries. Clubs and axes were raised as the mob charged Carnius and Salyan, the Grummites yelling their fury.

Salyan plucked a string of her lyre, and a few of the yowls of fury turned to terrified shrieks, some of the creatures cowering in sudden, hesitant terror. The others, three of them, barrelled forwards towards the two as Carnius backed away.

The first one that reached him hacked down with an overarm swing from an axe. Carnius blocked its haft with his left wrist, the armoured vambrace of his gauntlet soaking up the impact, and reached under his arm with his right hand. His other gauntlet closed over its arm and pulled, staggering it before he stepped forwards, pulling the axe blade with him. The stone weapon was crude, but it was enough to hack into its stomach, sharpened flint ripping its guts free.

He barrelled into the nearest Grummite as it swung at him with a club, slamming into it shoulder first as he stepped into its swing. He grabbed it and shoved it into one of its fellows, sending them both tumbling, and glanced back towards those that Salyan had cast a terror spell on.

They had rallied, regaining their courage, but the bard sent another bolt of arcane energy buzzing towards them. This one hit the lead amphibian, and it turned on its fellows with a yell of fury. Before the other two knew what it was doing, it split the skull of the first with its axe and hacked at the second one with wild fury.

The other two had regained their feet, and charged Carnius as one. The first yowled as it stabbed forward with a dagger of flint, the second swinging with its club, and Carnius stepped back, knocking the knife away and using his gauntlet to absorb the impact of the cudgel’s swipe. He grunted as he felt the shock ripple down to the bone, pushing aside the pain as the one armed with the knife stabbed at him again.

He stepped to its right side, grabbing its wrist with its right hand and its slimy, wiry bicep with his left. Another step put the knife-wielding Grummite in the way of its fellow with the club, and he pushed with his right hand and pulled with its left, its own knife stabbing into its throat. He let the body collapse as sludgy brown blood leaked from its throat, facing the remainder of the amphibious beings.

The one with the axe, now recovered from Salyan’s frenzy spell, bounded forwards, already bleeding from cuts inflicted by its dead fellows. It fell upon Carnius in a fury, swinging its weapon towards him in a sideways swipe to his midriff. He blocked, but the club of the other Grummite slammed into his shoulder, the impact enough to dent his pauldron and send him stumbling back, grunting with pain.

Salyan stepped in before the two Grummites could capitalise on their advantage, plucking her lyre’s strings and sending a wave of noise in their direction. They were hurled back by the blast of arcane energy and sound, one of them landing on its neck with a crack. It did not rise, and the one with the axe, now disarmed, struggled to pull itself to its feet. Carnius reached it as it was halfway to standing and slammed his fist down on the top of its skull. The bone collapsed in with a squelch.

“That looks like the last of them for now,” Salyan observed, glancing at the doorway ahead in case any more Grummites were to emerge to investigate the commotion. She frowned as she spotted something, crouching next to one of the dead amphibians as Carnius massaged the shoulder that had taken a hit from a club. “What’s this?”

She held up a chunk of stone, one that glittered with a deep bronze colour.

“I think it’s madness ore,” she said. “Cutter said Grummites carry it on them, sometimes.”

“Might be,” Carnius said, peering at it. “Hold onto it, just in case.”

Salyan nodded, slipping it into her pack, and glanced up at Carnius.

“Your shoulder alright?” she asked.

“It’s going to bruise and I’ll need a smith to fix up my armour, but I’ll live,” Carnius said. “They got anything else worth taking?”

Salyan glanced over the other bodies.

“Not really,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The next few rooms housed only more Grummites, the stone dungeons now fetid and stinking thanks to the occupation of their semi-sapient squatters. Every one of the creatures attacked them without hesitation, swinging with crude stone weapons or shooting flint-headed arrows at them. It was in the last room of the branch, a larger one than the rest, and there was only one Grummite within it, standing by a pedestal of some kind. It was a large one, wearing some kind of ceremonial dress of carven bone, and in its hands was a length of gnarled wood, a silver crystal tied to its head with twine.

It raised the weapon when it saw them, and a bolt of lightning arced from its end. It slammed into the chestplate of his raiment, the shock of the impact knocking him to the ground. The back of his head slammed into the floor and he saw bright spots flash and spin across the ceiling above him.

He was unaware of Salyan diverting another blast of electricity with a counterspell of her own, the bard stepping forwards and over him to shield him while he was on the ground. The shaman raised its free hand and sent a wall of fire towards her, but plucked strings and a sung chord threw up a blast of force that dispersed it into a harmless cloud of hot air.

The bard drew upon arcane energies, plucking more strings and humming a note. Impelled by magical power, the discordant un-noise sliced forwards through the air and hit the shaman. It shrieked in fury as the next spell it tried to cast fizzled and died on its finger tips, and raised the staff. It managed to gather enough energy together to glow, but nothing else.

Salyan grinned. She stopped grinning as the burly creature raised the staff like a club and charged her.

She dodged out of the way as it swiped her, scrambling back. She managed to pluck a sonic blast towards it, but her aim and the magic’s focus were poor and she did little more than stagger it. In the moment’s respite she had, she kicked Carnius from where he was on the floor.

“Get up, you useless fetcher!” she managed, before she had step back from a swipe the shaman sent at her.

The shaman’s staff began to glimmer again as Salyan’s silence spell wore off, and it levelled towards her. She plucked a string and sang a note, an angled wall of arcane energy intercepting the bolt and deflecting it away to smash against the stone wall. It barrelled towards her, hurling a bolt of fire as she backed away, the impact scorching the leather of her pauldron as its glanced off it.

It stepped forwards over Carnius, readying the weapon for another blast. Salyan saw movement behind it and grinned, firing off another silence spell. The Grummite’s response was to shriek in rage and ready the stave as a club once more.

Carnius’ gauntlet slammed into the back of its skull with a wet crunch, and it toppled to the ground.

“I could’ve used you doing that a good a good few minutes ago,” Salyan said, poking the Grummite with her boot to make sure it was dead. The crushed bone and pulverised brain matter that was visible rendered the action somewhat obsolete.

“I was indisposed,” Carnius said. He looked over at the pedestal, one cut from the same crystal as the stone on the end of the shaman’s staff. “You don’t know any destruction spells?”

“I’ve not really needed them before,” Salyan explained. “I didn’t know I was going to start making a habit of exploring Grummite-infested ruins.”

“Fair enough,” Carnius said, picking up the staff. He unknotted the twine that held it in place and put the crystal in the slot at the top of the pedestal. For a moment, nothing happened, before a delicate blue light began to glow around its base. The crystal rose upwards a few inches, suspended atop a gossamer web of azure magical energy, spinning in a gentle, sedate circle.

“I think that means it’s working,” Salyan said. “So, let’s go get the other two.”

The next few hours were the same, the two of them fighting through the Grummites that infested Xedilian and being forced to deal with their more powerful shamans. By the end of it, the two of them were exhausted, their bodies and equipment battered by the surging tides of combat. Finally, however, the crystals were returned to their proper place, the amphibious beings were cleared and Xedilian was ready for operation.

“And here we go,” Salyan said as Carnius raised the Resonator to use it. He tapped the massive crystal three times, the noise ringing out across the large chamber.

The next moment, it turned dark and the horror began.

I'm reminded of the works of Patrick Rothfuss here, the description, the music, the absolute madness...ah, the Shivering Isles! I'm going to have to play Oblivion again soon.. and maybe learn that song that Salyan sung... I love the idea of the Sentinel, as well as the contrast between Carnius' preference of Dementia, while Salyan prefers Mania ( I can't help but suspect that she's going to die tragically though, she just seems so..alive o3o)
Definatetly going to follow this

… and had managed to get to know the rest of the staff in the space of one night.
Got to know them eh?

Carnius’ family background was interesting, especially his father. Now we know where Carnius learned his moves. Sounds like the father was a great guy when he wasn’t drunk, which also sounded rare. Then his mother dies and Carnius signs up for the arena.

I know I’ve said it before, but this pairing of Salyan and Carnius is great. They have very different personalities and she’s been in the Isles for a while. She’s very open where he’s kind of closed. And then their unique talents make for some very interesting fights. It was fun to see Salyan hold off the shaman long enough for Carnius to recover. I think some destruction spells are in order though. Where might she learn some?

I must say, I have been stalking this story for quite some time. I liked the character development you made with Carnius at the start after killing his friend, Agronak. I also like how you set up the scenes leading to the Shivering Isles and the humor, and of course, the descriptions of this alien land is vivid and entirely better than the ingame portrayal of it. We know lore and game world are both the same and different.

I'm a sucker for character development and backround and I enjoyed this chapter as it reveals about Carnius' parents. Tragic fate of his pops dying in a bar fight! Most tragic!

Additionally, the fight scenes here are truly vicious and amazing. I am hooked, dear sir, truly hooked!

Amazing stuff...All of it...

Loved Sentinel, loved the idea of him being part of Sheagorath that the DL was sick of and so cut him out!!...

Well done there!!...

I'm in love with Her Ladyship... ...Possibly something to do with her morphing into that gorgeous wench that was in Dexter, Warehouse 13 and Spartacus...But, shockingly enough, I've forgotten her name...Jaimie somethingorother...It'll turn up...But yeah, her...*Sighs*...

And then Xedillian...

Fantastic trawl through...Brilliant stuff...

Loving all of this tale, looking forward to wherever it doth go next!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Fiach: Thanks very much indeed! I'll admit I've never read any Patrick Rothfuss, but I've heard a lot of good things about his work in the past, and I'm truly flattered for a comparison like that.

If you want an idea of what Salyan's song sounds like, then you can do worse than listen to Marc Gunn's performance of it and then just adapt the lyrics in your head into the rather more, er, visceral ones sung by the folks of the Shivering Isles. I'm pleased you liked the idea of Sentinel, and he was actually one of the first ideas for unique and wierd characters that I had for this story (him and Rage basically kickstarted Madgod) and a lot of fun to write.

And I find both Salyan and Carnius to be a very fun pair of characters to write, simply because they're both quite different personality-wise and yet complement each other quite well, as you said. Whether Salyan dies or not, well, wait and see.


KC: Oh god, creepy eyebrow smiley is back!

*Cowers*

Pleased you liked the bit about Carnius' background, though it wasn't so much Carnius learning his proficiency with his fists from his dad as it was him inheriting it. Though his mother was very much alive when he joined up with the Arena; she passed away a few years later. Probably should have made that a bit clearer.

And I'm quite fond of those two as a pair, and it's fun to have them both be so different and yet still sticking together. Though Salyan shouldn't have too much trouble learning some destruction at the College of Bardic Lore in New Sheoth; she's hardly the only audiomancer out there, after all.


LL: Thank you!

I'm pleased you're enjoying the stuff I'm doing, and it's nice to see the effort I'm putting in paying off with a reader liking what they read. And while part of this is just adding extra to the Shivering Isles we know, there are going to be bits that are completely different and unique that I'm adding in too, mainly because I the ideas are cool and because I can.

Thanks for the complement on the fight scenes, by the way; I've got a few years of martial arts so generally use my own experiences with sparring to help add a sense of realism to the fight scenes (admittedly, they're still done with a good splash of creative license in order to make things more exciting) and I'm glad it's working for you.


McB: Chyahs, dahlin'!

Part of the stuff I'm looking forward to doing with this story is playing around with the rather unique nature of the Daedra and Oblivion; believe me when I say that Sentinel is just the start of proceedings!

I'm afraid I've got no idea who you're talking about with the actress playing Her Ladyship, but I hardly watch any telly, so that's no surprise.

As for where it's going next, well, just scroll down and see for yourself...




Chapter 17-Trap

An old, cold heart shuddered into its first beat in an age. Blood that had dried into dust crept into a liquid and began to pump along veins. Musty lungs were purged of their dust and cobwebs by a hacking cough. Colour began to return to pallid grey-blue skin. Arthritic fingers curled into life with a groaning creak. Eyelids opened over dry cataracts that faded with every passing moment.

Kiliban Nyrandil, the keeper of Xedilian, woke once more from his centuries-long sleep.


There was darkness all around. A thick, coiling, oily blackness, snaring and dragging at his eyes, slipping over his skin. He took a step forward, straining against the thick air, trying to look around, to see if he could find anything.

“Salyan?” he called. “Salyan, are you there?”

The darkness absorbed his words and spat them back at him with as a hissing echo. He took another step forwards, fighting the dark around him, and stopped as a curving line of white appeared before him. It widened into a crescent, a mouth.

“Alone,” it said, fangs flashing into view as its invisible lips parted in speech. “You are all alone now, forever.”

“What in the name of the gods are you talking about?” Carnius asked.

“Trapped. Caught in a trap. A morsel to be eaten!”

It opened wide, growing larger than Carnius, expanding and growing until they were as huge as existence itself, a maw of hungry night that swept over him. The ground swelled up under his feet, sending him tumbling down the slick sides of an invisible gullet and he was falling, down through the darkness.

He landed on his back on an anvil. The scarred visage of Cutter looked down at him, huge and imposing as she snarled.

“What the-” Carnius managed, before the immense smith said; “You broke our deal.”

“What are you talking about? What in the name of the gods is going on?”

“Our contract is broken,” Cutter replied. She had a knife in one massive hand, and two fingers pinned him to the iron. “I’m taking my forfeit.”

Carnius screamed as the knife sliced through his armour, a deft movement opening his ribcage like a flower. Pain roared through his body as he thrashed against the iron grip of Cutter’s fingers, and a pair of tweezers descended. With a ripping squelch, his heart was torn free. He was too blinded by pain to see the smith swallow it.

And then the anvil was gone, his chest was whole. Carnius stared at it for a moment, running a baffled experimental hand over it. It ached but that was the extent of the damage.

He looked up, glancing around at the room he was now in. He frowned as he recognised the cellar for what it was; the Bloodworks of the Arena. How in the name of the Nine was he here?

“Murderer,” a voice croaked.

“Who’s there?” Carnius asked, raising his fists.

“Murderer,” that same voice croaked again, this time from behind him.

From behind a pillar, a figure stepped out. It was clad in a rusted, pitted breastplate and a kilt of hardened leather, the grey-green skin was peeling away in patches, revealing bone underneath. An eye was gone, the other one brown with rot, but Carnius recognised the figure despite the decay.

“Agronak?” he asked, stepping back. “What’s going on?”

“Murderer,” the half-rotten thing repeated once more. “You killed me.”

