This is crazy! This is Madness! I got grammared, Fuq! I will spot an error, I swear to the bowels of Oblivion, I will be on the lookout, Colonel.

At last, we finally get to enter the Nut-House and meet some Nut Cases. Your discriptions of the Shivering Isles was spot on, the effects of transitioning from Mundus into an Oblivion realm was well-written and superb, you narrowed down Haskil's character to the letter.

A warm welcome, eh? Attacked by the first creature in the Isles, the Grummite. The gatekeeper fight was great and well-written and a bloody good show. Carnius was sure in for a surprise to see that brute tossing people around like pathetic ragdolls

Relmyna Verenim . . .our lovely demented women of the realm, one of the many psychos and sadists out there! I suspect there will he blood and lots of it when our gladiator kills that pesky Gatekeeper! I forsee a sick and twisted tale on the maniac and demented side! I will await with my popcorn ready.

Great read!

I'll leave one in on purpose for you, how about that? It'll be a challenge for you; spot the grammatical error and win a prize! (but no cheating and copy-pasting it into a spellchecker).

Pleased that I managed to get Haskill right (he ranks in my top 10 favourite NPCs for Oblivion, so I'm kind of in no position to get him wrong!), and let me assure you that Carnius is going to run into a fair few more Grummites on his time on the Isles. None of them are going to be any more endearing than the first. And that Gatekeeper is going to be a challenge to bring down; let me tell you that I'm looking forward to writing that scene...

Glad you're enjoying, sir, and believe you me, a macabre and bizarre tale awaits! Do enjoy!

Chapter 8-Flesh and Bone

Carnius sipped at his ale as he looked at the diagrams on the table before him. Situated as he was in the Wastrel’s Purse, Passwall’s local tavern, he had been hunched over the slate for the better part of an hour as he sketched out chalk diagrams and plans for dealing with this Gatekeeper; he had often done this before key matches in his gladiator career, working out how he would deal with an opponent, using what information he had on them to try figure out how to bring them down.

So far, he knew his strategy was going to involve getting in and out of the Gatekeeper’s reach; even with the magical enhancements to strength and endurance that his armour and gauntlets provided to him, he knew that if he was grabbed by the giant guardian or took one hit from that cleaver he would be dead. He had taken a leaf out of that dead Khajiit’s book, and many of the diagrams he had sketched out had circular arrows to work out how he could hit it in the back of the knees and legs; laming the thing would make it far easier to kill. The only problem was the thing’s regenerative abilities, and that rendered the entire exercise theoretical.

“Another ale?” Dredhwen asked from where she was leaning on the surface of the inn’s bar.

“Alright then,” Carnius nodded, looking up from his plans and draining what was left of his current ale. “Could use a few drinks.”

The Bosmer nodded and opened the tap on the casket on the bar’s surface, letting the cooled drink pour into the tankard she held. She held it steady as she approached his table, setting it down and glanced at the slate Carnius was drawing on.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Trying to work out how I can kill the Gatekeeper,” Carnius replied, tapping the slate. “Problem is that it’s all theory at the moment.”

“You want to kill it?” Dredhwen said. “I don’t think it-” she yawned, holding her hands over her mouth as she did so. “Sorry about that. I don’t think it can be done.”

“There’s got to be a way,” Carnius said. “Somehow. Spells or something, maybe. Are there any spellcasters here in Passwall?”

“Well, there’s Relmyna, but I don’t think that she would help you,” Dredhwen said. “But you should ask Jayred Ice-Veins. He keeps saying he has a plan to kill it, but nobody will help him; he needs to go into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone, and that place is just too strange for anyone else here.”

Carnius was quiet for a moment, watching her face. He could detect nothing that suggested she was making a joke.

“Where is he?” Carnius asked.

“His house is just to the southeast,” Dredhwen said. “He should be out tending to his Swattle around now.”

“I’ll go pay him a visit,” Carnius said, glancing back down at his slate. On the ‘G’ he had managed to form to mark out the Gatekeeper, he sketched out a rough star shape of arrows, his theoretical self darting in and out of the colossus’ reach. His drink and plans finished, he placed a handful of coins and his borrowed slate on the counter next to where Dredhwen had started to doze and headed out into Passwall. The damp feel of the air had receded somewhat as the sun had risen higher into the sky, burning some of the moisture away, but the clouds that muffled its glare prevented it from going in its entirety.

He found Jayred’s house just a few dozen yards away from the Wastrel’s Purse, the building raised up on stilts like all the others in Passwall, no doubt to protect it from flooding. He remembered what Dredhwen had said, about him being out and attending to his ‘Swattle’, whatever that was, and skirted around the back of the house to see what he could find there, not bothering to knock on the front door which, he noticed, had a human skull hanging on it.

He found Jayred in a patch of swampland that had been fenced off, the Nord standing next to what looked at first glance to be a moss-covered boulder. He gave Carnius a cheerful wave as he approached, and called; “I’ll be with you in a moment, friend! Old Betjar here just needs sorting out.”

He slapped the boulder on the side, and Carnius blinked as what he thought was stone wobbled. Six flabby legs, each tipped with webbed feet, unfolded from where they were tucked against its flank, and a wide, jowled head rose up from where it rested against the ground. Watery amber eyes looked up at Jayred, and the Nord folded his arms.

“Don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, girl,” he said. “Go on, off you go, I’ve saved you a nice patch of moss to help that down and everything. C’mon, shoo!”

The creature made a noise that sounded like ‘mwap’, and waddled away, fat belly sliding against the swampy ground it went. Jayred watched it go and then stepped to where Carnius was leaning on the fence around his land.

“What can I do for you, friend?” he asked.

“Well,” Carnius began. “I was going to see if you could help me with something, but I’ve really got to ask; what on Nirn is that?”

“Those?” Jayred asked. “That’s me Swattle herd, that is. I farm ‘em; good eating on a Swattle, and their hides are well waterproofed once you’ve tanned ‘em. Plus they’ve got a nice skeleton, too.”

“You farm them?” Carnius asked. He was a city boy, through and through, and while he would be the first to admit that his knowledge on animal husbandry was severely limited, he was pretty certain that all farm animals either had fur or feathers and went ‘moo’, ‘baa’, ‘cluck’, ‘quack’ or ‘oink’.

“That I do,” Jayred said. “Damn fine herd, too.”

Carnius decided not to press that subject any further.

“So what can I do for you, friend?” Jayred asked. “You said you wanted some help?”

“The Gatekeeper,” Carnius said. “I’m trying to kill it so I can get into the rest of the Isles. Drenhwed over at the Wastrel’s said that you were planning to do the same. I figured we could help each other out, combine resources, that sort of thing.”

“How soon do you want to deal with it?” Jayred asked.

“Soon as possible,” Carnius replied. “I want to get through that gate.”

Jayred grinned and clapped his hands together.

“Excellent,” he exclaimed. He vaulted the fence, and clapped Carnius on the shoulder. “Just wait for me round the front of my house for a few minutes; we’ll head for the Gardens of Flesh and Bone and I’ll explain my plan along the way.”

He emerged from his front door a few minutes later, the flaxen farming clothes he had been wearing replaced by a suit of leather armour, with a strung bow slung over his shoulder.

“You ready?” Carnius asked.

“That’s right, friend,” Jayred said.

“Good,” the Imperial said as the pair set out up the path. “So what’s this special solution you have for killing the Gatekeeper, then? Some kind of magic?”

“Magic?” Jayred asked. “I’m not like Relmyna, no. I don’t believe in magic, but I do believe in bones.”

“Bones, you say,” Carnius said as they passed under that archway that marked the way in and out of Passwall.

“Aye, that’s right,” Jayred said. “Bones. Relmyna thinks that her Gatekeeper can’t be killed, that no power in Oblivion or Nirn can bring it down, but if I know one thing, it’s that anything can be killed by the bones of its own kind.” He tapped his skull, as if to emphasise his point. “There’s power in those things, even if nobody but me realises it. Enough power to kill the Gatekeeper, certainly.”

Carnius nodded as the path they took began to wind up a hill, deciding that he might as well humour the Nord; he didn’t have any better ideas for killing the thing, after all.

“So I’m guessing that there are Gatekeeper bones in these gardens, then,” Carnius said.

“Aye,” Jayred replied. “Only problem is, the Gardens are guarded; skeletons, shambles, that sort of thing. Anybody who goes in gets attacked by them in minutes.”

“Well, you’re the bones expert,” Carnius said. “If you get these Gatekeeper bones, I’ll hold them off for you.”

“Exactly what I had in mind,” Jayred said. “Don’t worry, I know where it is. Though if you want to hold them off, I’d recommend you get your weapons out of your pack now, friend. They aren’t going to wait around for you in there.”

“I’m already armed,” Carnius replied, raising a clenched fist to show the wicked spikes of red and black on the knuckles of his gauntlets. Jayred grinned.

They stopped before wall of thick white stone, ramparts weathered smooth by time out in the elements. A door was set into it, made from solid iron and carved with pictures of bones, skulls and organs. Carnius could hear a faint, regular thudding on the edge of his hearing, seeming to come from within the garden itself.

“Give me a hand with this, will you?” Jayred asked, rapping his knuckles on a thick bar that was swung down across the gateway. Carnius complied, taking a moment to dump his pack by the side of the door so that it wouldn’t impede him in a fight in the garden itself and to check the two waterskins filled with a healing and a stamina potion were in position at his belt. The two of them heaved the bar up and swung open the door.

Carnius had not been quite sure of what to expect from the Gardens of Flesh and Bone, but he had certainly not thought it would be quite so literal in its adherence to its title. There were no plants in here, or at least nothing that he would call a plant, but it was certainly full of life.

Human eyes in the centre of fleshy petals turned on muscled stalks to stare at the newcomers as they made their way along the pathway that ran through the garden. There was a bush that had thousands of tiny blood vessels for its branches, each one swollen and engorged with sanguine fluid. Another plant seemed to be made from nothing more than nerves spreading and flowering from its root which was, Carnius noted, a large mass off grey brain matter half-embedded in the ground. Despite the fact that he was well used to the gore and viscera of the arena, had seen men and women alike gutted on its sands and had done the deed himself more than once, Carnius began to feel nausea rising from his stomach.

At the centre of the garden, a massive tree rose from the ground, one that seemed to be put together from thousands of bones; he could see skulls, femurs, vertebrae, the individual digits of fingers all meshed together to form its trunk, with yet more branching out over his head. From it, that same regular drumbeat sounded, and Carnius peered through the gaps in them to see a heart suspended by strands of muscle in the very centre of it, swelling and shrinking in time to that beat.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jayred asked. “The tree of bones; the very centrepiece of the Gardens. Now come on, friend. We need to get to the Gatekeeper’s body, and this place’s guardians are going to wake up soon.”

Carnius nodded in agreement, and he followed Jayred as the Nord headed towards one of the walls of white stone that surrounded the garden. The Gatekeeper skeleton was waiting for them, massive sun-bleached bones sat upon a throne set into the garden’s wall, a dead king holding sway over a macabre court.

“Right,” Jayred said, rubbing his hands together and approaching the throne. “Let’s get to work.”

Carnius glanced behind them, back along the pathway that ran through the grisly garden to see if anything was approaching as the Nord climbed up on the throne. For a moment, it seemed all clear, and then three figures came into view. Sun gleamed off bare skulls, and flesh-stripped digits clutched rusting weapons, and the three skeletons advanced.

One with a mace, one with a sword and shield and one with a claymore, Carnius noted, raising his hands to a position that would guard him from the three enemies. They were undead, so wouldn’t be particularly intelligent, and seeing as they were skeletons, they wouldn’t be as hardy as most other types of the walking dead either. Carnius could deal with one without too much trouble, he thought. Three, however, would complicate things.

Whatever rudimentary intelligence that they had was enough to direct them to fan out as they approached in an attempt to flank him. Carnius watched them move, noting how the one with the claymore was ahead of its fellows, and stepped into action. Three swift steps brought him within the undead creature’s reach, and as he expected its swung its claymore at him, the long blade swooping towards him at a horizontal. He moved to his right, left palm pressing down onto the flat of the blade and jarring its tip to the ground, stumbling the skeleton. His right fist crashed into its ribs, knocking it back and sending lightning-bolt cracks snaking across the bone. It stumbled away, and he saw the one with the mace pressing forwards. He stepped into its reach before it could swing, and an uppercut slammed into its jaw with enough force to send its skull, unfettered by sinew, tumbling away, bones clattering to the ground.

The one with the sword and the shield hung back as the skeleton armed with the claymore regained its footing behind him, clacking its jaw together in a challenge. They were going to charge him together, unless Carnius did something.

He threw himself towards the one with the claymore, deciding to get himself between the skeletons and Jayred. Surprised by the sudden manoeuvre, the skeleton tried to block him and parry any attacks, but Carnius' bare hands were a far cry from conventional weapons, and the reinforced vambrace that guarded the back of his left wrist pushed its blade away. The back of his right hand slammed across its jaw, the ebony spikes slashing across the bone and gouging four parallel lines across where its face should be. Its stumbled back, thrown from the impact, and Carnius slammed his boot into its spine, sending it tumbling into its fellow.

At the end of the path, between the greenery, something else appeared behind the two toppled undead. It was a large beast, easily a good head taller than he was, a crude construction of bones chosen at random that were held together with twine and wire. The head of what he guessed was a mer or human glared at him with empty eye sockets, and a lower jaw taken from an Argonian opened and clacked shut as a challenge. It raised its hands, each one tipped with wicked talons, and charged ignoring the skeletons it leapt over.

