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Chorrol.com _ Fan Fiction _ Champion of Madness
Posted by: Jacki Dice Mar 28 2010, 08:18 PM
Hi everyone! Time for Wrothken to make his debut here at Chorrol.
For those new to the story, I won't have any screenshots (sorry!) But I am working on drawing the characters out and posting those up instead.
I hope you all enjoy ♥
~~~~~♥~~~~~
A Door In Niben Bay
"Your money or your life!" The Khajiit snarled with one hand on her steel mace. It was well worn, making it obvious that it was no bluff.
Days ago, Wrothken would have simply walked by, hoping the bandit would end it quickly. Today, however, was the day for action. It was time to reclaim his dignity, dammit; and it started now.
"Why don't you take that mace and shove it up your tail?"
The Khajiit growled. "You know what? I'll just take both!" She swung the mace at him. Instantly, Wrothken knew what he would take from her when he was finished.
He dodged her blow and punched her in the face. She reeled back, grabbing her nose with her free hand. Her eyes were on fire and Wrothken knew he had to be quick. She roared, swinging the mace as hard as she could, barely missing his shoulder. Wrothken noticed her overstep, and he grabbed her wielding arm with one hand, pulling her in, and he thrust his knee hard into her stomach. As she cried out, Wrothken was able to wrench the mace from her hand. In one quick move, he slammed it against her side. She moaned in pain, clutching it. Wrothken wasn't sure if it was in his head, but he swore he heard a crack on contact.
"
Jekosiit!" She hissed. Quickly, she ran from him.
Wrothken's heart thudded as he watched her take off, cursing at the top of her lungs. He didn't know if she had accomplices, so he hurried away.
As he walked, he looked south to Valenwood. He briefly considered heading in that direction to start his new life, but then he remembered all Kirsty had told him. The government was in ruin. They were distrustful of other races, so a Nord would be unwelcome and likely alone in the society. Oh, and she said something about them eating other people occasionally. That indeed was a dealbreaker. After all, Wrothken was a big, broad shouldered man; he could easily feed a family of four and then some. He also didn't know if Bosmer had a preference toward "white meat." Shaking his head, he continued on the Gold Road.
With a sigh, he realized that he didn't think about the loneliness factor when he allowed Kirsty to talk him into his journey. He was by nature a very chatty person. He looked back, barely able to see the faint outline of Castle Kvatch. He wanted desperately to go back and convince Kirsty to go with him, but he couldn't. For one, the afternoon was slowly giving away to evening and she hated traveling by night. The other thing was that she would never leave her bakery; not after all the blood, sweat, and tears she poured into it. Kvatch would burn, and she would remain, rebuilding with her own tiny hands if she had to. Trying to accept his isolation, he turned to his own mind for conversation.
He looked around as he crossed Skingrad. "I wonder what it would be like here in Wine County..." He envisioned himself in a house with cultured friends over, sampling the latest Surilie Brothers concoction with fine cheeses. He laughed uncontrollably. That was no place for him. He was more the type to drink ale in a loud tavern. "Too bad I can't go back to Bruma quite yet." The very thought sickened him.
Soon he saw a woman standing in the middle of the road. She was a Dunmer, wearing only simple clothing. When he got closer, he noticed dirt stains on her knees and leaves in her hair. Her stubby fingers were caked with soil. He smiled. "Afternoon," he said, longing for a decent conversation.
"A perfect tomato... one taste, and it is gone forever. And then... a lifetime of searching for the next one," she said sadly. "Undena Orethi. I am a pilgrim in search of the perfect tomato. It is my grail, and I shall follow it all my life."
Wrothken didn't know what to say. He wanted someone to talk to, but really? Tomatoes? He gave her a nod and continued on his way.
As the path took a sharp curve, a thought came into his mind suddenly.
Kirsty was right! I haven't thought about Awour all day! Then he stopped. "Dammit!" he shouted, stomping his foot. Those thoughts were always counter productive, as his mind always became flooded with memories of the Altmer. Anytime he closed his eyes, he swore he could feel her golden, hip length hair, shades lighter than his own, on his cheeks. He could still see her pale green eyes staring at him, though he was miles away from her. He still smelled her flowery scent--
"Stop it!" he said aloud. He forbade his mind to bring her up again. Obviously Skingrad wasn't far enough.
He glared at the ground as he walked until a round stone caught his eye. It was white and smooth, just laying on the path. Curiously, he nudged it with his foot. It rolled over, greeting him with empty eye sockets and a malicious grin. A skull. He instantly felt a chilling numb throughout his body. He nudged it again, turning its gaze elsewhere. Only a few minutes passed when he came across another. He ignored it, forcing himself to keep his head held high, though it was hard resisting the urge to slink back to Kvatch.
"Stop it," he repeated, this time in a harsh whisper. "She is not worth it. I'm stronger than this. I can beat this on my own." His heart pounded angrily in his chest. "Traitor," he growled.
He stomped up the path until he came across two headless skeletons in front of a cave. On either side of the cave was a stake with three skulls impaled on them. More skulls hung from ropes alongside the rickety door. Contrasting them were heart-shaped leaves with budding violet flowers, wrapping beautifully around the door and even on the poles.
Curiosity was almost overwhelming him. He put his hand on the knob, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear shuffling and throaty grunts and whispers. He couldn't make out any words. As he twisted the knob, a saying popped into his mind: Curiosity killed the Khajiit. He considered skipping it and heading back to the path, but he remembered what Kirsty always added: But satisfaction brought it back.
He took his hand from the knob and took his torch from his back. He concentrated hard, feeling warmth in his heart. The warmth blossomed within him and felt as if it was trailing down his left arm and bloomed in his hand. He used the small flame to ignite the torch. He didn't know what exactly was in there, but with his mace drawn and a pounding heart and quivering legs, he burst in.
A pair of goblins were a few yards ahead of him, apparently arguing over a fresh rat corpse. However, Wrothken's arrival brought them a new source of food, or so they thought. They both ran at him, one holding a rusted dagger, the other a wooden club. Wrothken had heard of people getting extremely sick from rust-infected wounds, so he focused on the bladed one first.
He was thankful for his steel cuirass. Even though it had seen much better days, it reduced the pain of the whacks he got from the club, as he attacked the first goblin. After it went down, he turned quickly, giving the second goblin a well-earned beating. The goblin chose to remain and take it until Wrothken's final blow. As it fell, Wrothken heard a clinking noise. A few gold coins and a lock pick fell from its rags. Seeing as how the goblin no longer had use for either, Wrothken picked them up and continued inside.
The first room was quiet. Most likely the two goblins were in the area before the rat came along. The first thing Wrothken noticed was a large mound in the corner with bright silver veins wrapping around it. Excited, Wrothken searched the area for a pick.
Maybe if I harvest enough silver, I can convince Awour to come back! he thought. "No, no, no!" he shouted, hitting himself on the head with each exclaim. He wasn't going to allow himself to crawl back to her. But the silver... oh, yes, he would show her. If he could get enough silver, he could show her exactly what she lost. If only he could find a pick!
In his hunting, he stumbled over a small, wooden chest. He knelt down, setting his mace down in front of him, and tried to open it. He sighed in relief as it opened without the objection of a lock. However, he was disappointed to find no pick axe. He was rewarded with a few more lock picks and a handful of gold. "Least it's something," he muttered. With a forlorn glance at the tempting silver, he continued on.
He was caught by surprise when a goblin smacked him in the stomach with an iron mace. It must have heard him in the next room. The blow caused him to stumble a little, but when he got his bearings back, he retaliated, burying his mace in the goblin's gut. The goblin squawked angrily and tried to bite Wrothken's arm with his noticeably sharp teeth. Wrothken quickly withdrew, since his arm was unprotected and he slammed his mace into the goblin's forehead.
He wasn't sure if it killed it or just knocked it out, so he didn't take his sweet time surveying the room. It was a dead end anyway. The only thing of interest was another silvery vein and a chest. Wrothken looked at the goblin and poked it with his foot. It didn't stir. If it was alive, it wouldn't return to consciousness for awhile. Wrothken went to the chest, dismayed to find out that it was locked. Lock picking was never his strong point. Just as he predicted, his first and second attempt failed. The third attempt, he got lucky and the chest opened up. It contained a little more gold, two lock picks, a head of lettuce, and a filthy fork.
Wrothken headed the other direction and entered what looked like a primitive kitchen. An empty pot sat over an open flame. Nearby, there was a table with disgustingly dirty utensils. Some sort of meat sat on the table along with a few potions. He was wary of anything created by goblins, but he figured there would be no harm in selling them. There had to be a mage somewhere who would want them.
He was in the middle of gathering them up when a pot whizzed by his head. He turned and saw a goblin wielding a ladle with suspicious looking fuzz sprouting from the spoon. The goblin angrily picked up a chair and threw it hard at Wrothken. He fell back, crushing the potions and dropping his mace. The goblin recognized the weapon and dashed, snatching it up before Wrothken could get back up. The goblin hit him while he was still down, creating large dents in the armor.
He couldn't tell where it was going to hit next because he was trying to shield his head with his thick forearms, though he could feel the goblin moving down near his legs, still swinging as hard as it could. Wrothken roughly kicked it and it landed right in the fire pit. It squealed loudly in unimaginable pain. Wrothken looked at it and felt sorry for the poor creature. He picked up his mace and used a well-placed hit to put it out of its misery. The room was already filling with the stench of roasting goblin. Wrothken felt ready to leave when a larger goblin strolled in.
It held a staff with a goblin head attached to it and wore a feathery head dress. It looked at the carnage and then at Wrothken, then back again. It gave Wrothken a look of fury, then turned on its heel and ran. Wrothken was bewildered. Surely that was the chief! Why was it running away? He thought about going after it, but he didn't know how much time he'd spent in the cave. Since he wanted to be in bed at a decent hour, he let the goblin run away and he headed to the door.
Twilight greeted him with such an eerie silence that he wouldn't have been surprised if the headless skeletons rose up and came after him. Paranoia encouraged a quick glance at them, and thankfully they remained on the ground.
White-Gold Tower was glowing like a pearl in the distance. Wrothken knew there was no way he was going to make it to the Imperial City before nightfall. His best bet would be to find an inn and set off in the morning.
As he walked, he passed a legionnaire on his horse. "Evening, citizen." he said, nodding.
Wrothken grunted in response. The sight of a legionnaire sickened him. It didn't matter that it wasn't the same person. It didn't matter that this legionnaire probably didn't even know Bacchus. All that mattered was that armor, and the memory of it scattered on the floor leading to the bedroom...
his bedroom...
He felt as if a dark cloud loomed over his head as he continued on his way. He couldn't figure out what he did wrong. She never mentioned any problems. He didn't know if he should take it as a warning and be happy it ended before things were too serious, or if he should try harder to get her back. He was so conflicted. His thoughts were so consuming that he forgot about the path and just headed straight.
He longed to hold her cool, soft figure against his once more. He wanted to bask in the glow of her amber skin. He needed her silken hands-- A fireball zoomed past his head, interrupting his mind.
The imp let out chirping sounds, which Wrothken interpreted to be laughter. Did it understand? Was it mocking him? With a guttural growl, Wrothken tried swatting it with his mace. It dodged each blow, tweeting joyfully.
It is laughing at me! he thought with clenched teeth. It fueled his rage and he began swatting harder and faster. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he landed a good hit. The imp fell to the ground, though still alive and alert. Before it could do anything, Wrothken picked it up by the legs and threw it. It took him a few minutes to feel the slightest bit guilty about it.
"Great," he said, looking around. He was deep in the forest and it was already dark. White-Gold Tower was no longer easily seen. The night was growing chilly. Wolves howled in the distance. Wrothken was tired and he knew that would be a hindrance if confronted by a hungry pack, be it wolves or bandits. "There has to be an inn somewhere..." he said, looking around. Then again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to spend the rest of the night looking for one. He decided to head back toward Skingrad...which was opposite of where he was actually walking.
"Hmmm..." He stopped. After about a half hour walking, Wrothken stared at the Ayleid ruin ahead of him. He turned to a stone fort, which wasn't too far away, and said, "Now, I vaguely remember that...but this wasn't here before, was it?" How he wished Kirsty was with him. She was much better with directions. Sadly, he was left to his own instructions. "Maybe if I head this way..." he said, walking southeast, instead of west as he believed.
He knew his feet hated him. If they could, they'd probably jump off his ankles and run away. With each throbbing step, Wrothken knew they'd pay him back tenfold in the morning. He trudged along until he caught a buttery scent. He could tell it was something baked. His stomach growled loudly, scolding him for not eating since morning. He no longer cared about the inn. All he wanted was a taste of that food. He followed his nose until he was able to see a point of light.
It didn't flicker, like a campfire. Instead it was steady, telling him it was likely a building. For the first time in ages, his heart rose. Ignoring the burning protests of his feet, he broke into a run. Even when his torch finally blew out, he didn't stop. He followed the light as if he were a moth.
A modest building soon came into view. Two windows were lit. A single horse sat outside the door, under a swinging sign. It read: The Inn of Ill Omen. Suddenly Wrothken was a little put off. Ill Omen? Did the owner want to scare off customers? Still, it was late and the scent was stronger than ever. He opened the door, almost wanting to sleep right there on the entrance floor.
"Well, I'll be a spotted Snowbear," the man at the counter exclaimed. "A customer!"
Wrothken nodded wearily. Awour used to refer to him as her "snowbear," but he pushed the thought away before it could distract him further. He sat at the counter and asked, "What is that smell? Whatever it is, I'd like some."
The man paled. "Oh... you mean S'Jirra's potato bread?"
Wrothken gasped. "Potato bread? Sounds wonderful!" His mouth watered just thinking about it.
"Ahh..." the man rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, the thing is, I don't sell it here. It's actually the inn up the road..." He trailed off.
Wrothken groaned. It was so tempting, seducing him with not just fresh bread, but potatoes... But he was so worn out. "You know what, I'll just eat here. What do you have?"
The color flushed back in the man's face. "I can fix you up some crab's meat! Just add some ingredients and it'll be the best crab you've ever had!"
"Fine, and I need a drink."
The man nodded, heading to his stove. "Name's Manheim, by the way." He didn't give Wrothken a chance to answer. "And as you probably saw, this here's the Inn of Ill Omen. Funny name, I know." He took out a leek and chopped it up. "But it's too late to change it now." He put the leek in a pan, along with some crab meat and a sprinkling of cheese. "You know, it's pretty late. You wouldn't happen to need a room, would you?"
Forcing his eyes to stay open, Wrothken answered, "Yes, actually I do."
"Great!" Manheim set the food on a plate and gave it to Wrothken, along with a bottle of ale. "I have one upstairs for ten septims. You interested?"
"Yeah, I'll take it." He took a fork and began shoveling the food in his mouth. He was done in seconds.
Manheim laughed. "Now that's what I like to see! A man with an appetite! Now, let's see... with the meal the total will be about... eighteen septims."
Wrothken was glad he explored the cave earlier. He took the amount from his coin purse and set it on the counter.
"Great..." Manheim examined them, seeming to suspect they might be fake. Satisfied, he pointed up the stairs. "Alright, first room on your left. The washroom is down the hall to the right."
Wrothken nodded and walked up the stairs.
The room was no bigger than a closet with a bedroll on the floor. He stripped out of his armor and his shirt, then he sat on the bed. He swished the bottle around for a few moments as he thought.
No going back now. Tomorrow, I'll begin anew. He wasn't sure what, but the Imperial City had to have something for him. He raised the bottle up, as if toasting to himself, and chugged it down.
He crawled into the bedroll, clutching the pillow tightly. Almost instantly, he drifted to sleep.
Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 28 2010, 08:53 PM
Hey Jacki! Welcome to Chorrol!
Now that you're posting here, I look forward to continuing to read Wrothken's story. I'm liking what you've got so far on the Unnamed Forum, and am looking forward to it continuing here.
Posted by: SubRosa Mar 28 2010, 10:18 PM
Yay! Wrothken and Jacki have made their debut! Time to turn up Shinedown's Sound of Madness...
Nords, the other white meat...
I liked the foreshadowing you put into the beginning. First the part of Kvatch could burn and Kirsty would not leave. The second being the encounter with the tomato lady on the road. It is a nice, subtle reference to the insanity that is sure to follow...
Poor Wrothken, those blond Altmer beauties are hard to get out of your head...
nits:
I think you ran into the forum's swear filter here. It changes out objectionable words with random ones.
"Why don't you take that mace and shove it up your boat?"
You probably wanted wary here:
He was weary of anything created by goblins,
Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 29 2010, 10:39 AM
Hi Jacki,
I really think you've got something here. Wrothken is immediately likable despite, or perhaps because of his problems with women (something all men can relate to, with or without legion armor). Your fight sequences were vividly described. I like the fact that Wrothken is perfectly willing to let an opponent run away.
It might be a strange thing to comment on, but something else that really struck me was your willingness to describe the useless junk that Wrothken finds in the chest. That kind of detail aids in the immersion.
And this:
QUOTE(Jacki Dice @ Mar 28 2010, 12:18 PM)

Oh, and she said something about them eating other people occasionally. That indeed was a dealbreaker. After all, Wrothken was a big, broad shouldered man; he could easily feed a family of four and then some. He also didn't know if Bosmer had a preference toward "white meat." Shaking his head, he continued on the Gold Road.

Priceless!
Posted by: Illydoor Mar 29 2010, 10:51 AM
Nice story, you write very well and descriptively. No gripes as yet, just try and make the text flow a bit more. It's fine to go off on random tangents, it's what makes a story a story, but too many and the reader will lose interest.
Good work
!
Posted by: D.Foxy Mar 29 2010, 11:36 AM
Welcome to Chorrol!
We are all good peeps here.
Well, except for a certain weirdo called Foxy, anyway. Watch out for that guy, and don't write anything he could bend, twist, stretch or allude to in an innuendo.
Posted by: Remko Mar 29 2010, 11:40 AM
Look forward reading more about the huggable Nord!
Posted by: Illydoor Mar 29 2010, 11:41 AM
QUOTE
bend, twist, stretch
An innuendo you say?
Posted by: mALX Mar 29 2010, 04:14 PM
QUOTE(D.Foxy @ Mar 29 2010, 06:36 AM)

Welcome to Chorrol!
We are all good peeps here.
Well, except for a certain weirdo called Foxy, anyway. Watch out for that guy, and don't write anything he could bend, twist, stretch or allude to in an innuendo.
Watch his emoticons as well :
Posted by: D.Foxy Mar 29 2010, 04:16 PM
Hey! My emokeeguns are CLEAN! What do you mean...
oh...
WATCH. Yeah, Ok.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Mar 29 2010, 08:43 PM
haute ecole rider- Thank you, its nice to have another place to post. Now its like the bethsoft forums are where the spoilers are ^^
SubRosa- I'm glad you caught those. I wasn't sure if people would notice. And those blond beauties are definitely hard to forget. I'm sure Teresa can relate 
Winter Wolf- Oh it would be a fun ride, seeing as how Wrothken is a bit of a lightweight...
Destri Melarg- I'm glad you liked the fight scenes. Foxy gave some good input on the bethsoft forums, so that helped a lot and so did acting it out with my pretend mace (it's a weight with ten pounds on one side
)
Illydoor- I admit the first chapter is a bit rushed. When I was writing it I wanted to get to the juicy bits so bad that things came out quicker than they should have. The next few, I heard, take it much slower.
D. Foxy- Thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to watch out for that guy
Though, if he likes innuendo, he may have some fun with some future chapters
Remko- Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying the snuggly-bear of a Nord 
~~~~~♥~~~~~
It's Raining Cheese!
Worthken woke with a horrible taste in his mouth. There was nothing quite like the taste of sour ale. He stood up a little too fast, clutching his head to try and stop the room from spinning. When things slowed down a bit, he picked up his armor and shirt and headed to the washroom.
Like the bedroom, the washroom was nothing special. Just the basics in a very small, yet clean, space. When he realized that he wasn't craving a bath, he knew his misery-wallow had gone too far. Sure, he wasn't obsessive about cleanliness, but he did enjoy a bath daily. He felt filthy otherwise. The fact that he spent the previous day in a cave should have given him that "I-need-a-bath-
now" feeling. Stripping his pants off, he ran the water in the tub.
When he got out, he felt like a new man...almost. He could feel scruff on his face. He looked in the mirror, rubbing it. It was scratchy and he noticed that when the light hit it, it was actually red, instead of dirty, or as some called it, Bravil-water blond like the rest of his hair.
I'll have to take care of this soon, he thought. Ever since the first hair sprouted on his face at the age of fifteen, he was vigilant about keeping his face baby smooth. He was about to get dressed when he caught a glimpse of his full body in the mirror.
He was tall, even taller than a lot of Nords. He wasn't tanned nor did he have the body of a god. He was what Kirsty simply called "snuggly." And "fuzzy."
Could that have been it? he wondered. He wasn't the type to check out other men, but he had a feeling Bacchus was pure muscle and not so "fuzzy." He rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter," he told himself. "There's no excuse. None." He got dressed and headed downstairs. It was around midday, so he still had time to eat before heading out.
"...just appeared right there in the bay!"
Wrothken heard an excited voice coming from downstairs.
"Yes, yes, but what about that orange sludge coming from the sky?" Manheim asked.
The other man laughed, but not in amusement. "Cheese! Can you believe it? It was raining cheese!"
Wrothken saw them sitting at the table. Next to Manheim was a Redguard woman and an Imperial man. He was the one reporting the raining cheese.
"No!" The woman exclaimed. She looked out the window, as if she wanted to see for herself.
"I swear on my grandmother's grave," the Imperial said with his hand over his heart.
"What's going on?" Wrothken asked, taking a seat by the woman.
"A strange door opened up in the Niben Bay a few hours ago," the Imperial said.
"And it rained... cheese?" Wrothken asked.
"I swear it did."
Wrothken looked out the window as well. As hard as it was to believe, the Imperial seemed serious. "The Niben Bay?" He asked.
"Yes! See for yourself!"
Maybe he would go see. After all, raining cheese wasn't an everyday occurrence.
"Alright, where do I go?"
"It's straight down the path. Just don't stay too long. Who knows what'll happen next..."
He walked out the door, expecting to be able to smell it. Instead, the air was as crisp as ever. He strode down the path, almost breaking into a run when he finally saw it. Oily orange clumps decorated the water and some of the shore. A poor mudcrab was covered in it and had a hard time moving. He had to know. He took some from the mudcrab's shell and sniffed it. It smelled like cheese. It felt like it, too.
Only one way to be sure, he thought.
He put the clump in his mouth. "Cheddar!" he exclaimed. He grabbed some more and began eating, wishing he brought some bread with him.
He sat on the shore as he snacked, looking to the strange island ahead of him. That had to be the door. Curiosity sparked in him again. It wasn't too far off, though he wished he had a water walking spell. He was reluctant, but in the end he couldn't skip it. He just had to know what was there, otherwise it would drive him crazy. He'd check it out and then come back. He took off his armor and set his torches down on the shore before jumping into the water.
The water was cool and surprisingly free of slaughterfish. Maybe it was the cheese, he thought, as some clumps of cheese were slowly sinking into the water floor. One in particular that seemed to change shape as it went, caught Wrothken's eyes. He stared at it falling until he noticed something strange. The island was not exactly an island. It didn't start at the ground, it just floated there. It made him a little wary, but, still, he was so close, a lot closer than he was to the shore. He decided he'd check it out quickly and then get back to the path. Like the Imperial said, who knows what'll happen next.
As Wrothken climbed onto the island, he was amazed by the plant life, though it too sported cheesy decoration. There were bright red mushrooms large enough for him to sit on. In a little pond, strange green pods bounced with the water. Long, thin stalks rose even taller than he was. He saw lavender, pear-shaped fruits hanging from a bush. However, all the plants were nothing compared to the stone figure at the top.
It had two pairs of eyes and formed three faces. They were the same bearded man bearing different expressions. On the left, he seemed to just be staring outward. The right on was grinning, though Wrothken thought there was something malicious in his smile. The center face had his mouth gaping open and glowing bright blue.
Two other people stood outside. A guard with his hand glued to his hilt and a Khajiit, muttering incoherently. Wrothken was about to ask the guard what was going on, when the guard cut him off.
"Can't talk now. That door has been making noises again. No telling what's coming out," he said, turning toward the door, which in fact had started making gurgling noises.