“Agronak, what are you talking about?” Carnius protested. “We agreed that that was how the match would go; you didn’t want to win.”

“Justice,” it managed. “Now, I will have justice.”

“No!” Carnius protested. “Agronak! Please, what are you doing?”

The thing’s sword hissed from its sheath. He tried to raise his hands, tried to block, but his arms were locked at his sides as the blade was raised from his hands.

“Justice,” it said once more. “Now, justice. Murderer.”

The blade hacked down, a burning wedge of agony and Carnius screamed as an arm fell away, then the second. His vision turned black once more.

When his eyes opened, he was face down on a cold stone floor, this one free of bloodstains. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, casting around the room he was in.

It was nothing more than a box of ten feet in diameter, lit by a few candles on a desk that was ornamented only by a quill and a parchment. Behind that, there was another occupant; a man dressed all in grey, his skin the same shade, eyes glowing bright white. There was a look of shock on his face, and Carnius stepped back, raising his fists.

“You keep back,” he warned.

“You?” the man asked. “What are…what are you doing here?”

He glanced around at the walls and turned back to Carnius.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I did,” the man in grey said. “Please, I really am. Just let me out of here.”

“What are you talking about?” Carnius asked.

“There’s scratching,” the man in grey replied, only have hearing it. “Don’t you realise? Something is coming through the walls. Can’t you hear it? It’s going to come through the walls and kill me. Please, I swear, I’m sorry. Just I need to get out, though, before it breaks through the walls!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carnius said.

“What?” the man in grey protested. “But…but you...”

The ground opened beneath Carnius in a maw of broken stone. For a few brief moments he looked up as the man in grey tried to scrabble after him pleading with him to wait, stopped from following by some invisible barrier.

He landed on his back on a bed.

He blinked, realising he was now naked, and raised himself up on his elbows. He recognised the room as Her Ladyship’s personal chambers and frowned.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice asked from next to him.

Carnius saw Her Ladyship rise from where she had been lying next to him, as naked as he was. He scrambled away, but the sheets snapped in place around his wrists, and Her Ladyship’s face twisted into a overly smile with fangs.

“This isn’t real,” Carnius managed, more to himself than anything else. “This is just Xedilian doing something to my head. This isn’t real.”

“Quiet,” Her Ladyship ordered. She leant in close to him, still smiling, before she said; “You thought you might be one of us, didn’t you?”

“Get away,” Carnius managed.

“You thought you might better yourself?” she asked, ignoring his protest. “That you might somehow rise above your station?”

She jabbed a few fingers into his stomach and Carnius gasped in pain as the muscle and skin parted before her nails, blood dribbling down his midriff.

“No,” she hissed, hand sliding into his gut with a wet squelch as Carnius screamed in pain. “You stay right where you came from. Grubbing in the dirt where you belong. Don’t you dare think to rise up above your station.”

Carnius managed to squeeze his eyes shut at that point. Just because he could not see it, however, did not mean it was less painful.

When it subsided, he dared to open them. He was in a cave, lit by the light of guttering braziers of beaten iron. A serpent, a huge, immense snake with a girth like the trunk of a tree, was coiled on a stone platform that Carnius stood before, and a lazy amber eye slid open as it saw him.

“Usurper’s pawn,” it hissed. “Why do you disturb my rest?”

Carnius frowned, stepping away from the immense serpent.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Akel,” it said. “The hunger, the first madness. True holder of the Madgod’s title, and yet my mantle has been taken by your master.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carnius said.

“No, of course you do not,” Akel said. “You scrabble in the dark like so many of your kind. Even now, in this place, you keep to shadow, ignorant and forever in denial about the nature of this cycle. Soon I shall be forced to feast once more.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re saying,” Carnius said. “But I know that this just an illusion made by this place. A lie.”

“Indeed it is, and yet it is not,” Akel said. “Xedilian’s visions are not illusions. They are insights. To find madness, all you must do is look deep enough into sanity, and I am there. Lurking. Hungry, always hungry.”

It uncoiled, rising over Carnius, fanged jaws opening wide as the gladiator backed away and braced himself.

“Time to wake up,” it said.

It struck down, and fuelled by desperation and terror more than anything else, Carnius struck back.

The next moment, he was standing, pinning a dunmer to the stone wall of Xedilian. The mer had a look of shock in his red eyes as he kicked and struggled.

“Who are you?” Carnius demanded. All he got was a choked gargling, and he loosened his grip slightly.

“Kiliban!” the dark elf managed. “Kiliban Nyrandil, the…the keeper of this place. Please…please put me down.”

Carnius lowered the man to the ground, glancing around at his surroundings. The shadows were free of any mocking, illusory spectres and he looked back at the coughing dunmer; he was fairly sure he was real, but he didn’t want to take any chances just yet. He was only at the bottom of the Resonator’s pedestal; throughout that entire experience, had barely moved a few feet.

“I’m really very sorry about that,” Kiliban said, as Carnius continued to scan the room. “The facility is designed to attack anybody who enters without permission, and because you activated it without the proper identification charm it thought you were one of its targets. An oversight on the behalf of whoever sent you, really.”

“Where’s Salyan?” Carnius asked him, not caring for the man’s explanation.

“Who?”

“Salyan, the young woman I came in with.”

“I don’t know, I only just woke up,” Kiliban said. “You’ve been the only person I’ve found here so far.”

“Gods above,” Carnius murmured, shaking his head. He picked one of the corridors at random and jogged through it, calling out; “Salyan! Salyan, can you hear me?! It’s me, Carnius! Salyan!”

He found her after a few minutes of searching, Kiliban in his wake. The bard was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf and quietly sobbing.

“Salyan?” Carnius asked, keeping his tone gentle as he knelt down next to her.

“Go away,” she choked, squeezing up tighter.

“Salyan, it’s me,” Carnius said.

“I said go away!” Salyan protested, not looking up. “I’m not a freak, just leave me alone.”

“Listen, I’m not one of the illusions this place has been throwing at you,” Carnius replied. “I’m real.”

She glanced up with bloodshot, distrusting eyes as he held out a hand.

“You’re not a trick, are you?” she asked after a moment. Carnius shook his head, and helped her to her feet. She grabbed him in an embrace. They were quiet for a few moments, before she said; “Can we please leave?”

“Let’s,” Carnius nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a while?” Kiliban asked. “It must have been quite a journey to get here; you must be tired, surely. And I appreciate some help clearing out all the Grummites’ things.”

“We’re fine,” Salyan said, picking up her lyre from where it lay discarded a few away. “You can tidy this place up by yourself.”

“But can’t you-”

“We’re going,” Carnius interrupted. There was a growl in his voice.

They left Xedilian in subdued silence. Outside, the drizzle had subsided, but the ground was damp the flora around them were glistening and slick with damp, the mushroom trees twisting over the road like disembowelled guts turned brown with rot. There was little conversation as they walked, Salyan remaining uncharacteristically silent and subdued. Carnius felt badly shaken and not in the mood for talking in any case, and he decided the best thing he could do right now was give her some space; she reminded him of a fresh-faced pit dog who had just lost their first good friend in an Arena match. It was in the evening, when they were taking shelter in the lee of a large mushroom tree, having finished a dinner of some of their travelling rations, that he decided that it might be a good time to breach a question that had been pestering him during the walk.

“Salyan,” he said. “What did you mean when you were said to me that you weren’t a freak?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Salyan said. “It was an old memory. A personal one. Too personal for the minute. Maybe another time.”

Carnius nodded, before he said; “Listen, you get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”

“Alright,” Salyan said. “Thanks.”

She unfurled her bedroll, taking off the jerkin and cloak she wore for travelling and climbed into it, leaving Carnius alone with the disturbing memories of Sheogorath’s trap.

Oooh...Niiice...

Pretty nightmarish stuff...

Ah! The man in the room!!...Yes, I remember him!!...

Loved the way you pretty much ignored the whole Xedillian "Let's torture some people even though you're a good character," thing...Well done... ...

And naked Ladyships are always appreciated... ...

Brilliant stuff matey...Looking forward to the next one...


Edit Nit:


Absolute brilliance....

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

A gritty and dark chapter this was. And I love it. Yes. Indeed I did. The nightmares and visions were creepy, well-written and of course, relevant to the story. It was nice seeing Agronak again, or his apparition, calling Carnius a murderer and that justice had to be repaid. It clearly shows his death still lingers in Carnius' conscious and subconscious and manifested itself in this place.

The mood lingers still even upon leaving that dreadful place. The cheery young woman remained silent, as you put it, acting out of character. This was a good touch! I liked it a lot! Shows you are indeed capable of setting the mood. I can't wait to see wha Carnius will do now. And what darker things he may come across.

*dances crazily. Applauds heartedly. Fair dues, yes indeed, fair dues, oh yes!*

The series of dreams were very creepy. Love it! Having the facility attack the two of them is brilliant, and makes more sense than having the hero torture people into either death or madness. I like how that part was skipped, would have made very little sense. I’d see Carnius and Salyan kill the keeper sooner than that. By the way, that bit at the beginning was neat; showing him coming back to life after his facility was now needed again. Not sure what the snake part was at the end of the dreams, but I assume that will be a talked about more at a later time.


And what the heck is this?

McBadgere: Nightmarish was exactly what I was going for with this chapte, and good memory on the fellow with the room. He's rather important, all things considered, you'll see how...

And if I'm honest, I didn't really avoid the whole Xedilian torture/kill thing on any kind of moral ground, if I'm honest, and I did the hallucination sequence because a) I thought my own idea was nastier, this allowed me to drop hints to some pretty vital plot points and generally make things wierd and disturbing and c) that in-game sequence never made sense to me simply because it always struck me as strange that the adventurers manage to somehow turn up the very moment that you activate the place. I mean, how did they get there so quickly?

But yes, that was why more than anything else. As you might have guessed from a story set in a place where things such as religions that practice human sacrifice are fairly run of the mill and people rub shoulders with Daedra and vampires and the like and view it as pretty mundane, this story is delving into rather subjective morality, and that whole 'kill or craze' quandry would have fitted quite nicely if I could have somehow made the adventurers turning up so quickly work (and hadn't radically altered the nature of Xedilian itself anyway).

Thanks for the nit, by the way, I've gone and sorted it.


LL: Agronak's death was a pretty key moment for Carnius, and it's impact was pretty lasting, even if he's beginning to get over the worst of it; seeing as Xedilian's attacks on the psyche are immensely personal ones, it's going to exploit a raw psychological wound like that one against Carnius.

As for what other things he comes across, well, one of those things is a new character. Read on and take a look!


King Coin: Like I said to McBadgere above, I wasn't so much bothered by the nature of Xedilian's kill or craze quandry (I love that term!) as I was by the question of how the adventurers got there quickly in the first place. I could see how Carnius could have problems with it, but considering that Salyan has lived the Isles almost all of her life and thus has a rather more lasseiz-faire approach to these things, I'm not so sure she'd be bothered. She'd probably find the ways the place drives visitors insane rather entertaining...

And the snake will return in due course. If you're clued up on some of the more obscure parts of TES lore (and I'm talking rather obscure indeed) then you've probably worked out what it is, but rest assured that it's a pretty important part of the plot later.

And that smiley is something I'm pretty sure the admins put in there to traumatise us all with its hypnotic, terrifying eyebrows. Suffice to say, my own Xedilian nightmare would probably comprise of an eternity of that and nothing else...



And new part time! Whoop!


Chapter 18-Feaster

A night’s sleep had done them both some good. Salyan was more talkative on the road, and now that he had slept on it, the worst of the shock had worn off on Carnius. The path they were taking was leading them through dense thickets of mushroom forest, trunks snaking over the road and plunging it into shadow, thick funguses and stunted plants fighting for light in the undergrowth.

“Salyan,” he said at one point, running a hand over the top of his head, grimacing as he felt the fine fuzz of hair that was creeping up from his scalp. “Is there anywhere in New Sheoth that I can get my hair cut?”

“Well, there’s Ghan Shi, in Bliss,” Salyan said, ducking her head to avoid a slick vine that was hanging over the road. “He’s a good barber.”

“Good,” Carnius said. “This stuff’s annoying me and I forgot to pack a razor.” He glanced over at Salyan, whose own hair was somehow clean and well kept despite the absence of bathhouses that was prevalent on their journey to Xedilian. “How come you’ve managed to keep yourself looking alright?”

“It’s a spell I know,” she said. “Just one for hygiene and so forth, that’s all.”

“Handy for you,” Carnius said. “Makes me wish I was good at magic.”

“Some have the talent, some don’t,” Salyan said. “To be fair, you’re much better at hitting things instead.”

That got a quiet chuckle from Carnius.

“I suppose it balances out in the end, in that case,” he said, smiling.

“And that’s why we work so well together as a team,” Salyan said, before her brow furrowed. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“There’s somebody shouting something,” Salyan said, hurrying forwards. “Just ahead.”

Carnius followed, the sound beginning to come through to him as the pair made their way along the road that wound through the dense mushroom tree forest. The sight they came to was enough to give them pause for a few moments.

The forest cleared to a bleak, flat moor. To one side of the, a crystal twice the height of a man jutted from the ground, a jagged silvery monolith, and surrounding that a small group of men armoured in plate cut from the same material. They had company; one of them a figure in dark blue robes and a helmet of that same crystal and the other, a woman wearing mail and light plating, was trying to kill every one of them.

“The Madgod watches over me, abominations!” she cried as she smashed the pommel of the two-handed sword she carried into the visor of one of the armoured warriors, knocking it back. In a movement to swift to follow, the blade whirled around and sliced down onto the top of its helm, cutting it in half from head to groin. It dissolved in a shower of silver powder, and as a heavy silver object thudded down on the ground, the woman turned on the spot with impossible swiftness to block a strike from another foe. “The primal hunger will see you consumed!”

She stepped out of the way of a stab from one trying flank her, jabbing the tip of her blade through its neck. Like its fellow, that one dissolved into a pile of dust, and as the other one hacked its blade towards her she managed to bring her own weapon around in a parry.

“She needs our help!” Salyan exclaimed.

“Really?” Carnius asked as he watched her fight. “She seems to be doing fine.”

That earned him a glower from the bard, and he shook his head.

“I’m not serious,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Salyan nodded as Carnius began his charge.