Carnius blocked its first swing, stepped out of the reach of the second. He tried to step round to its side, where the its shoulder and back was open, but it recovered its footing too quickly and the counter he launched was blocked by it throwing its own wrist up. It was enough to stumbled him, and he cursed as its other pair of claws slashed into his right shoulder, deep gashes already running red. He gritted his teeth, right hand snapping out to grab its own shoulder and forced it into a bow. The back of his left hand smashed into its skull and drove it to its knees, and a second blow snapped the bone in its entirety.

He screamed as a wave of chill burst from it, frost snap-freezing across his skin and armour. He stumbled away from the body as it became coated in ice crystals along with the ground around it, cursing as pain ravaged across him. He could feel hot blood seeping from where the skin froze to the metal and tore, and he fumbled at his belt for the waterskin filled with healing potion. He popped off the stopper and took a deep drink, feeling the wounds begin to heal and the flow of blood slow.

He was panting for breath as the two remaining skeletons rose, and he could see more skeletons and another construct approaching them. He was good, but he was realist; even with his skill, he wouldn’t be able to take down all of those. And it wouldn’t matter how many he would take down before he was overwhelmed, he would fall all the same.

“Jayred!” he called over his shoulder. “We need to get out of here, now!”

“Fine!” Jayred replied, his bones filmed with what looked like the legs and arm bones of the deceased Gatekeeper. “I’ve got what we need.”

Carnius barrelled forwards, throwing his shoulder into the breastbone of one of the undead that tried to stop him and knocking it to the ground, Jayred in his wake. The next few moment dissolved into an insane blur of blocks, parry and counters as Carnius battered a path to the gate through the undead, ignoring the nicks and cuts that assailed him. At one point a mace slammed into his stomach, the impact almost enough to double him over, but he drew upon some reserve of bloody-mindedness and strength and shoved the offending skeleton away, all too aware that the gates were in sight. He just had to hope that his Arena raiment would have absorbed the worst of the impact for him.

He reached them, slamming the knuckles of his gauntlets into the chest of one of those bone-constructs that tried to stop him and knocking it away, and gestured to Jayred to follow. The Nord barrelled through the threshold a few moments later and Carnius followed, slamming the door shut and pulling the bar into place. They stopped outside, panting as the adrenaline began to subside, both of them leaning against the wall.

“That was amazing!” Jayred exclaimed after a few moments, raising his hand and grinning. Carnius slapped his palm, grinning. “To think you went at those things with just yer fists, too! I’d like to have you at my side in a tavern brawl, friend; you and I would be unstoppable!”

“Hah, cheers,” Carnius said. He groaned suddenly and clutched his stomach, pain returning in place of the adrenaline. He doubled over, grabbing at the skin filled with healing draft and took a deep swig. After a few moments, the agony began to fade, and he stood up straight, grinning a grin with more than a few glinting gold teeth in it.

“Right,” he said. “How soon can you get those arrows ready?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’d reckon,” Jayred said.

“Good,” Carnius nodded. “Because after that, we’re going to kill the Gatekeeper.”

Cool!!... ...

Even though I've been to the Isles a couple of times, I've never done that quest...The boy discovered that hitting the Gatekeeper repeatedly with a high level sword whilst employing the Escutcheon of Chorrol would drop the nasty without the need for the arrows...So my version would be a damned sight less cool than this!...

Sooo nicely done...Loved the idea of the planning on the slate...And, as ever, the fight was superb...Wonderful stuff...

The Swattle was sooo cute!!...Loved that...

The description of the Gardens was wonderful...There's a shocker!... ...Can't remember ever going in there...Although I must have done to rebuild the Gatekeeper...*Shrug*...Yours was amazing...Espescially the nerve tree...*Shudders and "hurp"'s a little...*... ...

There was a sentence in there that made my eyes hurt...Somewhere in the first third...And if I picked it up, it must be odd...But, as I've just spent the last six hours trundling around Chester Zoo and fatigue is starting to kick in, it seems I can't find it again...Grrr...If I do, I'll pimm you...Heh...There's a threat... ...

All in all, an amazing job...Absolutely loved it...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...



EDIIIITTT!!...Nah, sorry, it was this one...



Got it now...*Goes to scrub eyes with swarfega*...Urgh...Too oooold...Damned kids and their summer holidays...

...Oh, sorry Mustard!... ...

Don't set yourself up on purpose due to make mistakes. Why?

Anyways, you outdone yourself in the description of the garden, and the dialogue was superb. Now the battle? The battle itself was great, my friend! Carnius showed his skill with his own blade, and a bit of hand to hand at the very end. I also expect a tavern brawl now one of these days.

I wasn't a big fan of the SI questline, I'm not particularly a Sheogorath lover, though I do love other Daedra, but the manner in which you describe the land and the Daedric realm makes me want to read more. Of course, there is our great gladiator protagonist which captured my attention from the start. I foresee mad things in the future, and I am looking forward to the final battle with the gatekeeper! And then onto the gates of madness itself!


Nits:“You’re want to kill it?”
It should be "You want to kill it?" or "You're going to kill it?"

Am I right?

McBadgere: Yeah, I'm killing the Gatekeeper the old fashioned way, with the bone arrows. I imagine that Carnius using exploits to beat would be somewhat of a less compelling read...

The Gardens in the game are a fair bit different to how I wrote them here, which probably explains why you don't really remember them even when you went for the Gatekeeper, seeing as in the game it's basically a courtyard of grass with a dead Gatekeepr in the middle. I decided to be a little more...literal in my own interpretation of it.

And cheers for finding that dodgy sentence; I'll go and fix it up now.

P.S. I used to Chester Zoo when I was kid with granddad! It was awesome! I loved it! Now I want to go there again! Exclamation marks!

P.P.S. I don't mind the complaint; I've got a job now, so the summer holidays are officially over for me forever...


Darkness Eternal: I purposefully make those mistakes so that I've got something to keep you on your toes, of course. I like challenging my readers. And yes, that was the mistake I had in mind. Here, have a cookie.
The fool. Little does he realise my cunning plan of using that as a blind for little mistakes I make here and there. The deception is flawless! Muhaha! Muhaha! Muhahahahahahahahaha...

What?

And now that you mention it, I've got a hankering to write a tavern brawl. Which is going to be interesting when, considering this is the Shivering Isles, your average tavern brawl would would probably be completely nuts...

I really liked the more literal interpretation that you gave. It had a more...macabre, grotesque feel and I really liked it personally. I couldn't remember the original gardens, but yours is much more creative.

Macabre and grotesque were exactly what I was going for; I was a little disappointe by the original Gardens which were just walls around some grass. I was anticipating something like what I wrote, but when I was got here I was like 'well this isn't much... '

One thing you must understand is that the game world is a condensed version of the "lore" world. Cyrodiil is much larger than what the game represents, the taverns are bigger, the arena is huge. Same for all the other games. Good thing about writing is that we are left with an imagination to expand the lore world than it already is.

Grand Theft Auto IV had Liberty City as the location, though of course, it is much smaller than the actual New York City

Boy do I ever remember the first time I went up against the Gatekeeper !!! URK !!! I loved this, and didn't think I was going to! You captured the mood of Passwall exactly as it felt entering it that first time! Awesome and surprising write !!

DE: Oh, I'm fully aware of that, and I reckon that if Bethesda had the resources they probably would have done even more to make the Shivering Isles unique and detailed as they possibly could. But that was what I was expecting the first time I went up there, that's all. Still, as I'm writing a book and thus have only the restriction of time, I don't have to be held back by the same restrictions, I'm adding in these details now.

I realise that's a tad rambling, but I hope you get my point. If not, sorry.

mALX: Thank you very much! Glad to have surprised you, and I hope you like the rest too!

Chapter 9-Threshold

The stars were wrong in this place.

Carnius was used to looking up at the night sky and seeing pinpoints of light against a black or blue backdrop, with perhaps fainter white light behind them. But here, it was different; the comforting and familiar orbs of Masser and Secunda were gone, and while stars still shone, they were patterened in strange and unsettling half-shapes that he could just see when he let his eyes unfocus. Behind them, crimson and purple nebulae bled light across the sky, celestial cuts and bruises, as if Kynareth had been beaten and ravaged and her corpse hung across the sky as a warning or trophy. Yet despite this unsettling wrongness in the sky, Carnius found the sight from the back of Jayred’s raised porch a difficult one to look away from.

Next to him, a few lanterns burned, filled with some kind of herb in order to ward off the mosquitoes that swarmed from the swamp where the Nord kept his herd. He could hear the Swattle calling in the distance, and he was wondering if they were in any way related to the creature that he had encountered on the road earlier that day.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” a familiar voice said from behind Carnius. He glanced up to see Jayred sit down on the chair next to him, two bottles of mead held between his fingers. He was wearing an apron for woodworking, the thick cloth covered with pale dust, and the sounds of bone being crafted had echoed out of his the entire afternoon. He offered Carnius one of the drinks, and the Gladiator took it with a nod of thanks, pulling the cork from it and taking a swig.

“A Redguard I was sweet on use to love looking at those,” Jayred said as he took a seat, glancing skywards. “She always kept saying could see patterns in them, was determined to find them. Said she reckoned you could draw power from them somehow, and wanted to work out the way to do that.”

“Really? What happened to her?” Carnius asked.

“Well, she got Sheogorath’s blessing and was allowed through the Gates,” Jayred said. “Never heard from her since.”

“You trying to follow her, then?”

“Nothing so romantic,” Jayred replied. “There isn’t much good pasture for Swattle here in the Fringe; the best stuff is over in Mania and Dementia, so I’m going to get my herd through and get them a new home. What about you, friend?”

“I’ve been…trying to get away from some things back home,” Carnius said after a moment. “Make a fresh start.”

“In the Isles?” Jayred asked, shaking his head with mirth. “Between you and me, Carnius, you seem pretty…you know, all together. I’m not trying to be rude here, mind, but you just don’t really seem like the sort who would go there. Not sure you’d necessarily fit in, that’s all.”

Carnius nodded at that. Jayred had a point; it was true that he wanted to go somewhere where his fame wouldn’t follow him, but it would really have been as simple as just leaving Cyrodiil. Skyrim and High Rock were always supposed to be pleasant, and Hammerfell was good if you could deal with heat. But part of him wanted to go further than that; get away from more than just the fame, but to escape the bad memories. As much as he hated to admit, there had always been a savage thrill in bloodshed and combat, an adrenaline-laced joy in the feeling of bone crunching and blood splattering underneath his knuckles. But with Agronak, there had been nothing but guilt, shame and the feeling that he had deserved no victory, as much as Agronak had wanted it to end that way. He needed to get away from all that, find something to occupy his mind.

“You ever mind that idea?” Carnius asked after a moment. “Being mad?”

“Do you ever mind being sane?” Jayred asked. “It’s just the way I am. If I was unhappy about it, then I just wouldn’t be that way. Simple as that, really.”

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Carnius conceded. Something occurred to him, and he added; “Completely unrelated, I know, but do you want anything for putting me up tonight?”

“The help you’ve given me tonight more than makes up for it, my friend,” Jayred said. “I’d be an awful Nord if I begrudged bed and a good meal to a man who I was going to be fighting and possibly dying alongside tomorrow.”

“Let’s hope we won’t be doing any of that,” Carnius said. “You sure these bone arrows of yours will work, right?”

“If there’s one thing I trust in, my friend, it’s bones,” Jayred replied. “You keep the Gatekeeper occupied, and I’ll make sure my arrows do what need to be done.”

Carnius nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Just make sure those shots are good ones; I doubt I’m going to be able to last against that thing for too long.”

“Hah, seeing the work you did on those skeletons and shambles today, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Jayred said. “Don’t worry, Carnius, tomorrow you and me will be able to go to anywhere we please in the Isles.”

He raised his bottle of mead, and Carnius clicked his own against it.

“To victory, my friend,” Jayred said.

“To victory,” Carnius echoed. “Let’s hope we get it.”


They drew a crowd as they made their way through Passwall. Jayred in his leather armour, his bow strung and a quiver of a few dozen bone arrows at his back, Carnius with his gauntlets, raiment and pack, his only worldly possessions.

Dredhwen was sitting outside the Wastrel’s purse with he breakfast spread out on the table before her, talking to Relmyna about something, and glanced up as the two of them passed back.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“We’re killing the Gatekeeper,” Jayred replied. “We’ve found the secret.”

“Secret?” Relmyna scoffed. “There’s no secret, you fool. Still, seeing you two die will be entertaining. And perhaps I’ll do something nice with your bones when you’re dead, Jayred.”

She stood from her seat, following the two of them and announcing out; “Come one, come all, Passwall! My dear child is going to kill two more imbeciles who think they can make their way onto the Isles without Lord Sheogorath’s blessing!”

People began to lean out of the doors and windows of the houses, heading outside and following Carnius and Jayred as they made their way up the hill towards the gates.

“Well, no backing out now,” Carnius remarked to Jayred.

They reached the top of hill, and Carnius dumped his pack on the side of the road. He checked his potion skins and cracked his knuckles, rolling his head from side to side to loosen up the muscles. Uncaring for their presence, the Gatekeeper waited by the imposing portals that were the Gates of Madness. Jayred put string to his bow and rested an arrow against it, ready to draw.

Carnius turned round to crowd, and called out; “Anyone where taking bets?”

“I am,” a Redguard in purple silk finery said. “As mayor of Passwall, I’m the man for it.”