Within seconds, a dark elf came out, wearing a shirt with overly puffy sleeves and discolored pants. He was laughing hard, yet crying at the same time. Wrothken stared in his eyes. Something was very wrong with him.
"It’s not right. Madness...why? WHY? Everything is wrong," he said. He grasped his head firmly. "It can't be done!"
Wrothken's stomach churned with pity for the poor man. Obviously something went wrong in there. He took a couple steps toward him, when the elf shouted, "Stay away from me! I won't go back. You can't make me go back! I'll kill you all! You’re all going to die!" The elf pulled out a dagger from his belt and started toward Wrothken.
Wrothken wasn't sure if he could do it. The elf wasn't right. He probably didn't even know what he was doing.
"Stay back! This one's violent," the guard commanded. With only a few swings of his sword, the elf was freed from madness.
Finally able to talk, the guard approached Wrothken. "I say steer clear of that door. Nothing good to be found on the other side of it. Of that, I'm certain."
With a glance at the slain elf, Wrothken was about to head back when he heard a booming voice. "Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy! Useless mortal meat! Walking bag of dung!"
Wrothken looked around. The Khajiit was huddled in a ball, still rambling to herself and the guard was watching her like a hawk. There was no one else on the island, so who said that?
"A nice effort though," the voice said, as if he was taking back what he just said. "A shame he's dead. These things happen."
The voice was coming from the door. He turned at stared at it, wondering if the statue was actually alive.
"Bring me a champion!" It commanded. "Rend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion to wade through the entrails of my enemies!"
Wrothken's brows furrowed. A champion? He wasn't... he couldn't... Then why were his feet leading him closer to the door?
"Really! Do come in! It's lovely in the Isles, perfect time for a visit."
He found himself right in front of the blinding light.
No, I can't go in there, he thought.
Look what happened to that guy! What if it happens to me? He looked up at the teeth, wondering for a second if it was a trap and the teeth would crunch down and eat him up. "What if I just take a quick peek? I'm sure I'll be fine. Just a peek," he reasoned.
He tentatively raised his foot and stuck it through the door. When he quickly pulled it out, it was still there, same as always. He tested it with his hand, and as before, it came back normal. With his eyes squeezed shut, he took the plunge and went in.
The area was not what he expected at all. Then again, he didn't know what to expect. The room was dark. The only light came from a single candle, only illuminating the immediate area. Physically, it was warm, but the dark stone walls and floor made him feel colder. In the center of the room, by the candle, a man sat at a table. He looked like he was middle-aged, due to the loss of hair on top of his head. A metronome on the table ticked loudly. The man had a book in his lap and he set it down, looking as if Wrothken had interrupted him at a cliffhanger.
"Was that you doing the hokey-pokey?" he asked.
Wrothken's cheeks flushed brightly. He didn't think anyone would see that.
"Just take a seat," the man said, motioning to another chair.
Wrothken sat down, looking around.
"What can I do for you?" He asked Wrothken.
"The door leads here?" Wrothken asked.
"Yes, you have entered the door and now you are here. Amazing, truly."
Wrothken narrowed his eyes a little. Was he being sarcastic?
"Um.. What is this place?" he asked, trying to ignore it.
"You approach the Shivering Isles. Through the door behind me lies the realm of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, Lord of the Never-there. I am Haskill, chamberlain to His Lordship."
Wrothken nodded. "So, why did the door show up in the Niben Bay? And what was with all the cheese?"
"Because my Lord wills it to be so. It poses no danger to Mundus; no compact has been violated. It is a doorway, an invitation. Perhaps you will accept it for what it is." He paused, then added, "The cheese was merely a special touch. Surely you can't expect the arrival of Sheogorath's doorway to have gone on unnoticed. He was sure the cheese would catch someone's attention."
It sure did, Wrothken thought. Then he remembered the people outside. "What about that dark elf and the Khajiit?"
"They entered this realm and were ill-prepared. Their minds are now the property of my Lord."
"But, can't they be cured?"
"Cured?" Haskill seemed almost insulted. "You speak as if they are diseased! They live now in another state of being. Perhaps it is you that needs a cure."
Wrothken shrugged. He sure did, but according to some, the best cure for what he suffered from, was to head into a brothel. He chuckled, remembering Kirsty's response to that suggestion. "Oh, please. After five years with Awour, I think he's spent more than enough time with tramps." He cleared his throat and looked at Haskill. "When I was out there, I heard someone say 'Bring me a champion!' What was that about?"
"My Lord seeks a mortal to act as His Champion. As for His intent... to attempt to fathom it is a foolish endeavor. His will is His own; His reality follows suit. You are here because you chose to enter; you were not summoned."
Was he not? Wrothken remembered the pull the door had on him, the way he moved forward even as his mind protested.
"So, what now?"
"You do as you will. You may leave the way you entered. Your life will be none the worse for your time spent here. Or, you may continue onward, through the door behind me. If you can pass the Gates of Madness, perhaps the Lord Sheogorath will find a use for you."
"And if I go back?"
"Who is to say? There are always choices to be made. The Realm of Madness is no different in that regard. Your choices are your own. Enter or do not, but make your decision. I've other duties to which I must attend. Speak with me again when you have made up your mind. The anticipation is almost too much to bear." Once again, he sounded sarcastic.
Wrothken sat in the chair, and thought deeply.
A Daedric Prince might have a use for me? I wonder what... But this is ridiculous! People come out of here warped out of their minds! What if the same happens to me? Oh, who am I kidding? I'm already mad! ....wait, if I'm thinking that, then I can't be mad. A crazy person never doubts their sanity... His head had begun to hurt.
Haskill cleared his throat loudly. "Well? Have you made up your mind? The tension is almost palpable."
"I'll do it!" He said. Even as the words left his lips, he didn't know what he was thinking! He had a thousand questions for himself, but for once he put them to the side. Today was the start of his new life, after all.
"Fine," he said, almost sounding disappointed. Wrothken had a feeling that Haskill was going to be a royal pain in the behind. "I'm sure my Lord will be most pleased, assuming you ever manage to see Him. You'll want to pass through the Gates of Madness. Oh, and mind the Gatekeeper. He dislikes strangers to the Realm. Enjoy your stay."
Haskill stood up and walked to the door. The moment he touched the handle, butterflies materialized from the walls. Thousands of them flew up into the air, revealing the Isles to Wrothken. He was breathless.
"That was amazing!" He said, but Haskill was gone. Wrothken was alone on the hill. "Well, so far, so good."
Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 29 2010, 09:07 PM
Good to see this funny chapter again!
QUOTE
He put the clump in his mouth. "Cheddar!" he exclaimed.
Still makes me laugh!
QUOTE
"Was that you doing the hokey-pokey?" He asked.
I think
he is better left lower-case. OTOH, this made me laugh out loud for the second time. Such classic Haskill!
Uh oh:
QUOTE
Wrothken had a feeling that Haskill was going to be a royal pain in the boat.
I think Chorrol's Censor Police has struck again!
Posted by: SubRosa Mar 29 2010, 09:33 PM
I liked this phrase, remind me to steal it:
Bravil-water blond
Maybe he would go see. After all, raining cheese wasn't an everyday occurrence.
Not in Cyrodiil, but where Wrothken is heading....
This I also like:
Then why were his feet leading him closer to the door?
The same with Wrothken's musing that he had been summoned after all.
nits:
I think you ran into another forum's swear filter here:
I think he's spent more than enough time with [censored]s.
Posted by: Olen Mar 30 2010, 04:43 PM
Nice piece, I'm enjoying this, particularly some of the one liners (which Haute has already pointed out). I'm looking forward to see how you describe the isles. I like the character as well, he seems quite normal... this far at least...
Good stuff
Posted by: Jacki Dice Mar 30 2010, 10:48 PM
haute ecole rider- Oh goodness... I have a feeling this swear filter is going to be the death of me. >.>
SubRosa- I'm glad you liked my phrase
You can steal it anytime
Olen- Thanks so much! 
~~~~~♥~~~~~
We're All Mad Here
Wrothken felt like a child filled with wonder as he walked the path in the Isles. Even though it was daylight, the sky was littered with golden stars. Sometimes when he walked, shimmering bursts would appear, swirl around in the air and the vanish. Of course, he knew it couldn't be all stars and sparkles. The plane of Madness had to have a few undesirable things about it, which made him happy that the door leading back to Cyrodiil remained, just in case he had enough.
It wasn't long before he came across... something. It was short and green. It looked like the result of a love affair between a goblin and a slaughterfish. Wrothken noticed it had pants on.
Maybe it's a resident? It looked appropriate given the area. The creature didn't seem to notice him, so Wrothken walked over to it. "Good day," he greeted.
The creature replied by taking out a primitive-looking dagger and growling. Wrothken felt a flutter in his heart as he realized he left his armor back in Cyrodiil. He still had his mace, so he took it out and swung. The creature was quicker than him. It spun and slashed his arm deeply. He didn't feel it at first, so he kept swinging, eventually hitting it mid-spin. When he finished, he started to feel the stinging in his arm.
He closed his eyes, focusing on a cooling feeling in his heart. It wrapped down his arm, and he soon felt it heal. He sighed. First thing he needed to do was get some armor.
The path was long and winding. On both sides there were broken pillars.
When the pillars were new, it must have been majestic, he thought.
At night it must be really beautiful... It brought to mind evening walks, which reminded him of strolls with Awour after a date. He sulked, remembering how she used to swoon over some of the actors when it was Theater Night at the arena. There was the first sign of the issue that he just didn't seem to notice. It wasn't that he objected to her finding other men attractive. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find Kirsty's voluptuous curves enthralling. The problem was when she would do it so blatantly, and then proceed to describe just how handsome and perfect they were. In fact, he recalled her going through a similar phase when meeting Bacchus for the first time. "There's nothing sexier than a man in metal," she had said, batting her long eyelashes. He felt so stupid. He should have known.....
He stopped in the middle of the road. It didn't matter. He was in a new place. Time for the new life to begin. He took a deep breath, picturing in his mind a small figure sweeping out a large pile of garbage, symbolizing his memories.
Now that he stopped that destructive thought process, he started remembering what Haskill had said. In order for him to see Sheogorath, he needed to go through the Gate of Madness. In order to do that, he had to get through the Gatekeeper, who apparently disliked strangers.
Perhaps he can be reasoned with, he thought.
He entered a small settlement. A Redguard walked up to Wrothken with a big smile. "Hello, I'm Shelden. I've been here the longest. That's why I'm mayor of Passwall. That, and because I'm the best at being in charge. Welcome to my town! The place was pretty deserted when I got here. Of course, once I was here, others followed. Can't say I blame them."
"Oh, you're the mayor?" Wrothken asked. "So you'd know about the Gatekeeper, right?"
"The Gatekeeper?" A dark elf asked. He was a few feet away, so he had to raise his voice in order to talk to them. "He's pretty scary, isn't he? He's actually about to destroy a group of adventurers right now. Let's watch him in action."
"Wait, what?"
Sheldon and the dark elf ran up the hill. Wrothken ran to catch up wit them. He froze when he saw the Gatekeeper. It was two, maybe three times his size. It had a head, but no face. Just soft tissue where the eyes, nose, and mouth should have been. Instead of a right hand, it had a large bloody sword attached to its arm. It wore a metal collar that connected to a piece going down the center of its chest and then wrapping around its stomach. In its chest, Wrothken could see scabs shaped like large keys.
A group of adventurers clad in steel armor, stood by the Gatekeeper, barely reaching his knee. The Orc leader commanded them to fight and they obediently did so. Wrothken was horrified as the Gatekeeper threw them around like rag dolls. He had to help. He rushed in, beating the Gatekeeper's leg with his mace. The Gatekeeper didn't even seem to notice. It continued to crush the adventurers until they were motionless. Only after they were dead, did it look down at Wrothken. He didn't wait for it to attack. He ran down the stairs, stumbling over his legs. The Gatekeeper followed him only to the last stair. It grunted, standing as if to show where its territory begun.
Wrothken panted hard, trembling.
"Pretty scary, huh?" The dark elf said. "Jayred Ice-Vein's planning on killing him. I don't know how... the Gatekeeper looks indestructible to me."
"Well, good luck to him!" Wrothken said. He didn't want anything to do with it. It was unbeatable!
He walked around the settlement until he noticed an inn. He entered, taking a seat at the counter. The publican was an Altmer, who also happened to be blond. Wrothken pretended not to notice, though it made his heart sink.
"Hello, I'm Dredhwen," she said. She had large bags under her eyes. "No one was running this place when I got here. They left plenty of things behind, though. What do you need?"
"Nothing, now," he said, unable to look at her. Instead, his eyes were caught on a bust of a mustached man and the piles of lettuce and yarn around it.
"Hey."
Wrothken turned to see a brown haired Nord standing behind him. The Nord knelt down to whisper to Wrothken. "Rumor has it that you want the Gatekeeper dead."
This must be Jayred, Wrothken thought, recognizing the last name as of Nordic descent.
"I was," Wrothken said. "But after seeing him--"
"Before you get scared, let me tell you something. The Gatekeeper had a brother."
Wrothken folded his arms. "Oh, did he?" He had no idea how that was supposed to dispel his fear.
"Yes, but he's dead now. His bones have spoken to me," he put great, almost seduced, emphasis on "bones." "And they've told me how to kill the Gatekeeper!"
"....his bones spoke to you?" Wrothken shook his head. "Are you--" He was about to ask if he was insane, but then remembered where he was. "I mean, how can the bones help?"
"Look, they say the Gatekeeper is magical. I don't believe in magic, but I do believe in bones. And the best way to kill something is with the bones of its own. I can see the bones of a dead Gatekeeper in the courtyard of the Gardens of Flesh and Bone. Come with me and I'll show you how we can kill him."
Wrothken stared at him hard. Any other day, if a crazy person would have asked him to accompany them anywhere, especially with a name like "Gardens of Flesh and Bone," he would have run, not walked, away. However, there was something about Jayred that seemed sincere, if not a little creepy.
Finally, he asked, "Why are you willing to include me in this? Why not do it yourself?"
"Because I am an archer. The Gatekeeper doesn't allow for long-range combat, so I would be unable to take him on by myself. But you!" he grabbed Wrothken's large arm. "I know this isn't just bone! With the two of us, I bet we could take him easily! So what do you say?"
"Alright then, show me this garden."
"Here we are!" Jayred announced. He ran up to the gate, reaching toward the bones. "I know, I heard your calls. I'm here now. Shhhh...." He said under his breath. He turned back to Wrothken. "Hurry! Pick that lock open. I can hear them in there! "
"Pick? You never said anything about it being locked!"
"Well, of course it is! If it wasn't, I would have had the bones already! Think logically, man!"
Wrothken fumed. A man with a bone fetish was telling him to think logically? Still, he needed his help. First he tested it, shaking the gate hard. The gates remained shut. He reached in his pocket, hoping he had not lost his lock picks while he was swimming. When he felt them still inside, he breathed deep. He stuck it in the lock and forced himself not to rush through it. He found that it was a relatively simple one, so it only took him two picks to get through it.
"Here I am!" Jayred cried, rushing past Wrothken. He sat by the large skeleton, rubbing his hands all over it. "Yes, yes, you knew I'd come, didn't you?"
Jayred spent plenty of time delicately gathering up the bones. Before adding each one to the pile in his arms, Jayred would coo to it and occasionally gave one a kiss.
Please don't let me turn out like this, Wrothken thought.
"Alright," Jayred said, acting as if his behavior was the most normal in the world. "From these bones, I can make the arrows. Just give me a few hours and I'll be ready."
Wrothken closed his eyes, trying to force away the hideous image of what he suspected Jayred might be using the "few hours" for. "Right," he said. "See you in a few hours."
Jayred headed back to Passwall. "I've been waiting so long for you. Let me get you in my nice warm house..."
Wrothken shuddered. If this was just the fringe of madness, he was almost afraid to see what would happen once he got to the heart of it all.
Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 31 2010, 01:48 AM
I enjoyed reading this again.
This made me chuckle:
QUOTE
"There's nothing sexier than a man in metal," she had said, batting her long eyelashes.
Only because I've long held the idea that there's nothing sexier than a man in uniform. Of course, now that I'm older than I used to be, I would add, except for a man that's out of it.
The whole scene with Jayred and picking the gate lock was well done!
And this is an excellent example of foreshadowing:
QUOTE
If this was just the fringe of madness, he was almost afraid to see what would happen once he got to the heart of it all.
Posted by: D.Foxy Mar 31 2010, 02:23 AM
Sexy man in uniform = Chippendale dancer.
Sexy man out of uniform = use your imagination.
Posted by: SubRosa Mar 31 2010, 02:51 AM
Good description of a Grummite (or Grubbite, as I always call them):
It looked like the result of a love affair between a goblin and a slaughterfish.
So someone has voluptuous curves!
He'd be lying if he said he didn't find Kirsty's voluptuous curves enthralling.
rawr for Kirsty!
Some sound advice here:
if a crazy person would have asked him to accompany them anywhere, especially with a name like "Gardens of Flesh and Bone," he would have run
I guess the SI has been working on Wrothken though, because he followed Jayred. I always liked that Nord. He and his obsession with bones was genuinely creepy, in a Texas Chainsaw Massacre kind of way. I really liked how you portrayed him hearing the bones of the dead gatekeeper speaking to him.
nits:
hoping he didn't lose his lock picks while he was swimming
this might read better by saying:
hoping he had not lost his lock picks while he was swimming
Posted by: Zalphon Mar 31 2010, 04:00 AM
*clap* Excellent work, Mad-One!
Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 31 2010, 07:29 AM
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Mar 30 2010, 06:51 PM)

I guess the SI has been working on Wrothken though, because he followed Jayred. I always liked that Nord. He and his obsession with bones was genuinely creepy, in a Texas Chainsaw Massacre kind of way.
Can't say it any better than this. I have taken two level 30+ characters to the Isles. Both were killed by the Gatekeeper, so I can identify with Wrothken's desire to steer clear.
QUOTE(Jacki Dice @ Mar 30 2010, 02:48 PM)

Wrothken closed his eyes, trying to force away the hideous image of what he suspected Jayred might be using the "few hours" for. "Right," he said. "See you in a few hours."
Posted by: Jacki Dice Mar 31 2010, 10:04 PM
I have a special treat for all my readers.
http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Kirsty.jpg
I just noticed she looks a bit lopsided and I can't do hands very well >.> Wrothken should be up in a couple days.
Thanks to everyone who's been reading and posting
It's one of the highlights of my day 
~~~~~♥~~~~~
They Bigger They Are...
While Wrothken waited for Jayred to finish, he stared up at the sky. It was pitch black, spattered with clusters of stars of every color. He wished the sky in Cyrodiil looked that way. If only he could have shared it with--
No, her name is not allowed, he reminded himself. A deeper, uncontrollable part of his mind retorted with,
Yes, but you can't stop me from showing you... He saw her again. She didn't have that gracefulness that Altmer were supposed to possess. Actually, she tripped and stumbled into anything and everything. But Wrothken thought it was adorable, just as long as she didn't hurt herself. He remembered shortly after they met, she tripped and he caught her. Cliche, but the look in her eyes at that moment made him blush several shades of red. In fact, it was that moment that gave him his first kiss...
He grunted, violently shaking his head. He didn't want to remember! He just wanted to forget it all and be done with it! Jayred's taken long enough, he thought. He just hoped he wouldn't accidentally take his anger out on the wrong person.
After getting directions from Sheldon, who bragged that he knew where Jayred lived because he was the mayor, Wrothken headed straight to Jayred's house. He banged on the door.
"Uh... Who is it?"
"It's been hours," Wrothken said. "Are you done yet?"
"Oh, sure, sure!" Jayred opened the door and let him in.
Wrothken expected some sort of strangeness, but not to the extent it really was. Skulls, rib cages, and all sorts of other bones sat carefully arranged in bowls and on shelves. His table seemed to be constructed entirely of bones, along with a set of matching chairs. When he looked closely, Wrothken noticed that the bowls were actually skull caps.
"The arrows are ready," Jayred announced, holding two bundles of them. "Here are some for you, and I'll keep some."
"Actually," Wrothken said, handing the arrows back. "I don't have a bow and I'm a lousy shot anyway. I think you should keep them instead."
Jayred shrugged, sticking them in his quiver, on which Wrothken saw tiny bones forming a design of a larger bone. "Then let me give you something else," he said, heading to a large chest in the corner of the room. He opened it and motioned for Wrothken to look inside. The chest held a full set of steel armor. "I was going to use it to model some bone armor, but since you'll be up close, I think you'll need it more."
Wrothken looked it over. It was in good condition. He wanted to ask where Jayred had gotten it, but something told him it would be better not knowing.
"Now, let's go kill the Gatekeeper. We might die. But there's worse things."
If Jayred died, at least he would eventually become his obsession, he thought.
"Just remember to keep the Gatekeeper off me. The key to killing him are these precious bones."
Jayred led the way up the hill, just as a Dunmer in an extravagant black dress was leaving teary eyed.
"I'll take your bones!" Jayred yelled, as he started shooting his arrows. The Gatekeeper howled. It was a disturbing muffled noise, as he had no true mouth. As it turned toward Jayred, Wrothken struck its knee with his mace. Unlike last time, the mace made a difference. The Gatekeeper grabbed its leg, howling miserably. Before he knew it, Wrothken was hurled into the air. As he hit the ground, he saw the Gatekeeper running after Jayred. He dragged himself up, trying to focus. Thankfully, even with blurred vision, he was easily able to make out the giant orange mass.
Wrothken stood behind the Gatekeeper, beating its legs. He learned to duck underneath it anytime it turned. Eventually, he scored a lucky his and shattered one of its kneecaps. The Gatekeeper let out a piercing cry, so loud that all of Passwall emerged from their houses to watch.
Wrothken knew he had to hurry. He had no idea if Jayred was running low on arrows. He looked around, and suddenly had an idea. He ran to one of the trees and started climbing.
"What are you doing?" Jayred shouted.
"Just trust me! I need you to get it over here."
Jayred growled, but did as he was asked. He walked backwards, shooting the arrows at the Gatekeeper, until it was close to the tree Wrothken sat in. When it was close enough, Wrothken jumped from the tree, grabbing onto the Gatekeeper's collar. He pulled himself up and used all his strength to whack the Gatekeeper on the side of the head. As the Gatekeeper was falling, Wrothken realized that he didn't think it through enough. He had nowhere to go, except down with the giant.
The ground sent a flash of pain throughout his body. He sat up, throbbing.
"We did it!" Jayred cried. He slapped Wrothken hard on the back. "Congratulations! I was afraid it would be your bones coming out instead of his. Don't worry, though. I would have taken good care of them..."
Wrothken didn't answer, for fear of snapping at the Nord for hitting him so hard. He just started to heal himself.
"Anyway, the honor of taking the keys from his corpse is yours."
Wrothken looked at the dead Gatekeeper. "Actually," he said to Jayred. "There are two keys. Why don't we each take one?"
"Sounds like a plan to me!" With gusto, and probably some bone fondling, Jayred ripped out a large turquoise key.
Wrothken was a little more hesitant, and even more so when the crying dark elf from earlier threw herself on the monster's body. "My baby!" She sobbed. "My poor, poor baby!"
He tried to be discrete as he used his mace to drag the other key out. "You beast!" The dark elf fumed. "You'll rue this day, I swear it!"
"Um..." Wrothken wasn't sure how to respond when she burst into tears again, cradling the Gatekeeper's head against her chest. He picked up the red key and looked at the two doors. He was about to go through one of the dark walkways when Haskill appeared behind him.
"So, you've managed to kill the Gatekeeper. Pity," he said, looking at the slain beast. "Well, you'll now be able to enter the Realm proper. You'll notice there are two doors. One leads to the lands of Mania. The other to Dementia. Enter through either one. The lands are quite distinct, but both are Sheogorath's domain. You'll want to seek out Lord Sheogorath. I believe He has plans for you." He looked Wrothken up and down, adding, "Try not to disappoint Him. You will find Him in New Sheoth, in His palace. It is best not to make Lord Sheogorath wait. His whims are fleeting, and should He decide you are no longer necessary, it would be to your detriment."
Wrothken felt the urge to punch him, but he resisted. "Where can I find New Sheoth?"
Haskill sighed exasperatedly. "Must I do everything? Here, take this." He handed Wrothken a map. Passwall was on the western part of the Isles and New Sheoth was far to the east.
"I'm sorry that it isn't colored. It's all I have."