The first enemy he hit barely saw him before his gauntlet slammed into the side of its helm. It stumbled back, the crystal cracking under the impact, and in the corner of his vision Carnius saw the figure in the blue robes point the crystal-topped staff it carried towards him. Salyan’s silence spell killed the light glimmering within the stone a moment later, but the automaton had managed to recover. It stabbed at him with the blade, Carnius catching its tip with his left vambrace, a rolling motion deflecting it away and stumbling it. He grabbed its arm with his right hand, stamping down on the side of its knee, reversing his hold and smashing his knuckles into the side of its helmet once more. It dissolved into dust and he turned towards the enemy with the staff. He was backing away, the magical weapon raised to defend himself, and Carnius charged. The man turned to flee, but the point of a blade erupted from his midriff, the gore-slick tip lifting him into the air and letting him slide down it. The woman lowered the weapon after a moment, kicking the body off, and a moment later the tip of the blade, somehow now clean of blood, was resting against Carnius’ throat.

“Who are you?” she challenged.

“A friend,” Carnius said, taking in her appearance for the first time. Caramel skin, slight points to her ears, dark hair pulled back in a topknot. She was shaking with adrenaline, and Carnius saw that the pupils of her eyes were so huge that her amber irises were nothing more than a faint ring of colour around them. The tip of the blade pressed slightly harder against his throat, before she drew it back.

“No, Madsen, I believe him,” she said, seemingly to nobody. “Almeria Dranedil, Cleric of the Feasters. Who are you? Be quick, we haven’t much time.”

“Carnius Hackelt,” Carnius said.

“Salyan Irrenius,” Salyan added.

Almeria nodded as the crystal began to glimmer with light.

“There are more of them coming,” she said. “I don’t know how to shut this thing down but I won’t allow these creatures to roam this area unchecked. Help me fight them, I beg of you.”

Carnius and Salyan nodded, glancing round as the crystal began to hum with power. Blue energy arced from its core, striking the body of the man in robes, lifting him into the air and healing shut the wound in his midriff. White mist seeped from it, beginning to solidify and take form as more of those beings with blades of crystal in their hands.

Almeria pulled a flask filled with a glowing green liquid from her belt, unstopped it and emptied it of its contents in a single swig. She convulsed in a single violent movement, taking a deep and ragged breath, and righted herself.

“Sing praise to Sheogorath, and consume the flesh of his enemies!” she cried, before throwing herself towards the enemy. The robed figure was her target, and he didn’t have time to block before her greatsword descended and sliced across his body, a streaming sheet of delicate crimson trailing the blade like a banner as the man’s guts spilled on the ground.

As two more of the crystalline figures took form, Salyan sent a frenzy spell slicing towards one of them. As they began to fight, Carnius turned his attention to another one of the armoured beings that had just appeared. He stepped into its reach as it drew its blade, knocking the weapon aside before hammering a series of punches into it, the Daedric ebony on his knuckles cracking the crystal the protected it. It dissolved into dust and he parried a slash from another of the creatures.

“Kneel!” it screamed at him in a voice like the pealing of shattered bells. “Kneel!”

It withdrew and slashed at him again, and Carnius reeled back as a burning furrow of pain cut across his face. He cursed and stumbled back, hot blood beginning to seep from it, and barely managed to parry the next strike that slashed towards him.

He managed to push the next stab aside and open up its guard, and it screamed at him once more.

“Kneel!”

“Bugger off!” Carnius replied as he slammed his fist into its faceplate. It dissolved into silver powder, a heavy round crystal thudding to the ground from where its chest once was, and his next survey of the scene was enough to three of the things descending on Almeria. Her own blade was a blurred whirlwind of steel as she parried their strikes, turning and spinning on the spot, her movements those of a dancer as much as a swordswoman’s. She stabbed out once, ripping through the throat of one and leaving it to crumble to nothing, before she turned the weapon the spot and blocked a slash from another of those crystalline creatures. Both blades sang as they ran along each other, Almeria ducking under its blade arm and behind its reach in a movement so swift Carnius would have thought it impossible. Her greatsword swept around and parted its head from its shoulders and she barrelled through the dissolving body to feint at the remaining one and then bring the blade under its guard and stab into its armpit.

“Feast on the flesh of the unrighteous!” she cried in triumph.

More of the things were beginning pull through from the pulsing crystal, and the eviscerated figure in the robes was beginning to rise from the ground once again, his wounds healed.

“Sheogorath and the Isles are one and the same!” Almeria announced as she launched herself into combat. “His divinity permeates the land!”

She blocked a strike and the return stab killed her enemy in a moment. Salyan’s shockwave spell knocked a few of the foe away, and Carnius used the opportunity of them being stumbled to launch himself into their midst while they were stumbled.

“All living things grow from the Isles!” Almeria yelled as she bisected another foe. “All living things are of Sheogorath!”

She blocked a swing from another of the shining crystalline beings as she stepped to its side, swung her claymore under its guard and sliced into its armpit and out past its neck, head and arm sliding away from the rest of it body before it crumbled.

“To partake in that which lives is to partake in the Madgod!” Almeria cried. “To consume his living creatures is to consume Sheogorath himself!”

Carnius blocked a sideways slash from one of the creatures, pushing its arm away and stumbling it. He stepped after it into its reach, slamming both his fists into its midriff with a grunt of effort. It doubled over and he smashed both fists down on the back of its helm, sending it crumbling to dust.

“To consume the divine is to become divine!” Almeria called as she sliced down on another crystal soldier, hacking deep into its chest and turning it to powder. “Every living thing we eat makes us akin to Sheogorath!”

Salyan sent another Silence spell at the robed figure with the staff, and that was enough to put his staff and any spells he had out of action before the tip Almeria’s claymore tore up under his jaw. He hung from its point like a grisly pennant before a flick from the blade sent the top of his skull sailing away from the rest of his body.

“Let nothing remain unconsumed!” she cried. “Feed the primal hunger! We are the Feasters! We shall be of the Madgod!”

Carnius blocked a blow that one of the crystalline creatures sent at him and managed to step out of the way of a second’s swing. A third appeared on the edge of his vision, and he barely succeeded in avoiding the stab it sent spearing towards him. One of them exploded into dust as the point of Almeria’s blade tore from its chest, and she took advantage of its comrade’s confusion to stab the weapon through its midriff. Carnius grabbed the wrist of the remaining one’s sword arm and swung his free hand upwards, smashing it into the thing’s elbow. The crystal around it cracked and peeled away, revealing a core of white light as the thing screamed, and Carnius slammed his hand forwards again into its chest. The stone splintered, and a second blow smashed it into nothing.

“There is but one thing the true Feaster can do!” Almeria cried. “Sing praise to Sheogorath, and consume the flesh of his enemies!”

The fight went on, relentless waves of the crystalline beings forming from the monolith that created them, their commander rising once more whenever he was killed. Carnius was beginning to flag, his reserve of stamina potions running dry and Salyan’s magicka replenishment elixirs having been long since exhausted. If it had not been for the unstoppable whirlwind of pure violence that was Almeria, they would have died long ago, but even she was beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

They needed help, and they needed it soon.


Kiskella Tulfis stopped her rayet with a gentle tug of the reins, halting the rest of the patrol as she heard the noise coming up from head. From between the mushroom trees, the sound of steel clashing against steel, yells of something that she couldn’t quite make out. A fight.

“Weapons ready, sisters,” she said, drawing the long, curved cavalry sabre that she carried at her waist. “Trouble ahead.”

The Dark Seducers under her command complied without a word, drawing their own blades and taking up the shields they had stowed, Kelrin and Loria drawing and stringing their bows. A squeeze of her knees set Tulfis’ rayet into a trot, and as she continued down the path, the Kiskella ready for trouble as the other seven Mazken that made up the patrol followed. She cursed when she saw the sight before her; Order Knights surrounding one of their characteristics obelisks of silver crystal. It was a sight she knew all too well from the battles she had fought during the previous Greymarches.

“Kelrin, Loria,” she said. “Flank around the enemy and provide archer support; stay swift and aim true. The rest of you, with me! For the Isles! Charge!”

She kicked her heels into the sides of her rayet and with a hoot it surged forwards with the rest of the patrol. The six mounted troops hit the side of the Order Knight’s flank in a wedge, momentum and mass bowling the enemy over as they charged. Tulfis hacked down on the helm of one of the Order Knights as she passed it, speed and the force behind the blow crumbling it to nothing, and the backswing knocked away another one of them before an arrow from either Kelrin or Loria speared into its arm. The next moment, an Imperial stepped from the melee and smashed a heavy gauntlet into its helm; before she could speak to him, her rayet reared up and kicked out with her powerful hind legs at an Order Knight that had been charging her. The crystal Daedra was knocked to the ground and as she had been trained, her mount stabbed down with the heavy steel spike that had been attached to the end of her beak, ending its life.

“Imperial!” she called out over the noise of the fight. Her words were cut short as another Order Knight charged her side, stabbing towards her; she caught the blow with her shield and stabbed down its neck and into its chest. “Imperial!”

“What?” the man replied, glancing over from where he had pummelled another Order Knight to dust with the heavy gauntlets he was wearing.

“The crystals they drop, get them to the monolith!” Tulfis said, knowing there was no time for formalities. “Push them into it; it’s the only way to shut it down!”

The Imperial nodded, grabbed the round crystal that had fallen on the ground, and made for the monolith, calling out; “Salyan, give me a hand!”

As she hacked down at another Order Knight, she saw in the corner of her eye another mortal plucking the strings of a lyre she was holding and sending some kind of spell at a pair of Order Knights trying to block the Imperial man’s way. As they began to fight one another, he barrelled past, grabbing another one of the crystals from where it lay on the ground and reaching the monolith itself. He pushed the two stones into its side, both of them sliding into the seemingly solid material without effort, and he turned back, casting around for another crystal. Tulfis silently wished him luck as she turned her attentions on another foe, a stab forcing it back and into the reach of her rayet. As the Mazken’s mount had been trained to do, it stabbed its metal-sheathed beak into the Order Knight’s vulnerable side, spearing it and sending it dissolving away.

A deep, groaning crack split the air, and for a moment the combat halted as all eyes fell upon the monolith. The light within it died, and lightning-bolt fractures began to spread across its side. With the sound of shattering glass, it came apart, great chunks of it tumbling down to the ground.

The combat that remained was brief, the remaining Order Knights and their leader pressing back on their enemies in one last bid for vengeance. The Order Priest that lead them was wounded by an arrow and a young woman with tan skin and black hair finished him with several vicious strikes from the greatsword she carried. She turned on an Order Knight nearby and finished in a brief and furious flurry of blows.

After that, silence fell on the battlefield.

Please. Morality in Daedric realms? There is no such thing. Daedra are what they are. You can't go up to Molag Bal and tell him to stop raping people. He can't. Because he is rape. The physical manifestion of rape. Sheogorath is madness and that's what makes them so interesting. Evil is just a little sad title used by mortals to label Daedric Princes. "Herp derp! Daedra are da bad guys!"

Nonsense. When one is in a Daedric realm, all concepts of "morality" is thrown out the window. There is even a famous quote in the ES universe that says: "When thou enterest into Oblivion, Oblivion entereth into thee."

The realm becomes a part of the individual and it rubs off into their psyche. They adopt the concepts of the realm around them if they stay for too long. Such as the Soul Cairn taking piece of the player, vice versa, in Dawnguard or the player mantling Sheogorath and becoming the heart of madness itself. Or simple men going into the Hunting Grounds and coming out Big Game Hunters/werewolves.

So, am I saying I expect Carnius to turn into a giggling loon, demented professional entrail-jump-roper Duke of Sheogorath's Nut House?

Hehe, not quite, but it wouldn't surprise me. It won't matter if a gladiator goes into a Daedric Realm, what matters is how he returns from the experience. If he ever returns at all. You're doing a good job so far and trust me, I've been reading this. Just haven't commented on it. It's my sneak mode.

Story:

A night’s sleep had done them both some good.
No ?

Haircuts? Puh-leeze! Gladiators don't need haircuts. And damn, Almeria went crazy yet her words seem to make sense as she fought the enemy. And some Mazken action ensued after that. Hell yeah! That was a hell of a battle between the Order Knights and the Hot Dark Seducers led by Kiskella.

Well, that's exactly the point I was trying to mak; the Daedra follow their own rules and transcend the limitations of traditional morality and instead follow their own definitions of what is moral in order to be Deadra; they're the ultimate example of Nietzsche's Ubermensch, defining for themselves what is moral and what is not. And that morality of theirs is subject to their own desires and whims, ergo their morality (and that of this story) is subjective. It's still a moral code, but just one that most people wouldn't recognise.

(Apologies if that makes no sense, I was tired when posting that).


You used the smiley. I don't like you any more.

That's hardly an innuendo in any case...

And Carnius is getting a haircut; Kraven can go around all dreadlocked up like a savage, but Carnius likes his head smooth and clean. It also allows me to write in Ghan Shi the barber, who should be a lot of fun.

Pleased you liked the battle, and Almaria's words are basically the foundation of the entire religion of the Feasters, and seeing as they're a Shivering Isles religion I was aiming for something that was both crazy and yet kind of philosophically sound. You'd be amazed at they use those words to justify, though. And Kiskella is actually a rank in the Dark Seducer military and not her name, and I think it's basically the equivalent of an NCO in a regular military. I'll try and edit the chapter to make that clearer.

Thanks for reading and commenting, by the way!

Also, so everyone knows, I'm going to be away for the next week or so may be without any access to the net, so I'm afraid there might not be an update coming until the New Year at the earliest. It depends on whether I can get a connection at where I'm staying or not, but I'm not getting my hopes up. After that, however, I should probably have quite a number of chapters for you all.

Oh yeah!!...

Loved the fight, you have an amazing talent for the fighty stuff...Brilliant...

The new characters' introduction was superbly done...Easily got a handle on them straight away...Brilliant again...

Looking forward to more when you return...

Nice one!!....

*Applauds heartily*...

Oh, and btw...While I have no wish to spam up the thread with a morality debate...When I said the thing that launched the morality discussion...I was simply talking about my experience with the Xedillian thing...I am, and will always play the Good Knight character...So I did have many issues with the SI questline...

I understand other people's views on the Daedra and morality...And all that...

Although, going by the lore that I read on the official website, I will say that Molag Bal doesn't appear to be the physical manifestation of rape...Simply that he's an ordinary Daedric Prince (An Aedra who was lazy) who likes his hobby a bit too much...