“Alright,” Carnius said. He pulled the purse he had from his belt out and dropped it inot the man’s palm. “All this on me. Should be about two thousand Septims in there. What’ll be the odds on me winning?”

“Million to one, I think,” the Redguard replied.

“We’ll work it out after I’ve won, then,” Carnius said. “Jayred, let’s go.”

The Nord pulled the arrow tight as Carnius strode to the centre of the Gatekeeper’s arena. He tried not to laugh at the bitter irony of this situation; in his bid to get away from the Arena and all its ties and memories, here he was, striding into the centre of yet another in order to perform for a crowd.

He reached the centre, and there was a snap behind him as Jayred loosed an arrow. The projectile arced over his head and buried itself in the meat of one of the Gatekeeper’s brawny shoulders. Its gaze snapped towards the interlopers, and it roared, the sound a deafening wave of noise and fury that almost staggered him. With thundering steps it charged, massive cleaver raised and the ground shaking from each footfall.

Carnius dodged out of its way as it swung at him, throwing himself from the path of the immense, blood-stained blade that rested on its left hand, air whistling around its edge of blackened and gory iron. Another of Jayred’s arrows stuck into its arm, eliciting a booming roar of pain and rage, and the Gatekeeper wrenched it free. The wound wasn’t closing, Carnius saw as he backed out of its reach; the plan was working.

It turned to face him, and Carnius managed to yell to Jayred; “Shoot it in the legs! Lame it!” Its cleaver slashed down towards him in the next moment and he sidestepped away, the impact splitting the stone beneath it. The Gatekeeper reached for him with a massive, meaty paw, blade still embedded in the ground, and he slammed his fist into the tip of one of its fingers. The digit jerked back with a crack and Carnius backed away, Gatekeeper giving a moan of pain. It wrenched its blade free, finger snapping back into place, but it bellowed again as one of Jayred’s arrows embedded itself in its thigh.

It advanced on Carnius as the gladiator backed away, the immense guardian ignoring another arrow that thudded into its back, hand and cleaver raised. Carnius had his own fists up, and he skipped back as the massive blade swung towards him, its edge slicing a thin gash across the hardened leather of the armour. As brushing as the impact was, the sheer strength behind it staggered Carnius, turning him around, and the next thing he knew the Gatekeeper’s massive fist slammed into his chest and sent him flying.

He landed at least a dozen yards away on his back, breath knocked from his lungs and his head swimming. For a few moments, he lay there, head swimming and his chest aching with pain, and there was dim, muffled noise of somebody shouting abuse. He rolled his head to one side to see a Nord – Jayred? Was Jayred his name? – waving his arms and yelling at the Gatekeeper, loosing another arrow.

After a moment, he shifted an arm underneath him, grunting as pain in his ribs flared up. Gritting his teeth, he pushed up, shifting his feet underneath him, and stood. He fumbled for the skin of healing potion he had, ignoring some of the people in the crowd pointing at him and calling out in surprise. He popped the stopper off and drank, gulping the slightly bitter draft down and half-draining the skin, wincing as he felt his abused and ravaged ribs snap back into place. A few dribbles ran down his chin, and he wiped it with the back of his gauntlet as he clipped the container back onto his belt. The Gatekeeper was thundering towards Jayred, the Nord fleeing from the oncoming giant as it tried to reach him. In a moment, Carnius guessed its path and set into a run.

In moments, he had covered the ground between him and it, the Gatekeeper still distracted by its pursuit of Jayred. The final step was a leap as he burst into a jumping punch, leading with his left hand and pulling it away as his right slammed down with his entire bodyweight behind it; the technique was risky and left him wide open, but against a distracted opponent that couldn’t counter, dodge or block it, it was devastating, especially in concert with the enhancers for strength in his gauntlets and raiment.

With the force of a meteorite striking the ground Carnius’ knuckles hit the side of the Gatekeeper’s knee. Jagged bone, gristle and brackish blood exploded out of the other side of the impact site and it collapsed with a ragged scream. It swiped at Carnius with its hand but the half-blind swing went over his head and he backed away. Jayred took the opportunity to embed an arrow in its head, but its thick skull and the iron helmet it wore over that protected it from a lethal hit, the projectile jutting from the helmet.

It pulled itself upwards, bone snapping back into place as Jayred fled to get distance between himself and the Gatekeeper. The broken skin resealed, bloody stains the only indicator that the injury had occurred, and the guardian construct turned to face Carnius, sweeping away the arrow embedded in its skull. It gave a low, rumbling growl, and Carnius realised what that meant. He’d hurt the thing, even if the injury had healed, and now it was personal. It wanted him dead more than anything else now.

It swung at him, but Carnius darted forwards and to its left, ducking under the behemoth’s slash and getting behind it. He grabbed the shaft of one of the arrows that was embedded in its thigh and wrenched it free with spatter of black-brown blood, and he ignored the foul taste as some of it splashed onto his teeth and into his mouth. The Gatekeeper bellowed, but Carnius stabbed it home in the back of its knee, the joint buckling under the impact.

He felt something close around his arm as the Gatekeeper grabbed him with two of its fingers and hurled him away, but Carnius rolled with the impact and stood quickly; he could feel bruises forming, but this time there were no broken ribs to contend with from the hammerblow punch that had sent him flying.

The Gatekeeper charged him, gait ungainly as it limped forwards. Its cleaver was raised and it swept down towards him; Carnius barely managed to throw himself out of its way, and he landed with a roll, coming up in a crouch as the Gatekeeper rounded on him. He broke into a sprint from the low, ducking under the grab it tried to seize him with and leaping up to grab at the bands of thick, cracked leather at its belt. Kicking off its ankle he hauled himself upwards, wrenching an arrow from the flesh of its back and raising it to stab at its neck. This close, he could smell the deep stench of the Gatekeeper, a scent of rotting flesh, preservative fluid, roasted meat and old blood.

The Gatekeeper’s hand grabbed him, and he cursed as the grip wrenched him from its back and held him so they were face to face. It roared, the noise nought but a deafening blur of sound that battered at his eardrums like the fists of an enraged Orc, and he winced as a gust of fetid breath blasted against his nostrils. His hands were still free, above its massive fingers, and he saw the arrow was still in the grip of his gauntlets. He raised it and stabbed, drawing the tip along a line of stitching that ran down its wrist, the sharpened head gouging along the gap in its skin and snapping the twine that held it together.

The Gatekeeper screamed, dropping Carnius and collapsing to its knees as it fumbled for the wound, trying to somehow close it. Blood flowed from it in a thick, stinking stream, more sewage than viscera, and the tattooed runes covering its skin glowed with arcane power.

“You idiot!” Carnius heard Relmyna shriek from behind him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!”

“What?” Carnius yelled back as the Gatekeeper continued to roar in pain.

“You broke its containment!” Relmyna said. “Those stitches kept its element contained!”

“Element?” Carnius asked. “What element is that thing made of?”

“It’s a Flesh Atronach, you fool!” Relmyna snapped as the Gatekeeper roared and bellowed, twitching and writhing with agony. “And the most powerful in existence; that stitching bound its power into its form and made it immortal, and now that binding has been broken. It’s made of the element of flesh! And now that’s completely uncontrolled!”

Carnius glanced back at the Gatekeeper just in time to see it explode.

Its skin bulged, stitching bursting as something swelled from beneath it. Barbed tendrils of malformed muscle and gristle rippled outwards from the fissures rent into the Gatekeeper’s form, bristling with bony spines. Jaws filled with great fangs opened up, and arms and limbs tore from the Gatekeeper’s form, rolling eyes of every hue opened from beneath newly-formed lids. In moments, the humanoid form of the guardians of the Shivering Isles’ threshold was gone, replaced by a ravening, mewling abomination of random body parts, tendrils and fangs, all formed without any regard for reason or sanity.

Screams erupted from the crowd as the unbound power that gave the Gatekeeper its immortality breathed in the air of the Fringe, its form swelling and shrinking as great sacks were filled and emptied by the gasping of dozens of mouths. The crowd began to flee, and Carnius saw Jayred dither for a few moments.

“Get those people to safety!” he ordered, glancing back at the insane amalgamation of flesh and bone that now dominated the area before the Gates of Madness.

“What are you going to do?” Jayred asked.

Carnius picked up a bone arrow that lay on the ground beside him, the tip still bloodied from where he had rent the Gatekeeper’s flesh and unwittingly unleashed its power.

“Something really stupid,” he said. “But I think I know how to kill this thing.”
Jayred nodded, and turned to the crowd with a yell of; “All of you, down the hill, now! Go!”

The Grand Champion of the Imperial City Arena turned his attention back to the thing that had once been the Gatekeeper. The tendrils that had burst from its form began to sweep and coil around either side of him like serpents, but Carnius ignored it, focussing his attention on the heart of its abominable form. He could still see its iron helmet there, some final anchor of its form that gave it something that he hoped against hope was a vulnerable point. And it was only at the height of his head.

Jayred’s faith in bones had better not be misplaced.

He ran, sprinting forwards as the tendrils struck towards him. Most of them missed, the Atronach still trying to coordinate its new form, and with the back of his free hand Carnius battered away one that struck for him. He heard them coil and writhe behind him as he ran, closing the distance between them as he made for the core of the beast, arrow gripped and ready to stab down like a dagger.

He ducked under a swipe from an arm tipped with razor talons as he got close, got in reach of the helmet, raised the arrow and drove it home.

It punched through the metal and buried into where he thought its brain would be. Shrieks and roars bellowed from dozens of mouths and jaws, and its limbs flailed and thrashed. The flesh that made it up began to turn translucent and ethereal before Carnius’ eyes, changing from something solid to smoke and mist of pinkish hue. That was picked up by the wind and began to disperse, leaving the withered form of the Gatekeeper, nothing but torn skin clinging to bones.

Carnius took a few breaths to steady himself as he looked at the body below him, seeing the glint of two keys lying on the stone just beneath the body, one caught between a pair of ribs. He peeled away a flap of skin, grimacing at its leathery, canvas-like texture, and picked them up, looking at the two gates ahead of him.

And miles away in his crystal-topped tower, almost due east of Carnius, Sentinel sat back in his chair from where he had been watching the combat, a low whistle escaping his lips.

“Well,” he remarked to nobody in particular. “Now there’s a turnup for the books.”

Oh... ...Oh my... ...

*Thunderous applause*...

Bloody hell that was amazing...You were right!... ...

I absolutely loved that transformation into the Chaos creature thing...Excellent stuff...

Such a brilliant story, and most definately looking forward to where it goes from here...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds thunderously*...

Well, I promised you an entertaining fight, so it's only fitting that I deliver, after all. And surprisingly enough, the Chaos Spawn/Shoggoth moment (I only really realised the similarities between them after I finished writing it) was a spur of the moment scene written right on the whole stitch-breaking bit. Hopefully the rest should be just as good; would be a bit incongruous to have jumped the shark by just chapter nine.

Also, because all of you on the thread have been such good, wonderful readers, have yourselves a sneak peak at this concept sketch I put up on one of the denizens of the Isles that Carnius is going to encounter (apologies for the text, but the writing didn't scan brilliantly. If it isn't clear I'l just type it up on the site).

Definitely one of the better fight scenes I've seen in a story. I loved the detailed description of his putrid smell. Apologies for the short review, but your fight scene was riveting.

Don't worry about it, I'm just pleased you enjoyed it and grateful that you took the time to comment. And the comment of being one of the better ones means a lot; I'm truly flattered.

Did you mak this beast up from your own imagination? I couldn't read everything, but thought it extremely cool that you were detailing the creature's field of vision! Does it see its prey in thermal imagery?

This was an awesome forerunner to what Carnius will be encountering, Loved this!

Ah, your talent for details is most shown in this chapter with the difference in celestial descriptions between Nirn and the Realm itself. As deadly as they are, Oblivion realms can indeed be beautiful. Such as Moonshadow and the Hunting Grounds.


This right here shows that our champion still has a heart amidst the thirst for blood. Not many gladiator champions go through their career with guilt in their minds. At one point, they become accustomed to it. Carnius stands out among them.

The fight itself was bloody, violent and thrilling! You also added more humor in the mix, as Carnius' cynical attitude is shown more with his witty comments . I like that. Quite the twist with the Gatekeeper becoming some gnarled creature. Eww.

‘Contortured’ should definitely be a word. Your campaign has my support.

I’m still very much enjoying this, Mustard!

mALX: I made it up all by myself, yeah; I based the anatomy of the head off a hummingbird's (one of the notes there says how they drink nectar from flowers, with the pollen providing a naturally occuring shield spell, so they're actually herbivores) and the body's off that of a Deinonychus, sans the famous claw. It doesn't see in the thermal vision, though, but now I'm going to have to think up a predatory beast from the Isles that does because I like that idea too much to simply leave it alone.

DE: Well, I'm trying to write Carnius as somebody who has generally grown a thick skin when it comes to committing acts of bloodshed in general; his killing of Agronak was the exception, rather than the rule, on account of the two of them being so close. I imagine that that's why the segregation of Blue and Yellow team in the Arena is so heavily enforced, and why gladiators from the same team almost never fight each other; you hardly want them getting too attached and wanting to kill each other, after all. Carnius is in that boat, so he won't feel too bad about killing someone from Yellow team, but as he knew Agronak well he feels bad about that one in particular.

Grits: Excellent! With you at my side we shall storm the dictionary building, overthrow the fat bourgeous pigdogs that choose which words are in it and which are not, and open the dictionary for the people! For freedom! For revolution! For the word 'contortured'! CHAAAAAARGE!!!