Wrothken thought he saw a very slight smirk as he growled. He turned and entered the gates to Mania. It was time to see what Sheogorath had in mind for him.
Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 31 2010, 10:30 PM
QUOTE
"I'm sorry that it isn't colored. It's all I have."
I've said it before, and I'll say it again! Classic Haskill! You certainly are having a lot of fun writing this guy!
Posted by: SubRosa Mar 31 2010, 10:49 PM
Mmmm, Kirsty.
Wrothken must be insane to leave that behind... 
This was nicely done:
If only he could have shared it with-- No, her name is not allowed, he reminded himself.
As haute noted, this is brilliant:
"I'm sorry that it isn't colored. It's all I have."
As a side note to Destri and anyone else having problems with getting past the Gatekeeper, the trick is to ask around Passwall about it. Someone will give you a hint to spy on Relmyna when she goes to visit her "baby" every night...
Posted by: Olen Mar 31 2010, 11:19 PM
You paint an alarming picture of Jayred, but you certainly capture the madness of the shivering isles in this piece (not least with him).
He turned and entered the gates to Mania. - not sure why but this line is great, very Sheogorath.
This is a fun piece and I look forward to seeing what madness lies within mania.
Posted by: D.Foxy Apr 1 2010, 01:59 AM
Excellent drawing of Kirsty
Made me have thoughts dirty
Now excuse me, 'cos when I her see
Ah needs to drink - my throat gets thirsty
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 2 2010, 12:04 AM
haute ecole rider- Oh yes. Haskill is a lot of fun to do. I love his sarcasm
SubRosa- Well, he did head into the Shivering Isles.... 
Olen- Thanks a lot
D. Foxy- Oh my! My story received a Foxy poem! Squeeeeee!! I feel so honored
~~~~~♥~~~~~
The Hypochondriac and the Doppelganger
The path of Mania looked colorful from the distance, but the path in Dementia looked like it was a quicker trip. He would have time for sightseeing later. It was nearly midnight when Wrothken reached the entrance to New Sheoth. A tall, slender woman stood at the gate. Her skin was a creamy blue, like a Dunmer, but she had light blue eyes, like Wrothken's. He could tell that she wasn't man or mer because her pupils were slit, much like a serpent. She wore a very revealing outfit, though as Wrothken got closer, he noticed it was supposed to be armor.
"Madgod's blessings," she greeted. Her voice was soft, yet strong.
"Um... thanks." He consulted the map. "Is this New Sheoth?"
The woman smiled at him. "Yes. We Mazken guard Crucible in New Sheoth. We ensure the Demented remain orderly and respectful of our Lord Sheogorath. "
"Crucible?"
"New Sheoth is a symbol of our Lord; divided, yet perfect. The southern half is known as Crucible." Wrothken felt like he could listen to her talk all night. Unfortunately, his body ached and demanded sleep. Daedric prince or not, Sheogorath would have to wait until morning.
"Is there an inn that I can stay at tonight?"
"Head straight through the gates and it'll be the first door on your right."
"Ah.. Thank you," he said opening the large doors.
"Walk with our Lord."
Wrothken was surprised by the appearance of the city. It gave off a feeling of such depression, though he wondered if it was because of how late it was. He was pleased to see that the inn, Sickly Bernice's Taphouse, was just where the Mazken said it was.
It was large and would've been borderline fancy, if not for the dust bunnies and cobwebs in the corners. The entryway was dimly lit, with more light coming from downstairs. He heard a woman cough and the clinking of glasses, so he knew someone was down there.
He followed the sounds and saw a middle aged woman behind the bar. She wore a deep violet corset with long sleeves with black fringes on the cuffs. The hooped skirt was layered with the black fringes as well. The poor woman looked miserable and she kept coughing. Her face was etched with lines, though none indicated smiles. Her face told a story of constant worry.
Seated at the bar was a woman who made Wrothken's heart skip a beat. She had jet-black hair that cascaded down to her wide hips. Her skin was a smooth caramel color. Her outfit was much simpler than the proprietor's; a tight band across her chest, as if she was trying to flatten herself, and a pair of dingy brown pants. When Wrothken entered, she turned for a moment and he noticed her bright green eyes. He couldn't stop staring at her. It was as if Awour stepped into a mirror only to come out looking like her opposite.
Wrothken glanced at her repeatedly as he approached the bar. When he sat down, the older woman cautioned, "Don't get too close now, dearie. You might catch what I have."
"Oh," he said, scooting back a little. "Are you sick?"
The girl next to him chuckled a little and his face went red.
"Be nice now, Kalila," Bernice said. "The boy's new here, so he doesn't know yet." She turned to Wrothken and said, "Well...it seems I am dying. Yes, these may be my last days in the Shivering Isles. That is unless someone like yourself could help me find the cure. But no one has taken me upon my offer, even with the promise of a reward. Ah, well it's been a good life I suppose..."
He knew what she was getting at. She seemed like a sweet old lady, but he was so tired. He didn't think he could stay awake long enough to even remember any directions given to him. "Can I have a room please?"
"Oh..." She sounded disappointed. "Alright then. There's one upstairs, first on the right for ten gold."
He handed her the gold. "Thank you. Maybe you can tell me about the cure in the morning?"
"Oh, sure, sonny. That is, if I make it..."
Wrothken felt bad, but he knew it would be better hearing it when he was fully awake. He took a final glance at Kalila and headed upstairs.
Right when he woke up, Wrothken headed back downstairs to talk to Bernice. It was more crowded than it was the previous night and it smelled of strange flavors. He was surprised to be disappointed that Kalila was nowhere to be seen.
"Good morning, dearie," Bernice said as soon as he sat down. "Fancy a quick meal?"
He looked at the other plates, but didn't recognize anything. "Um..."
"Oh, silly me. I forgot that you're our newcomer." She coughed violently. "Excuse me. Now, how about I get you some grummite eggs with some toast? Though I really shouldn't cook it. I might pass my sickness on to you..."
"Wait, Bernice about that. Can you tell me about the cure? I'd be willing to help."
"There's only one place in all the Isles to get the cure for what I have... Knotty Bramble. There, on the lowest level of the place, is a pool containing the cure: aquanostrum. Legend has it that it bubbles up from an old statue."
"Is that a store around here?"
She started to laugh and cough at the same time. "Oh, no, dearie. Here, do you have a map?"
He nodded and pulled it out. "It's right about here," she said, drawing an "X" near the road coming from Passwall. "Apparently it only exists at the bottom of Knotty Bramble...ah well. So close, yet so far."
Wrothken looked at the marker and nodded. "It's really not that far out. I'll go out there soon."
For the first time, he saw her face light up. "Oh, thank you so much!" She sounded like she wanted to hug him. Handing him a silver flask, she said, "Now, how about I fix you up your breakfast. You'll need it if you're going to be heading out to Knotty Bramble. Oh, and dearie?"
"Yes?"
She leaned in slightly. "Be careful."
Wrothken stiffened. "Are there creatures down there?"
She laughed. "Oh, come now. You defeated the Gatekeeper, didn't you? A few grummites shouldn't be a problem for a strapping young man like yourself!" She lowered her voice a little. "I saw you looking at Kalila last night. Don't give me that look; I'm sick, not blind. There's something strange about that one... Just promise an old woman you'll be careful."
Wrothken looked around, noting everyone here was a bit strange, though he figured they must have each thought themselves normal. "Alright, I promise," he said.
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 2 2010, 12:49 AM
Nice piece. I enjoyed the meeting with the Mazken (I love them, I guess my avatar kind of gives that away), and Bernice has always been one of my favorite characters (although Cutter is still my #1 - When you hack into the warm flesh and feel the blood splash, think of me...).
There's something strange about that one.
Its the Shivering Isles, there is something strange about everyone!
Posted by: mALX Apr 2 2010, 03:40 AM
OOOH! You are an artist as well as a writer!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 3 2010, 02:57 AM
SubRosa- I like them too, much much more than I like the Golden Saints. Those, I'd like like to punch sometimes >.>
mAXL1- -shy turtle- Yeah.... I think this is the first picture I ever sat and did for more than ten minutes. Wrothken is next, but he might take a bit longer since I have a lot of trouble drawing men.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Madness Incarnate
The palace of New Sheoth was glamorous compared to Crucible. The castle and walls were made from gray stone. The right side was lit with blue flames and more Mazken walked around. On the left, gold dominated the area, with bright flame and gold skinned women wearing gold armor.
The area was silent and serene, though Wrothken sensed hostility. He watched the women carefully, noticing the hate in their eyes any time they looked at each other.
"Mortal!"
He jumped, seeing a golden woman walk up to him. She was nothing like the Mazken he spoke to before. She seemed to look down upon him. "What business do you have here?"
"Sheogorath--"
"Lord Sheogorath to you, Mortal."
"Okay... Lord Sheogorath wanted to see me."
She huffed. "Are you the one who slew the Gatekeeper?"
He nodded.
"Very well. He is in the center doors of the palace. Now go."
Wrothken stared at her as she walked away.
Who lit the fuse on her... Oh forget it, he thought walking down the path to the doors. There were two of them with a woman from each group standing guard. The Mazken smiled at him as he approached, and the other one glared. He walked to the Mazken.
"Don't let theml get to you. Their attitudes are most disgraceful to our Lord Sheogorath." She sneered at a passing gold woman. "The so-called Golden Saints. One day, Lord Sheogorath will finally recognize their bull-headed stupidity and expel them from the Realm."
He nodded and entered the castle.
Just like outside, the interior was divided. The right side had yellow flames and the carpet was bright red. The left, was lit by blue fire and had black carpet. The carpets went right up into the throne where a man sat. "Well, look who's here! You! How about that?" he cried. Wrothken recognized his voice from the door in Cyrodiil.
He was clapping as Wrothken approached. He appeared to be a wise man, with gray hair neatly slicked back, a distinguished beard, and a few wrinkles. However, one look in his amber eyes told him he was exactly the opposite.
"A new arrival!" He shouted, clapping him on the back. "A shame about my Gatekeeper. I'm so happy, I could just tear out your intestines and strangle you with them."
Wrothken felt a chill inside and he wanted to take a step back, but Sheogorath had his arm firmly around him.
"I suppose an introduction is in order. I'm Sheogorath, Prince of Madness! And other things. I'm not talking about them." He said, folding his arms. "You've probably figured that out by now. Let's hope so. Or we're in real trouble... and out come the intestines. And I skip rope with them! But, perhaps now's not the time. You've made it this far. Farther than anyone else. Well done! Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve you well. Or look lovely on your corpse." He handed Wrothken a copper amulet. It felt warm and when Wrothken put it on, he felt a light tingling sensation around his skin.
Sheogorath didn't wait for Wrothken to say anything before continuing. "I've been waiting for you, or someone like you, or someone other than you, for some time. I need a champion, and you've got the job," he said, poking Wrothken in the chest. "Time to save the Realm! Rescue the damsel! Slay the beast! Or die trying. Your help is required. A change is coming. Everything changes. Even Daedric Princes. Especially Daedric Princes."
"Change?" He asked. "What kind of change?"
"Daedra are the embodiment of change. Change and permanency. I'm no different, except in the ways that I am. The Greymarch is coming. And you're going to stop it."
"The what?"
"The details aren't important. At least not right now. Eternity is on a rather tight deadline. We'll get back to that later."
Wrothken's head was spinning. To say this man was off-balance was an understatement. He wanted something stopped, yet the details weren't important? He didn't press because he wasn't sure what would happen, what with talk of skipping rope with intestines.
"Okay, so what should I do now?" Wrothken asked.
"Now? You run an errand for me. An important one. Of course, anything I tell you to do is important. My Realm, my rules. You're going to Xedilian, one of my favorite spots in the Isles. It's a little place I use to take care of unwanted visitors. And some are more unwanted than others."
Wrothken wasn't sure if he had been one of those "unwanted visitors," but if it would keep his innards in place, he was willing to do anything.
"What's in Xedilian?"
"The Gatekeeper took care of most of the unwanted, but he's dead. We'll have to remedy that soon, as well...." He cleared his throat. "Anyway... there are those that have other ways into my Realm, and they're on the move. We don't want them here. Trust me. So, you're going to get Xedilian up and running. Here's a little book to tell you how, and the Attenuator of Judgment. You'll need that, too." He handed Wrothken what appeared to be a tuning fork and a book. "Of course, you can always get more details from Haskill. He's a detail-oriented type of person. A big help. And a snappy dresser. Now, get going. Before I change my mind. Or my mind changes me."
Wrothken looked at Haskill. There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was confused.
He opened the book and headed back to Crucible.
The book caught Wrothken's full attention. Not only did it explain what exactly to do, it showed a few sides to Sheogorath. The writer seemed almost fearful of any consequences he might pay for the slightest mistake. Just as he was about to turn the page, he collided with someone, knocking her to the ground.
He gasped, seeing Kalila glaring up at him. She was dressed the same way as before, only her pants were rolled up, exposing her toned legs. "Oh.. I'm so sorry! Here," he said, holding his hand out.
She ignored it, and got up on her own. Her eyes were like daggers, saying everything her mouth wasn't. She turned and headed away from him. It took awhile to realize that he was staring after her. He regained control of himself and shook his head violently. Maybe it was her stark contrast to Awour that was attracting him to her, but he promised Bernice that he would be careful... though there was no harm in looking, right?
He sat down outside a shop and pulled out his map. Xedilian was a ways away, located southeast of Passwall. He was happy to see that Knotty Bramble was on the way. As he folded up his map, he heard someone call to him.
"Hey you!"
He looked over at a blond man hiding around the building's corner. "Come over here. I need to talk to you."
Wrothken looked around and walked up to him. "Yes?"
"I've got a proposition for you. Best not to talk about it here. Meet me at the sewer grate northeast of the Sheogorath statue. Come after dark. Come alone." He then walked away.
Wrothken stared after him. What was the proposition? And why did he want it alone and night? Well, there was the obvious... But he didn't think it was that. The man looked and sounded miserable. He shrugged. There was no time to think about it now. He had a few important errands to run.
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 3 2010, 03:08 AM
The palace of New Sheoth was glamorous compared to Crucible.
Some people would say that Bravil is glamorous compared to Crucible!
I like how you portrayed the arrogance of the Aureals, and highlighted the conflict between them and the Mazken.
I always liked this line:
"The details aren't important. At least not right now. Eternity is on a rather tight deadline. We'll get back to that later."
This is an excellent sentence, simple and direct, yet incredibly eloquent:
Her eyes were like daggers, saying everything her mouth wasn't.
nits:
"Are you the one who slayed the Gatekeeper?"
slew would read more smoothly here. It is dialogue though, so if that is how she would talk, then keep it.
Posted by: Winter Wolf Apr 3 2010, 06:47 AM
It is easy to see why the DLC received such a great response from the public. The landscape was huge and felt very different to Cyrodiil. It is awesome to see that you have captured it so well. Great write.
I lost track of the number of brilliant Sheogorath quotes here that you wrote!! Fantastic.
Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve you well. Or look lovely on your corpse.
I have always loved this quote. One of his best.
Posted by: mALX Apr 3 2010, 06:53 AM
QUOTE(Winter Wolf @ Apr 3 2010, 01:47 AM)

It is easy to see why the DLC received such a great response from the public. The landscape was huge and felt very different to Cyrodiil. It is awesome to see that you have captured it so well. Great write.
I lost track of the number of brilliant Sheogorath quotes here that you wrote!! Fantastic.
Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve you well. Or look lovely on your corpse.
I have always loved this quote. One of his best.
I second this!!
Posted by: Olen Apr 4 2010, 03:21 PM
though there was no harm in looking, right? - Rather similar to the thought which got him intothe Isles... Nicely done, shows a side to him which makes him ideal for the setting, if only because anything in the Isles might be harmful.
Well, there was the obvious... But he didn't think it was that -- this line made me laugh. I like the humor you spread through the piece next to the story, it makes it great to read and fits well with the setting.
Nice piece.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 5 2010, 04:34 PM
Thanks everyone 
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Cures and Crystals
As Wrothken walked the dreary path toward Knotty Bramble, he finally had time to think. Sheogorath chose
him as his champion. How he would love to go home and shove that in people's faces. Champion of a Daedric Prince. A completely insane one at that! That had to come with perks and boy, would Awour be sorry then!
He imagined strolling down the walk in Kvatch dressed in fine clothes, Kalila on his arm-- He blushed, thankful no one was around to see it. What could it be about her that drew him in? Sure, there was the parallel to Awour, but was there anything else? He often heard girls telling each other that the best way to get over a guy was to get under another one. Could that be true for him as well? He smiled, knowing that he wouldn't mind one bit finding that out.
He looked down at his map and saw that he was close to Knotty Bramble. He looked to his left and saw nothing. He walked over a hill and was just about to leave when he caught sight of a round spot attached underneath the tangled roots of a tree. The circle was covered in shiny bumps and couldn't be a natural part of it. It had to be the entrance to Knotty Bramble. Remembering Bernice mention something called grummites, he took out his mace and raised his shield, and he went in.
The interior was among the strangest places he'd ever been to. Inside the tree, other plants flourished, as if the tree were merely a host. Everywhere he turned, he ran into giant mushrooms, or glowing orbs as big as his head. He came to a fork in the tunnel, but one was blocked off by roots. He tried hammering his way through, but they were too strong. He had no choice but to go the other way.
As he headed into the depths of the tunnels, he came across one of the goblin-fish creatures.
Those must be the grummites. It was walking toward him, when their eyes met. The grummite ran up to him, wasting no time as it began to hack at the air between them. Wrothken watched it and when its arm was down, he gripped the mace tightly and slammed its arm and then hit its head.
Two more waited for him further down. The moment they saw him coming, they rushed him, slashing him so fast, he could barely get any hits in.
They're fast little bastards, he thought. He kicked one of them hard and focused more on the one still in front of him. As it became worn down, the other came back, but it was easier to deal with a quick one and a weakened one than it was to deal with two of them at their prime.
He wandered around until he came across another door similar to the one leading outside. Once he opened it, he heard the sound of water.
His heart rose as he followed the sound. He was on a higher level with the pool directly below him. For a second, he considered just jumping in, but he decided against it due to his armor and not knowing how deep or shallow it was.
A few grummites took notice of him and after beating them, he took out the flask and he made sure to fill it to the top. He closed it tightly and put it away. "That was simple enough," he said, walking back to the exit. Then he noticed several egg sacks floating in the water. He frowned, realizing that the grummites were probably just protecting their eggs. He felt slightly bad, but he knew he couldn't beat himself up over it. If he didn't defend himself, the grummites would have killed him without any remorse at all.
Daylight greeted him as he stepped back outside. He wondered for a moment if he should run back to Crucible and give Bernice her cure, but he decided against it. He didn't want to risk Sheogorath's anger by taking too long.
As usual, while he was walking, unbidden thoughts crept into his mind. He wondered if Awour noticed he was gone?
She must have, he thought.
You don't go from seeing someone daily to not seeing them at all and not wondering about it. He also wondered if Awour did anything to set Kirsty off.
Wrothken remembered when he told Kirsty what happened. He had been crying so hard that his words were incoherent so he had to repeat himself several times, which just made him cry more. Kirsty was furious. Someone once told him that girls with red hair have the worst temper. Whoever said that obviously never met Kirsty. Either that or they made her so angry that they never had the chance to tell the tale. The short brunette was livid and Wrothken only stopped crying because he didn't have the strength to bawl
and hold her in her chair. He begged her not to do anything but she wouldn't promise. She said she couldn't and then started to rant about how girls like Awour were the reason she can't stand to be around other women. She swore up and down that if Awour said one word or even glanced at her the wrong way, she was going to beat her into the next era.
It wouldn't have been so bad if she had just been honest instead of sneaking around. He didn't even know how long it had been going on. Part of him wanted to go back and ask, but he was afraid of the answer. He didn't want to hear that it went on for months or with multiple people. He didn't want to worry that it was his fault or that he just wasn't good enough. He had been far too scared to find out the truth, even though hated asking himself why or what he did to cause it.
He shook his head, remembering that he banished her from his mind. Besides, there was plenty of other fish in the sea. Of course, the first image to pop in his mind was Kalila. He could tell she didn't like him, but what he would give to spend some time with her and get her to give him a chance. He grinned. Maybe it was the fact that Bernice had warned him about her. It gave her the "forbidden fruit" appeal. If he could get Kalila to go to Kvatch with him and rent a room somewhere.... Oh, that would get Awour's panties in such a twist! She was jealous enough over Kirsty, but if he was openly with someone else? It gave him momentary happiness, but then his heart sank as he realized that she probably wouldn't care. After all, she was the one who left him, not the other way around.
Even still... he thought. He knew he wanted to get close to Kalila, if not to make Awour jealous, then to at least keep his mind occupied.
The bridge leading into Xedilian was guarded by a grummite. Wrothken was taken by surprise; he had been expecting adventurers, if anyone, to be there instead. After taking care of it, he proceeded inside.
It was nearly black inside. Wrothken was faced with the choice of stumbling blindly or using his shield. He set his shield down by the door and hoped he wouldn't need it. Taking out a torch, he walked up to the door. He tried pushing it open, but it wouldn't budge. It was metal, not wood, so he couldn't break it down. "What in Oblivion...?" he muttered, feeling the door for a knob. Eventually he came across a brick with a red face sticking out slightly. He pressed it and the door opened up right away. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for more of those.
The old fort looked like something he would have seen in Cyrodiil. Old tapestries hung on the walls. They looked like they were once fiery red, they were now covered in mold and dust. At one point, a gold crest decorated the bottom of each tapestry, but he could only see the faint tracings. Every corner was home to a large, smelly mounds that Wrothken tried his best to avoid, as he didn't want to imagine what it was for.
It wasn't long until he came to a room with three grummites inhabiting it. Two of them wielded daggers and the other simply disappeared before Wrothken's eyes. He was so surprised, that he didn't react in time to the two quick ones. They nearly backed him into a wall with their attacks. He tried focusing on one at a time, but it was harder than he thought, as they kept bouncing up as they hacked at him. He finally finished them off and looked around for any sign of the invisible one. He got his hint as soon as he was struck with lightning. His body tingled painfully as he caught sight of the last grummite. It held a long spear with a crystal at the end of it. A focus crystal, he thought. He ran over to it, not even caring about the mound of filth it stood on, and he took it out with a blow to the head.
He picked up the crystal and looked around, trying to find where it belonged. He found it in the next room, where a round altar sat with a faint glow at the top. He placed it on the glow and it floated there, making a soft humming sound.
One down, two to go.
He headed down the stairs were he saw three more grummites. They were facing a fire pit with three large totem poles in the center. They bowed and occasionally made movements as if they were having seizures. Wrothken tried looked beyond them to see if there was a way he could sneak around them, but it was too dark to tell. His only choice was to go in and look for himself.
Like he expected, the moment the grummites saw him, they rushed to attack. Two of them came at him with their daggers and the third remained behind as it readied its bow and arrows. This time, he was more prepared. He was able to get good hits on the first one, taking it down quicker. The other one required more time, and it was happy that the other grummite obviously couldn't see him, as the arrows flew feet away. Once he took care of the second one, he headed for the archer. It didn't even try to run away as he bludgeoned it to death.
As he walked, he started feeling a prickling in the back of his neck. It felt like something was behind him, but each time he turned, there was no one. It made him wonder if there was another invisible grummite silently stalking him, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He could almost see it every time he started walking.
"Oh, snap out of it!" He said. "Stupid place is making you paranoid."
He came to a split in the path. Two metal doors were on either side and a push block was directly in front of him. He looked at either one, wondering which it opened.
Only one way to find out... He pressed the button. only to feel the floor vanish from beneath him. He landed hard on his back, crying out when he saw the body of a dead grummite.
He sat up, clutching his throbbing head. It took him a few moments to focus properly in order to fully heal himself.
There was no way to get back up to where he was, so he walked around, hoping for the best. He was half relieved when he found another trio of grummites, one wielding a crystal staff. He almost laughed when the staff user was in such a hurry to attack, it accidentally shocked one of the grummites to death. This time, Wrothken took out the staff user, just to ensure it didn't turn invisible on him. After that, he took care of the other one. Once again, he attached the focus crystal to another nearby altar. Just one more.
The halls led him to another room with a couple of grummites. He was starting to get used to them and found it a lot easier to dispatch them. Inside the room, there was a flight of stairs leading to no where, leading Wrothken to think that it might have been a throne room once. He was about to leave when a sparkle caught his eye from the top of the stairs. Curious, he went to check it out.