And the argument that you can't hold the DLs up to our standards of morality seems like an excuse...If by my standards what the DLs do could be considered evil, then they bloody well are...Rape is evil, Molag Bal loves to rape, Molag Bal is evil...Whether that makes me a bit too black and white where this whole thing is concerned...I don't give two sh*ts...(Sorry Mustard)...

That said, I actually genuinely don't mind what happens - moralistically speaking - in any given story, (Even when I was reading DE's) just so long as I enjoy what I'm reading...

I'm assuming that whatever happens, Carnius isn't going to start wearing a tracksuit and calling himself Jimmy any time soon no?... ...

First of all, because I'm evil:



*cackles like a madman... appropriate considering the story.

Second, I share similar views as McB on morality.

Third, the story!

That was a neat fight you showed, and who is this new crazy we've met? Definitely dangerous with that sword of hers. I found it funny that she kept up that tirade throughout the entire fight. She's no vegetarian! I was wondering when someone would come along and inform them of the proper way to destroy one of those monoliths. I loved it that it was a cavalry formation of Mazken. Whatever it was that they were riding, it seemed much more helpful than a horse would have been in a fight.

I apologize for my absence, but I would like to say the story is just as interesting as it was when I left. I am eager to see where you'll take it.

McB: Well, my point, as labyrinthine and unclear as it was (stupid fuzzy morning brain...) was more that the laws of morality simply can't touch the Daedric Princes. You can call them evil all you want, but they're Daedra. They don't care.

Anyway, back to the story, thanks for the kind words and I'm glad you enjoyed it, and that you managed to get a decent sense of what Almeria's like. There's a few other sides to her character along with the fanatical craziness, but yeah, that's a fairly major part to it.


KC:

Okay, even a daedra would call that evil...

I'll admit that Almeria is a character very much inspired by Games Workshop's Warhammer 40,000 universe, where the primary faction of ostensibly good guys are a bunch of insane, xenophobic, fanatical quasi-space-catholics, and having warrior-priests yelling out prayers to their God Emperor in the middle of battles is par for the course over there (though they usually do so wielding chainsaw-swords instead of regular ones because if there's one thing 40K does well, it's over the top insanity). And she's defeinitely not a veggie, not by any stretch of the imagination! The cavalry squad of Mazken were fun to write, and the mounts they were using, Rayet, first appear back in chapter 12, along with Kallix the Dremora and Haila the Dunmer. I reckon it's probably debatable as to whether they're better than horses in a fight (horses , but I guess they score points with the beak. Eh, you'd probably have to ask somebody who knows more about horses than I do.

In any case, thank you very much for reading!


Zalphon: Thank you very much, and there's no need to apologise for not commenting; so long as you're enjoying reading this, that's good enough for me.




And, to make up for being away and not updating this, here's two chapters for y'all to enjoy.

Chapter 19-I can’t think of a bloody title!

“So what exactly were those things?” Carnius asked the Dark Seducer that had come to their rescue, picking up a crystal that one of the beings they had fought had dropped.

“They go by the name of Order Knights,” the Daedra, one that went by the name of Tulfis, replied. She had introduced herself as the patrol’s Kiskella, a leader of some kind. “They’re the footsoldiers of the Greymarch, the backbone of Jygallag’s army. The man with them was an Order Priest, something like a junior officer; they summon the obelisks which call Order knights and other forces of the Greymarch through, and command them in battle.”

“So that obelisk was what was keeping him alive, then,” Carnius said, glancing at the body. Almeria was crouched over it, having removed his helm and the clothing on his upper body for some purpose. There had been a greyish tint to his skin, and his eyes were milky white “We must have killed him a dozen times over and he kept getting back up.”

“Indeed,” Tulfis said. “You were lucky to have stumbled upon it when it had only just been called into being; Order Knights are bad enough when there are a lot of them, but if any Coensors or Dominions had managed to break through then things would have been much more difficult.”

Carnius nodded, gingerly feeling the blood-caked scar that had been sliced across his face by one of the things.

“And if one of those Arbitrators had arrived then things would have gone badly,” he remarked.

“I doubt that one of them could summon together the energy to appear this early in the Greymarch,” Tulfis replied. “And they’d only appear somewhere important, if my experience with other ones is anything to go by.”

“You’ve been in other Greymarches?” Carnius asked.

“Of course I have,” Tulfis said, giving Carniu a look that suggested that the question he had asked was incredibly simple. “I’m a Daedra after all; we can’t die. I’ve fought in every single one of them, ever since the creation of the Isles.”

She whistled, and her Rayet wandered over to her, a curious hoot sounding from its beak.

“I’ll need to report this to Sheogorath at once, if Sentinel hasn’t already,” she said. “You’ll be alright making your way to wherever you’re going on foot, I hope; judging by the way you three handled yourselves in that fight you won’t be needing an escort.”

“We’ll manage,” Carnius said.

“Glad to hear,” Tulfis said, taking her mount by its bridle. She inclined her head to Carnius. “May the Madgod watch over you until we meet once more, mortal.”

“May he watch over you too,” Carnius said, deciding that it was the polite thing to say.

“We make for New Sheoth, sisters,” Tulfis called to the rest of her patrol. The other Dark Seducers nodded and began to mount up; with a final farewell, they started down the road in a swift trot.

Carnius glanced over to Salyan where she was sat on a rock, looking at the scene of the fight. The ground was churned up and there were still crystals scattered about from the enemy dead, but it didn’t particularly look like a battle has taken place there a few minutes ago.

“You alright?” he asked as he approached.

“I’m fine, yes,” she said. She looked tired but pleased, her hair matted and grimy and her brow still damp with exertion. “The adrenaline’s just wearing off, that’s all. Didn’t realise how tired I was.”

“You never do until it’s over,” Carnius said. “Not unless you’re fighting for a long time. You did well, by the way; was that the first big fight you’ve been in?”

“I’ve been in the occasional tangle with zealots or heretics or wildlife before, but nothing on that scale, no,” she replied. “If I’m honest, all I really did was stay on the sidelines and loose off spells while you and Almeria got stuck in.”

“That was the sort of thing we needed, really,” Carnius replied. “Besides, it’s what you do best.”

“We were lucky Almeria was there, though,” Salyan said, nodding towards the woman. She was still crouch next to the corpse of the Order Priest, though her body obscured what she was doing. “I wouldn’t have fancied our odds if she hadn’t been helping us.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Carnius said. “Gods, if she’d been in the Arena she’d have been Grand Champion within a week.”

“Do you think we should ask her to help us?” Salyan asked. “I mean, she’s a Feaster, so she wouldn’t need much persuasion.”

“I could certainly see her coming in useful if we get into another fight like that,” Carnius said, standing up. Salyan followed suit. “Let’s ask.”

They approached, and Carnius stopped as she saw what Almeria had done ot he Order Priest’s body; both of his arms had been stripped of skin, and she was carving a cut of muscle from them with a long, sharp dagger.

“Almeria,” Salyan said. “We wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?” the Feaster asked, glancing up from her grisly work.

“We were hoping you might be willing to travel with us,” Salyan said. “We’re trying to stop these creatures from attacking the Isles and we need all the help we can get.”

“You’re working against the Final Starvation?” Almeria asked. “In that case, yes, I will gladly assist both of you; my duties as a Feaster ask no less of me.”

“You will? Great,” Salyan said. Almeria nodded.

“I’ll need to report this to the Temple of the Feast first, of course, and get permission from Feast Lord Dranden to do that instead of my usual duties as a missionary, but it shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.

“We’re going to New Sheoth anyway,” Salyan said. “You hear that, Carnius?”

There was no reply, and she glanced around. The gladiator was staring at the half-butchered corpse. “Carnius?”

“What are you doing to that man?” he asked.

“Preparing his flesh for consumption, so he may given to the Madgod as part of the Feast,” Almeria replied. “After all, is it not written in the Book of the Feast ‘Sing praise to Sheogorath and consume the flesh of his enemies?’”

“I have no idea,” Carnius said. That got him a frown.

“How can you not know of the Feasters?” Almeria asked. “I appreciate that there are many people who aren’t of my faith, but nonetheless you must have at least heard of us.”

“He’s from Nirn,” Salyan said. “I don’t think they approve of eating people over there. I don’t think they approve of many things, really.”

“That’s interesting,” Almeria remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever met somebody from there before. Is it true that you people worship the Aedra?”

“You mean the Nine Divines?” Carnius asked. “Yes, we do. I was never devout a worshipper, I’ll be honest, but we do, by and large.”

“How strange,” the Feaster said, before she shrugged. “But no matter. Give me a few minutes to finish off here and we can go.”

Salyan nodded, and she and Carnius stepped away as Almeria got back to work, muttering a prayer as she did so.

“I can’t help but feel slightly worried by the fact that I don’t feel as appalled as I think I should be,” Carnius said. “I think this place is beginning to get to me.”

“Maybe,” Salyan simply said.

The gladiator shrugged, before he glanced over to Almeria and called; “Are you nearly finished?”

“Almost,” she replied, where she was stowing the cuts away in her pack. Once she was done, she slung it on her back, and the trio set out.


They reached New Sheoth in the middle of the day after that one, but it was already dark. For the entire morning, an impenetrable phalanx of black clouds had been marshalling like the forming of a mob, and by the time they found their way to the basalt gates that lead into Crucible, it had turned into a storm. It was not an angry storm, the wind more biting than it was violent, the rain damp and heavy and yet not striking, and the thunder and lightning were desultory efforts from the clouds rather than any wrathful blows hurled at the ground by the sky.

The main square that greeted Crucible’s visitors was quiet, rain dripping from the statue of Sheogorath that occupied its centre. A figure in a cloak hurried past them, hunched against the weather, while a pair of Dark Seducers patrolled nearby, carrying guttering torches to combat the early darkness; they gave no sign as to whether the weather caused them any measure of discomfort.

“So what first?” Salyan asked. “Are we going to the palace?”

“It would be a good place to start,” Carnius said. “I’ll need to see Cutter about my gauntlets too, and see about that haircut.”

“Great,” Salyan said. “So are going to head through Bliss then, or-”

“Why would we go through Bliss?” Carnius interrupted.

“Because it’s nicer than Crucible,” Salyan said. “And Almeria needs to stop off at the Temple of the Feast too.”

“Almeria going there wasn’t why you said that, though, was it?” Carnius challenged. “What’s your problem with this place, Salyan?”

“I don’t have a problem with Crucible,” Salyan said.

“Then why do you never want to stay here?” Carnius asked. “Why do you complain about being here? Why is everything much better over in Mania than Dementia, then?”

“Well it…it just is,” Salyan said. “Everything here is old and grimy and poor and I don’t see why we need to have anything to do with it.”

“You know who you sound like?” Carnius said. “Some stuck up noble’s brat, that’s what.”

“A noble’s brat?” Salyan said. “Don’t you dare call me a brat! Don’t you dare, do you hear me?”

“Well then why do you sulk like one whenever we come here?” Carnius asked.

“I do not…you know what?” Salyan said. “Fine. Say I’m sulking, if you want. I don’t care; I don’t even know why I even need to bother staying with somebody who clearly liks to spend his time wallowing in filth.”

Before Carnius could stop her, she stormed away towards Bliss. Carnius blinked in surprise at that development, at how sudden the flaring of tempers had been, and Salyan had already disappeared from the square. Almeria was quiet for a moment, hovering.

“I should probably go and report to Feast Lord Dranden,” she said. “I’ll try and find you later.”

She left, leaving Carnius standing alone in the rain. He sighed, shaking his head, and set out for the palace.

Either the Dark Seducers at the Crucible gate had been informed of his arrival or recognised him from somewhere, as they opened it for him without question. He made his way across the palace’s courtyard, avoiding puddles that had formed in the path, and a glance up at the sky on the Mania side showed that, even though there was no storm, it was still overcast and drizzling.

He pushed the door to the palace open, and stepped through. There was a servant waiting to receive guests inside, and Carnius thanked the man as he handed him his cloak. Carnius pushed the door to the throne room, and frowned when it refused to budge. He knocked, and a few moments later, Haskill pulled it open.

“Lord Sheogorath will not be receiving any dignitaries, guests or petitioners today,” he said, before he saw who had knocked. “Though perhaps he will want to speak to you.”

He pulled open the door, and Carnius stepped through. Sheogorath was on his throne at the far end of the room, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a scowl on his face.

“Order Knights,” he said as Carnius entered. “Jyggalag’s damn Order Knights are already tramping about my realm. I am not happy, Carnius, not at all.”

“I’m sure,” Carnius said. “Do you mind coming down here if you want to talk? I’d rather not crane my neck.”

The snake that was curled around the throne began to lower Sheogorath to the floor.

“It’s quite refreshing to speak to someone who hasn’t the faintest idea of how you should address nobility, you know,” Sheogorath said. He gestured around the throneroom, as if indicating an invisible court thronging the room. “I can be surrounded by lackeys and lickspittles and lollygaggers at times. Is lollygaggers the right sort of word to use, Haskill?”

“I’m afraid that I don’t believe it is,” Haskill replied.

“Pah,” Sheogorath spat. “What does it matter? I’ve got Order Knights being called and the Greymarch’s monoliths popping up out of the ground. Who cares about a word when all that is happening?”

He stopped by Carnius, and he said; “Well, have you got any good news for me, at least? Is Xedilian working again?”

“Yes, it is,” Carnius said. “And speaking of which…”

His fist slammed into Sheogorath’s jaw. Even though Carnius’ knuckles were not encased in their gauntlets, the Daedra reeled back with a cry of shock, clutching where Carnius had struck.

“Tell us when you’re going to go risking our sanity like that!” Carnius snapped at him.

The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the ceiling of the throne room, with Sheogorath looking up at him.

“Now,” the Daedra said. “You get a free pass on that because you’re clearly upset about what happened in Xedilian and that action was a spur of the moment one, and goodness only knows that I’m spur of the moment made form. But if you strike me again, Carnius Hackelt, the things that I’ll do to you will make Xedilian seem like a picnic. Do you understand?”

Against the invisible force that was pinning him against the ceiling, Carnius managed to nod. He was lowered to the floor with a gesture from Sheogorath.

“I won’t on one condition,” Carnius said. “Don’t hold back information like that again. If you do, I’m leaving and you can find somebody else to help you.”