The pollen creating a natural shield effect - Awesome idea!

I'm caught up and I have to say this has been a very entertaining story so far. SI is a nice change, there was another SI story on here, but it kind of petered out.

The fight against the gatekeeper was a lot of fun, and I'm happy you are adding in some of your own detail.

Having Agronak as a friend was really neat and I can totally see his death driving Carnius to the realm of madness. I did find it funny that he wants to get away from the arena, and yet still fights in his raiment. The Khajiit friend was awesome too, he does seem like he'd be a good fit in the Isles, perhaps we'll see him again.

KC: Thank you very much, yer majesty!

Gotta say, I didn't really think of the raiment that way, but Carnius' decision in taking it was more pragmatic; it's the only armour he has, and a pretty good suit of it, too. And we may well be seeing more of Ta'Zarna again in the future, too. I'm a great believer in firing my Chekov's Guns.

mALX: Thanks! I'm tryign to make the Isles as much of a living, breathing realm as I can, so I'm adding in details like that to make it as authentic as possible; the shield spell in the pollen means that the animals get protection as well as a good meal, and thus are motivated to feed from other flowers like it over the rest in order to spread the pollen and thus help the flowers breed. Just like in nature in the real world, only with extra magic involved.

Chapter 10-The Bard

“Murderer!”

The word scraped from a throat that was hoarse and ragged with rage and grief, half-choked with tears. Relmyna Verenim, crouched as she was over the desiccated corpse of the Gatekeeper, looked up at Carnius through enraged eyes, features contorting into a snarl of untold fury.

“Monster!” she snarled. “You monster! Look what you’ve done! You killed my child! You killed my only child!!”

She stood, hands held wide as magical power danced at her fingertips, gaze fixed with murderous intent on Carnius. Dredhwen and an Imperial Carnius didn’t know grabbed her arms before she could rush forwards, and she struggled for a few moments before dropping to her knees once more. They released and she let out a low moan of grief, slumped and sobbing over the body of the Gatekeeper.

Carnius watched the scene without much in the way of sympathy for her; he found it difficult to empathise with somebody who had brought that creature into the world and who had remarked on how he would make a good sculpture.

“So Sentinel was right,” a familiar voice remarked from behind Carnius. He turned to see the butler type who had greeted him, Haskill, standing not far away. It seemed he had just appeared from thin air, in the same way he had faded out of view the night before. “You did kill the Gatekeeper. Most impressive.”

He glanced at the two keys that Carnius still held in his hand.

“Just use those keys to open the gates whenever you so feel like it,” he added. “I suppose you were probably wondering what to do with them, after all. And after that, Lord Sheogorath himself wishes to hold an audience with you.”

“So I should head for New Sheoth?” Carnius asked. A momentary look of surprise flickered across Haskill’s face, but the chamberlain quashed it in an instant.

“How did you work that out, I must ask,” he said.

“Looked like the only big city around, so I figured it would be the capital,” Carnius replied. “Like how the Imperial Council are based in the Imperial City and the Emperors were based there before them. Rulers always stay in the biggest towns, after all.”

“Well, make your way there and present yourself to His Lordship at the palace, as soon as you can,” Haskill said.

“Haskill!” Relmyna called from where she was slumped by the Gatekeeper’s body. “This man murdered my child! He is a murderer! Have him locked up! Have him executed!”

“My apologies, Lady Verenim, but Lord Sheogorath’s decree was quite clear; whoever succeeds in killing the Gatekeeper and unlocking the Gates of Madness is to have an audience with him as soon as possible,” Haskill said, with a curt, slight bow in Relmyna’s direction.

“What?” Relmyna asked, eyes filling with rage. “He…he planned on somebody killing my child?”

“Those were his orders,” Haskill replied.

“How dare he?” the Dunmer seethed. “First he ignores my letters, and now it turns out he has invited people into Isles as part of his plan to kill my darling?”

She stood, a look of terrible wrath in her eyes, and said to Haskill; “Tell him that I have had enough; he has made an enemy of Relmyna Verenim, and I will stop at nothing, nothing until my child is avenged!” Her gaze fell upon Carnius. “And you, Imperial, will suffer in equal measure! You and your master will pay!”

She stormed away down the hill, Haskill and Carnius watching her go.

“Well, that’s a rather concerning development,” Haskill remarked. “I’ll have to inform Lord Sheogorath of this when I return.”

He glanced around.

“Sentinel said you were fighting the Gatekeeper with a Nord,” he added. “Where is he?”

“Jayred?” Carnius asked. “He’s down fetching his Swattle herd. Do you need him to speak to Sheogorath too?”

“No, not particularly,” Haskill said with a shake of his head. “According to Sentinel you were the one who takes the Haratak’s share of the credit for killing it, and you were the one who made his way through the gateway in the bay. You are the sort of person Sheogorath was calling for, after all.”

“Right,” Carnius said. “Anything else I need to know?”

“I simply recommend that you stick the roads for now, and perhaps try and keep a wary eye on Relmyna when you can,” Haskill replied. “She is quite good at holding a grudge.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Carnius said. “See you in New Sheoth, Haskill.”

“I look forward to it,” Haskill said in a tone that suggested he would rather be in the most chill and benighted depths of Coldharbour than seeing Carnius in New Sheoth. He stepped back, and faded from view, and Carnius turned his gaze towards the imposing Gates of Madness. There were two doors, one decorated with a manic grin carved into its surface, the other a grimace or a snarl. Carnius unrolled the map and glanced down at it; there were two road leading from Passwall, it seemed, one through the southern province of the Isles, Dementia, and another taking a more scenic route along the northern half, through the realm named Mania. The choice was an easy one, the Dementia road being a far more direct one, and Carnius rolled the map up in time to see Jayred approaching, his herd of Swattle slithering up the path before him.

“You haven’t it opened it yet, friend?” he asked as he ordered his herd to a halt with a click of his tongue.

“Just wrapping up a little business with somebody I know,” Carnius replied. He tapped his belt-purse, which was now bulging with coin from the bet he had made on himself with the mayor of Passwall. “I’m all ready now, though.”

He made his way up the steps that lead to both of the gates, the two keys in either hand. The two implements, one carved a golden metal and the other cut from a purple crystal of some kind, hummed in his hands. He approached one of the gates, the left hand one and raised the golden key to its lock; with a discordant whine it jumped in his hand, somehow jerking away from the hold in the massive portal. Carnius frowned, raised the other key and inserted it; it was almost eager with the ease that it clicked home. A twist sent a great clank echoing from the gate, the noise somehow sounding like a moan of pain or despair, the key spinning in the lock and, once that was done, fading from view. After a moment’s consideration, he did the same with the second gate and key. With that one, there was the distinct impression of laughter within the echo.

Jayred had already pushed the gate open, and he and his herd of Swattle were making their way along the Dementia road. He was just fifty paces ahead, and Carnius stepped through the threshold to catch up with them.

Moment of broken balance scales tip paradigm shifts gauntlet shatters snake-chain. That moment? Yes. No. One of the many. A weight on the scales. That is what it was. An influence, when the snake’s tail first began to slip from its jaw.

I can still hear that scratching, you know. I think it’s getting louder. Please help. I’m sorry for what I did, I truly am. Please. I’m afraid, now.

They came to the village just an hour or two before darkness was about to set.

The place reminded Carnius of Passwall, if on somewhat of a larger scale. The two of them had spent the better part of three hours skirting the borders of a lake that the road ran alongside, and the village occupied a silted peninsula that jutted into its waters. Each of the houses were raised up on stilts, rising out of swampy soil, and beyond its borders the lake split into hundreds of miniature rivulets, mushroom trees raised above them on the pillaring of hundreds of roots.

“Mushroom mangroves,” Jayred remarked as they approached. “This place will be perfect for my herd.”

“Looks like as a good a place to stay as any, if there’s an inn,” Carnius said. “Would certainly beat camping.”

There were more than a few people out on the central square the village was based around, and the gladiator was quietly pleased when the Nord and his herd of Swattle drew more attention than he did. While Jayred managed to gather a small crowd of around a dozen of the village’s residents, Carnius slipped away to the largest building there, one which he guessed to be an inn; if Jayred decided to stay, he would bid the Nord farewell in the morning.

The inn itself was of the same sort of construction that he would have found in any place around Cyrodiil; the bottom floor was a single large, high-ceilinged room with tables spanning its length, a fireplace at one end and a bar running along a wall. There were a few patrons, and Carnius spared them only a cursory glance, and his gaze lingered on the young woman playing what looked to be harp made from fused together bones. The tune she was playing was a complex, quiet melody, fingers dancing over the strings.

There were words in her tune, and Carnius lingered for a moment as he tried to pick them out. After a few moments, he gave up; whatever tongue they were in, it was one he couldn’t understand, but he took a few moments more to listen before he headed to the bar.

“A stranger, I see,” the Argonian behind it remarked. “Somebody who I’ve never seen before. Which is, of course a stranger. If you were familiar, after all, you would not be strange.”

He harrumphed, and added with an accusing glare; “You unfamiliar strangers are not very helpful, you know. How am I supposed to know you if I do not know anything about you, eh?”

“I…I was just hoping to get a meal and a bed for the night,” Carnius said after a moment. “That’s all.”

“Then you are a stranger who is also a customer,” the Argonian nodded. “I can tolerate customer strangers. What do you want for food, strange one who engages in custom?”

“What’s cooking?” Carnius asked.

“Swattle stew with vegetables,” the bartender replied. “Will that be a good meal for the customer stranger? Or perhaps, in your strange ways, it will not be. I do not know.”

“That sounds fine,” Carnius said. “And a tankard of mead to wash it down.”

“Then that will be three of the customer stranger’s coins, then,” the Argonian said. Carnius placed them down on the counter, and the lizard-man bit one to check if it was genuine. Satisfied, he nodded and called into the kitchen; “Raddaz, a bowl of stew!”

“This one hears,” a hoarse replied, and Carnius glanced through the doorway that it came through to see a Khajiit with ragged, patchy fur ladle a thick liquid into a pewter bowl while the bartender poured out Carnius’ drink.

His meal and drink in hand, Carnius found a seat near the bard. He glanced at her occasionally as he ate, watching her play and simply enjoying the music. She was good looking in a boyish way, short-cut blonde hair turned orange in the light of the fire she played besides, leading Carnius to guess she was from Imperial or Nordic stock. Her voice was husky, low-pitched for a woman’s, but pleasing to the ear nonetheless. There was a pack by her feet, not unlike Carnius’ own, and she was wearing armour of hardened and padded leather. She looked like somebody who travelled a lot, and knew how to fight, but he couldn’t see a weapon anywhere near her person and judging by the fact that an Orsimer a few tables away had a pair of fearsome handaxes mounted on his back, that wasn’t due to the inn having a no-weapon policy either. She probably knew some magic or fought with her fists like he did, he guessed.

He was nearing the end of his meal when the door to the tavern swung open. Carnius glanced over at it, half expecting to see Jayred enter, but instead it was an Imperial dressed in steel warplate with a broad-headed battleaxe across his back. He surveyed the inn with a look of disapproval, one that turned to outright rage as his gaze fell upon the bard.

“What is that?” he asked, the question directed at the bartender.

“She is playing for the entertainment of the customers,” the Argonian replied. “Is there a problem?”

“Entertainment?” the man asked. “Entertainment? Entertainment, my dear Argonian, is a vile abomination more akin to the realm of Mania than it is to that of Dementia. Entertainment brings happiness, and happiness brings blindness, decadence and corruption! It leaves us open to the deceptions of the false Madgod!”

The bartender sighed as the bard’s music petered out. She turned on the stool she was sitting on to face the new arrival, fingers poised over the strings of her instrument.

“You have been hanging around with those Heretics too much, Lucius,” the Argonian said. “Go home and stop pestering my customers.”

“Blind fool,” Lucius snarled, stepping towards the bard. “You, girl, what do you think you are doing?”

“Playing music,” was her reply.

“Then I order you to halt your decadent act of sin, immediately,” the Imperial replied with a growl.

“I just have,” she pointed out. “Otherwise I’d still be singing, not talking to you.”

“Do not be smart with me, girl,” the Imperial said, stalking towards her. Carnius pushed his bowl to one side and swung both legs out from under the table, freeing him to rise. “If you have any decency you would take that implement of debauchery you have there and smash it at once.”

“I’m not doing that,” the bard replied. “Now please leave me be.”

“You won’t?” the Imperial said taking a few more steps towards her. Carnius prepared to move. “Then perhaps I should do it for you.”

Her response was to pluck a string and to say…something. The noise seemed to be confused to Carnius’ ears, chopped and warped despite the perfectly serviceable acoustics of the room. Whatever it was, the Imperial was flung back from her as if he had been struck in the chest by a giant’s club, sailing through the air to clatter on the floor.

“You sane little strumpet!” he cursed, he cursed, scrambling to his feet and loosing his axe. “I’ll smash your damn head for that!”

He managed a step forwards before the bard plucked another string and loosed another one of those half-words. The Imperial stumbled, swaying on the spot and blinking in sudden confusion.

“Why don’t you go home like Eats-His-Claws suggested?” the bard said, plucking the strings of her instrument as she spoke. Carnius was no mage, but even he could sense the arcane power contained within that order crackle through the air. “You look tired; some rest could do you good.”

The Imperial looked dazed for a few moments, before he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, tone dazed. “Perhaps a nap will sort me out.”