The sparkle came from a round topaz. His heart sank. He used to call Awour his precious topaz, due to her golden skin and hair. He chucked it across the room.
The next place he came to was a large door that opened normally. He wanted to be relieved that he was almost done but the topaz, and the memories associated with it, was bothering him. Instead, grummites relieved him, since he could easily take his anger out on them instead.
He bashed them in repeatedly until the halls were cleared. With the last crystal in place, let out a loud sigh of relief. All he had to do was tune the crystal and he could go and relax. After glancing down at his beat up armor, he added something else to his to-do list.
Walking down the hall, he heard the all too familiar croaks of grummites. Just as he thought, a group of three grummites guarded the resonator at the end of the room. He was so tired, but the thought of a hot bath at Bernice's gave him the drive to go forward and fight. The first two were dagger-users and the last was an archer. The two grummites hopped up in his face, repeatedly slashing at him. At that point, he stopped trying to focus on one at a time and just delivered the beatings to whoever was closest. The archer remained where it was, pelting him with arrows. He wished he had the shield with him, but there was no use in that. Wishing it wouldn't get it to him. Instead, he just had to dodge the arrows until he got to the grummite.
Just like the last archer, it didn't run or switch weapons. It took the beating until its death.
Wrothken took out the Attenuator of Judgment and hit the cluster of crystals once. Immediately, it began to hum loudly. The sound was so pleasant that Wrothken strongly considered taking a nap underneath it. He wanted to so badly, but since he was finished, he was ready to leave Xedilian.
To his right a door opened up, revealing a red glowing tile. He went to look at it, hoping it was an exit, but there was no door underneath it. He was going to head back, but the door shut behind him and wouldn't budge. He banged on it repeatedly until he remembered the red push block from when he first entered. All he had to do was push this one and he would be home free! Since it was on the floor, he assumed it would need a lot of weight to activate it. he stood on it and suddenly, he only saw bright red shimmers before him.
Time to relax, he thought happily.
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 5 2010, 05:40 PM
Wrothken's internal musings about The Banished One (Awour) really made this chapter shine for me. You really are doing an excellent job at making him a living, breathing person.
I love this:
Sheogorath chose him as his champion. How he would love to go home and shove that in people's faces. Champion of a Daedric Prince. A completely insane one at that! That had to come with perks and boy, would Awour be sorry then!
This is a great turn of phrase:
she was going to beat her into the next era.
nits:
but wast there anything else?
I think the Mad God played a little trick on you by slipping an extra "t" there.
She swore up and down that if Awour said one word or even glanced at her the wrong way
I think he stole the "d" in glanced as well.
He got his hint as soon as he was struck with lightening.
in this context, that should be lightning.
Posted by: mALX Apr 6 2010, 01:44 PM
Knotty Bramble is one of my fave dungeons, especially looking for amber!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 7 2010, 08:22 PM
SubRosa- Thanks
mAXL1- I love looking for amber! The stumps are so sparkly 
~~~~~♥~~~~~~
Decisions, decisions...
When he opened his eyes, he expected to see the beautiful sky and the path that would lead him to Crucible. His eyes widened and he looked around, halfway hoping that he did actually go to sleep beneath the resonator, and was just dreaming. Sadly, his aching body told him otherwise. Instead of being outside, he saw that he was still inside the fort, only there was a Dunmer with him.
He walked up to him with a wide smile and said, "Finally, Lord Sheogorath has sent someone to assist me! But where are my manners?" He cleared his throat, muttering, "Must get into my professional tone..." He cleared his throat once more and spoke in a deeper, more even voice. "Welcome to Xedilian, I'm the dungeon caretaker, Kiliban Nyrandil."
Wrothken sighed deeply. "Why am I still in here?"
"Xedilian would normally have sent you back to the entrance when you stepped on the pad in the Resonator Chamber. Since you're up here, I can only surmise that adventurers are already entering the dungeon as we speak." Kiliban seemed almost pleased.
"That's nice, but that doesn't really explain why I'm still here."
"I'm afraid until the adventurers are dealt with, Xedilian will keep you here. Even I can't will its doors to open. To put it bluntly, you're stuck here for the moment. No disrespect intended."
He sighed. His bath would have to wait. "Alright. How do I deal with them? Should I just go out there and tell them to shoo?"
Kiliban laughed. "Oh, heavens no! The adventurers must go through a cycle. All you need to do is decide what becomes of them. Will you drive them insane or will you pull the life from their bodies?"
"What?"
"Here," Kiliban held his arm and led him to a transportation tile. They arrived in another area overlooking a large room with a small tree-creature. "Now, these adventurers seek a place to live here in the Isles. Since that horrid Gatekeeper isn't around anymore, it's become easy for just anyone to stroll in and set up shop. As you know, Lord Sheogorath only welcomes those He sees fit for residency. Now, it's up to you to decide whether or not they're worthy." He patted him on the shoulder. "I bet you're just tickled pink! Now, about the buttons. When you push the appropriate button, an event will unfold for the adventurers to experience. One is physically harmful... usually lethal traps or creatures... something relished by the residents of Dementia. The other choice is more mental. They are designed to make the adventurers lose their grip on reality, much like the residents of Mania."
"I see..." Wrothken stared at the tiny creature. He wanted to know just how something so small could cause insanity.
"Oh, look! Here they come!" Kiliban said.
A group of three men entered. The first was an Orc in a suit of Orcish armor. He carried a large claymore on his back. The second to enter was an Dunmer wearing aqua robes, and the last was a brown-haired man. Wrothken couldn't tell what race he was.
"...now keep your weapons ready and watch your backs. Do what I say, and we might just get outta here alive." The Orc said to the other two.
They stopped and stared at the small creature. The Orc began to laugh.
"Awwww.... ain't it cute! What in Oblivion is that thing?" He continued laughing.
"This is one of the 'horrid guardians' of which the stories spoke?" The third man asked.
"Be careful," the Dunmer warned. "There may be more to this creature than meets the eye."
Kiliban nudged Wrothken. "Press a button," he whispered.
Wrothken looked at both of them. One was smiling and one was frowning. Self-defense was one thing, but he couldn't bring himself to decide to kill them just for fun. He pressed the smiling button.
"What a joke," the Orc said, walking past it. "Let's be rid of this thing and continue on our way."
Wrothken heard a faint hiss, but he didn't think they could hear it. The other men did double takes at the small creature.
"Are my eyes playing tricks, or is the creature growing?"
It didn't look any bigger to Wrothken. He looked at Kiliban, who was smiling widely. "The button you pressed released hallucinogenic spore gas into the chamber. It's tricking them into believing the creature means to kill them. Don't worry, its bark is far worse than its bite." He chuckled at his little joke.
Wrothken looked back at the chamber where the men were scrambling, desperately trying to get away from the creature. The hissing soon stopped. The adventurers calmed down and the creature crawled into a corner.
The Dunmer panted hard. "All this time it was merely an illusion," he said wiping sweat from his brow. "How clever."
The Orc turned around and walked slowly toward the other man. "Wait... what's wrong with Lewin?"
Lewin was on the ground, huddled in the fetal position. He stared after the creature. "...ma-makes no sense...should be d-dead...what...who..."
The Dunmer frowned. He walked over to the Orc, placing his hand on his shoulder. "I think this place got to him... perhaps we should leave."
The Orc shook his head. "We'll pick him up on the way out. He'll have to fend for himself."
The remaining men entered another room, leaving Lewin behind.
"Watching them run from the Giant Gnarl gets me every time," Kiliban said happily. "Another chamber, another victim to eliminate. Hurry, the anticipation is overwhelming!" He led Wrothken to the next platform.
The first thing Wrothken saw was a pile of gold and jewels the size of Kirsty's bakery. Instantly, he made a mental list of all the things he could buy with such a large amount. The only problem was that it was locked up in a large cage. When the Orc and Dunmer entered the room, Wrothken knew they were thinking the same thing.
"Look!" The Orc pointed. "I told you! Treasure! Let's have at it, Syndelius."
They ran up the flight of stairs leading to it. The Orc grabbed hold of the bars and shook them hard. "Blast! The cage is locked. If only Lewin were here... he could get us through this in no time."
Syndelius reached through the bars, but he quickly pulled back, hissing in pain. "It's hot! Do you think you can pry the door open?"
The Orc descended the stairs. "Forget it! This is obviously a trick! Let's get out of here."
Wrothken looked at Kiliban, who nodded his head. He pushed the smiling button.
"To be so close, and yet so far. If only we had the key! Wait.. do you hear something?"
A vague jingling sound started to grow louder and louder until hundreds, maybe thousands, of keys spilled to the floor.
Syndelius whooped loudly. "Look! Keys! One of them must open the gate! We're rich!"
The Orc flooded his arms. "Let's get out of here, Syndelius. This is obviously a trick to waste our time!"
"I'll know it when I see it! Yes... it must be here!"
The Orc grabbed his arm. "They're all fake! Just come with me now!"
Powered by his lust for gold, he wrenched free and dug through the keys. "...find it... yes... I must find the key... rich beyond all my dreams..." He laughed under his breath.
"Bah! Suit yourself!" The Orc shot him a dirty look and walked off.
"Must find the key! Must find the key!" Syndelius sung.
Kiliban chuckled. "Too bad none of those keys fit the lock... hahahaha! Last chamber... this should be entertaining."
After getting on the pad, Wrothken was transported to a room that looked like it had been taken from nightmares. The floors and parts of the wall was stained with blood. Rotting corpses were hanging from their neck or attached to the walls. Some were scattered across the floor. Wrothken had to fight to keep his breakfast down.
The Orc walked down the stairs, obviously a little disturbed. "Steady, Grommok... steady," he said to himself. "You've been through worse before. What more could this place possibly throw at you?"
Wrothken was afraid of what it would do, but he pressed the smiling button. Purple light flashed and Grommok fell to the ground. His spirit stepped out of his body, looking at it in horror.
"What!? How in Oblivion can I be dead? This is impossible! Nothing killed me!" He cried out a little, looking around the room. "I didn't even get a chance to fight! No chance to defend myself? No chance for battle? Why? Impossible! This is impossible... Grommok has never lost a fight! Never!" He knelt down, clasping his head. "No! This is all wrong! This isn't how it's supposed to be!"
The light flashed again and Gromok was back in his body. He didn't seem to notice at all. He kept mumbling to himself.
Kiliban patted Wrothken on the back. "You've made short work of the intruders. Sheogorath should be proud to have such an efficient apprentice." He led him to the last pad.
They arrived in another room that was near the entrance. Kiliban stood in front of a large chest. "As is the tradition, you are to be awarded a focus crystal as a token of your fine work. I'll have it sent to the palace and placed in the main hall, if you wish to take a look at it."
"Alright... and you mentioned some earnings?"
"Oh, yes... of course. It seems a most unusual weapon was recovered from the Orc warrior, Grommok. Never seen anything like it, but perhaps his journal can give you some useful information. Beyond that, take whatever else you need from the recovery chest... you've earned it!"
Wrothken opened the chest, hoping the unusual weapon would be a battle axe or a hammer. He was disappointed to see a large claymore with a violet gem on the guard. He held it up, admiring its beauty. It was a lovely weapon and since he had no use for it, at least he could sell it for a decent price. Among the other treasures, he found an amulet, fifty gold, some lock picks, and a strange black cube with swirling blue patterns all over it.
"You're free to go at any time of course, just up that hallway," Kiliban said shaking his hand. "Good luck to you!"
Wrothken nodded and was relieved to be able to go home. As he walked down the hall, he heard a harsh, metallic scraping. Before his eyes, a large crystal rose from the ground. He found it strange, but he kept going. Within seconds three strange beings ran at him. It looked as if their armor and weapons were made from the crystal. They didn't utter a sound as they descended on Wrothken, attacking with long lances. Kiliban must have heard the commotion as well. He gasped when he saw them and began flinging spells at the men. Once they were down, Kiliban rushed to check on him.
"That was quite a battle. I hope you are uninjured."
Wrothken looked at his armor. It was dented and cracked badly. "I'm fine, I guess. Who were those people?"
"You've not heard the legends? How could that be?" Kiliban looked at the men in disgust. "Those "people" as you call them aren't people at all. They are the soulless abominations known as the Knights of Order," he spat.
"Knights of Order?" Wrothken tilted his head.
Kiliban didn't answer. Instead, he pushed him toward the door. "You must proceed to Sheogorath at once and tell him the Knights have returned! Quickly now... go!"
He pushed Wrothken out and slammed the door shut. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. These Knights of Order must mean very bad news.
Posted by: mALX Apr 7 2010, 08:38 PM
Very bad news but very big treasure! - I hated having to make the decisions on those adventurers, that pushed me a place I didn't want to go...but I did it anyway, lol. Great Write!!
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 7 2010, 10:28 PM
This was part I really liked in the SI main quest. Mainly because I was playing Saya, and she is quite the viscous sort. I drove most of them mad as well. It seems fitting, considering the SI and all. I will be interested to see how Wrothken deals with doing it.
Ahh, Dawnfang/Duskfang, one of the neatest weapons in the game.
nits:
They didn't utter a sound as the descended on Wrothken
Looks like Sheo stole the y in they here.
Posted by: Remko Apr 9 2010, 11:48 AM
I liked but I didn't like it as much as the first few chapters. Let me explain why. I love your huggable Nord character. I felt the chapter in Xedillian was too much of a re-cap of the events in the game without much of your dry humour entwined with it which I loved so much in the first chapters.
But I think I know why. I also sometimes have difficulty giving my own twist to set events. It's sometimes much easier starting with a clean sheet so there is nothing restraining you. ifyouknowwhatImean..
Look forward reading more.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 10 2010, 12:39 AM
mAXL1- I felt bad while I did the quests. I always wind up driving them insane instead of killing them
SubRosa- Dawnfang/Duskfang is awesome! In my last save I waited until I was a higher level, just because I wanted it stronger! Too bad it doesn't change based on whether you pick blunt or blade -pout-
Remko- I understand where you're coming from. This quest in particular was pretty hard to personalize because its just push a button and watch the reactions. Also, I was in a bit of a rush to get to the next chapter >.> I know its a bad habit and I'm working on that
~~~~~♥~~~~~
The Baker and the Thief
Kirsty wiped the counter impatiently, though she had just cleaned it fifteen minutes ago. Wrothken had been gone for a few days and not one single letter from him, letting her know he was okay. He was a big boy and could take care of himself, but still. He promised.
She watched the delivery man and his sack of letters pass the bakery yet again. She huffed and threw the rag down hard. As soon as he came back, she was going to beat him with her rolling pin.
A sweet, spicy scent filled the area, letting her know that the sweet rings were done. She carefully took them out and set them in a basket that sat on the counter. A few people were already starting to gather and in moments they were sold out. Some left disappointed that the latest favorite was gone, but Kirsty was happy to sell them chocolate filled croissants or apple-spiced muffins instead.
She almost forgot her sour mood when a certain harlot entered with another other girl. Kirsty took a deep slow breath, trying hard not to fantasize about jumping over the counter and beating some sense into her. Awour didn't dare ordering anything, which was good. Kirsty wouldn't risk her shop by poisoning her, but there were so many other vile things that could be done to a person's food.
Awour and the other girl sat at one of the tables in the center of the room. "I still can't believe he left all his junk behind," the other girl said.
Awour shrugged. "I guess... though I still have these," she said, lifting her hair up to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. "And this," she said, showing off a topaz ring. "I'm gonna go sell them tomorrow, though." She laughed. "Stupid boy ran away and he doesn't know that he'll be paying for my new wardrobe!"
The two of them cackled loudly.
"Excuse me," Kirsty said, her ears burning. "After all the hard work he put into saving up to buy that jewelry for you, you're just going to get rid of it like that?"
Awour scoffed. "Look, I know you're friends with the little crybaby, but what I do with my things is frankly none of your business."
Kirsty shook with rage. She had a point. Like it or not, they were hers to do with what she wished, but after the weeks of saving and scrimping Wrothken had done...
"Speaking of," Awour continued. "Where is he anyway? His clothes are way too big to fit Bacchus and I don't want them stinking up my house anymore."
"Your house? He's the one that bought the place!"
"And he's also the one that ran off with his tail between his legs, so by default, the house is mine now, along with all the stuff that I can sell off. That way while Bacchus is in the Imperial City training, I can support myself."
The tremors in her body were visible to anyone watching. She glanced at her chopping knife, wishing with all her might she could teach her. Wrothken was a great man, one of the last "nice guys" that she knew. If he wasn't her "big brother," she would've scooped him up immediately.
"You know what? I don't know where he is, but I know one thing for sure. Once he's recovered from your selfish betrayal, he's going to be glad you did what you did, and he's going to find someone a lot better than you. Not that it's going to be difficult. He told me he prefers women with curves, not ones that look like ten-year-old boys. Now you, and the tramp you brought with you, can get out of my bakery."
Awour stood up with her jaw clenched. Of course, Wrothken had said no such thing, but Kirsty knew that Awour was self conscious about her figure. She knocked over her chair and then she and her friend left. Kirsty's sour mood had turned completely bitter.
By late evening, Kirsty was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she repeatedly mixed up orders. Most people were understanding; they thought she wasn't used to working alone. In reality, her conversation with Awour made her really stop and think about the black and white in which she had previously saw stealing.
Her entire life she was taught that with hard work, you could have anything. Her mother died during childbirth, so her father had to work twice as hard to support his young daughter. He was often gone from the time she was awake until she had fallen asleep at night. When he was home, he had to fill the role of father and mother. Through everything he did, he was able to give her a comfortable life. She always ate and had beautiful clothes.
When she was old enough, she decided to move to Cyrodiil. She lived close, so the journey wasn't expected to be hard. Her problem was surviving when she got there. Her first job was harvesting grapes for wine near Skingrad. Eventually she saved enough to have a little cart so she could sell pastries outside of the arena in Kvatch. After years of skipping meals just to have enough spare septims to make more pastries and perfect her recipes, she finally bought the Iron Champion bakery, conveniently located across the road from the arena. In all that time, she never resorted to stealing. In her not-quite-so-humble opinion, the Grey Fox should have been tied up and had rotted food thrown at him until he passed out from the stench. She said it often and believed it...until now.
When the bakery first opened its doors, Wrothken was there to ensure that things stayed under control because, when a busty Bosmer with a high-pitched voice tells a group of drunken idiots to shut up, they laugh and pay her no mind. When a tall, broad shouldered Nord says it, mouths shut and drunks magically sober up a little. It wasn't a fun job or well-paying, but he never complained. In fact, he was happy to do it so that he could buy little gifts for his beloved. It made Kirsty sick to imagine them pawned off so she could lay about all day. As much as she hated to do it, she needed expert help with what she was about to do.
After locking the doors behind her, Kirsty set off for the alleys in the west side of town. She draped a cloak over herself with the hood casting a shadow over her eyes. Skooma sellers glanced over at her as did a few working girls standing outside the brothel. Kirsty quickly averted her eyes, keeping them at the ground.
She walked to a man laying on the ground in ratty clothes. "Um...excuse me," she said. "Are you a beggar?"
The man snorted and rolled over, facing away from her. "Listen, I need to speak to the...." She cleared her throat. "The Gray Fox. Can you tell him that I need some things stolen?"
"Looking for a thief?"
Kirsty turned around and saw a Dunmer standing behind her. Next to her was a medium sized dog, seeming to glare at Kirsty. She leaned in and asked, "Did he send you already?"
She laughed. "No, actually I could hear you from across the road. You know, the Gray Fox isn't the only one with eyes and ears, if you know what I mean," she said, tilting her head toward a passing guard.
Kirsty nodded. "Right..."
"Listen, it's been awhile, but if it's a thief you're looking for, I'd be willing to help you out."
"Really?" She squeaked. "Wait, why?"
"Like I said, it's been awhile. Fencing has many benefits, but it's nothing like the thrill of picking locks and sneaking around."
Kirsty folded her arms. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"You're asking me how you can trust a thief?"
"No, I mean... how do I know you're any good?"
"They always ask..." She muttered. She held up a black coin purse with red lace covering it. "Look familiar?"
Kirsty's hand flew to her side and she paled when she noticed her missing coin purse. The Dunmer tossed it to her. "Come on, we can discuss details at my house."
Kirsty was surprised at how much red the Dunmer's house contained. Red curtains, red table cloth, red candles, red chairs. In the light of the house, Kirsty noticed that her hair was red, though her black eyebrows revealed that the color was unnatural. She wore a red blouse with reddish brown pants. Her lips were dark red. The only gems on her jewelry were rubies.
As Kirsty crossed the threshold, the dog turned and barked viciously. "Dolce!" The Dunmer said. She pointed at a creamy blue pillow by the window. Dolce gave Kirsty a glare and went to her bed.
"Sorry," she said. "Dolce is like a man in that the only way to her heart is through her stomach. Anyway," she said, offering Kirsty a seat at the table. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Lilitu Serano. And you are...?"
Kirsty hesitated.
"I know you're trying to be anonymous, with that...outfit, but seriously, if I posed any danger, I'd rob you and lock you up in the basement." Kirsty glanced at the dog, who was chewing on a large bone. "Just think of this as an ordinary business transaction."
"Okay, I suppose. I'm Kirsty," she said, removing her hood.
"Alright, Kirsty. Now, about the items you want stolen..."
"Right, well, they're in town. It's just a couple items that I'm concerned about. A pair of diamond earrings and a topaz ring. The problem is, I don't know if she sleeps with them on or not."
Lilitu nodded, twirling the curled end of her ponytail. "Don't worry, I can handle that. Who's currently in possession of the jewelry?"
"Her name is Awour. She's got long, really long, longer than yours even, blond hair, green eyes--"
"Today, was she wearing a light green dress, with long sleeves and silver trim around the cuffs? Kind of a round face for a high elf? An attitude problem?"
"You know her?"
"I wouldn't say know her... I just moved here a couple days ago, but I did meet her this morning. She was pretty insistent on petting Dolce and nearly lost a hand." She looked affectionately to the dog. "Can't blame her for trying, though. Such a pretty girl!" She cleared her throat. "Anyway, she began to scream about diseases until I told her off." She laughed a little. "And so she has sworn that I am 'going down.'"
Kirsty rolled her eyes. "That sounds like her."
"Well, since she's such a pain, I'll be more than happy to get what you need, and I'll do it for free."
"What? Are you sure?"
She leaned back in her chair. "Completely. I can't stand people like her and I think it'll be fun to take her down a notch. You'll have the jewelry tomorrow morning."
Kirsty stood up. "Thank you. You know, I never thought I'd ever do something like this."
"You think I pictured myself working for the Gray Fox? Some things just happen. Just one thing, though."
"What's that?"
"I need to know where she lives."
Kirsty led her outside. "It's that house there," she pointed. "The one with the purple curtain."
"Great. See you tomorrow."
Kirsty nodded and went back to her bakery. She couldn't help smiling as she passed Wrothken's house. She envied Lilitu. She would've sold her soul to be the one to rob Awour blind in the middle of the night.
When Kirsty left, Lilitu found herself staring after her.
That girl is certainly blessed by Dibella, she thought. Dark, shiny hair, cool brown eyes, a cute little beauty mark above her plump lips. And that figure! She'd kill for it. She sighed, shaking her head.
Some girls have all the luck, she thought.
She opened her curtains and placed a chair so she could keep an eye on Awour's window. First step was waiting for her to fall asleep. Shortly before meeting Kirsty, the chapel bell rang nine times. Sadly, without the opportunity to watch her for days, she had no idea what time she usually went to bed or if she slept alone.
Lilitu couldn't tell how many minutes had passed, but she knew that she couldn't stare at the window too much longer. She was starting to get antsy. Her favorite book,
Dusk and Her Embrace, sat on the table by the couch. She leaned over and grabbed it, opening it up to where she left off. Within seconds, she was swooning. Romance novels were her guiltiest pleasure.
Before she knew it, the bells chimed eleven times. She set her book down, wondering where ten o'clock went. She must have been so focused in the book that she didn't notice. Awour's window was dark, but she wasn't sure for how long. She smiled, opening the book back up. Just three chapters and she'd get ready. That was plenty of time for Awour to sleep.
Three chapters became four, since Lilitu couldn't stop once it got heated. She giggled, fanning herself with the book. Who knew a literal bloodbath could be so...hot?