Sheogorath was silent for a moment, before he said; “You know, I think you’re probably one of the few mortals I’ve ever heard of who has the spine to say such a thing to a Daedric Prince while they’re standing in their realm. I mean, right now, I could do anything I wanted to you; I could turn you into a flammable gas and burn you, or click my fingers and rip your skin off, or transform you into a sweetroll, but you still stand up to me. I may have to take that backbone of yours and mount it on my wall when this is all over.”

“Does that mean we have a deal?” Carnius asked.

Sheogorath rubbed his hands together, taking a few contemplative steps away from Carnius.

“Tricky, tricky, tricky,” he said. “After all, right now what I would like is for somebody with a good head on their shoulders, and what I need is a sane man, but I wouldn’t want you to keep your head just because I made things easy for you. That wouldn’t do at all; would scupper them at the last moment quite magnificently.”

He spun on the spot to face the gladiator once more.

“You know, a good number of all the churches in the Isles believe that I send my people hardships and misfortune in order to test their faith and let them prove themselves worthy,” he said. “It’s a dreadfully silly thing to think, really, and most of the time I send bad things their way because it just makes me laugh to see everything fall apart around them, but I always find it very uplifting to see them rise above their troubles on the rare occasion that they do; it brightens my day up no end. But in your case, Carnius, I’m going to send bad things your way because it will be a test, because I need you to prove yourself worthy; I can’t have a weakling as my champion, and I need somebody who’s strong in the mind and well as the body to be that person. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Carnius said. “But if you’re going to test somebody, test me; my friends don’t need to be tormented by you.”

Sheogorath was quiet for a few moments.

“That’s a reasonable compromise, I suppose,” he said. “Goes against my grain somewhat, but if that means you’re happy then I’d guess that it’s for the best. Speaking of friends, what happened to Salyan Irrenius My Lord?”

“We…we had a disagreement,” Carnius said.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Sheogorath said. “It’s always a pity to see a good friendship go bad. Except when they go really bad; they’re quite entertaining to watch, then. But in this case, patch it up, I say; you’ll need all the friends you can get for the road ahead, that much is for certain.”

“Yeah, I was hoping to do that in any case,” Carnius said.

“Good man, good man,” Sheogorath said. “What sparked that little fued of yours, anyway?”

“I just got angry about the way she was always criticising Dementia,” Carnius said. “And then, I don’t know, both our tempers just flared up much more than they should have and she stormed off.”

“Ah, I see,” Sheogorath said. “That might have been my fault; people on the Isles always have spats and fallings out when I’m in a bad mood, and this news about the Order Knights didn’t do much for my temper.”

“So this storm is your fault, isn’t it?” Carnius asked.

“Oh yes, I can be held responsible for that little piece of inclement weather, I suppose,” Sheogorath said. “You didn’t catch a chill in it, did you? If I gave my own champion a cold I’d never hear the end of it from Peryite.”

“I’m fine,” Carnius said. “So what’s next?”

“Next? Hmm, that’s a good question. Next, next, next, let’s see. A meet and greet, that’s what! Get to know the Isles a little better.”

“A meet and greet with who?”

“Why, the cream of the Isles’ society,” Sheogorath said. “Duke Thadon of Mania, and Duchess Syl of Dementia. Go and introduce yourself to them, get yourself into their good books, earn their trust. Earning their trust will be useful for later, I’m sure of that. Their estates are right here in New Sheoth so there’ll be no need for any long journeys to far off places like Xedilian. Of course, they might require that of you in any case.”

“My Lord, might I be so forward as to suggest that we also urge your champion in the direction of the Pillars?” Haskill asked. “We can hardly afford to dally with the Greymarch on the way, after all.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sheogorath said. “Alright then, two things; introduce yourself to the Duke and the Duchess and run any little errands they might need you to do; after that, fetch me the Pillars of the Isles. And get your friend back. That’s three things to do.”

“What are the Pillars?” Carnius asked.

“Artefacts,” Sheogorath said. “Very, very powerful artefacts left behind by Jygallag in order to make the Isles easier to destroy during the Greymarch, hence why I can’t just nip over there and fetch them myself. If you get those, that’ll certainly make my life easier. And yours, too; a friend of mine is an enemy of Jygallag’s, after all.”

“And they’re going to be kept by, what, some kind of trap? A dungeon filled with Grummites? A guardian of some sort?” Carnius asked.

“A guardian, yes,” Sheogorath said. “Well, no. There are four Pillars, you see, one on each cardinal point of the Isles, and each one is guarded by one of my Angels.”

“So I’m taking it that I need to get these Pillars for you without the Angels killing me,” Carnius said.

“Exactly,” Sheogorath said. “Except they won’t kill you, really. Except Rage. She’ll kill you, if she gets the chance, and quite spectacularly too. The others won’t try and end your life, though, at least not directly. You probably won’t survive, all things considered.”

He glanced at Carnius.

“Are you still here?” he asked. “Get out of here, you know what to do. Shoo! Shoo shoo shoo shoo shoo!”

Sheogorath clapped his hands together, and Carnius found himself standing in the palace courtyard, his rain-cloak and pack next to him. He glanced around for a moment, baffled as to how he got there, before he shrugged and picked them up. He had a job to do, after all, and it was time to get to work.

Chapter 20-The Faith of the Feasters

As was tradition, Almeria prostrated herself before the statue of Arden Sul before she tried to gain entry to the Temple of the Feast. The flesh-sculpture of the holy Prophet glistened in the rain that had spattered on its sides of bare muscle; the beating heart that the father of the Feasters held in his left hand sent bloodied water spraying on the pavement around it with every convulsion.

After she had murmured the Words of Supplication before the blessed chosen of Sheogorath, she rose, stepping through the open doors of the Temple. The threshold was decorated in its usual ornamentation of bones, meat and organs, and thanks to the weather the blood that they dripped was landing on the red-stained flagstones around the entrance with even greater rapidity. A drop of blood spattered on her forehead and she wiped it away with the back of her hand and licked it clean; tasted like Orc.

Almeria took a moment to marvel at the glorious, gore-soaked magnificence that was the central hall of the Temple of the Feast. The pillars that supported its roof gleamed in the light of the braziers that dotted it, coated with a layer of reshaped bone from generations of sacrifices. Organs and cuts of meat decorated the room, kept alive and fresh by magic, each one a living relic given willingly by the heroes and martyrs of the Feasters.

Along the walls were the freizes of various significant moments from the history of the Isles and of her faith; the Contemplation of Arden Sul and the first Sacred Gorging, his battle with the unholy force that had been Silver Famine, the penning of the Book of the Feast, his sacrifice to the Madgod where he had consumed so much flesh and viscera that his stomach had burst, an offering of himself to his fellow disciples. She stopped a moment by one of her favourite decorations, a tryptich of the martyrdom of Saint Ilvis at the hands of the Starvers; the unfortunate saint had been locked away by them without food or drink, fated to perish from malnourishment, but to spite them and to glory the Madgod she had ripped her own heart from her chest and eaten it in front of her captors.

With reverent steps, she approached the centre of the hall, the flesh-sculpt of Sheogorath himelf, sat upon a throne of carved bone. At his feet was an altar, the top already adorned with offerings, and from her pack Almeria took two of her own; the cuts she had taken from the Order Priest, unwrapping the meat from the waxed paper that held it, and the silver heart of one of the Order Knights.

“Great Madgod, mighty and benevolent lord the feast, eater of flesh and organs, accept this offering from your humble servant,” she prayed, kneeling before it. “I give unto you offerings from two of your enemies, that by consuming them you might take their strength and weaken their resolve.”

She drew her blade, and lay it flat befre the altar and the statue.

“My lord,” she said. “In your mercy and your wisdom, I beg you to bestow Madsen with the blood that is worthy and release her from her torment.”

She was quiet for a few moments more, in silent contemplation of the Madgod and Arden Sul, then rose from her kneeling position, sheathing her blade. There was a man waiting for her, a Redguard with sunken, anaemic features and a sallow shade to his dark skin, dressed in the traditional crimson robes of Feaster priests.

“You’re back ealier than I expected, Almeria,” he said as the missionary turned to face him.

“Feast Lord Dranden,” Almeria said, bowing her head. “I had to cut my mission short; I come bearing important news, and need to make a request.”

In truth, now that she was back in New Sheoth, she wanted to see Cutter, but it was more important that she gave her report to the Feasters.

“What news?” Dranden asked, frowning.

“The Final Starvation,” Almeria said. “It’s upon us.”

“Sacred Madgod,” Dranden murmured. “You’re certain?”

“I am,” Almeria said.

“I see. Come with me, missionary, we will need to discuss this.”

With Almeria in tow, the Feast Lord left the main hall of the temple, pushing open a door to the building’s living quarters tucked away in the corner. They headed down some of the corridors, stopping at a doorway which Dranden pushed open. The room within was musty with the smell of old parchment and vellum, the only light the glow of a few crystals on a desk, where a bearded Dunmer was hunched over a desk with a quill and a heavy grimoire.

“Feast Lord,” he said, looking up from his work. “Do you need something?”

“We need to speak to you in my office immediately, Camelran,” Dranden said.

“Could it wait a little while, Feast Lord?” Camelran said. “I’m in the middle of something at the moment.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” the Feast Lord said. “Bring a copy of the last prophecy of Arden Sul, as well.”

“If you insist,” the Dark Elf said, rising from his seat and heading to a shelf. He ran a finger over the parchments stored away on it, drawing one free. “Here we are.”

Dranden nodded, leaving with the lore keeper of the Feasters and the missionary follow him. He headed to his office, a spacious room dominated by a large desk; when he stood behind it and motioned for Camelran to set the text had taken down on it, looked over by the skulls of the previous Feast Lords and Feast Ladies that had come before him, set into alcoves on the walls above.

“Almeria,” the Feast Lord said. “What makes you think that the Final Starvation is upon us, then?”

“Just a few days ago, I was forced to fight at the foot of an obelisk that was creating crystal beings called Order Knights,” Almeria said. “I was aided by two others, a Manic named Salyan and an outsider from Nirn who came here through Sheogorath’s doorway, and managed to destroy the obelisk with the help of a Dark Seducer patrol.”

“That’s rather unusual, but I’m not sure how that relates to the Final Starvation,” Camelran said. “It sounds more like the Church of Mania’s myths of the Greymarch, or the Sisterhood of Immolation’s stories about the Extinguishing.”

“I know, but ther’s more to it,” Almeria said. “There were things I saw which related to the final prophecy of Arden Sul, links to it.”

She unrolled the parchment, and pointed at one of the lines on it.

“‘Kneel shall the crystal call, armoured silver stone of the starvation dreadful,’” she read out. “The Order Knights I fought, they kept shouting kneel at us, like it was a war cry of some kind; that’s all they would say, kneel. And they were made of a silver-coloured crystal as well.”

“That sounds rather like what those lines of the prophecy were describing,” Camelran nodded.

“Exactly,” Almeria said. “And there’s more.” She pointed to another line. “‘Up shall stab the obelisks of the antithesis, Isle’s headstones sustaining hunger’s servants eternal.’ The Order Knights we fought were lead by someone called an Order Priest; every time we killed him, he would simply get back up again, resurrected by the crystal.”

“You think this is the Final Starvation, then?” Dranden asked.

“And the Greymarch and the Extinguishing, and every other story that’s ever been told about the end of the Isles,” Almeria said. “These are the end times, there’s no doubt about that.”

The room was silent, Dranden giving a giving a sober nod.

“I’ll send word out to all of our missionaries and have them recalled at once,” he said. “We shall gather all of our people and face the Final Starvation together.”

“That was the other thing I wished to see you about, Feast Lord,” Almeria said. “The outsider I mentioned, the one who came here through the doorway, he’s trying to stop it; I want to help him. That means I can’t be with the Feasters, though.”

“If you think it’s for the best that you stay with him, then go with him, by all means,” Dranden said. “I turst your judgement, Almeria.”

“Thank you, Feast Lord,” she said.

Dranden nodded, before he said; “Camelran, you can return to your work. If you could stay here a few moments, Almeria, I would be grateful.”

“Of course,” the missionary said as Camelran gathered the parchment and left.

“How is Madsen?” Dranden asked after the Feasters’ lore keeper had departed.

“She’s as well as she can be, I suppose,” Almeria said. “I’m still looking for the right person, though.”

“Perhaps this mission of yours will be what brings you to them,” Dranen suggested. “Averting the end of the Isles is worthy cause, after all, and you can’t deny that Madsen would be of great use to you in that cause.”

“I’m not letting my sister stay the way she is just because she’s useful,” Almeria said, sudden anger slipping into her voice. “I’m going to make sure that she dies, that’s what matters.”

“You’re right, of course,” Dranden said. He decided ot change the subject. “What of your supply of Madgod’s Blood?”

“I was forced to use it all in order to deal with those Order Knights,” Almeria said. “I need to speak to Brewing Mistress Lucia about getting some more.”

“Of course,” Dranden said. “One last thing, and then you can go; this outsider you’re travelling with, may I speak to him about this mission of his?”

“I’ll let him know that you wish to talk, of course,” Almeria said, standing up. She bowed her head. “Until we meet again, Feast Lord.”

“Until we meet again,” Dranden said.

She made her way through the corridors of the temple, exchanging a few greetings and words with the fellow Feasters she bumped into as she went. She went downwards, into the basement of the temple where the vats were kept. She sniffed at the sweet scent that wafted towards her as she opened its door, and headed down the stairs.

The vat rooms were lit by glowing stones in order to minimse the risk of any fires, and and the soft white light they cast left long, deep shadows stretching across the room. Almeria headed through the room, eyes in a slight squint against the darkness.

“Anybody here?” she called out. “Lucia?”

“Who’s that?” a voice replied, and a moment later an Imperial woman stepped out from around a corner of the cellar. “Oh, Almeria, I wasn’t expecting to see you here; I thought you were still out on missionary work.”

“Something came up and there’s something else I need to do,” Almeria replied. “And I need to resupply.”

“What happened to the last lot that I gave you?” Lucia asked.

“I used it all up,” Almeria said. “There was a fight that I was part of, a big one that went on for a while, and I ended up using it all up then.”

“Right, of course,” Lucia said. “Let’s see about getting some more. Come on, then.”