He looked at the axe in his hand with a look of bafflement, as if confused as to why he was holding it, and placed it in its harness on his back. After a moment, he stumbled back out of the door, and the Argonian shook his head.

“Damn Heretics,” he muttered.

The bard glanced over at Carnius, and she smiled at him.

“I noticed you just there, friend,” she said. “I might not have needed the help, but thanks for the thought in any case.”

“No problem,” Carnius said. “Never been a fan of his sort of person.”

“Not many people are keen on the Heretics,” the bard replied. She extended a hand. “Salyan Irrenius, by the way, bard.”

“Carnius Hackelt,” Carnius replied as he shook it. He glanced at the doorway which the Imperial had stumbled through. “I’m curious, by the way; what was that you just used on that Imperial, just there? Some kind of magic.”

“That’s right,” Salyan said. “Audiomancy; I use my lyre here to help me focus and cast my spells. It’s not the widest-known kind of magic, and it isn’t the easiest to use, but it works for me.”

Carnius nodded. That would explain the lack of weapons; she was a spellcaster, as he had guessed.

She sat down on the bench next to her, and called to the bartender; “Eats, have I earned my meal yet?”

“I suppose so,” the Argonian said. “Raddaz, get the instrument girl something to eat!”

“So what brings you to this part of the Isles?” Salyan asked.

“I’m on my way to New Sheoth,” Carnius replied.

“Really? You came from Passwall, then?” Salyan said. She looked him up and down. “That would mean you were blessed, but you don’t look blessed. How did you get past the Gatekeeper?”

“Killed it,” Carnius said.

“You killed it?” Salyan said, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I’m the one who tells tall tales here, Carnius, not you.”
“I’m not joking,” Carnius said. “I killed it. There’s a Nord outside with a herd of Swattle you can ask if you don’t believe me. But I’m heading to New Sheoth now to meet with Sheogorath.”

“So that call for champions he sent out wasn’t completely useless,” Salyan murmured, half to herself. “I’m heading to New Sheoth myself; I was around this part of the Isles to try and get some scrolls from some old ruins, but now I’ve picked those up I’m heading back there.”

Carnius glanced back at the small crowd in the tavern, before he said; “Might be a good idea to do a bi to adventuring on the side; this crowd doesn’t look all that interested in any songs, if I’m honest.”

“Most Demented taverns don’t have all that much time for bards and minstrels,” Salyan said with a shrug. “If this was a Manic crowd they’d be calling for an encore right now.”

Before Carnius could question what any of that meant, the Argonian appeared with the bard’s meal in hand. He set it down on the table along with a fork and spoon, and glanced at Carnius.

“Does the customer stranger wish for anything else?” he asked.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Carnius said.

Salyan was about to tuck into her meal, but paused and glanced up at the Argonian.

“Hey, Eats,” she said. “What was that you were saying about Heretics just a minute ago? Have they been giving you trouble?”

“They moved in a couple of months ago, started camping out at some old ruin about half a mile east of here,” Eats replied. “They haven’t actually gone and attacked anybody yet, but they’re causing trouble in any case. Merchants have started steering clear of here now, because of them; worried about being attacked and so forth. Plus they’re getting some of the folks in the village all stirred up, like Lucius, and they’ve started making a scene.”

“Carnius and I could sort them out for you, if you want,” Salyan suggested. “Just point us in the right direction and we’ll deal with them tomorrow morning.”

“Hold on,” Carnius said. “Since when did I agree to this?”

“You look like you can look after yourself in a fight, you’ll be fine,” Salyan replied. “Besides, it’ll be fun. And if you thought that Lucius person was bad, believe me, the actual Heretics he looks up to are even worse. And afterwards I’ll head to New Sheoth with you; there’s safety in numbers, after all.”

“I suppose so,” Carnius conceded.

“Great,” Salyan said. She took a spoonful of her meal and started chewing. Through the mouthful, she smiled and added; “This is going to be good!”

Carnius, the murdering ba$tard! Hehe, kidding. He did what he had to do! You set the scene quite well with Haskill and the sadistic Relmyna. I know she will cause Carnius some trouble in the future as she holds a considerable grudge against him, and of course, Sheogorath himself.

The details were great, once again, and the journey through the gates was wonderfully written. I did enjoy the tavern wench and her Audiomancy? . Never heard that one before. And Carnius made a friend! Sort of, anyway. Potential love interest? You did say you aren't keen on writing love stories. Me either, since my romantic characters usually end up dying tragically. Anyways, I can't wait to see the arrival to New Sheoth!

I must say, I was always fascinated with life in another realm in the ES universe. Shivering Isles does open up new possibilities and such. Good read!

I like the bard already! She seems a little more functional than the others, is she ‘blessed?’ She must be if she’s there. Her magic sounds cool, a little like a singing dragonborn! The Argonian must have been fun to write. The cooking Khajiit was a little worrisome, it sounded like he was sick.

Of the characters in SI, Haskill’s always been a favorite of mine. He’s better than Sheogorath in my opinion.

I love how well you capture the Dementian (Demented?) view of happiness. It's really well-done, at least I think so. That cynical, distrusting view really shows how the darker side of madness has touched them. Anyways, a great write! I can't wait for the next one

That's just creepy as hell...That really is proper creep there that is... ...

Love the thing with the two keys by the gates...Brilliant that was...

There was soo much to love in the Inn...The argonian was just absurdly hilarious with the whole stranger thing...The Bard was exceedingly cool...Loved her and the heretic fight-thing...Looking forward to seeing what comes of the heretic thing and what they're about...

The Audiomancy rocks!... ...I know that Greg Keyes did something similar in is Kingdoms of Thorn and Bone quartet, but I think as there were only three, maybe even four people that read that, I don't think you have anything to worry about... ...Definately an amazing idea though...Loved it!...

Please, continue... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

DE: You just about got the situation with Relmyna about right, yep; expect more of the Isles' resident mad scientist in the future, believe you me.

And really? I introduce a new character with tits and she's immediately a love interest? To be fair, I've no real grievance against romantic subplots; entirely romance-based stories annoy me as character IQs usually seem to drop by about 50 points in order to spin out the plot and make it long enough, but if it's a subplot that isn't the main focus it's generally fine for me. In that case, padding it out to novel length is no longer necessary and the characters no longer act as if they're mentally subnormal when it's narratively convenient.

And the idea of Audiomancy was my own (at least, I sort of accidentally copied it from a Greg Keyes book, according to McBadgere, as I've never heard of Greg Keyes in my life before). I already had Salyan's character largely worked out, so she ended up getting herself an unusual type of magic.

KC: Salyan is blessed, alright, but her blessing* is somewhat more subtle in its nature than, say, the way the Argonion was. And I did in fact initially toy with the idea of her using the Thu'um, but seeing as Skyrim seems to present Shouts as being incredibly difficult to learn if you aren't a dragon or the Dragonborn I decided against it.

I'm more of a Sheogorath fan, personally, but Haskill does come pretty damn close; he certainly manages snootiness the best of any of the characters in Oblivion.

Zalphon: According to all the books you find in the Isles, I believe that the term is 'Demented' for those from Dementia and 'Manic' for those from Mania. And I really can't see the Demented being fans of music, not at all, especially the Heretics, who seem to be the sort to put Oliver Cromwell and his fellows to shame.

McBadgere: Well, the entire point of that part is to creep people out a bit. I'd be kind of failing in my aim to write a wierder and creepier version of the Shivering Isles if it wasn't wierd and creepy, after all!

I'll admit that the Argonian was a lot of fun to write, but probably not as much fun as Salyan was; her and her Audiomancy promise to be rather enjoyable indeed. I've never heard of this Greg Keyes fellow, though, or those books. I think I'll chalk that down to coincidence, perhaps.


Thank you for reading, and I love you all!


*I love that I'm suddenly using that term like some kind of airy-fairy overly-PC way to say 'she crazy'

Greg Keyes?...Wrote a couple of Star Wars novels?...B5 novels?...And a couple to do with that little game series...Oh what was it?...Oh yeah, The Elder Scrolls... ...

Nah, only joking...And I genuinely forgot to say that I believed that it was just a coincidence...And definately a decent piece of working out...

Nice one!!...

Nah, never heard of any of those.

New chapter alert, by the way, introducing a scary new villain character! Eek!

Chapter 11-Altar

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Carnius asked as they looked at the entrance of the ruined building. From their viewpoint, they could see two guards loitering around a few broken columns, the white stone pillars jutting to the sky like bared ribs. The rest of the building complex, one of tumbled walls, half-fallen roofs and overgrown courtyards, sprawled out beyond them.

“Because they’re a bunch of Heretics,” Salyan replied, crouched as she was in the shade of a mushroom tree next to Carnius. “They’re making trouble for the people over at Backbite, and they don’t like my music.”

“To be fair, music isn’t everyone’s thing,” Carnius said.

“I can understand if it isn’t to everybody’s taste,” Salyan said, tugging the cloak of tanned Swattle skin she wore on her back forwards a notch. “But I refuse to be called a bad person simply because of what I am and what I do.”

There was a look of quiet anger eyes, as Carnius glanced over at her, but that evaporated a moment later as she added with a grin; “Besides, you wouldn’t want to leave a girl like me all alone to deal with a bunch of dangerous sorcerers like them, would you?”

“Fine,” Carnius said. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

He glanced over at the two sentries, before he asked Salyan; “You know any frenzy spells?”

“Yes, I know one,” she said.

“Good,” Carnius said. “Hit one of them with it, then the other.”

“You realise his friend will just dispel it, right?” Salyan asked.

“Not if you hit the other one right away,” Carnius said. “One kills the other and then we finish him of before he can come to his senses. And it’s hard to cast spells quickly when you’ve got someone in your face trying to kill you, after all.”

“Good thinking,” Salyan nodded. She raised her lyre, fingers finding a certain string, and as she played spoke what Carnius could only call a note of power.

An angry dischord sliced through the air towards one of the Heretic guards, a thrown dagger of harsh sound. The man turned with a snarl towards his Dunmer companion, raising his hand and calling upon some kind of arcane energy, and with the sound of ripping leather some whipcord-thin creature of jutting ribs and claws appeared from thin air. The Dunmer gave a yell of alarm as he called together magic to stop what he guessed was a frenzying spell, but a second arrow angry noise from Salyan’s lyre halted that; the dispel turned into a crackle of lightning that hit the other Heretic’s summoned creature in the chest.

It stumbled back, but the Mer’s efforts were in vain as the other Heretic drew a mace from his belt and swung for him; it slammed into the side of the Dunmer’s head with a crack and a squelch and the unfortunate Dark Elf collapsed to the ground.

By then, Carnius was moving, bursting from the undergrowth towards the remaining Heretic. He ignored the summoned beast, who was clutching a badly burned chest and wheezing with pain, and he felt arcane energy sent from Salyan’s lyre speed past him and strike the Heretic. The man in question raised his hands to cast a spell, but his fingers just waved uselessly at Carnius as the gladiator approached.

Spitting a curse, he swung down with his mace over his head as Carnius came into his reach, aiming to crush his skull in one blow. Carnius crossed his arms before him, catching the haft of the mace on the vambraces of his gauntlets and halting its path. His front arm pushed up and across over his other wrist, pushing the mace away and leaving the Heretic open, before his back hand lashed out, cracking into the Heretic’s face. He stumbled back with a curse, clutching his broken nose with a free hand and swaying as blood dripped from it.

“Kill him!” the Heretic yelled at his summoned creature. “Kill him, I say!”

The creature charged with a pained shriek, one of its arms extended to strike and the other clutching its injured chest, and Carnius stepped into its reach, jarring it with his right shoulder and sent its swing off-target. He jabbed his elbow into its thin chest, and a moment later swung the back of his fist up and smashed it into the funnel that occupied where its mouth should be. It stumbled away, and he turned his attention to its summoner.

Seeing where Carnius was facing, the Heretic managed to raise his mace in a crude guard, blood still dripping from his crushed nose, and Carnius moved. Three steps covered the distance between them, and he slammed the back of his fist upwards into the haft of the mace, knocking it away before the spiked knuckles of his other gauntlet slammed into the cartilage of his throat. The Heretic collapsed, gagging and choking as he clutched his ruined windpipe, and the fading of the summoned creature that he had called into being marked his passing a few moments later.

“That was bracing!” Salyan remarked as she drew near to Carnius. “We make a good team, you know.”

“Guess so,” the Imperial remarked with a nod. It was true; without that silence spell, dealing with that Heretic and his pet would have been a lot trickier, not to mention that fact that Salyan’s frenzy spell had dealt with the Dunmer who had also stood guard. “Thanks for the help, by the way; reckon I needed it.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Salyan replied. “Now come on, let’s go and kill these people.”

They made their way through the half-ruined entrance of the building, footsteps echoing on the cracked flagstones that paved it. The right wall had tumbled in on itself, allowing sunlight and plant life to interlope on the building’s innards, but the left one was still intact.

“What are those?” Salyan asked suddenly, and from his position a few paces ahead of her Carnius turned around to see the bard examining the still-intact wall. There were carvings on it, weathered and indistinct figures in movement. Carnius squinted at it for a few moments, sensing that the savage swirl of combat was depicted in them, figures wielding weapons, all made faceless by the wearing of time. Many of them seemed to be footsoldiers of some kind, holding swords, shields and bows, while winged figures duelled with what looked like flocks of dragons. Across the top, a pattern of rings was linked together in a long chain that ran along the cracked and water-stained wall. Faint indents that were carved along the bottom of the stone suggested writing of some kind, and Salyan crouched next to them, running her fingers over the carvings with a frown.