She went up to her room and slipped into more comfortable clothing. She pulled her hair back into a bun and put a cowl on over it, to avoid letting any red strands loosen and fall to the floor. After grabbing her lock picking set and a couple potions of night eye, she left the light on in her bedroom to make it appear that she was still home. She blew Dolce a kiss, as she always did before leaving her alone in the house. Not only was it a way of saying goodbye, it let Dolce know that it was time for guard mode. Dolce sat in front of the door, ready to do her job. "Good doggie," she whispered, locking the door behind her.
Not many people were on the streets so late at night. The occasional guard passed by, but he paid her no mind. He probably wouldn't even recognize her in the morning if the passed each other again.
When the area was clear, she stopped in front of Awour's door. She placed her hand on the knob and barely twisted. It was locked. She looked around to make sure no one was around. She double checked and then took out a tension wrench, an item similar to the probes used in Morrowind. Slowly, she slipped the tension wrench into the lock, gently moving it around to get a feel for the lock. She twisted it counter-clockwise first, immediately feeling it stop. She turned it the other way and felt a little more room to move. With her free hand, she took out a lock pick and put it in the lock, feeling each pin. She laughed softly, counting only three pins. It wasn't that strong of a lock. She carefully pushed each one up, feeling the second one to be the most stubborn. She pushed it up repeatedly until it set in its place. Then she moved on to the first and third. Once they set, she looked around once more and went in.
She took out her first bottle and swished it around. It had been a while since she bought it and she hoped it still worked. She drank the potion, forcing herself to swallow the gritty bits that always seemed to sink to the bottom of the bottle. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, everything was light blue.
The place was simply furnished. A loveseat in front of the fireplace, a little table next to it. In the kitchen, there was a small, round table and two chairs. The flowers on top were wilting and brown. A short shopping list was pinned to the wall. Something about it touched Lilitu's heart. It seemed so cozy, though very cluttered. Dishes sat on the kitchen counter and there were old papers everywhere.
She proceeded up the stairs into the bedroom. The door was unlocked, so she sighed in relief. She didn't want to spend too much time sneaking around. Her book had gotten pretty juicy.
The first thing she saw was a large bed with Awour sprawled out in it. A large axe hung up on the wall. Lilitu had a hard time imagining Awour even lifting it. She tiptoed over to the slumbering Altmer, lightly lifting her hair up. No earrings. If she didn't need to be silent, she would have sighed in relief. She was exaggerating when she told Kirsty it wouldn't be a problem to take the earrings out. She set her hair down and looked at her hands. No ring, either. She looked at both night stands and neither of them had a jewelry box on them.
There was a large chest under the window. It was locked, but Lilitu managed to open it quickly. All she found were men's shirts that were twice as big as Lilitu and reached her mid-thigh. She put them back and shut the chest.
She was about to check the wardrobe when a sparkle caught her eye. On the desk were the earrings and the ring along with a note.
"Approx. 130 septims for both."
She picked them up, note included and stuffed them in her pocket. She turned to leave when she noticed a small mountain of ripped or crumpled papers by a wicker basket. Lilitu glanced at Awour. Was she a writer or something? She picked up one of the crumpled ones and smoothed it out.
"
Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you.
Stronger than any mountain cathedral
Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval
I am in love with you.
I'll bring fire in the winters
You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers
With love on our wings.
Through the years as the fire starts to mellow
Burning lines in the book of our lives
Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow
I'll be in love with you.
I'll be in love with you.
Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you
I am in love with you..**
~Always, Wrothken"
Lilitu was breathless. Her sinuses burned as she forced herself not to cry. It was so beautiful... what was it doing crumpled on the floor?! She looked it over once more, recognizing the name as a Nord. She looked back at the axe and remembered the giant shirts. Obviously, the two had ended things. The poem made her want to believe that Awour was at fault, but she had no way of knowing for sure.
Lilitu walked over to the bed once more, staring down at Awour. Even with the negative feelings she had, she had to admit that she too had beauty...physical, anyway. Her face may have been round, but it made her look more youthful. Her hair was beautiful in both luster and color, something Lilitu felt a flash of jealousy over. She had big eyes and thin brows, arched perfectly. She wasn't stringy; she was less top heavy than Kirsty and herself, but with wide hips, the ones men often saw as perfect for child bearing. She read the poem once more and shook her head. To let go of a man who could write like that... if that was what happened.
When everything went dark, she realized the potion was no longer in effect. She took long steps, setting her toes down first as she felt for the door. When she was out, she carefully walked down the stairs. She felt her way toward the door and opened it slightly. A guard was passing by, but he didn't notice the door opening a crack. He continued down the street, turning at the corner. Lilitu slipped out and casually walked back to her house.
After pouring ylang-ylang oil into the bath, Lilitu sat in the steamy water, reading the poem repeatedly. Each time, she felt her heart quicken. She wanted to know where he was. She heard of people who can decipher everything about a person based on their handwriting. All Lilitu could tell from the writing alone was that it was likely written by a man. She also heard of people who can hold something belonging to someone and then connect mentally with the person. If only she had that power.
The poem accompanied her to bed that night and she couldn't help wondering if one day, a man with a heart like Wrothken would as well.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
**The poem is a song called Longer, by Dan Fogleberg
http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Picture012.jpg
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 10 2010, 01:11 AM
Yay for a Chick Chapter!
she was going to beat him with her rolling pin.
This almost made me fall off my chair!
So we finally see Kirsty and Awour! I can see why you were looking forward to this. What is Awour's phone number? 1-900-IMASKANKYHO? And Kirsty is a busty Bosmer? I guess she makes up for the stringy kind!
Somehow I think Lilitu, with her fascination for the color red, might be more suited to a life in the SI than Kvatch... I was half-expecting her to dye her dog's hair red as well! (and perhaps have Sammy Hagar's Red playing in the background? Or maybe Crimson and Clover?
Seriously though, Dolce is adorable! Is he yours?
I especially loved Lilitu's envy of Kirsty's figure, and of course Kirsty's envy of Lilitu being the one to rob Awour blind! That sort of thing is just so very real.
Naming a romance novel after a Cradle of Filth album & song! How brilliant! It is a great title for a bodice-ripper though...
I liked your description of lock picking. Showing it to require several tools, and a bit of skill. The dead flowers in Awour's house (I mean Wrothken's) was a good touch too. They are last ones he bought for her I expect, before he found out what a two-timing ho she is.
Also, Lilitu's bath and use of ylang-ylang oil after her robbery were a nice touch at showing how she decompresses from the adrenaline of a robbery.
nits:
Next to the her was a medium sized dog,
I think you have a leftover the from a previous edit. Or Sheo is playing a little prank on you... 
Well, since she's such a pain in the boat,
Looks like the forum's swear filter got you here, unless Awour is really navally inclined...
Posted by: D.Foxy Apr 10 2010, 04:08 AM
I can testify to the filter. When I tried to say Aye Arr Ess Eeeh, the forum changed it to 'British Boat'.
Posted by: Olen Apr 11 2010, 05:40 PM
Nice description of lockpicking, much more accurite than the game, in fact accurite enough to make me wander if you've tried it. Gives it a good sense of realism.
More characters too, you introduce them well. A thief with an obsession for red and a liking of romance novels... genius, good original character.
Posted by: mALX Apr 11 2010, 08:23 PM
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Apr 9 2010, 08:11 PM)

Yay for a Chick Chapter!
she was going to beat him with her rolling pin.This almost made me fall off my chair!
So we finally see Kirsty and Awour! I can see why you were looking forward to this. What is Awour's phone number? 1-900-IMASKANKYHO?
SPEW! ROFL!
*
@ Jacki - I love this chapter! This is my fave so far! Now we are getting somewhere! Your details slipped in so smoothly that the reader sees the scenes before them - this is the best chapter yet IMO, I love it!
*
Posted by: Acadian Apr 11 2010, 08:30 PM
Jackie, I have read your story, and find it quite enjoyably endearing. Very nice!
Posted by: minque Apr 11 2010, 11:19 PM
QUOTE(Acadian @ Apr 11 2010, 09:30 PM)

Jackie, I have read your story, and find it quite enjoyably endearing. Very nice!
so have I and I second Acadian here.....excellent writing!
Posted by: D.Foxy Apr 12 2010, 01:48 AM
Actually, I have it on good authority that her number is
69-99-MUNNYCUNNY
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 12 2010, 03:13 AM
Oh my! I think this is the most comments I've gotten on a single chapter!
SubRosa-
Thank you. Yes, Dolce (her actual name was Sergeant) was mine. That's the last picture I have of her since she hated having her picture taken. She's making me so impatient to get to the Oblivion Crisis!
I'm glad you agree that Cradle of Filth titles make good names for bodice rippers. Some of their songs are so romantic
And you caught the flowers! They are indeed the last bouquet Wrothken bought for her.
Olen- Thanks
The only lock picking experience I have is sliding a credit card through my bedroom door when I accidentally lock myself out! However, my friend's dad had to pick the lock of a place I lived when my jerk roommate locked me out and I remember him bringing a lock picking set with him... what a night that was. I got the details online on how to pick them
mAXL1- This was my favorite chapter to write! Its easier for me to do these ones because its so much easier to get a female perspective.
Acadian and Minque- Thank you guys! I hope you keep reading and enjoy 
D. Foxy-
! I should have a contest to see who can come up with the best numbers, but then again everything might wind up replaced with boat and British boat and who knows what other random words 
~~~♥~~~
A few pictures for you all to enjoy-
http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Lilitu.jpg
http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Wrothken.jpg
He didn't look that skinny on paper -_-'' Just imagine him a bit huskier
and a map of everyone's house
http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/800px-Kvatch_FGIllustration.jpg
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Courting Crazies
By time Wrothken made it back to Sickly Bernice's Taphouse, he felt like collapsing right in front of the door. His entire body throbbed in sync with his thudding heart. Beads of sweat lined his hair, slowly falling down his face. When he sat down, his legs felt the familiar, pleasant burning throb of a good workout.
"Oh dear," Bernice said frowning. "Your cheeks are so red! Have you caught a fever?"
He shook his head. He didn't tell her that he ran most of the trip, fearful that more Knights would show up. Instead, he pulled out the silver flask and set it before her.
"My stars..." She whispered, lifting it up. She swished it around. Her face lit up as she opened it, taking a whiff. "Oh, you saint!" She grasped Wrothken's hand for a moment before gulping it down. The gray pallor washed away from her face immediately, being replaced by a cool ivory color. "Thank you, thank you!" She smiled widely.
Wrothken would have enjoyed her happiness more if he wasn't so dead tired. "You're welcome, Bernice. Can I have a room for a couple hours?"
"Dearie, you can have a room whenever you want. No, put your gold away, I won't accept a single coin. You saved my life. Just do me a favor and don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want someone to get too close and get me sick all over again. Now, you go on up and rest. Afterwards, I'd recommend that you go see Cutter, just up the road. She can fix your armor up for you. Do be careful, though. She's a bit of an odd one..."
Rested, bathed, and finally shaven, Wrothken felt wonderful. He gathered up his armor and walked down to Cutter's Weapons.
A flash of butterflies fluttered about in his stomach when he entered and saw the bloody puddles on the floor and table. Standing in front of a blazing furnace, was an incredibly pale wood elf. Her white skin looked even brighter against her dark hair. She had large green eyes heavily shadowed with black powder. Her smile gave Wrothken chills.
"They call me Cutter," she said, in a soft, slow drawl. "You must be the new boy. I bet you taste delicious..."
He set his armor on the table, keeping his distance. "Bernice said you'd be able to fix this up?"
She held up the cuirass, licking her lips as she traced her finger over the gashes. "I bet you bled all over the place." She looked at the other pieces and set them aside. "I can fix them for fifty gold."
Wrothken raised his eyebrows. He was sure he didn't have that much, but then he remembered the items he received in Xedilian. "Do you buy things too?"
She nodded.
"Good," He said. He set the claymore down, noticing the purple gem had turned orange. It had to be a trick of the light. "I'm not sure what this is, but maybe you can find a use for it," he said, setting down the black box.
Cutter gasped. "A matrix! Are you sure you want to sell it?"
"Um...maybe." He picked up the box. "What's a matrix?"
"Let me show you something," she said. She took his arm, the iciness of her hands piercing through Wrothken's shirt, and she led him to the other side of the room, where two sets or armor were displayed.
They were made from the same material, one built for a man, the other for a woman. It was an almost sickly, dark green color. A vision of a tortured soul was etched on the cuirass, and a monster's face on the shield. The helm was something that the face of evil would wear. Wrothken placed his hand longingly on the glass. That armor was scary enough to strike terror in the heart of any enemy, be it a grummite or a Knight of Order. He had to have it.
"It is made from Madness Ore," Cutter said, picking up what looked like a large, black thorn from the table. "Spirits of ancients souls are trapped in the Ore. Find it in ancient ruins. Grummites are also especially attracted to it." Wrothken briefly remembered seeing the thorns in Xedilian, but at the time he didn't think anything of them. "It's a supple and flexible ore, yet it holds a good edge. I can shape the sharpest of blades with it. I can also create magical items."
She set the ore down and took the box she had referred to as a matrix. "Tradition dictates before each master smith dies, she hides these magical molds in the world, like pouring salt deep into a wound." She licked her lips slowly. "Over time they soak in magical energies from the world around them, the way you suck in blood from a cut." She ran her finger slowly down his arm, causing him to shudder. "Bring me some ore, and I will forge you a new item and bleed the magic of the matrix into it."
"Alright," he said, excited by the thought of new armor. "How much will you need?"
She took a paper from her pocket. It was covered in soot and dried blood smears. "Here is a list of everything I would need for whatever piece you would like. Now, I will get to work on your armor. It may take awhile, so you may leave if you'd like and come back later."
"Alright, I'll be back soon," he said. He didn't want to keep Sheogorath waiting.
As he was heading to the palace, he felt a strong grip on his arm. He almost expected to see a Golden Saint scowling down at him, but was surprised to see Kalila. She pulled him back, making him face her. His heart raced so hard, he was sure she could hear it.
"You shaved." She said. Her voice was almost like the Mazken, only not soft and warm. "I like it. It makes you look..." She leaned in. "Younger....fresher. Much more innocent." She smiled, her eyes shining with mischief. "I like that. A lot."
His entire lower body tingled with her every word simply because she was talking to him. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked as if he were fifteen again. He then nodded.
"Anyway, I have to go see Cutter now. Maybe we can get together later..." She released his arm and turned on her heel, leaving Wrothken to gaze after her.
"Well now," Sheogorath said. "What news do you have to report?"
"First of all, I was attacked by Knights of Order."
"So soon? Not a surprise, I suppose. We'll get to that later. No need to burden your little brain with it now," he said, waving his hand. "And Xedilian? Since you're standing here, I assume you've succeeded. Or you're terribly confused. Or really lacking in good judgment."
"It's been fixed."
"Wonderful!" He said, standing up and clapping. "Time for a celebration... Cheese for everyone!" Wrothken smiled widely. He loved cheese. "Wait, scratch that. Cheese for no one. That can be just as much of a celebration, if you don't like cheese. True?" Wrothken sighed, looking down. He was looking forward to a rain of cheddar. "You've run a maze like a good little rat, but no cheese for you yet. Well, maybe a little," he winked, patting Wrothken's head. "I've granted you a new spell - the ability to summon Haskill, my Chamberlain, to aid you in your travels. He knows a lot. More than he knows. In fact, give it a try. Summon our friend to you now. I'll wait."
Wrothken looked over at Haskill and chuckled. Summoning, or any magic, was never his strong point. Lucky for him, growing up, he had a friend who was very into summoning spells. He knew he had to focus, as if he was healing himself, instead of focusing on a cooling sensation, he had to focus on something becoming one with him. When he did that, Haskill appeared at his side.
"Ah... our Lord has granted you the power to summon me. How wonderful. When summoned, I can offer advice on your current endeavor. I imagine it's up to you what to do with my wisdom. Do try to use your power sparingly. I have duties to which I must attend. Rather more important than shepherding you around, I'm sure." With his lecture over, Haskill vanished and appeared back at the base of Sheogorath's throne.
Sheogorath cackled loudly. "Isn't that a hoot? I love it, myself. Best part of being a Daedric Prince, really. Go ahead, try it again. He loves it!"
Wrothken smiled and repeated the spell.
Haskill sighed. "Ah, summoned again. My Lord does so enjoy that, as is His prerogative. I'll assume you're done for now."
Wrothken flexed his hand. He was going to have a lot of fun.
"Just don't expect to summon dear Haskill anywhere but in the Realm. He dislikes leaving My presence. I get that sometimes."
Wrothken snickered, imagining what would happen if Haskill gave Kirsty his sass. He actually began to laugh as he envisioned her beating him with a rolling pin.
"Good thing you've mastered that. You'll need all the help you can get if you're going to defeat Jyggalag and stop the Greymarch."
"Who is Jyggalag?"
"The Daedric Prince of Order. Or biscuits..." He paused, tapping his lip with his finger. "No. Order. And not in a good way. Bleak. Colorless. Dead. Boring, boring, boring!" he cried, grabbing a fistful of his hair. "And not a fan of My work, I can tell you. Hates it. Hates Me. A bit single minded, if you take My meaning. You've seen his Knights. Not the warm and cuddly sort. Not a bit of original thought in their lifeless husks. So, you're going to help Me stop him."
"Alright, how do I do that?"
"Again with the niggling little details! Hold your tongue. Or I will," he added in a menacing tone. "We'll get to that, all in due time. For now, you've got other work to do."
Wrothken exhaled deeply. Just how was he supposed to stop it if he didn't know what it was? "Alright, what would you ask me to do?"
"Ask? ASK? I don't ask. I tell. This is My Realm, remember? My creation, My place, My rules. Look at you," he said, lifting a lock of Wrothken's hair. "No concept of what you've stumbled into. No sense of place. You don't even really know where you are, do you?" He grabbed a hold of Wrothken's dark blue shirt. "I suppose few really do, but that's beside the point. We're going to give you a taste of where you have found yourself. You're going to learn."
Wrothken's blood felt like ice. Was he going to be driven insane like the men in Xedlilian?
Sheogorath continued, holding up two fingers. "Two halves, two rulers, two places. Meet and greet. Do what they will, so you know what they're about. Thadon, the Duke of Mania and Syl, the Duchess of Dementia. Seek them out, and let them show you what New Sheoth is. You might be surprised. Once you understand what My Realm is, you might understand why it's important to keep it intact. And maybe you'll make some friends along the way. That's always nice!"
"So you want me to speak to each of them, and they'll help me understand things here?"
"Isn't that what I said? Don't tell me your ears have been clogged with cheese. You'll attract rats that way!"
Wrothken raised his eyebrows, taking his answer as a yes. "As you wish," he said. First things first, he needed his armor.
"Ta!" Sheogorath said, waving. "Come visit again, or I'll pluck out your eyes!"
The image of Sheogorath adorning himself with Wrothken's eyes planted itself firmly in his mind and refused to go away. "I promise to visit again, real, real soon."
Posted by: Remko Apr 12 2010, 11:59 AM
I was just reading the chapter with Kirsty and the.... ah- repossesion of certain items and I wanted say that that chapter contains everything I missed with the chapter in Xedillian. The title of her favourite book, is that a hint to your own preferences? Dusk and her Embrace.... Nice!
ps. You might wanna take a look at this part:
QUOTE
their lifeless husks. So, you're going to help Me stop him."
"Again with the niggling little details! Hold your tongue. Or I will," he added in a menacing tone. "We'll get to that, all in due time. For now, you've got other work to do."
Seems to me there is a pice of dialogue by Wrothkar missing that She responds to with: "again with..."
Posted by: D.Foxy Apr 12 2010, 01:24 PM
Y'know, when I first heard of the name of Jyggalag, my mind instantly flashed to a picture of a lady with a 44 DD trying to run a marathon...
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 15 2010, 10:43 PM
Ahh Cutter, my favorite denizen of the Shivering Isles (and I think the only Goth npc in the game? Well Falanu is close I suppose).
She's a bit of an odd one...
If she was not, she would not be in the Isles!
"Um...maybe." He picked up the box. "What's a matrix?"
I could not help but to hear Larry Fishburne saying "No one can be told what the matrix is..." 
I loved Wrothken's meeting with Sheo, especially his thoughts on loving cheese. It was another little glimmer that he does indeed have the craziness inside of him to belong in the SI.
Posted by: mALX Apr 16 2010, 07:39 PM
QUOTE(D.Foxy @ Apr 12 2010, 08:24 AM)

Y'know, when I first heard of the name of Jyggalag, my mind instantly flashed to a picture of a lady with a 44 DD trying to run a marathon...

When I first heard of the name Jyggalag, I pictured Foxy having an instant mental image of a lady with a 44 DD trying to run in a marathon!
@ Jacki - you are doing a great job with Sheogorath, lol !!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 19 2010, 03:03 AM
Remko- I thought it would 
D. Foxy- Funny, my mind flashed to something similar 
SubRosa- I like Cutter too! I think I'm going to have some fun with her later
mAXL1- Thanks 
~~~♥~~~
Sorry its been so long. I'll try to hurry with the next section
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Sample my Sugar?
"Mania? Or Dementia?" Wrothken wondered, looking to either side. He watched the arrogant Golden Saints walk around with their chests puffed out and their noses stuck up so high, if it rained, they'd all drown. He didn't want to be anywhere near them, honestly.
On the other side, he saw the Mazken sashay around their half of the Palace district. They projected strength in a way that didn't show so much arrogance.
He sat down for another fifteen minutes before deciding to summon Haskill.
"I see you couldn't be bothered to walk the extra twenty feet to the palace," he said with a sigh. "What is it you require?"
Wrothken didn't bother repressing a smile. "I just wanted to ask you who I should visit first."
With an exaggerated eye roll, Haskill replied, "Thadon is aware you are here, and should be waiting for you. See him at once. Would you like me to accompany you? Hold your hand, maybe?"
Wrothken clenched his fists. He should have known that there would be a smart comment along with it. He tried to avoid making it obvious that Haskill got to him, as the chamberlain vanished. When there was no longer a trace of him, Wrothken headed to the House of Mania.
The House of Mania left Wrothken speechless. Directly in front of him was a long table filled to the edges with food. Roasts, pastries, fruit, and several things Wrothken didn't recognize and couldn't begin to describe sat piled in front of the people. What really caught his attention was the several topless women scattered about. Most of them sat in pairs next to one of the men, though a couple of them seemed to greatly enjoy each others company. Golden Saints stood at the door, unfazed by the party.
Wrothken was so busy staring at the women that he nearly bumped into a fully clothed Argonian. "How can I help you..." She squinted at him. "Sir? Miss?" She shook her head. "You all look alike to me. It's so hard to tell. Are you here to see Thadon?"
He nodded, his eyes drifting toward the other women.
She nodded as well. "I heard that you were coming, looking for Thadon. Yes, yes. Heard it all. Bored to tears by it. He's waiting for you. Unless he isn't. He wasn't, but then he was. Maybe he still is."
She motioned him to the end of the table, where a Bosmer in a large throne was sitting, surprisingly without any female company. When Wrothken approached, he stood up, smiling widely. Wrothken couldn't help noticing a dusting of green powder on his nose.
"Ahh yes, there you are! You couldn't imagine how long I've been waiting for you. So little to do, and so much time. Hmm, could you, in fact, imagine just how long I've been waiting? I don't think you could, but I might be wrong. I might also not care. Which is it?"
Wrothken tilted his head. Thadon spoke like a man hopped up on skooma. "Um... Not very long?"
"Hmm... It felt like rather a long time, but then long times get longer when you're standing around thinking about them. A curious thing, that. Long roads get longer too, if you're thinking about them, but what about long words? They don't change nearly as much." He shrugged. "Long, short -- it all ends up the same. Dust and tears. Usually tears first, then the dust. Dust can't cry, you see. That would be... well, amusing." He chuckled, then abruptly stopped. "You know what's not amusing? I don't have my Chalice of Reversal. It makes me sad," he said with a pout. "When I get sad, I don't care to do much of anything. I certainly don't care to help people who show up on my doorstep wanting something. Are we getting the picture here?"
Wrothken sighed. He got the picture alright. "Do you know where your Chalice of Reversal is?"
"Oh, so you've heard of it?"
"No."
"You haven't heard of it, yet you know its name? What a strange creature you are." Wrothken didn't bother pointing out that Thadon gave him the name. Somehow, he knew it wouldn't do any good.