She stepped back around the corner, Almeria following to the area where the final stages of preparation for the Madgod’s Blood were made. The potent drug was the greatest weapon in the asenal of any Feaster missionary short of their unwavering faith in the Madgod, an elixir developed by Arden Sul in a fit of divine inspiration to boost the strength and speed of any who took it to remarkable levels. Over time, those who took it would grow stronger than most, muscular power boosted by the Felldew, Greenmote and other potent substances, along with alchemical sorcery within it. It was also highly addictive, and after a hwile caused the body and mind to break down and fail; the lift of a Feaster missionary was not a long one, and if the people and creaures of the Isles did not kill them, the Madgod’s Blood would.

“Here we go,” Lucia said, handing over a carrying case packed with small glas vials, each one filled with a dose of the potent substance. “Good luck with this mission of yours, Almeria.”

“Thank you,” the missionary said as she tok it, pushing aside the craving that began to rise at the sight of it. She’d have some Felldew later, she decided, that would allay the worst of the rising need for the drug she was currently feeling. She’d go and find Cutter as well, get her blade attended to as well as some other matters.

She bowed her head to Lucia, and left, heading up through the temple and out into the steets of Bliss. She set her course for Crucible, abandoning the notion of finding Carnius for the moment, instead heading through the town to the forge.

She pushed open the door to the forge, and called out; “Cutter? Cutter, it’s me.”

The Bosmer was bent over an anvil, hammering a blade, and she looked up from her work. She was wearing goggles, and with the soot on her face she looked like a in insect of somc kind. She pulled them up, a ring of clean skin surrounding her eyes, wide in surprise.

“You’re back already?” she asked.

“Something came up,” Almeria said. That was enough for both her and Cutter, and they kissed. The smith’s lips tasted like blood, steel and smoke.

“I missed you,” Cutter said.

“I was only gone a few days,” Almeria said. Cutter gave her a grimy smile.

“They seemed longer when I thought you were going to be a few months,” she said.

After that, she slid the bolt on the door shut and flipped the sign in the window to say that the forge was no longer open. They went upstairs on the pretense of Almeria washing away the dirt of the road and Cutter cleaning off the forge’s soot. For a while, Almeria allowed herself to forget about the oncoming threat of the Final Starvation, about Madsen, about the cravings for Madgod’s Blood she was feeling, about the work she had ahead of her. For a while, she simply celebrated the fact that she was back in the arms of the woman she loved.

TWO JUICY CHAPTERS!!!

"Chapter 19-I can’t think of a bloody title!"
LMAO.

Tulfis is old! Goodness! Grey March happen every millenia, and this guy's been around for all of them?

Almeria truly is something else, isn't she? The Starvation of the Isles? Count me in to help stop it! I loved the trip to Sheol and the argument between Carnius and the "brat,". Too bad he left in the cold rain , but he's a gladiator. He toughed it up. I can see why he got upset though. He lived in the Waterfront District in Cyrodiil, where it was old and grimy and simple. He was offended by her words, I'm sure.


And we get to meet the Creme De La Creme of the Isles . . ,Lady Syl and her rather large . . .paranoia :lol.

Sheogorath, though my least favorite Daedric Prince, makes me laugh all the time. Even more when you write about him. I chuckled when Carnius got "shoed" from the palace. And it's off to some Angels, huh. I will post for the next chapter when I read it, but I'm tied at the moment and need some sleep!

Good post!

Edited.

How gruesome. Blood, viscera and all manners of oily remains! Chapter 20 was full of it! It had a cultish and religious, almost sacrificial feel to it. And this was a different chapter indeed! No Carnius! WOAH! At least we got some love at the end aside from all that blood and gore . . .nevertheless it was a juicy chapter. The Grey March is upon them!

Nits: The Madgod she had ripped her own heart from her chest and eaten it in front of her captors.
Surely you meant "ate," or is eaten correct in this term?

Bloody hell...And, most definately, Wow...

The sheer imagination gone into this story makes it one of my favourite things I've ever read anywhere...I love it!!...

The depth to all the characters and things like the Feasters, and the little details like the living statue by the doors to the temple...Brilliant...

Oh, and a lesbian Cutter too?...Awww, monsieur you spoil us...*Punches skyward...causing air traffic control no end of trouble*...

But then, that's just me... ...

Absolutely loved both sections...Also loved the fact that Carnius really doesn't care about standing up to Sheagorath... ...

Brilliant stuff matey...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

The scene with Cutter was tastefully tackled here, despite the shudder I got at the kiss tasting of blood, lol. Awesome write as always!

I rather enjoyed the previous chapter. I especially liked the "blood" aspect of that kiss. It was interesting and well-done.

Christ almighty, this took a long time to write...

Apologies for the delay, everyone. January was a pretty hectic month in terms of work and so forth, and it probably didn't help that I got distracted by a case of writer's block, an exam resit and writing a couple of original fiction pieces this month as well (you can find them on my blog; there's a link in the signature. No this, isn't a shameless bid for bumping up my traffic ratings, that's a silly idea. Stop being silly). I'll try and get the next chapter done quicker.

LL: Well, Tulfis is a Daedra, and one under Sheogorath's authority, so she's been around since the creation of the Isles, and possibly earlier. And when your soldiers just keep respawning after they die, you're going to get some real hoary war veterans out there.

Heh, Almeria is swiftly becoming one of my favourite character that I've made up over the years, and she's a lot of fun to write. But yeah, Salyan's words hit home pretty hard, even if she didn't mean for them to, so it's no wonder Carnius took it badly.

And you'll get to meet the creme de la cream in...one chapter's time, after this one. Maybe two. I have a lot of stuff going on here, I know.

DE: Yep, new POV time; I figured that looking at things through Almeria's perspective was the best way to explore the Feasters, and I just felt that the story had been stuck in Carnius' own viewpoint for perhaps a bit long, so a change was a good way to spice things up.

I think the 'eaten' is correct in this case; technically speaking, the 'had' from earlier in the sentence is still applicable to it, and so the grammatically correct way of writing it would be 'had eaten' instead of 'had ate'.

McBadgere: Thanks!

I had a lot of fun playing with the Feasters, and I'm pleased you like them; I've been itching to include them for a while, but until Almeria came along I've been limited only to passing references. I'm pleased you liked them. Plus they're also a good way to challenge myself as a writer by making a sympathetic character out of somebody who practises cannibalism.

And yes, lesbian Cutter. I should have figured that would push your happy buttons.

mALX: Why old bean, I'm British. Good taste is what we do, eh wot?

*Puffs pipe whilst contemplating tea and scones*

But more seriuosly, I was trying to go for something that felt more loving and intimate between the two than just a 'ZOMG lookit the lesbinans!' angle. Though the whole taste of steel, smoke and blood was meant to be a sort of microcosm of Cutter herself, so to speak.

Zalphon: Thank you very much, I'm glad you enjoyed it.


And now for Chapter 22! Finally...





Chapter 22-The Barber and the Brothel Madam

Carnius left the palace by the Crucible Gate, stepping down the steps into the dank and labyrinthine city below. He traversed the streams of sewage that trickled down its lanes, squinting through the gloom and fog that still covered the streets from the now-abated storm. There were a few more figures on the streets now that the rain was gone, emerging from the crumbling and corpse-like buildings, and one or two lounging on the bridges, balconies and overhangs that shadowed the roadways.

Carnius stopped at one point to stare at three corpses hanging from a walkway over a street, blackened with rot, rain still dripping from their bloated toes. People were passing under them without comment, as if bodies being left on display in nooses above the road was nothing abnormal. Considering that this was Crucible, perhaps that was the case.

“Wanna stick, mister?” a wrinkled Bosmer who had appeared at Carnius’ elbow asked. “Good sticks, not a leaf on ‘em, great for pokin’ bodies! Just one coin!”

“I’m fine,” Carnius said.

“You sure? They’re the best sticks in all Crucible,” the Bosmer insisted.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Carnius said. “Actually, I do have a question.”

“Is it about sticks? I know a lot about sticks. I’m an expert on sticks, y’know.”

“No, not about sticks.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll see what I can help you with.”

“You know any good inns in Crucible?” Carnius asked.

“Well, I suppose there’s Sickly Bernice’s Taphouse,” the Bosmer said. “I gave her a good stick a while back, to help her walk. Very grateful for it, an excellent stick, she said.”

“Where’s that?” Carnius asked.

“Oh, just near the main gate,” the Bosmer said. “You sure I can’t interest you in a stick? Be good for prodding one of those bodies, and they’re nice and rotten now; poke ‘em hard enough and the neck might go, and then splat! That’s always funny.”

“No thanks,” Carnius said.

“Fine, fine,” the Bosmer said, rolling his eyes. “Nobody has time for sticks any more.”

He turned and shuffled away, muttering about the state of sticks, and Carnius headed on. It didn’t take him long to reach Cutter’s forge, but for some reason the door was locked when he tried it. He knocked on it a few times, but got no answer, and shrugged; she must have been having a day off, or was occupied with some other business.

He made a note of where Sickly Bernice’s was before he went through the fanged maw of the gate to Bliss. He blinked at the sudden transition into glaring sunlight, holding up a hand to block out the worst of the rays and where it gleamed off the gaudy ornamentation of the buildings.

His destination wasn’t hard to find, the sign ‘Ghan Shi’s House of Body Ornamentation’ hanging in the street. He pushed the door open, stepping into an antechamber as a bell rang above him. The walls were painted red, aside from a single thin white one, beyond which he could see vague silhouettes moving. A panel on the wall slid aside into a doorway, and Carnius stared at the figure that stood within it.

He was seven feet in height, lantern light glistening off golden scales, looking down at Carnius with slitted pupils over a blunt snout. Two pairs of arms were visible under the white coat he wore, one hand holding a comb, the other a pair of scissors, while a long tail was where his legs should have been, coiled up around him on the floor.

“Greetings,” the snake-person rasped, bowing low to Carnius. “I am Ghan Shi, and I bid you welcome to my shop. How might I assist you on this day?”

“I was just hoping for a haircut,” Carnius said after a moment. He became aware that he was staring and shook his head.

“Of course,” Ghan Shi said. “I am currently occupied with another customer, but I will not be long if you wish to wait.”

“That’s…that’s fine,” Carnius said.

“Then please, have a seat,” Ghan Shi said, gesturing to a small gathering of chairs in the corner. “I shall be with you shortly.”

Another bow, and the snake-man slid the panel shut. Carnius sat, looking around the room; there were a few paintings on the walls on some kind of parchment, depicting more of the four-armed snake people wielding katanas and spears battling what looked like orange Khajiit with black stripes in their fur. Here than there were what looked like small banners, decorated with strange characters that Carnius knew he hadn’t a hope of reading.

He didn’t have to wait long, and the panel-door slid open once more.

“And it shall be a pleasure see you again,” Ghan Shi was saying as he opened the door for his customer.

“For the both of us, I assure you,” a familiar voice said, as Her Ladyship stepped through the door. Her hair had been coifed upwards into an elaborate whirl of curls, held in place by a pair of pins through it. “Oh, Carnius. I didn’t expect to see you - Madgod, what happened to your face?”

It took Carnius a moment to realize what she was talking about; the line of pain that had been slashed across his face by the Order Knight had faded to a dull, almost invisible throb that he had now grown used to and paid no heed.

“I was attacked,” Carnius said. “There was a group of Order Knights which I had to deal with. One of them gave me this.”

“I see,” Her Ladyship said, a look of concern crossing her features. She became aware of Ghan Shi hovering behind her and added; “Come and see me in the Baliwog when you’re done, Carnius, we can speak then.”

She stepped out into the street, and Ghan Shi turned his attentions to Carnius.

“Come on through, please,” he said, his four arms pointing Carnius through to the partitioned room. The main feature was heavy, padded chair before a mirror, and beside it was a basin, along with cases of razors, scissors, combs, lathers and other things Carnius couldn’t identify. Ghan Shi gestured for Carnius to take a seat, coiling behind him. “So what can I do for you today?”

“I just want a shave,” Carnius said, running his hand over the fuzz on the top of his head and over his chin. “Get rid of all of this.”

“Ah, be as bald as myself,” Ghan Shi hissed, baring long, needle fangs in what Carnius hoped was a smile.

“That’s right,” Carnius said.

“Of course, of course,” Ghan Shi said. He turned away, flicking open a case. Two razor blades whirled between deft, clawed fingers, while his other pair of hands began to rub together soap into a thick lather.

“I can’t say I’ve met one of your people before,” Carnius said after a few moments, deciding that would be the most tactful way to broach such a subject.

“I’m not surprised,” Ghan Shi replied, turning to face Carnius’ reflection in the mirror. “Our peoples have had very little contact during the course of Nirn’s history,” Ghan Shi said. “But we go by the name of Tsaeci; perhaps you have heard of us? I would not be surprised if we are mentioned in a few books here and there, perhaps.”

“Maybe you were,” Carnius said. “I’ve never been much of a reader.”

Ghan Shi shrugged, before he began to massage the lather across Carnius’ scalp. The sensation of the foaming suds being rubbed into the top of his head and across his cheeks by the Tsaeci’s pointed claws was surprisingly pleasant.

“I suppose that not all of us can spare the time for reading,” Ghan Shi said rinsing his hands and taking up another pair of razor. “Now, I must ask that you hold still; I will have to answer difficult questions from the guards if you do not.”

Carnius did as asked, and four sharp blades rose and fell, edges gliding across his skin, controlled by the deft hands of Ghan Shi the barber. Hair was sliced through, trapped and harvested in the foamy suds, and rinsed down the drain of Ghan Shi’s basin.

“I really have to ask,” Carnius said as the Tsaeci ran one of his razors over the top of Carnius’ head. “Where did you learn to cut hair?”

“I picked up the art from an Imperial who did the same,” Ghan Shi said. “I found myself in the Isles, entered this shop and saw him cutting hair and said to him; ‘Teach me how to do that.’ And he did. When he passed away, I inherited the shop.”

“I suppose four arms probably lets you do twice as much work,” Carnius said.

“It certainly helps,” Ghan Shi replied. “And I had a little knowledge of some Tsaeci body decoration techniques which I gave him in return for his teaching.”

“What are those?” Carnius asked.

“Tattoo magic,” Ghan Shi said, rinsing one of the razor blades of foam. “An old type of spellcraft from my homeland; trap a spell in a tattoo and cast it without needing training.”

“I can see that being useful,” Carnius said.

“Very much so,” Ghan Shi. “It’s not as a effective as proper magic, and you can only use it one or two times every day, but if you need a quick spell or a way to give a weapon a temporary enchantment, there is little better.”

Carnius was tipped back in his chair, the remaining lather rinsed off his head and he was tipped forwards again, cleaned of the soap.