“I wonder what that says,” she murmured.

“We can look into it later,” Carnius said. “There’s still a whole group of Heretics around here, and I don’t want to get caught unawares.”

“You’re right,” Salyan nodded, standing up. Her lyre shifted into a different hold in her hands as she stood once more, gripped in the same way a soldier would grasp a weapon.

Carnius lead the way through the ruin, Salyan following not far behind. On occasion they would skirt tumbled piles of rubble or puddles that had formed in the floor, from which multifarious fungi of every shape and form imaginable would sprout. At one point, Carnius had to all but throw himself away from a patch of mould that reacted to him stepping on it by growing greenish teeth and attempting to bite his foot. The walls were covered in carving similar to the ones found by the entry hall,

“Where is everyone?” Salyan asked as they reached a long-neglected courtyard, now overgrown with plants of all kind. All of them were greyish things that looked halfway to death, rot and fungi the only thing that bloomed in any kind of abundance here.

“That’s a good question,” Carnius said. “You’d think if they had sentries posted up they’d be a big enough group to possibly warrant some attention.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find them sooner or later,” Salyan said.

As they continued, the silence of the building began to press on them. It was deserted, graveyard-silent and the only sound they heard for a long while was their own footsteps echoing back at them. The further in they got, the more they expected to run across some band of Heretics, but all they found were more carvings showing some ancient war between unknown antagonists and nothing else. At one point, they came to a room, dominated by a statue of two figures. One, wearing some kind of armour that looked more like it was cut than forged, was standing over a second person who was on his knees and facing away from him; the passage of time had rendered their appearance indistinct, and the only facial features that remained were the faintest impression of a nose and a beard. The armoured figure held a chain in his hands, and it was wrapped around the neck of the one on his knees. Somehow, the erosion that had pervaded the rest of the crumbling building had left the metal of the chain untouched, and as Carnius peered at it he saw that each link was forged to resemble a snake biting its own tail.

“You alright?” he said as he saw Salyan frowning at something.

“Can’t you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“That chanting,” she replied, taking a few steps towards a doorway on the opposite side of the room. “I can hear people saying something.”

Before Carnius could stop her, she went through. He followed, hurrying after her as she tried to track the progress of her mysterious sound. Not far along the corridor, the noise reached his ears as well; faint, repetitive noise, too distant and weak to pick up words. As they advanced, that too came into clarity, a cyclic call of some words whose meaning he could not decipher.

They found the source of the noise in a room that sank into the foundations of the building. Salyan and Carnius halted at the top of a stairwell that ran down into a large, square room, one ringed by balconies along either side. At its heart, a group of people were gathered around a solid block of some glowing white crystal, all in the blue robes as worn by the guards outside.

“Let’s get them,” Salyan hissed.

“No,” Carnius replied, voice lowered. “There’s too many for us to fight.”

“It’ll be easy,” she said. “Chuck a few frenzy spells in there and-”

“And they’ll dispel them,” Carnius said. “We aren’t fighting them, not when they’re all together. Besides, I want to see what they were doing.”

He stepped through a doorway to the side, onto one of the balconies where he would be hidden in shadow, and Salyan followed a few moments later. As they did so, one of the Heretic’s number stepped forwards; judging from the fact that her robes were more elaborate and her hair was grey, Carnius guessed she was some kind of leader or elder.

“Jyggalag!” she exclaimed, raising her hands into the air. “Ayat mran zia nasheggorath orotya! Iok threye olorias! Kayan zey yatania!”

“Any ideas what she’s saying?” Carnius asked Salyan.

“No,” Salyan said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that language before.”

“Ikiolyis nethren zayatianis ret!” the priestess cried. She lowered her hands, looking over her congregation. “Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Two of Heretics stepped forth, a third held between them with his hands behind his back. His hood was down, and Carnius recognised him as Lucius, the Imperial’s head held down in an expression of defeat and fear.

“Please,” he managed to mumble to the priestess. “Don’t do this! I’m one of you!”

“I know,” the elder replied, her tone gentle and sympathetic. “This is why you have been chosen for so great an undertaking, brother. Do not be afraid; through your sacrifice, we will help usher in a new age for the Shivering Isles.”

Lucius’ pleas were ignored as other two Heretics forced him onto the altar. The chant began again as the priestess drew a long, straight knife from her belt, the blade cut from the same crystal as the altar, and raised it above her head.

“Ayake!” she cried. “Rathiak kayala Jyggalag zayat!”

Blood spilled upon shining mineral as the blade hit home. Salyan gasped and inched further back into the shadows.

“This is wrong,” she whispered. “Something is very, very wrong.”

The unholy liturgy of words repeated by the Heretics continued, a prayer to some god neither gladiator nor bard wished to comprehend, and spurred on by the unnatural power in the words and blood, the body of Lucius began to rise into the air. His skin began to turn pale and white as his body grew in size and stature. Muscle turned into growing crystalline plates covering a vaguely humanoid figure that hung in the air, turning into a standing position above the altar. In just a few moment, the dreadful transformation was complete, and what had once been an Imperial was now a massive statue of silver-white crystal standing before the armour, the mineral that made it cut to resemble plate armour. In the faceless helm, the blank eye sockets lit up with the dreadful white light of some ancient and cursed star, fuelled by some unholy life, and great crystalline wings unfolded from its back with a ringing, scraping noise, span so great their tips touched either side of the chamber walls. In one of its hands it held a pair of scales, the other a colossal sword, and it gazed upon the congregation before it with a look of dreadful contempt and malice.

Kneel, it ordered in a scraping boom of a voice, and the congregation did as bidden. In their hiding place on the balcony, Carnius and Salyan found their knees sagging on their own accord. Who summons Jyggalag’s Arbitrator of Judgement?

“We are the Heretics of the Isles, my Lord Judgement,” the priestess spoke from where she was on her knees. “Those who reject the lies of the Madgod, who have learned the truth of the Greymarch and Jyggalag and who seek the Prince of Order’s blessing, so that we may spread his will and truth to all the Isles.”

“Greymarch?” Carnius heard Salyan murmured by his side. “I thought that was just a story.”

Blessing? the colossal figure, Judgement, asked. What are you, mortal, to presume to ask for such a thing?

“A mere pawn,” the priestess replied. “A slave willing to serve the Tyrant of Tyrants. We petition with blood and chant and sacrifice, as laid down in the rituals of the Greymarch. We know that the salvation of the Isles is soon to be at hand, and wish to take part in this glorious endeavour, to serve the true ruler of this land.”

The giant took a step forwards, the flagstones cracking beneath its shining boots. The great blade it carried hummed as it whirled in its hand, coming to rest beneath the priestess’ chin, lifting her head so that she saw the terrible aspect of Judgement in full.

You speak your case well, it said. Receive Jyggalag’s blessing. Become priests and priestesses of order.

“Thank you, my lord,” the priestess said, still on her knees. “You have our eternal-”

The words were cut off by a gasp of pain and shock as she began to change. Her skin turned pale grey, as it did with the other heretics, their robes changing from light blue in colour to a deep, dark purple. Chunks of crystal began to grow across the cloth, swelling and linking to form a breastplate and belt as part of some hideous metamorphosis.

“We need to get out of here,” Salyan said. Carnius nodded; he’d seen more than enough of this.

They crept in silence to the entranceway and hurried through the door as the gathering of Heretics cried out in pain at their changing, using the distraction to get away. As soon as they were sure their footsteps would be out of earshot, they broke into a sprint, and did not stop until they were outside and well away from the crumbled ruin.

Carnius leant against a tree, panting for breath after the sprint and swigged from the fatigue potion at his belt, feeling the burn of a stitch that had begun to form fade away and the tiredness from that sprint wash from his muscles. He handed it to Salyan, who gulped down a grateful swig of it and passed it back.

“What in Oblivion’s name was that?” Carnius asked.

“I’m not certain,” Salyan said. “But I think I might have an idea. There’s an old legend in the Isles, of a war against an army known as the Greymarch. There are dozens of different tellings I’ve heard over the years, some of them saying that the Greymarch wins and conquers the Isles, some saying that it loses, others saying that they were locked in a stalemate or kept fighting over and over again, but all of them ended with the promise of Greymarch invading once more in the future. That creature we saw in there was one of the Arbitrators, and according to the stories they were the Greymarch’s generals or champions or something similar. And if they required a sacrifice to bring one of those here, then there’s no knowing how powerful that thing was.”

“So who do we warn about it?” Carnius asked.

“Well, it won’t stay for very long,” Salyan said. “That sacrifice will give it energy to stay here for a while, but not for long. But those Heretics are doing something more dangerous that just defying Lord Sheogorath; if you’re going to see him in person in New Sheoth, you should warn him, have him send a patrol down there to deal with them.”

Carnius nodded.

“I’ll get that done alright,” he said. “I don’t know what that was, but that wasn’t right; killing that man like that…”

“I was talking about that creature they summoned,” Salyan said. “The Arbitrator; that could be dangerous, if any of those old stories are true.”

“And the human sacrifice?” Carnius asked.

“So what?” Salyan shrugged. “The Feasters in Bliss have one every month for that Holy Banquet of theirs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Weepers did something similar too. Then there’s the annual Leap of Flame that the Sisterhood of Immolation have as well. Hardly a big deal, after all. I was talking about the Arbitrator.”

“Right,” Carnius nodded, deciding that was the safest course to take at the moment. “Of course.”

He shook his head.

“Anyway, the road shouldn’t be too far north of here,” he said. “Let’s go find it and then head to New Sheoth.”

Death to the Heretics! Death, I say!

“It’ll be easy,” she said. “Chuck a few frenzy spells in there and-”


Ah, we have a smart gladiator here. I like this, and pretty much expected him to show some of his guile.

Then we go onto some crazy cultist sacrifices! I love it! And the summoning Jyggy himself and the Grey March reference was great! Though I don't see him as a "villain", per se, mainly an antagonist, though I am sure many of the goody goodies would disagree with me .

Damn, so the priestess turned too, huh? I guess she will serve the Prince of Order well, then. I can't wait to see what awaits our bard lady and our gladiator! Good write.

Nits:

Spitting a curse, he swung down with his macer over his head as Carnius came into his reach, aiming to crush his skull in one blow.
Am I missing something here? Shouldn't it be "mace"?

Impulsive and intense mood swings. She's fitting in better I think. Loved the way she uses her magic though. As long as Carnius can keep her under control (and I can see that being an issue) they do make an effective team. I was slightly surprised in the fight with the guards when she silenced the one as Carnius charged.

Cool description of the beginning of the Greymarch. The arbitrator reminded me of a character in Diablo III.

How lucky for me...Not being a goody goodie and all, that I actually have to agree with DE...I kinda saw The Arbitrator as more of a lieutenant than a villain so far...(or general/champion as she said)...

Unless, of course, you know better... ...

A brilliant chapter...Fantastic, as ever...Wonderful description of the ceremony...

Amazing stuff...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

DE: That wasn't quite Jyggalag that was being summoned there; Sheogorath is still kicking about, so it isn't actually possibly for Jyggalag to manifest anywhere in the universe, not even in the sort of limbo-ish place that the Greymarch's forces wait in for the intervals between each Greymarch. That was an Arbitrator, and is basically a bigger, meaner Order Knight who serves as Jyggalag's most senior leuitenants.

And I wouldn't say that either Jyggalag or Sheogorath are really good or evil, considering the entirely amoral nature of Daedra, and I'm not trying to play the story as a battle between the two, either; this is more of a clash between two extreme opposites of ideology than anything else, though if you define villain as 'primary antagonistic figure in a narrative' then Jyggalag is quite definitely the villain. That, and Sheogorath is just way more likeable that Jyggalag.

And yeah, that was meant to be 'mace', I'll go and fix that.

KC: I enjoyed playing with Salyan's Audiomancy in that chapter; it's a fun system of magic to use. The mainstay of the spells she knows are Illusion ones, with the only Destruction one she knows being that mini Unrelenting Force spell, but she's pretty damn good at Illusion stuff like Calm, Frenzy, Silence etc.

And I've never played Diablo 3, so I assure you that that was purely coincidental.

McBadgere: The Arbitrator of Judgement is one of Jyggalag's most senior commanders, yes, but he's one of four Arbitrators and he isn't the big cheese (that would, of course, be Jyggalag himself).

Pleased you enjoyed the ceremony description; I put a lot of work into that one.

Your writing kicks that game's writing in the pants anyways.

Well now you've made me go all red...

Oh, thanks for the clarification. I reread it now, just to make sure. Damn. Need to be more attentive. I assumed it was Jyggy because the priests kept calling out his name, and then I read the Arbitatror of Judgement, which I thought was synonymous with Jyggalag.

ROFL !!!




It doesn't get any better than this for a description of a frenzied melee! That whole section was perfect, but this beginning was stunningly well done! Awesome Write!



You did it again! Everything is easily visualized, but the frenzied feeling carries through every bit of this - totally Awesome Write !!! I LOVE your ability to write melee - where is that worship emoticon when you need it?



You've really outdone your own self in this chapter. I am in awe, this is absolutely one of my top two favorite chapters! Absolutely Awesome Write! I may gobble like a turkey now, and haven't done that since Destri left!

DE: No worries, it's a pretty easy mistake to make if you accidentally missed one or two parts of the chapter.

mALXmeister: Thank you very much! I put a bit more effort than I usually do into writing those scenes, especially the summoning, and I'm glad that that paid off. And it's not that I don't usually put effort into my writing, it's just, well you know what I mean. Hush.