"One of my favorite toys," Thadon said. "Does wonders for creativity. Well, not by itself, but it helps. Those Elytra, clever little bugs that they are. Is this making sense? Look, you eat the Felldew, then use the Chalice, and find the world a much brighter and happier place. Honest. But I don't have it. So I can't eat Felldew, because that would just be bad. I mean, really bad. Damn her!" He snarled, glancing to his left.
Wrothken looked over as well, but the he didn't suspect either of the women, who were feeding a roasted leg to a large man, had anything to do with the lost Chalice.
"Do you know who took it?"
Thadon looked back at him with a sly smile. "Opposites repel, strangely enough. All that... pleasure... and pain locked away now, as if it never happened," he said bitterly. "Unfortunately, the Chalice is locked away as well. I have no wish to retrieve it myself, but fetching it might do you some good." He groaned. "My head is positively throbbing now... can you see it? I need to lie down. Find someone to tell you the rest of the story. Get the Chalice." He stood up and wobbled to a door in the back.
His head was starting to throb as well. He took an empty seat to try to sort out what Thadon had told him. Thadon's Chalice of Reversal was missing. The Chalice helped him eat something called felldew. A woman took it, after a passionate love affair which is now being treated as if it didn't happen... Sympathy ran through him for a moment. The woman was from the House of Dementia, which could have caused a possibly fatal scandal... but why? And that still didn't tell him where the Chalice was hidden.
The Argonian woman returned, taking the seat next to him. "You've been speaking to Thadon. I can tell. He has a certain... effect on people. Did he mention me, perhaps?" She asked hopefully. When Wrothken gave her a confused look, she asked disappointedly, "Or was there something else you wanted to discuss?"
"He wants me to get his Chalice of Reversal."
"It's precious to him, and that's all that matters. It's his own business. But, didn't he mention where it is? Oh... I see. How brilliant of him." She seemed to be swooning every time she praised him. "This is for you as much as it is for him. Oh, very good Thadon! Dunroot Burrow is your goal, my friend. And what a goal it is."
"Dunroot Burrow..." He said, taking out his map. "Where is this place?"
She pointed. "Yes, right there. A most unique place. Of course, the Chalice would be there!" She cupped his face in her scaly hands. "Don't you see? It's the Elytra! They're the reason. The Chalice, Felldew, Elytra... it's all connected." She poked his nose. "One without the others is no good, poison. Oh, a rough road awaits you. Some Elytra there are... different. You'll need to get Felldew from them, and eat it. Can't get in without it. But once you do... He wants you to learn for yourself. Learn, grow, experience. It's his way. I shouldn't say more."
Wrothken looked around the table. "What's felldew?"
She tapped her lip, lowering her eyes. "Well, perhaps Thadon would want you to have a bit more guidance. He did say that you should talk to me, did he not?" She stroked his cheek softly. "Felldew is a poison, little one. A very dangerous drug. You'll feel good at first, but that wears off, and if you go long without it, you'll suffer."
Wrothken felt a numbing throughout his body. A drug? Thadon was trying to get him addicted to drugs?! Without saying anything, he got up and dashed outside.
He paced by the stairs, trying to think of another way. He didn't want to risk it. He just couldn't. After all, he was able to keep a hold of his sanity so far; why would he risk losing it to addiction?
Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 19 2010, 03:47 AM
QUOTE
Wrothken felt a numbing throughout his body. A drug? Thadon was trying to get him addicted to drugs?! Without saying anything, he got up and dashed outside.
He paced by the stairs, trying to think of another way. He didn't want to risk it. He just couldn't. After all, he was able to keep a hold of his sanity so far; why would he risk losing it to addiction?
My dilemma, exactly!
Well written. I liked the little details, like the green powder on Thadon's nose, the differences between the Golden Saints and Mazken (I prefer the dark ladies myself), and Haskill's neverending sarcasm.
one nit:
QUOTE
With an exagerrated eye roll, Haskill replied, "Thadon is aware you are here, and should be waiting for you. See him at once. Would you like me to accompany you? Hold your hand, maybe?"
That's a tough one that gets by many people. Its the 'g' that gets doubled, not the 'r' -
exaggerated.
More please.
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 19 2010, 04:11 AM
He watched the arrogant Golden Saints walk around with their chests puffed out and their noses stuck up so high, if it rained, they'd all drown. You had me laughing out loud with the end of this!
I never got any further than this is the SI main quest. So from here on out it will all be new to me. I like how you wrote Thadon. He seemed quite, manic. As h.e.r. noted, the dusting of powder under his nose was a nice little addition.
Posted by: Remko Apr 19 2010, 04:20 PM
That was brilliant!
As a sidenote, I am quite partial to Dusk and her Embrace too although "haunted shores" is my favourite track on that album.
Posted by: mALX Apr 19 2010, 08:28 PM
Your depiction of Haskill is spot on!
Posted by: Acadian Apr 22 2010, 03:03 AM
I'm still with you and quite enjoying your romp through the Shivering Isles. I liked what you did with Cutter!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Apr 30 2010, 04:24 AM
haute ecole rider- I prefer the Dark Seducers sooooooo much more than the Golden Saints. Way too stuck up for me.
Sub Rosa- Then you're in for quite a treat during these next few chapters!
Remko- I LOVE Cradle of Filth. They are so romantic. My favorite off Dusk and Her Embrace (other than the title song) is A Gothic Romance ♥
mAXL1- He is so much fun to work with
Acaidian- I'm happy to see you
I'm sure you'll enjoy some of my later plans for her
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Greenmote, Skooma of the Isles
Wrothken decided to make the trip to Dunroot Burrow. After all, Sheogorath made it pretty clear that he was to do what the duke asked him, under threat of intestine removal. He would just have to find a way to get through it minus addiction.
He walked down the steps to the door leading to Bliss. He expected it to look like Crucible, but he was completely surprised.
Bliss reminded him of Kvatch, only without street vendors or an arena. The streets were clean, the buildings were in good shape. Everything looked positively normal.
"Sa-weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet rollllllllllll!"
Wrothken was jarred by the call coming from an old Bosmer man.
"Fimmion hungry!" He said, holding his hands out. "Fimmion wants sweet roll!"
Wrothken sighed. What was he thinking? He'd find normality around the Shivering Isles when Kirsty joined the Thieves Guild. "Sorry, I don't have a sweet roll."
Fimmion sighed. "Fimmion saaaad....."
Wrothken walked around Bliss, squirming inside every time a Golden Saint glared at him. Something about their accusing eyes made him worry if he actually did something wrong. With each stare, he would quickly lower his eyes to the ground, as if to disappear from their view.
He sat in front of a tavern in order to think of his predicament with Thadon. There was no other option than to get the Chalice of Reversal in Dunroot Burrow, where he was supposed to get addicted to a drug. He buried his face in his hands. There had to be another way. There just had to. He refused to become an addict.
He looked around and to his surprise, he saw a sign for a bookstore. People actually read here? He thought. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't imagine anyone he'd met sitting by the fire with a good book. Even still, there was a small chance that there would be something relating to the Chalice in one of those books. Without hesitation, he ran inside.
The bookstore itself looked relatively normal, though Wrothken suspected something was up. He looked around for the owner, though when he saw her his heart dropped to his stomach.
She was an Altmer, slimmer than Awour, but blond as well. Her eyes were light hazel, with a green hue. She swished her hips as she walked, licking her full lips. She leaned forward, her chest threatening to fall out of her almost obscenely low cut gown.
"Hmmm... how do you do?" She said, looking him over. "I'd say, very well from the looks of things. I'm Sontaire, spend one night with me and I'll remind you why they say 'love hurts.'"
His jaw nearly hit the floor. She was direct at least, and even though he liked that in a woman, there was no way he would be able to look at her without thinking of Awour. "I.... No, thank you, though, but..." He shook his head. "Do you have anything on the Chalice of Reversal?"
She pouted at his rejection. "A book? Is
that what you came here for?"
Wrothken felt like slapping himself. Of course it wouldn't be an ordinary bookstore. No, that was way too much to ask for.
A devilish smile returned to her face. "Honey, I don't know if you've heard, but men don't come down here to read. No, they come for much better things." She stepped closer, peering down his armor. "Oh, my. I
love me a big, hairy beast of a man," she said, pressing her body against him.
Wrothken nearly jumped out of his skin. She sure was persistent. "Sorry, but... um..." He tried to think of something other than "you remind me too much of the girl who broke my heart then stomped on it." He backed away, placing his hand on the knob. "You know what? I have a... a thing. So why don't I just go?"
"Go if you want, but I know men. You'll be thinking of me later tonight when you're alone. Just remember where my shop is. I'll give you a night to remember, okay sex doll?"
He laughed nervously. "Yeah, sure," he said, quickly dashing out the door. With no other ideas, he opened the gate leading out of the city to Dunroot Burrow.
The terrain leading to Dunroot Burrow was the complete opposite of the area that led to the Fringe. Where the Demented path was dreary and almost always cloudy, the Manic path was covered in bold colors and bright sunshine. Rich colored flowers and plants ruled the area. He wrinkled his nose at it. At the moment, he preferred the depressing scenery of Dementia.
For once, Awour wasn't the one haunting his mind, at least not directly. Instead, the requirements of Thadon's request brought to mind the last time he spoke to his mother.
She hated Awour almost from the moment she met her. At the time, Wrothken was very defensive, thinking that his mother just wasn't ready to cut the apron strings. After several months of constant arguments that usually left at least one of them in tears, Wrothken left with Awour to Kvatch. The last words his mother had said to him was, "You're going to be just like your father."
Those words stung more than any physical blow ever did. He was told that his father was a dealer in skooma and moonsugar. His deals and association with bandits are why his mother had to take him and his sister from Skyrim to Bruma. His father stayed for awhile, until he chose the drug to his own family.
Though he never spoke of it, Wrothken hated the man for his choice. He spent his whole life trying to make up for the lack of a male in his home. He was the one who went out and hunted their food with the other men in Bruma. He even prepared and cooked it. He did his best, but when he was faced with the choice of being a little boy forever, or so he had thought, or beginning his own family, he felt it was time for him to move on.
He had originally longed to return home, but he couldn't bear the "I told you so" he was sure he'd receive. Instead, when he returned home, it would be with his head high.
"You're going to be just like your father." The words rang in his mind once more. If he did develop an addiction to felldew, would she be right? After all, his father's addiction had nothing to do with Sheogorath...right? No, of course not, he thought. That would be silly.
When he arrived at Dunroot Burrow, a large ant-like creature was standing by the entrance. He wasn't sure what to do until it rushed over him, green gel bubbling around its mouth. The rest of its body had an unnatrual looking green glow around it.
It let out a shrill noise, crawling over to him quickly in a way that plainly said it was not friendly. Wrothken took out his mace, and swung it, hitting its side. Its tough exoskeleton remained intact and it grabbed Wrothken's arm with its pincer. If he didn't have his gauntlets on, his arm would have been crushed.
He reached over, grabbing the mace with his left hand. It felt wobbly, but he gripped it the best he could, hitting it weakly. The insect gripped tighter, trying to pull him in closer to its mouth. It wasn't fazed by Wrothken's shaky blows. He tried to pull back, but to no avail. He needed to figure a way to beat it. He wasn't good left handed, but what else was there?
His heart froze with fear when he figured out a way. He focused on the cold feeling in his chest, allowing it to blossom into his hand. A frost ball exploded into the insect's face, shocking it into letting go. Wrothken held the mace in his right hand and swung it at its head. The insect raised its pincers and he bashed them out of the way, making room to get to its head. Finally it went down.
Wrothken panted, putting his mace away. The insect's mouth bubbled with green ooze. Wrothken stared at it, and the unnatural green glow around its body. Could that be the felldew? He decided to ask Haskill. There was no way he was putting that stuff in his mouth without being absolutely sure about what it was.
"Yes, is there something you need," Haskill asked impatiently.
Wrothken pointed to the insect. "What is this?"
Haskill sighed. "This is an elytra. They are found in high concentrations in root tunnel systems and near caves, but inhabit almost the entire Isles. They can block weapon attacks and walk on water. Their spells can be potentially damaging if you meet one unexpectedly."
"Yeah..." Wrothken said. "And this green stuff?"
"That is felldew, a highly addictive drug. I wouldn't recommend it. It may be a little much for you to handle."
Wrothken rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh, well that's all I needed."
"My work is never done..." Haskill muttered as he vanished.
Wrothken removed his gauntlet and scooped a handful of felldew. His sniffed it first, shuddering at the foul smell. He was tempted to fling it off his hand and wipe the rest on the ground, but he knew it was necessary. Crinkling his nose in disgust, he stuffed some in his mouth.
"Mmmm..." He said. It wasn't the taste. That was horrible. It was the feeling that he enjoyed. He felt relaxed, calm... happy even. He licked his hand clean of the remaining felldew. He felt a pleasant tingle all over his body. "This isn't half bad."
He approached the door to Dunroot Burrow. He couldn't think of why he was so worried in the first place. He felt great, better than he had in a long time. As he entered, he considered grabbing as much as he could, just so he could remain in such a great mood.
Posted by: mALX Apr 30 2010, 06:27 AM
ARGH! You stopped on a cliff hanger! I love what you did with the felldew tasting terrible, but he was licking his fingers - huge detail imagery there!!!!
Posted by: Olen Apr 30 2010, 10:18 AM
Sontaire certainly seems a strange one. I've never played SI but from your description I might have to get it, it sounds most strange and entertaining... Certainly he was right about it not being just a bookshop.
And now he's on felldew. Any land which has narcotics bubbling out of dead insects is a strange one...
I love how bizzarre the isles are and how well you portray them
Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 30 2010, 03:40 PM
QUOTE(mALX @ Apr 30 2010, 12:27 AM)

ARGH! You stopped on a cliff hanger! I love what you did with the felldew tasting terrible, but he was licking his fingers - huge detail imagery there!!!!
I have to agree with mALX. Though the image I had was of a dog licking Bitter Orange off his bandaged leg (Bitter Orange is a substance you spray on bandages, etc. to keep dogs from chewing them off. Only works half the time, the other half, it just makes the particular dog go for the bandage more).
I'm glad you feel the same way about the Golden Saints as I do. Stuck up, snobby beeyotches. However the men look better in Golden Saint armor than they do in the Dark Seducer one (brrgh!).
Posted by: SubRosa Apr 30 2010, 04:39 PM
Good work with the background we learned about Wrothken's father. It ties in very nicely with his current quandry concerning the chalice and felldew.
He'd find normality around the Shivering Isles when Kirsty joined the Thieves Guild.
Funny he should think that after Kirsty employed a thief!
spend one night with me and I'll remind you why they say 'love hurts'.
Does she actually say that in the game? I have never played with a male character, she just threatens all my girls about stealing 'her' men.
Posted by: treydog May 4 2010, 04:01 PM
First, I do not think I ever properly welcomed you to Chorrol.... So, welcome- we are so glad to have you and your wonderful story here. I have not played the SI expansion yet, so I will be seeing new things through your eyes.
The first paragraph draws me in immediately- conflict, enough description to tell me what I need to know, the character's name- and some of his personality.
"Oh, and she said something about them eating other people occasionally. That indeed was a dealbreaker. After all, Wrothken was a big, broad shouldered man; he could easily feed a family of four and then some. He also didn't know if Bosmer had a preference toward "white meat." "
There is a wicked and warped sense of humor at work there- and I should know.
Loved the description of using a (flare?) spell to light the torch.
Good fight scenes, which also give more insight into Wrothken's personality. Using the "clean up scene" at the Inn of Ill Omen to give a description of the "snuggly, fuzzy" Nord was also quite clever.
The rain of cheese and the "was that you doing the hokey-pokey" got a laugh out of me- at work.
"I don't believe in magic, but I do believe in bones." For some reason, I really like that statement. As a matter of fact, everything about Jayred is quite fun.
"With gusto, and probably some bone fondling, Jayred ripped out a large turquoise key." Snortle!
Will catch up- I hope later today. But for now, work summons me- rather like Sheogorath.
Posted by: Acadian May 5 2010, 06:54 PM
This continues to be great fun to read! I loved summoning Haskill to ask about the feldew - brilliant. Like some of those once a day powers, I tend to forget about being able to summon him.
Posted by: D.Foxy May 6 2010, 05:44 PM
Update, m'dear???
Posted by: Jacki Dice May 10 2010, 10:28 PM
mAXL1- Thanks. I've noticed that certain things that are addicting or bad for your body but "fun" taste pretty bad...
Olen- Thank you, I actually almost did just the Oblivion MQ. I'm glad I decided to go to the Isles. It's been so much fun 
haute ecole rider- Men in Dark Seducer armor look kinda silly to me... Then again with the females, I fail to see how that can be considered protective...
SubRosa- Yes she does, though of course nothing ever happens no matter how many times you visit
treydog- I'm always happy to hear from a new reader. I'm glad you're enjoying it♥
Acaidian- Oh I summoned him to death during my first play through. I hotkeyed him!
D. Foxy- Here it is!
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Drugs Are a Bet With Your Mind
Wrothken stood in front of the door to Dunroot Burrow. It still wouldn't budge when he tried pulling the hole open. He tried hitting it with his mace, but it got caught in the hole. He stopped and stared at it for a moment and a chuckle escaped his lips. He wiggled the mace around a little and laughed more. He pulled it out and placed it back in repeatedly, laughing so hard, he couldn't stand straight. He leaned on the door and the hole expanded to allow him entry, causing him to fall on the ground as he laughed. When it finally died down, he picked himself up and entered the burrow. He had a good feeling about it.
The halls of Dunroot Burrow were similar to Knotty Bramble. It was dark and dank, though Wrothken was pleased that it didn't smell like grummites. Instead of croaking, the tunnels were filled with the sounds of rapid skittering. Normally, he would've felt a little jumpy, but it didn't bother him at all. In fact, it was almost soothing. Was he getting used to explorations? Or was it just the felldew? He couldn't be sure. He didn't even care, really.
It wasn't long before he came across an elytra. It didn't glow like the one outside did, but it was just as hostile. Wrothken lifted his mace, surprised that it felt lighter than it used to, and made sure to go for the head. He was easily able to dodge its pincers and take it out. Was that thanks to the felldew as well? Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.
The slain elytra didn't start to spout felldew, much to Wrothken's disappointment. He had a craving for some more, though he supposed it could wait a moment. First he needed to figure out where to put any extra felldew. He couldn't hold handfuls of it while he fought or he might lose it.
"Hmmm...." He said looking around. For a brief moment, he considered using his boot to hold it, but he didn't want to risk stepping in anything foul. "What to use, what to use?" He growled when nothing around him seemed to be suited for carrying around. Maybe I'll come across something later...
He continued down the tunnel when he ran into another elytra. This one, to his delight, was glowing. The strange thing was, it didn't attack. It didn't even seem to notice him. Either way, he needed more felldew. "No," he corrected himself. "I want more felldew."
He eagerly swung his mace at the elytra until it died and the felldew glistened off its mouth. Wrothken shoved its pincers to the sides so he could easily gather it all up. Prepared for the foul taste, he shoveled it in his mouth, swallowing it quickly as to avoid letting it touch his tongue. Within seconds, he was feeling even better than before.
He went deeper in the tunnels when he came across a tree stump with green mist sprouting from the top. He got closer and prodded the round green top with his mace. It jiggled for a moment before it spread open wide. Inside, he saw a few pink bottles with the word "heal" engraved on the bottom, along with a ring, a spoon, and a tomato. First he emptied the contents of the potions to the floor. "Here we are," he said, looping the bottles around his waist. He also took the tomato for later use.
The halls were quiet for awhile. No elytra, glowing or otherwise, skittered around. At first, he was fine with it. He actually welcomed the silence. After awhile, something began to gnaw at him. He didn't feel as strong as before and it suddenly felt like something was sitting on his chest. He felt almost sluggish. When a glowing elytra walked toward him, he didn't hesitate to kill it and gather all the felldew he could get. After scooping some into his mouth, he squeezed the rest into the bottles.
He grinned as his heart fluttered. It had been far too long since he felt anything like that. He felt a strong urge to lay on the ground and just revel in the feeling, but he continued on. The Chalice was necessary, or else Sheogorath would not be pleased. "Who cares?" He said. "It's
his realm, why is he sending me to do his dirty work?!"
His heart pounded angrily as he thought more about it. Daedric prince was just another term for god, right? A real god would stop a realm destroying crisis himself! Why should he be the one to carry the weight of the Isles on his shoulders? Why couldn't Sheogorath do it himself? Or, better yet, send that pompous, smart-mouth Haskill to do it.
Wrothken began feeling sluggish as he passed by a tree trunk with gold resin crusted on top. He looked down at it and fury began to bunch up in him. When he looked into it, he saw Awour. Why in Oblivion was there so much damn gold in the Isles?!
"Dirty, rotten, hussy," he growled through clenched teeth. "Rotten tramp." His breathing grew ragged as he stared into the resin. Every second he spent staring into it, the more visions flashed before his eyes.
Finally, the Iron Champion closed for the night and it was time to go home. His feet ached, but his stomach was filled and he got his share of the septims for the night. Instead of heading straight home like usual, he left the city to pick some wild flowers for the kitchen. Awour recently mentioned that the house looked a little plain compared to other houses. This would be a good start.
He was late, but not by too much. He knew she wouldn't worry. That wasn't like her at all. He just hope she would like the flowers. Each one was specially picked just for her.
The door was locked. Strange. She didn't usually lock up until he was already home. As much as he tried, he couldn't think of why she would lock it. Good thing he always carried his key, just in case.
The first thing he saw was a dress on the floor, by the stairs. He felt a rush of excitement, imagining her waiting for him in bed, or even better, in a hot bath. He set the flowers on the table and as he headed upstairs, he heard a light gasp followed by hurried whispers. He went numb. He looked back at the table, finally seeing legionnaire armor scattered across the kitchen floor.
He ran up the stairs and pushed the door open to see Awour rolling off of Bacchus, covering her body with the bed sheet. The same one they purchased together upon first buying their house.
Millions of questions ran through his mind all at once, but nothing escaped from his dry mouth. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, his mind roared.
Awour didn't plead or even apologize. "I don't care if you know," she said. "He's a real man!"
Bacchus didn't say a word or even look at him. Wrothken stared into Awour's suddenly hateful eyes. Not a hint of love was seen in them. It shrank him. It killed him.
She walked up to him and guided him out the door, slamming it behind him. As he heard her retreating footsteps, he finally broke down, bawling at the top of his lungs. Never in his life had he felt so much pain and betrayal. Wrothken picked up his mace and bashed the trunk repeatedly while screaming out words and phrases that would make Molag Bal blush and reprimand him for such talk. As the golden chips littered the ground, he tossed his mace to the side and just began beating the trunk until it was nothing more than a pile of broken wood.
He panted heavily, tears streaming down his face. He was scared. Never in his life had he seriously thought of hurting a woman, or anyone else. The fights he was in were self-defense or rough-housing with friends. He didn't even know he had all that in him. Maybe the Isles finally got him....or maybe it was time for his bottle of felldew.
He didn't even finish the thought when he pulled out the bottle and guzzled it down. His heart slowed down. He stopped crying. He smiled. Everything was fine again. All he needed was some felldew.
Back in a good mood, he entered another section of the cavern, where it was flooded. He had forgotten that Haskill had told him that the elytra can walk on water, until he saw a small group of them. Not one of them was glowing and all of them rushed over to attack. It wasn't long before they had him pinned against the wall, each of them thrusting their pincers at him at once, as if they could smell the juice of their brethren on his breath.
By the time he finally killed them, he was feeling down again. How long was it going to be until he finally got the Chalice? He looked down at his armor, unsure of how much more it could take before breaking. He heaved a sigh, not even hesitating to drink the last of his felldew. It was such a great pick-me-up.
Wrothken's heart raced with worry. The entire hall was filled with regular elytra. Not a single drop of felldew. His body was covered in a greasy sweat as he ran down the halls looking for a glow. He ran aimlessly, trying to evade the elytra. He didn't want to waste time on them. Time was precious. Time demanded felldew. Felldew or he would die in the tunnel.
He would do anything...anything to get his hands on more. He cursed himself for drinking it all so quickly. Why didn't he save some, just in case? He walked along until he passed another steaming trunk. A thought suddenly occurred to him. The top was green and mushy... it had to be made of felldew! With a burst of joy, he popped up and took a bite, retching in disgust. It wasn't felldew! It tasted like...tree!