“And we are done,” Ghan Shi announced, folding away the razors. “What do you think?”

Carnius ran his hand over the top of his head, feeling smooth skin all across his scalp.

“That was just what I wanted,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Ghan Shi said. “I can show you some the spell tattoos I can give you if you would like.”

“Maybe another time,” Carnius said.

“Ah yes, there is no use delaying when a beautiful woman has asked to meet with you,” Ghan Shi said, grinning with those terrifying fangs. “In that case, ten gold pieces for the shave.”

Carnius handed over the money with a promise to return, and headed back out to the streets of Bliss. It didn’t take him long to find the Baliwog, and the two guards at the gate simply nodded him through.

Inside, the building was bustling with activity. There was no greeter at the desk this time, and Carnius made his way into the main hall, where several of the staff were busying themselves with readying the room for an evening of drinking, eating and expensive debauchery.

“Carnius, over here!” Her Ladyship called from the side of the room, waving him over. Carnius headed towards her, where she pulled up a few spare chairs and table for him to sit. “Apologies for the chaos, but Thadon has announced that he’s going to be turning up tonight so that means we’re laying on a little extra for him. Hence all of the work, and me needing to go to Ghan Shi’s in order to get my hair touched up in the way that Thadon likes. And happens to be rather high-maintenance and inconvenient, but he should spend enough coin here to make it worth it.”

She nodded at Carnius’ shaven head.

“I should have got it cut like that,” she smiled. “I’m sure it’s a great deal easier to look after.”

“I suppose it is,” Carnius said with a shrug. “But yours definitely looks better than mine.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that,” Her Ladyship said with a quiet laugh. “But thank you.”

Her gaze flickered to Carnius’ scar.

“You say that was Order Knights who did that?” she asked, voice becoming more serious.

“That’s right,” Carnius said.

“I see,” Her Ladyship said. “Tell me, was there an obelisk of some kind with them?”

“There was,” Carnius said. “It’s definitely a sign of the Greymarch, if that’s what you’re thinking; the only reason Salyan and I survived was because we met a Feaster missionary fighting them and a group of Dark Seducers charged in to save us.”

“My word,” Her Ladyship said, shaking her head. “I’m just glad you survived.”

“That makes two of us,” Carnius said. “Though you said something about Thadon just a minute ago.”

“Yes,” Her Ladyship said. “He’s visiting us. Why do you ask?”

“Sheogorath wants me to introduce myself to the Duke and Duchess,” Carnius said. “You seem like the sort of person who would know about them.”

“Is that so? I can certainly help you with that,” Her Ladyship said, leaning back in her chair. “Let me see. For Thadon, I’d say he’s the sort of person who likes to…live well, so to speak.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“He indulges himself, and in the eyes of many, indulges too much,” Her Ladyship said. “The Dukes and Duchesses of Mania have partaken in decadence and debauchery ever since the days of Arden-Sul, but Thadon is losing more and more focus on his duties as time goes by; he’s jaded, addled, spends more time feasting, drinking, taking Felldew and Greenmote and sleeping with all sorts of men and women than he does ruling.”

“I see,” Carnius said. “What about Syl?”

“The best advice I can give you on that is to be very, very careful around the Duchess of Dementia,” Her Ladyship said, her face darkening for a moment. “There’s an old Nord saying I once heard that always made me think of her; ‘a hanging man will kick at anything when he feels the noose start to tighten’. She’s always been paranoid, imagining plots and schemes against her, but as time goes by she’s become more and more rash and inclined towards locking people up for torture on the slightest suspicion. And all that does is cause more and more people to start turning against her.”

“You don’t think she’s going to last long?” Carnius asked.

“Even without the Greymarch coming I’m fairly sure she won’t survive to the end of this year,” Her Ladyship said. “Frankly, I can’t help feel that the pecking order of both halves of the Isles could do with some alterations for their own good, especially with Jyggalag on his way.”

Carnius was silent for a moment.

“Are you alright?” Her Ladyship asked.

“That sounds like politics,” Carnius said.

Her Ladyship shrugged.

“Those at the top stay at the top stay at the top until those beneath them kill their way upwards,” she said. “Such is the way of things. It’s just like the Arena, really. It’s strange, when you think about it, how society condemns murder and yet uses spilled blood to grease its wheels. Makes you wonder what the difference between a murderer and a hero is.”

“Scale,” Carnius said. Her Ladyship raised an eyebrow. “You kill somebody in front of no witnesses and they call you a murderer. Kill somebody in front of thousands of witnesses and they say you’re a hero.”

That got a quiet laugh from Her Ladyship.

“You might be right,” she said. “Though thinking of heroes and killing, I have been thinking of something we might use to help combat the Greymarch.”

“What’s that?” Carnius said.

“I’m planning to raise a militia,” Her Ladyship said. “Start training any men or women in my lands who might wish to volunteer. If there are obelisks beginning to appear then we’ll need to deal with the problem; otherwise Jyggalag can use them to cripple the Isles before the Greymarch even begins in earnest.”

“Do you think you could get the other nobles on board with that idea?” Carnius asked.

“I intend to try,” Her Ladyship said. “I might even mention the idea to Thadon when he comes here tonight, though considering he probably won’t remember the conversation in the morning doing it then may be somewhat of a wasted effort. Speaking of which, do you want to stay for that? There’s going to be an orgy.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” Carnius said.

“Oh,” Her Ladyship said, something flickering across her face for a moment. “I was rather hoping you’d say yes.”

“Not really my sort of place,” Carnius shrugged. “I don’t think I’d fit in. What was that look, though?”

“What look?”

“When I said no, you got a look just there,” Carnius said, a slight grin on his face. “You were pouting, weren’t you?”

“No I wasn’t!” Her Ladyship protested. “I do not pout!”

“Really?” Carnius asked. “You look like you’re pouting now.”

“Oh stop it,” Her Ladyship said, smiling as she rolled her eyes. “You’re sure I can’t change your mind, though?”

“I’m sure. Don’t think I’d really fit in.”

“Your loss,” Her Ladyship said. She looked disappointed. “Why not?”

“Well, haven’t got much to offer, have I?” Carnius said, gesturing to the livid scar running across his face, his nose that had been broken and reset by clumsy hands more than once and cauliflower ears.

“I don’t think you’re doing yourself justice, personally,” Her Ladyship said. “But if you insist.”

“You’re too kind,” Carnius said. “But, I’m afraid I need to go. There’s some business I need to sort out.”

“Of course,” Her Ladyship said. “I’m going to be heading to my estate in the Laughing Coast in a few days, to see what I can do about raising this army to fight the Greymarch with, but if you want to see me here before I go, you’d be welcome; I enjoy talking to you. Though not tomorrow; I probably won’t be at my best then.”

“Thank you, maybe I will,” Carnius said, rising from his seat, Her Ladyship doing the same. “And thanks for the help, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“You can thank me after we’ve defeated Jyggalag and the Isles are safe once again,” Her Ladyship said. “And we’ve still got a way to go yet. Come, let me show you to the door.”

As they stepped through into the atrium of the Golden Baliwog, Her Ladyship asked; “So what is it that you have planned to do now?”

“Make amends,” Carnius explained. “Salyan and I had a bit of a falling out. I’m hoping to patch it up.”

“I see,” Her Ladyship said as they reached the door, held open for them by a servant. “Oh, before you go, I’ve got a little something to give you.”

She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Carnius blinked.

“For luck,” she said. “I’ll be thinking about you tonight. Now go on, off you go.”

Carnius stepped out without another word, surprised at the move. He headed down the driveway, Her Ladyship watching him as he went, and into the streets of Mania, off to make things right.

Bosmer with a stick!!!... ...

Oh hells, I did not stop laughing for ages...Loved that... ...*Applauds heartily right at the start...Realises he still needs to type and gives up*...

There really was so much to love in this chapter...The Tsaeci was amazing, loved the tapestry with the "tiger" on it. And, yet again, the thing with the tattoo magic sounds amazing...Looking forward to seeing how you use that...Yes you will, you know you will... ...

And again with the Ladyship...*Sighs*...I think I'm in love with her...

A truly excellent chapter, loved it!...No sign of any trouble there matey!!..

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...


PS...There really are better pictures of Jaime Murray out there... ...

Welcome back to writing bloody tales, dear friend! Glad to see Carnius and his adventures in the Shivering Nut-House return!


For some reason this made me chuckle. I don't know why. Seeing as how we had our fair share of mad Bosmers in the ES universe such as one falling from the sky, asking us for money in Vvardenfell and of course, being paranoid, something as simple as selling sticks wouldn't surprise me and it pretty funny. Carnius should have told him to go home and rethink his life



Holy Shi . . .vering isles! Tsaesci? Nice to see one in the Isles. And a barber, too? I guess they like to do what they never had done before. Do they even have hair?



That answers that. I like his hairstyle. It's almost like mine! I keep it Tom Hardy-Bane/Vin Diesel. I couldn't imagine a snake-person with hair. It wouldn't look right at all.

I did enjoy the whole hair-cutting process. A welcome change of the violence happening from time to time. So, now I can picture our protagonist a bald headed toughie. And speaking of paranoid Bosmers, Carnus gets to meet Lady Syl . . . .Shi..vering isle's is about to get real!



"Hehe . .Alright!"

I liked the flirty conversation between Carnius and her Ladyship. She was pouting!


You and me both! Ah, I remember her from Gods of the Arena. Oh my . . . talented actress.

...Oh yes...I remember her very proudly displaying her talents to great effect... ...

I absolutely loved the entire section with Carnius and “Her Ladyship,” what a personality you have developed in her!

Gotta love this line:



The whole dialogue between the two was wonderfully enjoyable! Awesome Write!

Gah, sorry this update took so long to come, everybody, but for some reason writing it was really, really, painfully slow. No idea why, but I'll try and be quicker with the next one.

McBadgere: Wanna stick? Sticky stick stick!

Jaime Murray as Her Ladyship! Bloody perfect! I'd been trying to work out my dream team of actors in the insane off-chance that this should ever be made into a film, and she'd fit quite nicely with Ralph Fiennes as Carnius (I always imagined Carnius looking rather like Mr Fiennes did in his adaptation of Coriolanus) and Naomie Harris as Almeria. Still need to work out somebody to play Salyan, though.

And combined with Cutter's Madness Ore modifications for Carnius' gauntlets, Ghan-Shi's tattoo magics promise to be a lot of fun. You'll enjoy it a lot, I'm sure.

Darkness Eternal: The Elder Scrolls series does have a lot of mental Wood Elves. To be fair, the fellow in that scene was one of the Shivering Isles' NPCs making an appearance, a fellow by the name of Goolorolos (or something equally long and difficult to spell like that) but he helps increase that rota quite nicely.

Yep, one of the famous Snake People of Akavir, in the flesh and cutting hair! I figured that it would probably be a good way to wind back after the violence of Almeria's introduction and the rather gory scene in the Feasters' temple, so that haircut and the chat with Her Ladyship were there to wind things back a little. The flirting between Carnius Her Ladyship was a lot of fun to write, though she'd insist that she didn't pout and that she never pouts!

mALX: Thanks! I had a lot of fun writing that scene, and Her Ladyship is an enjoyable write; glad you're having a good time reading her, too, as I find her kind of tricky to write properly at points. Pleased it worked!



Thank you for reading everybody, enjoy the next instalment of Carnius' adventures in the Shivering Isles!

Chapter 23-Fire, Steel and Song

The gates of the College of Audiomancy were open as Salyan made her way through them, grumbling under her breath as she went. Her shoulders were hunched against the drizzle, the water slipping off the cloak she wore, hood pulled up to ward away the weather. It rarely rained in Mania, only when Sheogorath was in a bad mood; something must have upset him.

The College was a large construction; three buildings of golden stone arranged around a central central courtyard. The largest one in the centre was the main performance hall, white marble pillars sweeping up its façade into its domed top. Salyan ignored it for the moment, taking the leftmost building, a much smaller one which housed the College’s students.

She pushed open the main door, and hurried across the hallway and up the stairs to the third floor, found her bedroom, unlocked it, dropped her things on the floor next to the bed, sat down on the thin straw mattress and swore.

Why was Carnius so damn defensive about Dementia? It wasn’t as if he lived there after all, and the place was disgusting. She couldn’t think of any reason why he would want to be that way unless…

She froze, searching through her memory, mentally recounting their time together. Had she accidentally given it away? Had he worked it out or suspected it somehow? After all, if he had then it was no surprise he had been like that with her; the merest pretence and he would be rid of her, of course he would, anybody would. Most people wouldn’t even bother with pretending, they’d just hate her, reject her and throw her out into the emptiness and wildnerness where she belonged. No, he didn’t know. She would know if he knew.

Salyan gave a quiet sigh of relief and lay back on the bed as she decided that no, that couldn’t have been the case. There was no way he coud have found out, so the only conclusion she could reach was that he was being a stubborn and irritable idiot. It was his problem, she decided, and if he didn’t want her help saving the Isles then he wouldn’t get it.

For a few moments, she was quiet. She didn’t want to dwell on Carnius, she decided, and it would be a good idea to find something to distract herself with. A new spell; even if she wasn’t travelling with Carnius any more, a destruction spell would still be useful. She would take some time to rest from the road and get some of her affairs in order, she decided, and then she would head to the rest of the college and see what she could learn.


The third wing of the College was the Hall of Audiomancy. While not as large as the performance hall, it was by far the most important; the concert hall may have been used for bringing in money through music and acting, but the Hall of Audiomancy was where the audiomancers researched and learned their magic and did their work proper.

The room she was looking for was a large one on the ground floor. The door was bound with steel and made from fungwood so aged and hardened it was like iron, blackened by scorch marks and pitted with deep scars. Salyan tried the handle and found it unlocked, and pushed it open with a grunt of effort.

The room within was just as hardy as its entrance, everything within it made to withstand impacts, blasts and coruscating arcs of unctrolled energy. It was akin to an archery range, a set of practice dummies at the far end of the room along an alleyway, while the other magical equipment and bookshelves there were all covered in heavy steel casing.

A willowy Altmer woman with short-cut blonde hair looked up from the flute she was practicing on, putting the instrument down for a moment, and smiling at the bard.

“Salyan!” she said. “I hadn’t expected to see you here. Where have you been?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Taritha. I’ve been doing some travelling,” Salyan replied. “There were some things I needed to do, places that I had to go to.”