And the turkey-like gobbling is appreciated, and appreciated greatly. Unless it means you're choking on something. That would be bad.


And now for Chapter 12! Whoo!


Chapter 12-The Wagon

They found the road long afterwards, and even though Salyan had seemed relatively sure that the Arbitrator that had been called would not tarry for long, both she and Carnius kept glancing over their shoulders every once in a while, and kept an ear out for the beating of crystalline wings. After half an hour or so of walking they began to relax, fairly certain now that they had escaped that ruin without being noticed. Soon enough, another sound reached their ears; a faint hooting and grunting noise, and as they neared, more than a few colourful curses.

They rounded a corner to see the back of a wagon, a rear wheels sunk into a ditch on the side of the road. There was someone wearing Daedric plate attempting to push it at the rear, and around the front there was the sound of a woman trying to cajole whatever pulled it into action with a mixture of equal parts gentle encouragement and profanity.

"You need a hand there?" Carnius asked as they approached. The figure in armour turned around to face them, and the Imperial saw the man's red-streaked grey skin and the small horns jutting from his forehead; he was a Dremora, of all things.

"Who's that, Kallix?" a middle-aged Dunmer asked as she looked out from around the front of the cart.

"Travellers," the Dremora replied, his voice a deep, harsh scrape of glass on granite. "Offering to help."

"Well praise Azura for that," the Dark Elf said. She looked slightly to the left of where Carnius and Salyan were and said; "As you can see, our wagon's had a bit of a mishap on the way to New Sheoth. If you give us a hand with this little problem then I can get you there without you needing to walk, if that's where you're going."

"Sounds fair," Salyan said. "Do you just want two extra pairs of hands to push?"

The Dunmer nodded.

"Just help Kallix, and I'll try and get our rayet to start pulling again," the Dunmer said. "Hopefully if we've got some more strength on the back we can get it out of this rut."

She disappeared around the front of the cart, and called; "Ready when you are!"

The three set their feet into the ground and pushed, grunting and straining with effort as they tried to move the wagon. With glacial slowness, it began to roll forwards up the slope of the ditch, axles creaking and rumbling as they pushed. At one point Salyan broke her hold on it for a moment to turn around and push with her back against it, digging the heels of her boots into the dirt. For a few moments, the pressure seemed to grow all the more before it released and the wagon rolled forwards on the flat of the road. Salyan shrieked with surprise as she nearly toppled onto her back, catching herself on the edge of the wagon.

"I don't think I thought that through entirely," she said, shaking her head as she righted herself. "Still, got the wagon up, didn't it?"

"That it did," the Dremora said. "Thank you for the help, travellers."

"I didn't catch your name, by the way," Carnius said. Part of him was quietly stunned at the fact that he was engaged with a civil conversation with a Dremora; the last time he had seen one of those had been three years ago, and it and its compatriots had been doing everything in their power to kill him.

"Kallix," the Daedra replied as they made their around to the front of the wagon. "My dear companion is Haella Theranni."

Carnius and Salyan introduced themselves in turn, and to the Haella as she appeared to greet them and thank them. Up close, Carnius could see her eyes were a milky red, lacking any kind of pupil, and from the way she didn't quite make eye contact with him he guessed she was blind.

"We'll need to give Indoril a few minutes to rest," she added once they had made their introductions. "He worked hard trying to pull this wagon."

She gestured towards the creature hitched to the front of the wagon, and Carnius blinked in surprised. He had been expecting a horse, but between the two tongues of wood off the vehicle's front was a bipedal beast, its back parallel to the ground and a long tail running from its spine, and towards its front there were a pair of arms protruding from its shoulders, ending with hands that looked disconcertingly similar to those of most humans, mer or beast-folk. Its head rested on the edge of a long, thick neck, and from that a curved beak ran. It turned to look at them with four eyes, two on the front of its head, two on the side, the iridescent feathers that adorned its whole body shining even in the overcast sunlight of Dementia.

"He's gorgeous!" Salyan exclaimed as she saw it. "Could I...?"

"By all means," Haella said. "Indoril likes meeting people."

Salyan approached the beast, and held her hand out for it to sniff from the two pitted nostrils at the bed of its beak. Satisfied, it let her run her hands over the colourful plumage it wore, giving a hoot at the sensation.

"He'll probably want a drink after that work," Haella remarked, more to herself than anybody else. "Kallix, be a dear and get him some water, will you?"

"Of course," the Dremora replied, hauling himself into the wagon. Carnius watched him go, and then glanced back at Haella.

"I can't say I'd have expected somebody to be travelling with a Dremora," he remarked. "Thought they had a reputation for being a bit hostile; not sure I'd do the same."

"Oh, you mean Kallix?" Haella asked. "It's not the most usual of situations, but I trust him implicitly. And they just get bad press for Mehrunes Dagon working them into a state during the Oblivion Crisis; they're really not that bad, usually."

Carnius decided not to comment on that, and decided to change the subject as Kallix reappeared with a water barrel under his arm for draft-beast.

"So how long have you been on the Isles, then?" Carnius asked.

"Oh, we only arrived yesterday from Moonshadow, Azura's realm," Haella said. "I'm a merchant, you see; I sell soul gems, trinkets, alchemical ingredients, that sort of thing, and then I pick up goods in New Sheoth to sell back at home. Kallix has been my companion in the business for the last twenty years or so; he's not much a merchant but he's good at hitting things with that sword of his, if not much else."

"You wound me, Haella," the Dremora replied from the front of the wagon, where he had set down the drink.

"Well, I suppose you're alright for warming a bedroll too," the Dunmer shot back. She turned her attention back to Carnius. "Thinking of coming to the Isles, are you from around here? I've generally got a knack for picking out whether somebody's Manic or Demented just from all the time I've visited; your young lady friend is certainly from the north, but you don't seem all that fitting for either of them."

"I only got to Passwall a few days ago," Carnius said.

"Oh, managed to slip in now that that Imperial everyone there was talking about killed the Gatekeeper?" Haella asked.

"Something like that, yeah," Carnius nodded.

"Thought so," Haella said. "Kallix and I have permission to enter the Isles for trade, so the Gatekeeper lets us past; commerce between the realms helps every Daedric Prince, after all."

Carnius nodded as Kallix called over; "I think Indoril is ready to go."

"Excellent," Haella replied. She glanced over at Carnius. "Climb aboard; you've certainly earned your ride."

She clambered into the seat of the wagon as Kallix took the reins, and Carnius followed a moment later. Salyan followed a moment later, and with a flick on the leather straps, the Dremora urged Indoril into motion.

"So if you're from Moonshadow, how did you get hold of a rayet?" Salyan asked as it rumbled along the road.

"We traded for him," Haella said. "A soul gem, trapped with the soul of a daedroth, in return for a good cart rayet."

Salyan nodded.

"Is it true about what they say?" she asked. "About Moonshadow being the most beautiful place in all Oblivion? That it's so stunning any mortal goes blind just looking at it?"

Haella gestured to the milky red orbs of her eyes.

"How do you think this happened to me?" she said. "It is quite honestly the most incredible place one can go to; we live in Unseen, the capital."

"And they say that she has the spirit of Taread Songblood staying in the Palace of Roses," Salyan asked, leaning forwards with sudden interest in her eyes. "Is that true too?"

"We've heard him play more than once," Kallix said. "I'm not the greatest appreciator of music but the performance was incredible."

"Who was he?" Carnius asked as the cart passed under an arch formed by the roots of a massive mushroom tree.

"He was the first bard," Salyan explained. "One of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, the keeper of their history, and he carved a harp from the bones of a dragon and made its strings with its guts. He was the first practitioner of audiomancy, too."

"So you've studied bardic history, then?" Haella asked.

"I am a bard," Salyan said. "Perhaps I'll travel to Moonshadow, and visit him one day. Though I might pack a blindfold."

"Apparently he's quite tired of bards going to him and asking for tutelage," Haella replied with a shake of her head and a smile. "I don't think you'll have much luck if that's what you want to go for."

"It's not a lesson I want," Salyan said. "I'm looking for something, and I think he'd be able to help me."

"Then maybe you should go there one day," Haella said. "If you do, let us know; you seem like a nice young woman, and we'd be happy to put a roof over your head while you're there."

"Thank you," Salyan said.

The wagon was passing by some ruins, and Carnius glanced at trio of weathered busts that sat on pillars on the side of the road, each one of the statues a good three metres tall. There was a grinding, scraping noise, and the heads on top of each bust turned to face them.

"What on Nirn is that?" Carnius asked.

"Those are the Three Watchmen," Kallix said, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "It's best not to stare at them; if you do, it can be...unpleasant."

The conversation was muted as the cart passed by under the unsettling gaze of the faceless statues, and once they were out of view Salyan muttered; "I hate this place."

Carnius glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"It's just Dementia, that's all," she said. "It gets to you, especially if you usually live in Mania like I usually do."

"What were you doing here, anyway?" he asked. "You mentioned getting a scroll from some ruins a while back; what was that for?"

"I'm looking for something," Salyan said. "It's this...note, I once heard, in a dream. The purest and most perfect chord you can imagine, the Chord to end all chords, and I've been trying to track it down for years. Those ruins used to be the home of a famous audiomancer, and I was searching through his old records to see if I could find anything to help me; I've got a few friends who look at audiomancy in a more academic way than I do, and they might be able to help me."

"I see," Carnius said. "Well, if you ever need a hand with chasing up any leads on that, just let me know; I wouldn't mind helping."

"You'd do that?" Salyan asked. From where he was sitting at the reins, where the bard couldn't see him, Kallix shot him the look that is known to just about anybody male, regardless of culture, race, age or location, that meant 'get in there'.

"Yeah, I would," Carnius said. "Gods alone know, you're one of the first friends I've made in this place, and I could do with every one of them."

The lull broken, the conversation continued as the wagon rumbled on. The hours of travelling were interrupted only by a group of half a dozen of purple-skinned women mounted on scaled rayet, wearing segmented armour of dark metal and carrying lances and shields. The patrol gave them a brief greeting and carried on their way, but aside from that the road was unpopulated.

It was as the sun was beginning to set that they finally saw New Sheoth. The forest around the road cleared into flatter swamplands, and in the distance, rising up on a hill, turned golden by the light of the setting sun, the walls of the city emerged from the ground. The wagon drew closer, and in less than half an hour they were at the gates. Kallix dismounted and helped Haella down onto the road, where it widened into a small courtyard where more wagons were gathered.

"We'll need to deal with some bureaucracy," he explained. "There's no need for you to hang around if you have something to do."

They made their farewells, passed through the gates of the city and stepped into New Sheoth.

This story just keeps getting better. I loved meeting Kallix the Dremora through something as mundane as a stuck cart. Tremendously enjoyable, Mustard!

I'll have to come back and read this when I get a quiet house, it is Ball Game Day. The air is being pierced by shouts, hoots, barking dogs, the sound of grown men jumping like baboons, etc.

Grits: Thank ye muchloike! I wanted to explore how differently people in Obliviont treated Daedra to those from Nirn, and having it be in such an ordinary manner seemed perfect for that sort of thing.

mALX: Eh, it's; everyone gets busy days when they're not going to be able to read stuff, so don't worry about. Just enjoy Ball Game Day; it sounds like fun. Chaotic, spherical fun.

HOLY DAMN! A Dremora, a nice Dremora, of all things! Those raspy-voiced clan-like demons in the SI? Shouldn't they be marching over the countless piles of charred corpses in Dagon's Deadlands or is this one taking a vacation in the Isles? This is madness! Then again . . .



“Oh, we only arrived yesterday from Moonshadow, Azura's realm” Haella said.

Correction, there should've been a coma after realm, I believe. But I won't call you out in grammatical errors anymore, since I would be the biggest hypocrite around here. But about this part, what the flying **** is going on? Oblivion hopping? How awesome is this!


The after effects of Azura's realm! I wonder if they saw Azura's . . . erm. . . .

Anyways, I loved that mutant-horse creature, by the way. A nice alien exotic though appropiate in the setting. Overall, I enjoyed the new characters. Their uniqueness is what truly captured my attention. And you left us in an anticipation with the arrival to New Sheoth! Good read! I'll be waiting for more, most definetly!

Thank you very much, DE!

I was trying to present Kallix the Nice Dremora (that so sounds like the title of a TES-style children's story) as a bit of an exception to the rule, and the implication is that, as he's been with Haella for the past twenty years and with the Oblivion Crisis happening 3 years ago in this story, he wasn't actually involved in it. Of course, bear in mind that Haella is probably going to be biased in favour of any Dremora she meets on account of Kallix.

And the Oblivion hopping idea is something that I really think would happen in the TES-verse. I remember when I first played the Shivering Isles and I found out there was an entire damn city, along with farms and villages, all across the Isles, my mind was kind of blown by the idea; until then, from what I had gathered from Morrowind and Oblivion (the game) the daedric realms were this hellscape like the Deadlands, but then with the Isles being populated largely by an entire civilisation of mortals it suddenly opened up a whole new perspective on the daedra for me. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made to me tha a great number of the princes would have their own civilisations in their realms, either to nurture and rule in the case of the more benevolent Daedric Princes like Azura (whose realm of Moonshadow is described Darkest Darkness as having 'silver cities' and being visited by Dunmer and Khajiit) or to control and be worshipped by in the case of more atavistic Princes like Boethiah or Molag Bal. And seeing as the barriers that separate each realm of Oblivion are much weaker than the ones keeping the Daedra off Nirn, trade between them struck me as entirely conceivable.