He spent too long spitting the moss from his mouth and picking chunks of bark from his teeth. His body didn't want to move anymore. His vision started to blur. He was reduced to crawling when he saw it. The glowing elytra was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It skittered towards him, unfazed by his presence. He was so happy, he didn't have the heart to kill it. Instead, he crawled over to it and suckled the felldew directly from its mandibles.
It was the strangest feeling in the world. They continued to move rapidly while in Wrothken's mouth. When they were sucked dry, Wrothken stood up feeling absolutely disgusted. Was this what he was reduced to? It was almost no different than degrading acts performed in alleys in exchange for a bit of skooma. He wanted to sink to the floor and cry, but he knew he didn't have time. He had to get the Chalice before the cravings got too bad.
Sanctum of Decadence. Wrothken stared up at the words in awe. At the end of the maze-like tunnels, stood a sturdy wooden door, complete with carvings of a party, most of them naked, and drinking from jeweled goblets in front of a large banquet table. It was very similar to what he had seen in Thadon's palace.
He opened the door and was assaulted by a pungent smell. It wasn't an animal. It was people. People who must have skipped bathing for a very long time... and by the nauseating mound in the corner of the room, couldn't do "business" in a sanitary manner.
When he headed up the stairs, he saw it. A large goblet sitting on top of a pedestal. The Chalice of Reversal. All he needed to do was drink from it and he'd be cured.
He ran toward it and it was inches away from his fingers when he was struck from behind with a chair. He stumbled, almost knocking the Chalice over. He looked behind him and saw a naked man, wild with fury. The man grunted and three other people, just as insane as he was, rushed out from the other room.
Wrothken pulled out his mace and backed up so he could see all of them. As he glanced around, he caught sight of several plates, bowls, cups, and bottles of felldew. He didn't understand. If they had their felldew, why were they acting so hostile? Maybe if I show them I'm not here to hurt them... He set his mace down and raised his hands up. "I just want the Chalice," he said.
The leader looked to his comrades and at once the atmosphere changed. When the first pitcher was flung at him, he scooped up his mace and thrust it forward, forcing the people to back up. He grabbed the Chalice, which sent them into an uproar. He looked around, seeing a door at the other end of the room. First things first, he thought. He looked into the Chalice, surprised to see a bit of felldew inside it. As he dodged a plate, he took a drink from the Chalice.
This time, the felldew made him feel different. He felt back to normal, both with the good and the bad. Then he felt the sting of a silver bowl across his face.
He looked back at the people and felt a wave of pity. They must have been so strung out, they weren't thinking straight. He rushed to the door and slammed it shut behind him. If they came after him, he wasn't sure what would happen. On one hand, he was weighed down by his armor and they were naked as jaybirds. On the other, that made them more susceptible to weather, creatures, and the cold Golden Saints. He didn't wait to see the outcome. He ran down the trail as fast as he could.
Posted by: SubRosa May 10 2010, 11:25 PM
Well done all around. This was both lots of fun and creepy at the same time. I loved how you described Wrothken's craving for felldew. It was both subtle and hilarious. Could he put it in his boot! Further into the story it finally turns to ominous , as we see how deeply the cat has sunk its claws into Wrothken's back (to borrow the phrase from Olen).
Was he getting used to explorations? Or was it just the felldew?
I'll go with door #2 there... '
Ahh, so now we see the events of the fateful night when Wrothken caught Awour! That was nicely done. Wrothken seems a bit wimpy though. Most men would have gone the bash things with a mace and say things Molag Bal would blush at route.
It tasted like...tree!
nits:
He looked down at his ??? and fury began to bunch up in him.
You seem to have lost some text where I put the question marks.
. He was late,
Looks like a period slipped in at the start of this paragraph.
By the time he finally killed them, he was feeling down again.
I think you missed a the in there where I bolded it.
He ran down the trail as fast as he could.r
Looks like Haskill slipped in an extra r at the end when you were not looking...
Posted by: Remko May 11 2010, 11:25 AM
Poor tree
The part of Wrothken biting into a branch and actually ralizing it tastes like wood was priceless
Posted by: Olen May 11 2010, 11:45 AM
Good piece, the bit with him licking the felldew from the mandibles was genius (if rather nasty). And biting the tree, very funny. Especially when 'it tasted like.. tree'. 
I like the balance you strike between humour and darkness, it's most certainly a funny piece but it has a darker side to it. A bit like the Isles really.
Excellent.
Posted by: D.Foxy May 11 2010, 11:53 AM
He looked down at his **** and fury began to bunch up in him. When he looked into it, he saw Awour
That sentence made me blink -
A man saw a girl in his prick -
but I pray thee, writer who astounds -
shouldn't it be the other way around?
Posted by: mALX May 11 2010, 06:13 PM
Powerful, Powerful, POWERFUL Write!!!!! This has to be the best chapter yet, you ROCKED it!!!!! I can't pick any part to post, it was all too great!!
Your depiction of the addiction, his inner dialogue, the darkness you are able to portray in thoughts and deed - WHEW !!!!
Posted by: Acadian May 12 2010, 11:00 PM
Yes, this was quite brilliantly done, as well as most entertaining and fun to readl Bravo!
Posted by: minque May 15 2010, 10:33 PM
Jackie my dear! Excellent writing! I enjoyed every word of it....sorry to be such a bad commenter!
Posted by: Jacki Dice May 16 2010, 12:19 AM
SubRosa- Working with the felldew addiction was pretty difficult, so I'm glad it turned out right ^^
QUOTE
He looked down at his ??? and fury began to bunch up in him.
You seem to have lost some text where I put the question marks.
For the life of me I could not find this! Thank goodness for ctrl+F
Remko- Lol I got the idea during my play through. After all, it IS the same shade of green...
Olen- The licking part was gross. Then again, if I ran into a giant cricket covered in chocolate... Mmmmmm (tastes just like a Crunch bar XD) My humor really works with SI, so I'm glad I did it
Foxy- Lmao!
mALX- This was the hardest chapter for me to do because of the addiction. I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed it
Acadian- Thanks ♥
minque- Oh you're not a bad commenter! I'm glad to have you reading ♥
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Raining Cheese, Indeed!
Kirsty could hardly sleep at all. Her stomach was knotted with worry. After lying in bed and thinking about it for a few hours, she couldn't believe that she allowed some stranger to break into Wrothken's house and take jewelry. Maybe Lilitu-- if that was even her name-- wasn't a thief after all, but an undercover guard trying to put a stop to the Thieves Guild. Or maybe she and Awour were old friends, looking to catch Kirsty in something, just so they can report her later. For all Kirsty knew, she was a thief, but was going to run off with the spoils.
Realizing that sleep wasn't going to come to her, she decided to get to work.
She walked downstairs to the bakery and stood at the counter with a quill and parchment, checking her sales for the previous day. She made around fifty sweet rings yesterday, but didn't have enough for everyone who wanted one. She could try for seventy-five...but then again it was Tirdas. For some reason, Morndas always sold more sweets than any other day. "Sixty rings," she decided, writing it down.
Immediately she set to work. She found a large bowl and emptied a sack of flour into it. She was so happy to have left Valenwood. Flour, since it's grain, is forbidden by the Green Pact. Instead, they use bonemeal. It wasn't bad, but it didn't give the bread that fluffiness she loved. She took out a jar of honey and mixed it in, creating a thick paste. After forming the rings and soaking it in wine, she put them in the oven.
While she waited for them to cook, she started preparing some croissants and chocolate muffins to be baked as well. By time she was ready to open, her apron and any unprotected part of her dress was covered in powder.
The other townspeople were starting to wake up. People who still sold wares from carts were setting up outside the arena. She looked down the street, but still didn't see Lilitu. She bit her lip nervously. "Calm down," she told herself. "She probably isn't awake yet."
After the breakfast rush, though Lilitu still hadn't shown, a man carrying a sack full of papers walked in. Kirsty's heart raced. Did Wrothken finally send her a letter?
"Morning, miss," he said, handing her a copy of the Black Horse Courier. "Special edition," he said with a nod.
He walked away as Kirsty caught the headline.
Black Horse Courier
SPECIAL EDITION!
Rain of cheese! Transdimensional door appears!
An ordinary, peaceful morning on the Niben Bay was suddenly turned upside down when a downpour of cheddar cheese coated the immediate area. Locals from Bravil and the Imperial City scrambled to get a basket of the cheese, but by time they got to the area, guards had been sent to keep people from consuming it until it could be tested for poisons.
At the same time, it was reported that a strange door opened up on a mysterious island in the bay. Plants not found anywhere on Nirn were found, prompting a mass gathering of mages to examine and gather them up for potions. Several adventurers arrived on the scene as well, seeking to find out where the door came from and what its purpose is. Few have come out, and those who have seem to be driven mad by whatever's inside. A Bravil guard who has been posted at the door was quoted saying, "I keep telling them that nothing that enters come out right. They don't listen. Stupid kids got their heads filled with ideas of fame and fortune. Guess who gets stuck cleaning it up." The obvious madness in the victims has caused many to wonder if the door is something from Sheogorath. However, because all who have entered have become too disturbed to talk, there is no way to confirm that.
Chana Mona, the priest in Bravil's chapel of Mara, has been conducting her services outside by the bay, warning people to stay away. At first her words were unheeded, but seeing as how most have either gone insane or haven't returned at all, more are gathering to listen to her sermons.She couldn't believe it. What it some kind of joke? What would they report next week, cupcakes in the lake? She crumpled it up, wondering if someone at the head office noticed the joke paper. Looking outside, she saw Lilitu wasn't out yet, but Awour was. She looked furious. Obviously, she and Lilitu were not in cahoots, and Lilitu did her job. Now her only concern was her bringing the jewelry back. She
was a thief, after all.
Lilitu couldn't remember her dream, but she knew it was unpleasant. Visions flashed before her eyes too quick for her to recognize anything. She remained wrapped in red sheets, her hand still on the poem. She read through it again, but it failed to give her the same fuzzy feeling it did before.
Dolce ran up to Lilitu before she even made it downstairs. She jumped up on her, in her usual good mood. Lilitu held her face. "You know you have your own bed." She tapped her on the behind. "Off."
Dressed in a soft robe, she went to the kitchen and chopped up some beef. Dolce quivered as she tried to refrain from jumping up on the counter. Lilitu set the beef in a blue dish and set it on the floor. Dolce immediately pounced, greedily eating it as if she hadn't been fed in days.
While she ate, Lilitu got dressed. "Come on, Dolce," she said, after she finished. "Time to make a delivery."
When Kirsty finally saw Lilitu, she felt a wave of relief, with a slight flash of jealousy. Lilitu was wearing a red high-necked corset top, which recently became fashionable in the area. Kirsty had been highly disappointed to find that it was impossible to stuff herself into one and a custom made top would have been far too expensive. She looked down. Sometimes the blessing so many girls envied was so much more of a curse.
Lilitu smiled, taking a seat in front of her. Without prompting, Dolce sat down as well.
"Special delivery," Lilitu said, handing Kirsty a small coin purse. She opened it, gasping sharply when she saw the earrings and the ring nestled inside. "You look surprised."
"No, I just..." She couldn't admit that she thought Lilitu would deceive her.
"Don't worry about it. Most people who hire thieves for the first time don't expect the merchandise to come, especially if they have no experience with the guild."
Kirsty's cheeks burned. She felt so stupid. "Here, I know you wanted to do this for free, but at least take this, on the house." She handed Lilitu a fresh sweet ring.
When she took a bite, Lilitu's cherry red eyes suddenly seemed to glaze over and she moaned softly. "What is this?" she asked, quickly taking another bite.
"Just some sweet rings. I haven't come up with a good name for them just yet."
"I can think of some, but they're more suited for the bedroom than the kitchen. This is amazing!"
Kirsty reddened a little. She was usually too busy to hear people's compliments. "Um.. here's something for your dog, too." She stepped from behind the counter and set down a slab of ham. Dolce sniffed it curiously and took a hesitant lick, as if she wasn't sure she could trust it. Satisfied, she scarfed it down in a single bite.
Dolce took a step toward Kirsty and sniffed her hand. "Now she'll be your friend forever," Lilitu said. They were quiet for a moment before she said, "So, I'm just going to come out and ask. Who's Wrothken?"
"Wrothken?" She asked. "He's my brother."
Lilitu raised her eyebrows. "Your...brother?"
Kirsty shook her head. "Not exactly. I mean he's been like a brother. You know, looking after me and helping me out with stuff." She set her head on her hand, sighing. "He helped me run the place. Drunks listened to him more then they did me."
"Intimidated?"
Kirsty laughed. "Yeah. He's more like a big teddy bear, but people don't know that. All they see is a giant Nord with hands big enough to squash them."
"A Nord..." Lilitu smiled, licking her red lips. "I see. So, he's your brother, who lived with the high elf, and you wanted me to steal jewelry from their house." She looked outside. "She broke his heart, didn't she?"
Kirsty nodded. "He caught her in bed with another man."
Lilitu continued to stare outside. "It's sad how girls do that, and then they wonder why they can't find a good man. They've all been hurt so bad that they turn to jerks so they won't go through the pain again."
Kirsty nodded in agreement. She had been with far too many guys who kept to at a distance or who were cruel to her, just to avoid intimacy. She was about to ask Lilitu how she knew his name when Dolce sprang up, her ears folded back as she growled softly.
"Who was it?" Awour screeched, storming in. Her eyes were wild.
Kirsty's heart dropped to her stomach. She quickly tucked the coin purse in her skirt. "What are you talking about?" She asked. Her palms were starting to dampen.
"Don't play dumb with me! I know it was one of you!"
"Do you mind?" Lilitu asked. "I'm trying to enjoy a nice breakfast."
"Shut up!" Awour started to walk toward her, but Dolce started barking violently. "I'm going to find out, but until I do, you both had better watch your backs!"
Lilitu flashed a grin. "That's fine, sweetie, now shouldn't you get to work? The brothel's the other way."
Awour glared at her, hate filling her eyes. "I swear, I'll make you pay, Ashborn."
"You mean like all your customers? I suppose fair is fair."
Kirsty could see that if Dolce wasn't there, the two would've gotten in a brawl right there.
Awour spat on the floor before leaving.
"What a class act," Lilitu said.
Kirsty put her hand over her heart, trying to calm it down.
"If you're worried the guards would find out, don't. For one, she has no proof. Secondly, even if they believed her, I wouldn't turn you in. There
is honor among thieves."
Kirsty managed a weak smile. Lilitu was good at making her feel at ease. She wasn't like the other girls she met. She didn't seem to have a drop of unnecessary cattiness in her. For years, Kirsty yearned for some female bonding. Sure, she had a few male friends, but they weren't the same. Could it be she finally found a good match? "Listen, after I close, do you want to just...talk?"
Lilitu smiled. "That'd be nice. How about some wine at my house?"
Kirsty nodded. "I'll bring some sweet rings."
"Sounds perfect. Dolce and I better be going. You never know when some business might pop up."
As Lilitu and Dolce left, the feeling of comfort left her. She found herself looking out repeatedly, worried that someone was going to come in and start trouble while she was alone. "Don't be silly," she told herself. "I'm not alone." Other patrons were eating and drinking, though there was only a handful of them. The chapel bell rang twelve times, letting her know that the lunch rush would be coming in soon. Cooking would take her mind off things, at least until the evening.
Posted by: mALX May 16 2010, 03:31 AM
Great dialogue!!! You have a huge storyline going here!!!
Posted by: Olen May 16 2010, 03:40 PM
I'm loving the two storylines, the Kirsty one is developing well and she is becoming a strong rounded (pardon the pun) character. Makes me wonder how she'll get on with Lilitu and what Awour will do.
The newspaper article was sublimely perculiar. I loved it.
Posted by: SubRosa May 16 2010, 08:38 PM
I like these scenes with the wimmin's as much as I do those of Wrothken. I suppose because they are all about relationships. Both the good and bad aspects.
I do wonder more and more why Awour was with Wrothken in the first place though. You describe him as the standard 'Nice Guy', which is a guarantee to never get laid (well, by a woman at least...). Awour seems like your cheerleader/queen bee of the clique type. The last kind of girl who would be interested in someone like Wrothken. It makes me think that she was playing him from the start to get at his money?
Speaking of Awour, her type usually surrounds herself with a clique of female cronies. Not to mention men whom she twists around her little finger to get whatever she wants from. Maybe we will see some of that in the future, when her promised vengeance comes at the hands of such types?
Good description of Kirsty worrying about Liltu. It not only shows us that at heart she is still very much an honest citizen, but also smart enough to run all those possibilities through her head.
Bonemeal to make bread! That's fertilizer, and a vector for Mad Cow disease! Ewwww! No wonder all those male Wood Elves in Oblivion are kooks! I definitely prefer Kirsty's version of bread!
Seriously though, I liked your description of Kirsty's morning cooking. I imagine that she would have to be a very early riser to bake her treats before the morning rush. That is just as much the case now as it was in the ancient world.
Dolce has a blue dish? You mean something in Liltu's house is not red?
Sometimes the blessing so many girls envied was so much more of a curse.
It is nice to see some acknowledgment that super-gigantic boobs are really not a good thing at all, in spite of what men all seem to think...
Posted by: D.Foxy May 17 2010, 02:17 AM
Sometimes the blessing so many girls envied was so much more of a curse.
It is nice to see some acknowledgment that super-gigantic boobs are really not a good thing at all, in spite of what men all seem to think...
Speak for yourself! I have special needs - I was a bottle-fed child!
Posted by: mALX May 17 2010, 02:53 AM
QUOTE(D.Foxy @ May 16 2010, 09:17 PM)

Sometimes the blessing so many girls envied was so much more of a curse.
It is nice to see some acknowledgment that super-gigantic boobs are really not a good thing at all, in spite of what men all seem to think...
Speak for yourself! I have special needs - I was a bottle-fed child!
But you have made up for at least three lifetimes of....er...nevermind, lol.
Posted by: Remko May 17 2010, 11:23 AM
That Lilitu is some piece of work
Loved it Jacki!
Posted by: Acadian May 19 2010, 07:21 PM
This continues to be great fun to read. You bring your characters to life wonderfully!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Jun 2 2010, 03:23 AM
mALX- Oh yes, its going to be a pretty large web of events. 
Olen- A good pun
The newspaper idea came from Shades on the Bethsoft forums. I think I'll continue with them once the Oblivion crisis begins
Sub Rosa- Yes, all of Dolce's belongings are blue. It'll be explained later on as to why its so color coded with them.
D. Foxy- Lol I know, but it really is no fun not fitting into nice shirts because of them
Remko and Acadian- Thanks so much ♥
Everyone- I'm so sorry this has taken so long. It's been a crazy week
~~~♥~~~
http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Awour.jpg
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Understanding Madness
Awour stood in front of the arena, watching as Lilitu disappeared down the bustling street. She narrowed her eyes. She must have had something to do with her stolen jewelry. Kirsty wasn't the type, but the Ashborn.... Talos only knew where she and that mutt came from and what they were doing.
She wanted to follow her and see if she still had it, maybe steal it back, but she was afraid she would be too obvious. Maybe after a few days, when her guard was down, she could find a way to get them back. Instead of stalking, she turned and went home.
She frowned, looking into the messy living room. Remnants of last night's lunch and dinner was still sitting on the coffee table, next to a pile of books. Crumpled papers littered the floor.
The kitchen wasn't much better. A bouquet of flowers, once fresh and fragrant, now smelled sickly sweet and the lightest brush on a petal turned it to dust. Bottles of wine were all over the counter, along with pots and pans caked with burnt food.
As usual, she felt the sudden urge to clean so she could entertain friends, but a few minutes into it, she gave up and went to her room, crawling onto her bed. She held her pillow tight, imagining it to be Bacchus. She set it back in its place, hoping it would retain its scent for the year he would be in the Imperial City, training for the legion.
"A whole year..." She groaned. She was already feeling overcome with loneliness...and other urges. Her eyes traveled along the room, settling on Wrothken's battle axe. Her heart fluttered, remembering his strong arms...those big hands...broad shoulders...plump, soft lips... She growled softly. Why didn't he fight back? Of course, she knew exactly why and she wanted to kick herself for it.
All her life, she was told that she couldn't change a man. Well, a man may not be able to be changed, but he sure can be trained. Back in Bruma, Wrothken used to hang out with a rough little group and he, being the tallest and brawniest, was one of the roughest, complete with a volatile temper. When he was away from his friends, however, he showed a softer, sweeter side. One that proved to be eager to please, especially since he had never had a girlfriend before. Soon enough, Awour got him to spend less time with those delinquents, and more time with her. She figured that if she could get him to be less tempermental, she could have a sweet guy who always doted on her and maybe even spoil her a bit, he would be the perfect man for her. Training began quickly.
At first it was difficult. The littlest things, like harmless flirting, overly affectionate friends, didn't quite send him into a rage, but it made him pretty upset. Still, all it took were big juicy tears and a whimpering, "Wrothken, you're scaring me," to quiet him down. Then he always started crying and apologizing for overreacting and pleading with her to not be afraid. By the Nine, that was irritating. Thankfully, it only took a few moments of fake tears and trembles to get his temper in check. Unfortunately, when he stopped getting upset, he stopped seeming to care. He'd make a face, but that was as far as it went. Sometimes, she'd even flirt heavily with a man, just to try and get some kind of reaction out of him.
Not that she didn't truly want Bacchus. When Wrothken began working with Kirsty, he had taken a liking to her sweets.
That better be all he took a liking to... He had gained a few pounds and while it wasn't all that much, it stood out in comparison to Bacchus' completely toned, tanned body. Oh, the feeling of his body pressed to hers was like nothing else...though he wasn't very open minded, like Wrothken had been.
Her brow furrowed as she began thinking. Wrothken always managed to see that she was taken care of. Not to mention, he always bought her the things she wanted, without a lot of prodding. He was pretty clean too. Bacchus may have been a hot piece of beefcake, but damn he got musky quick and sadly, he was not friends with the bath. Another thing, Wrothken was always around and not only brought food home, but cooked it too! And he was a damn good cook. Bacchus couldn't boil water without burning it. Maybe he could, but Awour could not and would not live on ale and meat pies from the carts in front of the arena.
Why in Oblivion am I even thinking about him? She thought. Months ago, when she first started seeing Bacchus, she decided that she wanted
him, not Wrothken. Besides, she was far too young to settle down! She had another few centuries to live and explore. Wrothken didn't expressly mention marriage or anything, but she was sure it would come up eventually.
She growled and plopped back on her bed.
What to do.... On one hand, Wrothken was a nice guy...and that's just it. She didn't want a nice guy. Bad boys were so much more fun. If she would have realized that in the first place and not forced his temper away, maybe things would have turned out differently. On the other, Bacchus was hot. Great body, great hair, total package...but he didn't take care of her. Bacchus didn't even leave a single septim for her to live on, while Wrothken used to give her plenty to care for herself while he was out for just a few hours! She rolled over. If only she could have a bad boy who also pampered her the way she liked.
Oh well, you can't have it all... Or can you? If she could train Wrothken into being more docile, could she untrain him? It was worth looking into. Of course, that was only if he ever showed his face again...
Kirsty was glad she joined Lilitu for wine. All day, she had been tense, jumping each time a guard entered the bakery for a quick snack. She was terrified of getting arrested for being an accessory to theft. After a few hours with Lilitu, she felt much more relaxed. Maybe it was the warm hearth, maybe it was the aroma of lavender and vanilla, maybe it was Lilitu's way with words, or maybe it was the wine. That was probably it, even though it had a bitter after taste. Whatever it was, it mellowed her out enough to enjoy the evening, and even talk about things her sober self would be to shy to discuss with anyone.
When Kirsty was ready to head home, Lilitu insisted on giving a guard a few extra septims to accompany her. Kirsty resisted, but was thankful by the gesture. After all, she didn't want to wind up in the wrong place or worse, taken advantage of by some creep.
As she crawled into bed, she felt safer and incredibly relieved. With Wrothken gone, she had felt incredibly lonely and a bit scared. Sure she could look out for herself, but when Wrothken was around no one would dare even think of trying anything. Without him she felt vulnerable.
Not anymore... she thought. When she was with Lilitu, she felt bigger and stronger. If only there was a way to make sure she was around more. She tried to think of excuses to have her over more, but her thinking became fuzzy and she crossed the thin threshold into her dreams.
Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 2 2010, 03:55 AM
I know I've been remiss in commenting lately.