“Of course,” Taritha said. “So what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to maybe learn a destruction spell or two,” Salyan said. “There was some trouble on the road, I thought it might be useful to learn something I can fight properly with.”

“Well, I should be able to teach you something basic,” Taritha nodded. “Maybe a fire spell? I know one that’s good for beginners. Let me show you.”

The High Elf raised the flute to her lips and blew a note, chanelling arcane energy into the sound. A ribbon of flame curled from the end of the instrument, licking and snapping at the air, tasting it like the tongue of a snake. With an alteration in pitch it swung round, curling and twisting in time with a brief melody Taritha played. She finally stopped playing and the flames faded into nothing.

“It’s the same principle as any other kind of Audiomantic spell,” the Altmer said. “Just find the starting pitch for the spell, channel magic into it and from there change the pitch and apply your will to the fire in order to steer and move it.”

“Got it,” Salyan said. She plucked at her lyre’s strings for a few moments, and found the tone she wanted. It was ominous, low hum, the buzzing of an Elytra’s wings just before they would launch it into a leap with scything claws and venomous mandibles. Her fingers danced on the strings as they maintained the pitch, and as instructed she began to channel magical power into the tone. Sparks snapped from her fingertips, small flames running from them along the strings to leap from them and coalesce into a single solid stream that curled like a slack cord in the air in front of her.

“Wonderful,” Taritha said, more to herself than Salyan, the High Elf’s gaze transfixed on the fire. Salyan resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the former Sister of Immolation.

“So how do I manipulate it?” Salyan asked.

“What? Oh, that’s simple,” Taritha said. “Raise the pitch to push it away, lower it to bring it close, and just will it to move as you do to steer it.”

Salyan tried it, frowning in concentration as she adjusted the position of her fingers upon the strings. In a slow, cautious move the tip of the flame shifted away from her, then back again, span in a circle. She smiled as she began to feel more confident in controlling it, moving it more rapidly, back and forth. She yelped as it brushed close to her face, singeing an eyebrow, and cut the flow of magic.

“Well, that’s the basics of it,” Taritha said. “It would probably do for you to get some practise in, though.”

She spent the rest of the day trying to practicing the spell, working out ways to manipulate the tongue of flame with help from Taritha. It was towards the end of it that there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Salyan said. She pulled at the heavy handle, saw that it was Henrique and looked over his shoulder; the Breton’s insistence that he was invisible meant that he always sulked when people looked directly at him, and it was easiest to simply humour him. “Is anyone there?”

“It’s Henrique,” the audiomancer said. “There’s an Imperial in the courtyard who wants to see you, Salyan.”

“An Imperial?” Salyan asked, raising her eyebrow at the air just to the left of Henrique’s shoulder. “Is he a big one, shaven head, scar on his face?”

“That’s the one,” Henrique said. “He kept insisting he could see me, but I didn’t believe him; he’d need a detect life spell for that and he doesn’t look like a mage.”

“He probably couldn’t,” Salayn agreed. “Did he…did he say what he wanted?”

“That he wanted to say sorry,” Henrique said. “I don’t know what for.”

Salyan hesitated for a moment. She supposed that, if nothing else, it would be good to hear him say sorry and admit that she was in the right. That would be why she would go, she decided, to magnimously accept his apology, and then leave as the better person.

Carnius was standing in the courtyard, looking over at the performance hall, and Salyan paused for a moment. She decided she might as well keep it simple.

“Hello,” she said.

He glanced over at her.

“Hello Salyan,” he replied. “You alright?”

“I can’t complain, I suppose,” Salyan said.

Carnius nodded.

“Your friend you greeted me was an odd one,” he said after a moment, picking another topic of conversation. “Kept moving around when I tried to look at him.”

“Henrique? He thinks he’s invisible,” Salyan explained. “He always gets upset when you stare at him directly.”

She silently cursed herself for explaining something Carnius didn’t understand to him; that had become a habit in their short time together.

“Ah, right,” Carnius said. “I should’ve guessed.”

“So,” Salyan said. “What were you here for?”

“Because…” Carnius began, before trailing off. “Because I wanted to say sorry. Sorry for getting as angry at you as I did about the Dementia thing. It was stupid.”

Salyan nodded, before she said; “Fine. You’re forgiven, Carnius. We’re even.”

“No, not quite,” Carnius said.

“Why not?”

“I owe you an apology for getting angrier than I should have,” Carnius said. “But you owe me an apology for saying what you said in the first place.”

“What? No I don’t!” Salyan protested, folding her arms.

“Yes, you do,” Carnius replied. “You were looking down your nose at Dementia for no reason, insulted the place without call and then all but said that I was beneath you for liking it.”

Salyan was quiet for a few moments.

“When you put it like that, maybe you’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s a Manic thing, that’s all. We don’t always get along very well. But I shouldn’t have been like that anyway.”

She stuck out her hand.
“Are we even now?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think we are,” Carnius said, shaking it.

“So what now?” Salyan asked. “I stormed off before you spoke to Sheogorath, I realise.”

“I’m supposed to do two things,” Carnius said. “Speak to Thadon and Syl and do anything they need me to do, and then get the Pillars of the Isles.”

“The Pillars?” Salyan asked. “Did Sheogorath warn you about the Angels?”

“He did,” Carnius said. “We’ll work out a way past them.”

“Let’s hope so,” Salyan nodded.

“I was thinking we could meet up tomorrow morning after breakfast and start off with Syl,” Carnius said. “I need to drop off my gauntlets and that madness ore we found at Cutter’s and try and find Almeria as well.”

“Of course,” Salyan said. “I’m surprised you didn’t drop the ore off with Cutter already.”

“Place was closed for some reason,” Carnius replied with a shrug. “Don’t know why.”

“Oh, I see,” Salyan said. “So where are you staying? At the Baliwog?”

“Sickly Bernice’s Taphouse,” Carnius said. “They were busy at the Baliwog tonight. You know where the Taphouse is?”

“I do,” Salyan replied. “I’ll see you there tomorrow.”

“See you then,” Carnius said. He smiled at her. “Glad to have you back with me.”

“Glad to be back,” Salyan smiled in return.


This time, when Carnius knocked on the door of Cutter’s forge, he and Salyan were greeted with a call of; “Come in.”

The forge was warm and there was the faint smell of wood smoke in the air. Cutter was by a grindstone, running the edge of blade over the spinning wheel, and she looked up as they entered.

“Carnius, Salyan,” she said. “It’s good to see you both again. What can I do for you?”

In reply, Carnius reached into his pack and pulled out one of the lumps of metallic rock they had taken from Xedilian.

“Think this might be madness ore,” he said. “Thought we should just check.”

Cutter stopped her work, rising from the forge and taking the piece of stone. She inspected it for a moment, and nodded.

“That’s it,” she said. “Do you have any more?”

Carnius pulled out the small pouch he and Salyan had filled.

“Wasn’t sure how much we’d need, so we got a lot,” he said by way of explanation as Cutter took and opened it to see how much was inside.

“That should be more than enough,” she nodded. “I’ll need a few days to refine the ore and then rework your gauntlets, but it should be more than worth the wait.”

“Good to hear,” Carnius said, fishing the two heavy metal gloves out from his pack. “I think we’re going to be in New Sheoth for the next few days in any case, so hopefully I won’t need them.”

Salyan was about to say something when a voice from the other side of the room asked; “Salyan? Carnius? I wasn’t expecting to see you two here.”

Almeria was standing at the bottom of the stairwell that presumably lead up to Cutter’s private quarters. She was out of the armour she usually wore, dressed in a short-sleeved tunic and dark trousers, and her black hair was running down her back instead of pulled up in its topknot.

“Neither of us thought you’d be here either,” Salyan said. “This is a surprise.”

“Well, I just heard voices downstairs and I thought they sounded a bit like yours,” Almeria said. “So I thought I’d see.”

“We were hoping to find you, actually,” Carnius said. “Wanted to talk about our next move.”

“Of course,” Almeria said. “I was going to make some breakfast, so we can talk over that, if you’d like.”

Carnius nodded, before he said; “Just a minute. I need to sort out a final bit of business with Cutter.”

He glanced back at the smith.

“How much would reworking those gauntlets cost?” he asked.

“Well, you get a discount as I can use the spare ore you brought with you to work on some other pieces, but the rework would probably be in the region of five hundred gold pieces,” Cutter said.

Carnius blanched for a moment; that would be taking a pretty significant chunk out of the funds he had brought with him to the Isles, and between purchasing food, supplies and accommodation they were threatening to run dry. He’d need to rasie some more, somehow.

“Fine, but they’d better be worth it,” he said after a moment, reaching into his pack for the coin.

“Trust me, they will,” Cutter replied.

“I hope so,” the gladiator said, handing over a small pouch of coin. He saw Salyan and Almeria had disappeared upstairs.

“You can go and join them, if you want,” Cutter said. “Just don’t clear the pantry and it’s fine.”

Carnius went up, footsteps thudding quietly on the wooden stairs, and found Almeria and Salyan in Cutter’s kitchen. Salyan was sitting on the corner of the table, and Almeria was at the counter, cracking a few eggs into a bowl. A crystal in the stove next to her was glowing as heat began to thrum through it, and the Feaster glanced at it for a moment before returning her attention to the mixing bowl.

“I thought we could talk over breakfast,” she explained before Carnius could ask. “I haven’t eaten yet so I was making some pancakes. You want any?”

“I’ve already had something to eat at Sickly Bernice’s, thanks,” Carnius replied as he pulled up one of the chairs from underneath the table. “You…you never struck me as the cooking type, you know.”

“Well, they wouldn’t call us Feasters if we didn’t know a thing or two about food,” Almeria said as she began to whisk. “In any case, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Carnius gave a brief explanation of what Sheogorath had asked him to do. By the time he had finished, Almeria had finished cooking the first pancake and slid it onto the plate by her side.

“I’ll help you, certainly,” she said, coming to the table. There were a few slices of a greyish-green ham on the table, which Carnius guessed was swattle meat, and with a few deft cuts with her knife she scored away some flesh for her breakfast. As she reached across, Carnius couldn’t help but notice the patchwork of scars crisscrossing her arms, and the tattoos etched into her skin, black text spelling out the words of something. Almeria looked at the pancake for a moment, and frowned. “Just one minute.”

She stuck her head out of the kitchen’s door and called down; “Cutter!”

“Yes?” the smith’s voice floated up from below.

“Do we have any cheese about?”

“Have you checked the pantry?”

“Of course I have.”

“Was there cheese there?”

“No, there wasn’t.”

“Then no, we don’t have any cheese.”

Almeria shrugged and elected to roll up her breakfast in any case.

“So how do you know Cutter?” Salyan asked.

“I needed somebody to do some maintenance on my sword and Cutter was recommended,” Almeria said. “We started talking and we got along well, one thing lead to another and now we’ve been together for about six months or so.”

She glanced over at Carnius.

“That isn’t a problem, is it?” she asked. “Only you’re the first Mundan person I’ve met and apparently you people get upset over the strangest things, sometimes.”

“Not for me,” Carnius said. “One of the gladiators I knew back in blue team, she was into women, but she always had the team’s back in the arena and was damn good at what she did; as far as I could tell, that was all that mattered.”

If he decided to make it a problem, Carnius couldn’t help but think, he risked not leaving the room alive.

“Her family always gave her trouble about it, she said,” he added. “Poor woman had to end up severing contact with them.”

He glanced at Almeria and added; “Do you have much of family, actually? I never asked on our way back.”

“Not any more,” Almeria shook her head. “My father was a missionary like myself, and he died spreading word of the Madgod, and my mother passed away a few years ago. I had a sister once too, but…there was an accident. She’s gone now.”

The look in her eyes at that sentence had Carnius and Salyan in silent agreement that they should stop that line of conversation there.

Almeria finished off her meal, and then looked at the plate for a moment with a contemplative expression. After a moment, she wiped a few streaks of grease off it, and reached to her belt, drawing out a small pouch. With care, she poured out a small quantity of a luminous green powder onto it, and with her knife divided the pile into three neat lines, miniature barrows on a snowy field. A strip of parchment was rolled up, one end placed into a nostril, the other hovering at the end of one of the lines. There was a snorting sound and she sucked it up, the entire line disappearing up the tube. Almeria sat bolt upright as she finished it, blinking a few times and sniffing.

“What was that?” Carnius asked.

“Greenmote,” Almeria replied. “Refined, of course. Either of you want some?”

“I prefer to smoke it, thanks,” Salyan said. “And if I’m honest, I try not to do it too regularly.”

“Carnius?” Almeria asked. He shook his head. “Suit yourselves.”

“Is that like Moon Sugar, or something?” he asked as Almeria snorted the second line.

“A bit like it, I suppose,” Almeria said. “It’s one the main ingredients of Madgod’s Blood, that potion you saw me take in the fight to help me. It’s addictive, but this helps me put aside the cravings for a while. Ward them off so I can keep the Madgod’s Blood for when I need it.”

“Is that very good for you?” Carnius asked.

“‘In all things the Madgod calls for sacrifice,’” Almeria said. “‘Be it your life, your mind or that which you treasure most dear, he may call upon you to render it unto him. Do so graciously and do so gratefully, for through sacrifice he is pleased and through sacrifice thou art rewarded by his favour.’ The Book of the Feast, the Gospel of Bloodletting, verse seventeen two. I give up some of my health for him, as dictated by the tenets of Adren Sul.”

She inhaled the final line of Greenmote, sat up, wiped underneath her nose and said; “I think it’s time we got on with dealing with the Duke and Duchess, don’t you think?”

*Applauds*...

Truly beautiful and excellent work right there, that is...



You know me, sucker for a bit o'magic talk, fantastic description...Loved it!!...

I thought the entire college section was fantatically done...Henrique cracked me up no end... ...

And again with Cutter...*Sigh*... ...

*Cough*...

Aaamywho, looking forward to whatever gets thrown at us next...

Very very nice one indeed!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

I was worried you had given up on this story. Glad to see you are back in action! So Salyan pays a visit to band camp the College of Audiomancy.



Isn't that something? Daedric Lord gets mad and he makes storms to rain on everyone's parade. I enjoyed to see Salyan learning a new fire whip spell! Crackalakin! The witty banted between Salyan and Carnius was well-written and heart-warming. Good to see that they are even now.

So, there are Madgod missionaries? Who knew!? Your expanding of lore is most appreciated and very fitting in this tale. I love it!