Pleased you liked the rayat, as well, though I wouldn't describe them so much as mutant horses as I would a deinonychus and a hummingbird.


Ah yes, Azura's erms. Her magnificent, round erms, star attraction of all Moonshadow. Though probably not, seeing as she's just a mere merchant, and a being such as a Daedric Prince probably wouldn't ever see her.


Cheers for the nit, by the way, I'll go fix that.

Oh, indeed! Oblivion isn't only a wasteland like Dagon's realm. Even Dagon has buildings in his own abode! I really liked what you did here, though. Daedric Realms and those who inhabit it largely represents the Daedric Prince. Mania and Dementia obviously are the two sides of Sheogorath, hence the duality of the colors and the land itself. The people in his realm range from colorfully maniacal to darkly demented. Hircine's realm(I'm using this for Kraven's story) is nothing but a big wilderness with tributaries and rivers of blood, giant forests, african-style savannah's, huge canyons, etc. Molag Bal's realm would have civilizations, as it is a copy of Nirn itself, except most people are put into charnel houses and prisons. But if there were people running around, they would reflect Molag Bal's sphere; corrupted men and women, rapists, sadists, blood-sucking power-hungry vampires, etc. Its what makes the realms of Oblivion interesting.

Thing is, Daedra have a direct influence on the souls of their worshipers. Few times it was mentioned in the books that Sheogorath claimed a few souls himself when they died. I can give tons of quotes, but I'll leave it super short. From Skyrim, we know there are different afterlives for different people. Or even if they ally themselves to a Prince, their souls can be claimed. So instead of a Nord going to Sovngarde, he would probably go chill in some Daedric realm of Oblivion. Some of us had this conversation in the official Bethesda forums, but we came to the conclusion that some of the people we meet in the SI maybe already deceased. But since it is a Daedric Realm, they wouldn't walk around like floating souls , but actual fleshy people.

You know, I like that idea a lot, and seeing as Big Head was around there even though a great deal of time has passed which certainly lends credence to that theory. I might have to use that idea in the story, now; it's too damn cool to pass up. Perhaps an immortal character who keeps reliving their death on Nirn in Sheogorath's service, but cannot actually die...

Author's note: I owe a great debt to the late Adam Adamowicz, lead concept artist for the Shivering Isles, whose unique and inspired visions of Crucible and Bliss influenced my own writing of this chapter a great deal. If you've got some spare time, I'd really recommend looking over UESP's archive of the art, available here; it's some pretty exceptional stuff.

Also, I think I might have fallen in love with Cutter while I was writing this chapter.

Chapter 13-The Forge of Scars

The district of Crucible was quite possibly the dankest, most miserable strip of city that Carnius had ever laid eyes upon. Having lived in the squalor of the Waterfront all his life, he thought he had seen the worst of urban poverty, but Crucible managed to be even worse.

The roadways that wound their ways around the squat, ramshackle buildings were nothing more than dirt and the occasional cobblestone, small bridges of mud and backed clay arching over open streams of raw, stinking sewage. Buildings rose and fought for space, walls pressing against each other as they climbed over one another like a swarm of squabbling rats. Many of them leaned against each other or over the streets, looking ready to topple down upon the passers-by at any moment, while bridges and balconies jutted over and criss-crossed the roadways. Some of the buildings were made of stone, while others were slapped together from mud and half-rotten sticks in a wattle-and-daub construction, managing to tower upwards by clinging like parasites to other structures. The architectural anarchy, combined with the perpetual gloom that shrouded the entirety of Dementia, meant that a twilight was already in effect in the streets, and the only light was provided by braziers and torches that burned with blue flame.

They had entered a square of some kind, its dominant feature a statue of a bearded man cut from dark granite, wearing a set of ornate mourning clothes. Around the edge of it were market stalls, a number of customers moving between them.

“Poxes!” Carnius heard a merchant cry as he and Salyan stepped past a group of people in the ornate, gilded clothing of the upper classes, their finely tailored jackets and ornate dresses all dyed sombre shades of black and grey. “Pestilences and contagions! Diseases of all strains for the connoisseur, taken fresh from the pits of Peryite himself!”

“Nightmares!” another called. “Nightmares and night terrors of all kinds, all available on the cheap! Ones tailored just for you for a low, low price, all made by the best fear-smiths of Quagmire!”

“Rats on a stick!” cried a withered man, holding a tray before him. “Nice and hot! Get them them while they're fresh!”

“One minute,” Salyan said. She hurried over to him, and after a brief conversation handed over a few coins in return for a piece of cooked meat that, Carnius was forced to concede, was almost definitely a rat. The tail was a clue, if nothing else was. Salyan caught back up with him, chewing a mouthful of her meal, and caught his stare. “What? I'm hungry.”

Carnius shook his head. Of all the things he had seen lately, having a rat on a stick for a snack was pretty normal, though the stink of the place had put paid to any thoughts of food that he had been entertaining. He set out into the streets, Salyan following in his wake.

“Where are we going, then?” Salyan asked. “Are you heading to the palace?”
“Place has probably shut up for the night by now,” Carnius replied. “I need to find a smith, and a place to stay for the night.”

“Do we have to stay here?” Salyan protested, with a wary glance at the buildings that pressed in around them. “Can we go to Bliss, please? Bliss is much better than this place. You'll like it there, I'm sure you will, much more than Crucible.”

Deep and sonorous chanting came to their ears, and a few moments a man in drab grey robes rounded the corner. Parchments, most likely from sacred texts, were sewn into the cloth, and he held a banner with yet more words and scrolls upon it. Behind him, more followed, some of them chanting the same dirge he did, others wailing as if in mourning, several members of the procession beating their own raw and bloodied backs with whips and flails. Delicate feathers of frost spread out from where their feet fell, and many of them carried staves tipped with balls of jagged ice.

“Who are they?” Carnius asked.

“The Frozen Brethren,” Salyan explained as they passed by. “They're one of the churches that worship Sheogorath. They're doing it wrong, mind you, but everyone here in Dementia is so there's not much you can really do about that.”

Carnius shrugged.

“Sure they're wrong,” he said. Salyan gave him a look, but he shrugged it off. He didn't particularly care for the bard's prejudices. “Look, do you know if there's a smith around here?”
“There's a better smith in-”

“And there are nearer smiths here,” Carnius said. He raised his hand, to show one of his somewhat battered gauntlets. “I need this fixed.”

“I suppose Cutter is probably the best at repairing sharp things like those knuckle spikes,” Salyan said after a moment. The last of the small parade passed them by, a man swinging a censer that had once been a human skull. “But once we've gone there can we please go to Bliss?”

“Fine,” Carnius relented. “Let's go see this Cutter first.”

Pleased that she had won at least a partial victory, Salyan pointed southwards.

“Her forge is that way,” she said. “I think there's an alley we can cut through just over there.”

She lead the way, cutting through the back street. The stick that had once held her now-eaten snack was discarded on the remarkably clean floor as they headed through. Carnius glanced at the walls, frowning as he noticed triangular shapes beginning to rise from the crude plaster.

“Salyan, what's going on with the walls?”

The bard glanced back at them, and her eyes widened with alarm.

“Run!” she cried. “Quickly, run!”

Carnius complied as she broke into a sprint, the two of them dashing along as the walls behind them erupted into hungry fangs and slammed shut, a solid block of sharp, ravening teeth, closing upon them to crush and chew. They halted only once they were into the street beyond, the alley shutting up behind them in a wave of dark fangs. They closed behind them with a grinding noise, and after a few moments pulled back away.

“What was that?” Carnius asked, staring at the way they had just come. The stick that had carried Salyan's snack had now disappeared.

“Some of the alleyways try and eat people, now and again,” Salyan explained. “Like that one. Usually people put up warnings, but someone must have taken them away. Typical.”

She lead Carnius through a few more streets, making a point avoid of avoiding back alleys, until they found their destination; a large stone building with baleful red light glowing from one wing with a chimney drooling smoke into the air. Metal gargoyles were clinging to its sides, blue flames crackling in their jaws, and a desiccated, half-decayed corpse hung over the door from a large iron hook thrust through the back of its neck and out of its mouth, a placard hung over it with the word 'Thief' written on it in what Carnius hoped was red paint. Next to that was a sign, reading 'Cutter's Weapons'.

After a moment to remove his gauntlets from his hands, he tried the door, the latch clicking and swinging open. He glanced around the stone innards of the shop, seeing the decorations that hung on every wall; weapons of every kind, bows, crossbows, spears and axes, but most of all, blades of all varieties. There were longswords, claymores, daggers, scimitars, katanas, sabres, rapiers, all adorning the walls. Anything that gored or slashed was present on the walls of Cutter's Weapons. Bloodstains were scattered here and there, and his gaze was drawn to the figure at the far end of the large room, by the fires of the forge. She glanced up from where she was sharpening the edge of a sword on a grindwheel, and her scarred face, framed by brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, broke into a crooked smile. That smile extended past her lips along two cuts deep into each cheek, right to where the jaw rose up to the rest of the skull.

“Ah,” she said, leaving her work for a moment and standing. “Customers. I am Cutter, and welcome to my forge. What can I do for you both?”

Cutter was a Bosmer, short like all of her people, her build lean and wiry. Her bare arms, Carnius noted, were even more heavily scarred than her face, coated with gashes and cuts of all kinds.

“I need these repaired,” Carnius said, holding up his gauntlets. “Just had a bit of wear and tear, and need fixing up again. The normal sort of thing.”

“Let me see those,” Cutter said. Carnius handed them over, and she peered at them, intense eyes roving over them, a finger running along the dented and battered metal. There was a quiet purring noise, and after a moment, Carnius realised that it was the smith making it, a rapturous, intoxicated grin spreading across her features. “These are...these are some of the most beautiful weapons I have seen. They have drunk so much blood, ended so, so many lives, even brought about the deaths of friends. They are almost perfect.”

“Almost perfect?” Carnius asked.

“Their construction is good, and the inlay of daedric ebony is a good idea; it gives the steel strength without adding too much weight,” Cutter said. “But for a piece of metallurgy to be truly perfect, it needs madness ore in it; imbue it with the souls of dead heroes, give its steel life, give it hunger.”

Salyan had wondered off, and was looking at a blade that lay unattended on a bench, a straight length of unadorned metal designed to be wielded by two hands, one side edge and the other blunt and flat, the tip a right-angled triangle. The handle and hilt were ornate, dark golden metal moulded around a gem glowing with arcane power, the stone humming faintly.

“Is this made of madness ore?” the bard asked, lifting the weapon up.

“Put that down!” Cutter snapped, the ferocity in the words making Salyan comply in an instant. “The handle is forged from the ore. The blade is of steel and sorcery, one of the strongest I have seen. I am the only smith capable of working with a weapon like it, though that isn't surprising; blades are my speciality, and I make the finest in the Isles. I bless each and every one of them with my own lifeblood before any other wielder uses them.”

That would explain the cobweb of scars running across her skin, Carnius decided.

“Whose is it?” Salyan asked.

“It belongs to a missionary of the Feasters,” Cutter replied. “Normally I'd rather not do work for a Manic, but that blade there is so steeped in viscera and tragedy that I couldn't resist; it is the most perfect weapon I have ever performed my art upon, though I will give your gauntlets the credit they are due, Imperial; they do come close. Unwilling betrayal always gives metal the sweetest of scents.”

“Right,” Carnius said. “So, how much will it be to fix those?”

“Thirty septims, given that the damage done to them isn't too severe,” Cutter said. “And a promise.”

“What's that?” Carnius asked.

“No other smith touches them, especially that gender-confused freak Dumag gro-Bonk,” Cutter said. Neither she nor Carnius noted the angry glare that Salyan shot at her for that comment. “These gauntlets will be mine to repair and mine alone. If you get them fixed anywhere else, I will know, and I will cut your throat and drink your blood.”

There was no jest in the disfigured Bosmer's eyes, but Carnius handed down the coins.

“If they're in a good state tomorrow, I'll call it a deal,” Carnius said.

“Good, good, excellent,” Cutter nodded. “They will be finished in the morning; I cannot wait to set to work upon them. One more thing, Imperial; if you find any madness ore, I can use it to improve these gauntlets of yours, strengthen them, make them perfect. Grummites usually set up camps near deposits of it, and carry lumps of it on them. Bring me some, and I will make these gauntlets into weapons that will crush the life from all your enemies and drink deep of their blood.”

“Hard to refuse, an offer like that,” Carnius nodded. “All right Cutter, if I find you some madness ore, I'll bring it to you.”

“Good,” Cutter said. “You won't regret this, Imperial; I'll make these gauntlets into weapons any warrior would beg to wield.”

“Thank you, Cutter,” Carnius said. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

The two of them left for Bliss, to find an inn and rest, and to hold an audience with a god the next day.

Absolutely brilliant chapters matey!!...

Loved them...

Sooo, yet another spinoff story makes it's appearance!!...Off to Azura's realm we go!!... ...

And yes, I pretty much fell in love with Cutter meself when I wrote her...Um...Part in mine...But then again, she was naked... ...

Aaaamywho...

Amazing stuff...

Brilliantly descriptive and full of so many beautiful ideas (the alleyway, the monks...ooooh sooo many coolnesses) it's just amazing...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Don't tempt me with more story ideas, McB. I've got enough of those whirring around in my head as it is...

Glad you enjoyed it, though, and I hope you find what I've got to show of Bliss equally enjoyable. And thank you, of course, for reading, good sir!