You've been writing some pretty darn good stuff. Normally I don't read this sort of fiction, but I like what you're doing with the characters too much to ignore this.
QUOTE
He was pretty clean too. Bacchus may have been a hot piece of beefcake, but damn he got musky quick and sadly, he was not friends with the bath. Another thing, Wrothken was always around and not only brought food home, but cooked it too! And he was a damn good cook. Bacchus couldn't boil water without burning it. Maybe he could, but Awour could not and would not live on ale and meat pies from the carts in front of the arena.
This made me laugh! And I keep thinking of Bacchus as Michelangelo's
David - nice, toned body, but just a little light in the testosterone department. Of course rumor has it that Mikey was from the other side of the fence, so that may explain
David. I wonder if there's some subversive meaning in the direction of my thoughts . . .
Oh well. I'm enjoying this story anyways!
Posted by: SubRosa Jun 2 2010, 04:09 AM
Ahh, a chapter from Awour's pov! Excellent! It is very cool to see inside her head.
Well, a man may not be able to be changed, but he sure can be trained.
Bad boys were so much more fun.
Quoted for truth!
Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 2 2010, 05:07 AM
Actually, I think she meant BED boys were so much more fun.
Posted by: Olen Jun 2 2010, 05:05 PM
Nice update, I can't say I read much (any) of the type of story the last part would classify as but you bring the characters out well so it's good to read for that and the promise of an oblivion crisis... well...
I like seeing inside all the different character's heads too, you really seem to know them all.
Posted by: Acadian Jun 2 2010, 05:31 PM
Nicely done, Jackie and fun to read!
Posted by: mALX Jun 3 2010, 12:52 AM
QUOTE(haute ecole rider @ Jun 1 2010, 10:55 PM)

I know I've been remiss in commenting lately.
You've been writing some pretty darn good stuff. Normally I don't read this sort of fiction, but I like what you're doing with the characters too much to ignore this.
QUOTE
He was pretty clean too. Bacchus may have been a hot piece of beefcake, but damn he got musky quick and sadly, he was not friends with the bath. Another thing, Wrothken was always around and not only brought food home, but cooked it too! And he was a damn good cook. Bacchus couldn't boil water without burning it. Maybe he could, but Awour could not and would not live on ale and meat pies from the carts in front of the arena.
This made me laugh! And I keep thinking of Bacchus as Michelangelo's
David - nice, toned body, but just a little light in the testosterone department. Of course rumor has it that Mikey was from the other side of the fence, so that may explain
David. I wonder if there's some subversive meaning in the direction of my thoughts . . .
Oh well. I'm enjoying this story anyways!

I disagree, he was beefy and sweated quickly - wouldn't that mean a LOT of testosterone? - but you picked out one of my fave places too - Jacki's details bring these characters to life!!!!!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Jul 11 2010, 03:20 AM
Hautee Cole Rider- He's somewhat like that.... Though I read something about the statue supposed to be showing lots of fear and that's why... you know...
Sub Rosa- I liked it from her perspective and it was surprisingly easy to tap into her attitude. I plan to do more later on.
Foxy-
She did!
Olen- I do, it's like they all like to spring into my head and take over when I write. And the Oblivion crisis makes it so hard to write because I have so much planned and I'm being impatient
Acadian- Thank you as always ♥
mALX- Thanks so much. That's what gets me into stories, the livliness of the other characters.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
The Walls Have Ears...and Eyes Too
It was late afternoon when Wrothken made it back to Bliss. As much as he wanted to hurry up and be rid of the stupid Chalice, he desparately needed a break. He entered the Choosy Beggar, a stark contrast from Sickly Bernice's Taphouse. It was bright, like the rest of the city and spotless. In the center of the room, was a low arch which didn't seem to serve any purpose.
Walking around the tables, there was an Argonian man dressed in light green pants and a pale pink shirt with light green sleeves. As Wrothken sat down, a female Argonian rubbed his shoulder and said, "Good to see you. We should drink together sometime," with a wink.
The male growled as the female sauntered away. "What do you want?" He barked. "Other than my wife!"
Wrothken looked at the Argonian female, who was seated with another man downing shots. "Your wife?" Wrothken looked back at the man. "No, I don't want your wife--"
"What?! Is my sweet Sheer-Meedish not good enough?"
"No, I didn't mean..." he stopped himself. As Kirsty often said, there was no reasoning with crazy. "I just came in for a drink."
The Argonian huffed. "Just like all the men around here. Some women too! Just know that I'll be watching you, snowman," he warned, running his hand over his short sword. "Now what do you want?"
"Just some beer."
The Argonian muttered under his breath before slamming a bottle down in front of Wrothken. Any other time, he would have gotten upset, but after the addiction and the exhaustion of getting back to civilization wore him out too much. Instead, he quietly sipped his beer.
As he was finishing, a shaky Breton approached the table. He was crouched down, eyeing the room suspiciously.
"Hey, Raven Biter?" He said, tapping the table. "It's me, Amiable. Can I get my usual?"
The Argonian, still in a mood, huffed and set a cup of black coffee on the table. Amiable felt around for it, daring not to stand up. Wrothken looked down at the man and moved the cup closer to his hand.
"Oh, thanks friend. Usually by time I find it, it gets cold and I have to get a new one."
"No problem, but why don't you just stand up and get it?"
Amiable looked at Wrothken as if he just asked the stupidest question in the world. "Don't you know?" When Wrothken didn't say anything, he continued. "You don't, do you? Well, it's lucky you met me. Here you've been walking around as if nothing could happen!"
Uh-oh... Wrothken thought. What can of worms had he opened?
"It's the walls, you see. They've got something against me. I know too much, it seems. If I stand up, they'll tumble down and squish me like a bug! At least like this, I can hurry under a table or something."
Wrothken looked around the room. The walls looked perfectly fine. No cracks, no dents, nothing that would hint that the walls were anything less than sturdy.
"Don't look! They'll know I'm talking to you," Amiable hissed. "I haven't slept in days! If the walls catch me of guard, they'll crush me for sure!"
"Why not get out of the city then?"
"I've tried that," he said, his grainy eyes darting from wall to wall. "Let's just say, they won't let me out alive." He took a gulp of coffee. "To be honest with you, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to go on like this. If I'm going to win this damned war, I need to sleep so I can think clearly."
All the sleep in the world won't help with that, Wrothken thought.
"Please," Amiable said. "If you can find me a safe place to sleep, I'll give you something that'll help you out."
He wasn't quite sure what he meant and was almost afraid to find out, but Wrothken felt bad for him. He couldn't imagine being unable to indulge in a good sleep.
"Please?"
"Alright," Wrothken said. "What do you have in mind?"
"Well, the only thing is that there can't be any walls nearby."
Wrothken nodded. "Then right after I speak with the Duke, I'll find you a bed."
When Wrothken entered Thadon's palace, he was greeted by another large party. This time, instead of snorting green powder, Thadon was smoking what appeared to be a large glass vase with tubes sprouting from the top, from which Thadon and other guests were inhaling musky smoke.
"The triumphant champion returns!" Thadon said. He offered Wrothken one of the tubes. Wrothken declined, not wanting to touch anything in the palace for fear it was laced. "So, do you feel any different? Now that you've been through this experience, I mean. You know what it's like now... Always wanting that next fix, hating it but craving it at the same time, and hating yourself for all of it. Ah, well. All over now. The Chalice helps, doesn't it? Indeed it does, and I could use some helping right now. I'll just take that back from you," he took the Chalice. "And as a token of my gratitude, I grant you the role of Courtier of Mania, with all of its entitlements. Which is to say, none."
"Wonderful. A pleasure meeting you," he said sarcastically. He was beginning to understand the source of Haskill's attitude.
Posted by: D.Foxy Jul 11 2010, 03:34 AM
And our Jacki Dice is back in the House...or is it the other way around...(inside *hehe* joke there)...

Great to have you AND your delightful story back!!! Do you know whenever I get the blues reading Champion of Madness never fails to cheer me up?
Posted by: Jacki Dice Jul 11 2010, 03:37 AM
QUOTE(D.Foxy @ Jul 10 2010, 07:34 PM)

And our Jacki Dice is back in the House...or is it the other way around...(inside *hehe* joke there)...
O.O My word!

I have missed you Foxy and I'm glad to know my story cheers you up!
Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 11 2010, 03:40 AM
Loved the way you segued into Amiable's quest for a safe bed to sleep!
Groping for a cup of coffee indeed! He he!
Good to have you back. It's been a while!
Posted by: SubRosa Jul 11 2010, 04:59 AM
I was just wondering where my Champion of Madness had gotten off too, and here you are, back with another installment of the Shivering Isle's Snowman.
Wrothken's sojurn to the Choosy Beggar was excellent. You really put the insanity into the Shivering Isles. Amiable was especially well done.
"Wonderful. A pleasure meeting you," he said sarcastically. He was beginning to understand the source of Haskill's attitude.
This was the perfect ending!
Posted by: D.Foxy Jul 11 2010, 11:12 AM
From the Champion of Rad-ness to the Champion of EGAD!-ness,
Greetings and no peepings,
I trust this time your posts ain't fleeting
And if I had your account I would be tweeting
To make sure your face would be heating!!
Tee hee!
NOW WRITE SOME MORE!!!
Posted by: Olen Jul 11 2010, 05:41 PM
I've missed this, it's good to see it continued.
Nice job in linking the quest he's on to the next one with him stopping by the pub. I love your portrayal of the inhabitants of SI too, you have them so perfectly insane and funny. The coffee was a nice touch.
Wrothken doesn't seem to be going excessively mad yet (certainly his annoyance at the locals suggests not), but I suspect he'll be worshipping cheese with the rest of them soon enough.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Aug 1 2010, 03:51 AM
The Deformity
Home again, home again, piggity pig.
After a long nap and a refreshing shave, he decided to take a walk around the city before he had to see the Duchess in the morning. He felt relived as he walked through Crucible. Though the buildings were just as shabby as Bravil and the streets barely paved, he had come to love them. To him, they were warm and welcome. Even a little cozy. He was even considering making it a permanent home. That was, if he survived Sheogorath's tasks.
What in Alduin's name did he get himself into anyway? He sighed. At least he didn't have to kill innocent people.
That would be truly mad.
A few people were out, though it was well after dark. At a distance they all seemed peaceful...and normal. As much as he wanted out at times, he couldn't let these innocent people suffer at the hands of Jygglepuff or whatever his name was.
He was about to head up the street back to Bernice's Taphouse when he saw the blond Imperial who wanted to have a private word with him. He considered hightailing it away from him, but he was spotted. The Imperial smiled a little and walked up to him.
"Ah, I'm glad you came," he said, leading Wrothken back to the statue. "So, are you interested in earning some loot?"
Wrothken was hesitant to answer. He imagined all sorts of scenarios that would earn him loot and so far none seemed pleasant. However, he decided to see what it was before refusing.
"Sure, why not?"
"Great!" He cried out. He hugged Wrothken tightly before composing himself. "There's a... a simple task. Yes, a simple task that you must perform." He took a deep breath. "This life, it's... well, it's too painful. Everywhere I look, I see death, dying, and decay. When I dream, I see a world without sunshine. I’m constantly on the verge of retching up, or falling asleep, or screaming at someone who doesn't deserve it. I'm just so fed up with it all. Look, there's no point in talking about it. Action must be taken. You must... I need you to kill me."
Wrothken was stunned. "What? You... no way..." He took a breath. "Why not just..you know... do it yourself if that's how you feel?"
"Have you seen those miserable souls on the Hill of Suicides? Do you think that kind of existence is any better than this? No. You must kill me. I don't necessarily want to see it coming. And I want to die here in the city so all these people finally believe me. They'll wish they were nicer. You probably want to do it without spectators though, so you don't get in trouble. Best to make it look like an accident. But remember, I don't want to see it coming. Take me unaware."
"Oh for the love of..." Wrothken threw his arms up.
"No! Not like this!" He screamed. "Please, no!"
"One...two...three..." Wrothken counted through clenched teeth. He needed to get back to bed before he accidentally made the Imperial's wish come true.
As he was heading back to the taphouse, he heard someone shout, "Kick him in the shins!"
He looked around, but no one was around him. It sounded like it was coming from the roof. He walked behind the building and saw a flight of stairs. He ran up to see what was going on, and ws surprised to see Kalila in the center of a circle of excited people, beating up an Orc twice her size. When she kicked him onto his back, the crowd cheered and toasted their drinks. Kalila panted heavily, wiping her hair from her face. "Alright, who's going next?"
Kalila... With everything going on, she had slipped his mind, but with her standing before him, skin glistening with sweat and her hair plastered to her face. He recalled just before he left to get Thadon's Chalice, she mentioned that she liked his innocent look and wanted to get together later... His hand immediately flew to his cheeks. He wondered if she would notice.
"I'll go again," Cutter said, shoving through the crowd.
"You lose on purpose!" the Orc said, brushing himself off.
"He's right," Kalila said. "Besides, I've already got someone in mind. You," she said, looking at Wrothken.
An Altmer scoffed. "He's not in the group! You can't!"
Kalila growled. "I can and I will. Come on."
Wrothken froze for a minute, finding him to be the center of her attention for the second time. Again, he was reminded of the stark contrast between her and Awour. Awour disapproved of sparring. Apparently, only delinquents did that. What the silly elf didn't understand was that it was a way to bond. He licked his lips, eager to bond with Kalila.
He stepped in the chalky circle, remembering his sparring days with his friends. It was several years ago, but felt like last week.
He faced Kalila and, as was customary, at least in his circle, he bowed deeply. Kalila responded with a slap to his head. The crowd roared in amusement. "What are you doing? We're fighting, not dancing!"
Obviously, she wants to start now... As he lifted from his bow, he threw a punch at her face. She pushed it up, leaving his side perfectly exposed for a hit to the ribs. He grunted, but didn't back down. Instead, he threw a quick jab, hitting her cheekbone.
She stumbled to the side as the onlookers gasped. While she rubbed her head, Cutter shouted, "Go for neck!" The others began to shout where else she should attack.
Kalila rushed forward, her fist headed for his nose. Wrothken blocked with his right hand, redirecting her punch, and grabbed her wrist and pulled her downward. He then pushed down on her head, making her fall on the ground.
She got up, fire in her eyes. "Oooohhh..." the crowd said. She swung several punches at him and he dodged or blocked each one. Though he was doing quite well, Wrothken was starting to get goosebumps every time their eyes locked. He could feel something different about her. Instead of punching him, she began grasping him. The crowd had quieted down and a quick glance at Cutter's furious expression told Wrothken something was up.
Finally, she spun around with a kick. Wrothken caught it and she pulled him close. His heart pounded out of control as he realized what was about to happen.
She roughly pressed her lips onto his. She pushed him off and said, "Your bedroom now."
He was only too happy to oblige.
Wrothken's mind spun as her lips hungrily covered his face and neck. When they crossed the threshold to his room, Kalila slammed the door behind them.
"Get your shirt off," she demanded, pulling her clothes off.
He did as commanded and didn't object when she roughly pushed him on the bed. As she explored him, his mind wandered off.
As Kalila stripped him the rest of the way down, he thought,
If only Awour could see this! I bet she thinks I'm wallowing in misery still. Ha! He nearly jumped out of his skin when Kalila began screaming in terror.
"W-what's wrong?"
She cowered in the corner, looking at him with wide eyes. She continued screaming as he took a step toward her. Before he could get another word out, she ripped the door open and ran downstairs sobbing.
He quickly put his pants back on and headed to the stairs, where he could hear her screams.
"He's...
deformed!" She cried out.
"Dearie, what are you talking about?"
He heard mumbling and then Bernice's laughter. "Oh, sweetie, that's not deformed. All men have that."
"It's repulsive!" She made a gagging noise. "I never want to see anything like it again!" The patrons chuckled a little.
Why, oh why did he even think for a second it would end well? His fantasy shattered, he went back to his room. He screamed into his pillow until he tired himself out and fell asleep.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Aug 1 2010, 04:43 AM
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Jul 31 2010, 08:34 PM)

Yay! Wrothken is back! I was started to wonder if you were still writing. So glad to see you are!
Oh yes. I will be writing this for a long time! Its just between work, other projects, and my four-month-old
daughter kitten I get swamped!
Posted by: Olen Aug 1 2010, 03:11 PM
Well that was odd
You capture the madness (and inventivness) of the shivering isles well, Hirrus's quest is a particularly strange one and I do wonder how (and if) Wrothken will do it.
Then the fighting on the rooftop followed by:
"He's deformed!" -- brilliant line, I laughed. His thought at the end that it wouldn't end well more or less sums up the isles...
Posted by: D.Foxy Aug 1 2010, 04:39 PM
Was he deformed, or overformed?
Hee hee....
Posted by: Remko Aug 3 2010, 03:05 PM
That was kinda weird... She was adamant enough deciding she wanted him for....errr... activities but then "He's deformed!!" hahhahahaa
Posted by: Jacki Dice Aug 6 2010, 10:49 PM
Subrosa-
QUOTE
Oh poor Kalila, she's been playing for the wrong team all this time!
Kalila + Cutter = Perfect match?
Olen- I'm glad you like it. That part was decided on the moment I brought Kalila into the story
D. Foxy- At the moment, only Awour can answer that

haute ecloe rider- Well, Kalila is the main character in another fanfiction of mine. At a young age she commits her entire existence to training and learning magic, so much so that when she finally becomes physically attracted to a man, she can't understand the...differences. Though in my other story it ends quite differently for the love interest

Remko- Of course it was. Its the Shivering Isles after all

~~~~~♥~~~~~
The Aid of a Sadist
Wrothken woke up at the crack of dawn and slipped out of Bernice's Taphouse. He couldn't bear facing anyone after last night.
He was on his way to meet Syl, duchess of Dementia. As he headed toward the palace door, he hoped her request wouldn't be as trying as Thadon's.
He traveled up the stairs and was surprised to the the Imperial standing at the top. Wrothken groaned and tried to sneak past him. Unfortunately, steel boots make quite a racket, even while tiptoeing.
"Sometimes I come up here to think," the Imperial said sullenly. "Everything looks so small from up here. Makes me feel better, you know? Like I'm not so small myself. But that feeling only lasts for a little while. Then I start thinking about how miserable everything is, and then all I want to do is step off the ledge." He sighed.
"Then jump," Wrothken said.
"I can't just jump. Don’t want to end up on the Hill. But I hope that someday maybe a big gust of wind will come and push me off so I can end it all. I often wonder what it'd be like, to fall to the ground so far below. I bet it'd be like flying - - then suddenly falling into a deep, blissful sleep."
"Yeah...." Wrothken said rubbing the back of his head. "Good luck with that."
"Pfft. Whatever."
Wrothken shook his head. He felt sorry for the guy, but he wasn't going to kill him. He couldn't, no matter how much he begged.
Like their cities, the palace of Dementia was the complete opposite of the palace of Mania. Syl's lair was lit with blue flames, giving the feeling of cold gloom. There was no party, no feast, and no topless women. Syl sat in the center of the room. She wore a long black dress with spines along the plunging neckline. As hard as he tried, Wrothken found it to be a little hard not to stare.
"Why do you approach the Duchess of Dementia?" She snapped. "Do you seek death?"
His eyes back on hers, he answered, "Sheogorath told me to speak to you."
"The Madgod sent you, did he? Then you're safe for now. Speak to no one unless I instruct you to." She walked over to him, leading him down a hallway. "None of them can be trusted. Do you hear me? None! Surrounded by traitors and spies, I am. Always, always." Her eyes shifted around nervously. "They watch and wait, eager to slip a knife into my spine when I'm not looking."
"Who is?"
She led him to a small room and after checking to be sure no one was around, she said, "Could be all of them. Every last one. None can be trusted. But they'll never take me down. Never! I'll see them all rotting in shallow graves before I let my guard down!" Her face lit up slightly as an idea formed. "You... you will help me. Yes, yes. You will be most useful."
"Useful?!" Wrothken sputtered. He was getting sick of being used for other people's dirty work.
Syl didn't seem to notice. "You're going to find out who knows. You're going to learn who keeps secrets, who conspires against me. You will be my Grand Inquisitor." She made a knighting motion. "Expose the conspirators, and they will be punished, I assure you. Find out who keeps secrets, and what they are. Speak with Herdir. He will help you. Do you understand what is required of you? If no one is found, you will be held responsible."
"I..." He sighed. If he didn't do it, he would still have to answer to Sheogorath and he didn't fancy having his intestines being used to skip rope with. "Okay, fine. I'll find them. Where is Herdir?"
"He is in the dungeon. Downstairs and to the left. Go now and find them."
The dungeon was more of a torture chamber. Instead of traditional cells, there were small cages with spatters of blood on the floor. By each cage, there was a small table with various blades and pincers, each crusted and filthy. By the door, there was a plush chair with a table full of food.
When Wrothken walked in, the first thing he noticed was a bald Imperial smelling a long, serrated knife, touching it almost intimately. He was a bit embarrassed to say anything, so Wrothken just cleared his throat.
Herdir jumped, dropping the knife on the floor behind him. "Oh, oh my!" He smoothed his head, a habit likely left over from when he still had hair. He cleared his throat. "What brings you to this delightful corner of the House of Dementia? How may I help you?"
"Um... I'm the..." He sighed. "Grand Inquisitor."
"Are you? Hmm." He looked Wrothken over. "I'd expected an entrance with a bit more flair." He shrugged. "Ah, well. Perhaps you'll grow into the role. One can hope, eh?" He laughed, nudging Wrothken a little.
Wrothken couldn't help but notice that Herdir was the happiest person he had come across in all the Isles.
"Now, we've much to do. Lady Syl is not a patient woman, as I'm sure you've seen. Shall we begin?"
"Alright, but what exactly should we do?"
“Isn’t it obvious? We need to search through Crucible, looking for these traitors. Talk to whomever might have information. If they’re reluctant to help, you just say the word and I’ll do my best to.... persuade them. Really, we should be going. Her ladyship expects results!”
"Wonderful," Wrothken said. He really hoped the conspiracy, if there was even one, would remain in the palace.
Herdir followed him out onto the palace grounds. He nudged Wrothken and gestured toward a Redguard reading a book. "That's Kithlan, Lady Syl's steward. If I may be so bold, I would suggest we start with him, Grand Inquisitor."
Wrothken nodded. "Alright." He headed over to Kithlan. "Excuse me, do you know anything about a conspiracy against Syl?"
He didn't look up. "I don't know anything about one, but Anya has been acting strange lately. You might want to check with her." He nodded toward a Breton walking along the pathway.
Anya was tall and blond and wearing a beautiful dress. It was deep purple with a bodice that seemed to force her body into an exaggerated hourglass. The skirt poofed out, making her hips appear larger. Wrothken knew Kirsty would love one like it, but he didn't know her exact measurements.
Anya smiled at Wrothken, but when she saw Herdir, her smile flickered for a moment. "Hello, I'm Anya Herrick," she said to Wrothken.
"I'm Wrothken, Lady Syl's..." he sighed. "Grand Inquisitor."
"I, too, serve Lady Syl," Anya said, a light tremor in her voice. "She allows me to remain protected within the House of Dementia. I'm so grateful to her."
She knows something, Wrothken thought. She seemed way too nervous and it sounded as if she were reading from a script.
"Well, if you're so grateful, then you'd want to tell me if there was a conspiracy going on, involving her demise, wouldn't you?"
"What?" She took a fearful step back. "N...No. I don't know anything about anything. I'm sorry, I can't help you." She turned quickly and broke into a run.
"Let me take care of this," Herdir said. A bolt of lightening sprung from his hand and flew into Anya's back.
"What in Oblivion did you do that for?!" Wrothken cried. He rushed over to Anya and helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry, I--"
Anya sniffled, wiping a tear from her eye. "Please. I am not involved... I didn't do anything! They wanted me to get them close to Syl, but I wouldn't abide them!"
Wrothken looked around. The palace grounds were empty except for himself, Herdir, and guards from Mania and Dementia. Given the apparent rivalry between the two houses, Wrothken suspected the Golden Saints or people from Thadon's court.
"Who approached you?"
Anya bit her lip, looking around nervously. "I..." When Herdir came closer, she spat it out. "It was Ma'zaddha," she whispered. "He said he was working on behalf of someone else. He told me I needed to help him, or there would be repercussions." Tears formed in her eyes again and spilled down her cheeks. "I didn't know what to do. Turning on Syl could cost me my life, but if I don't help, what will Ma'zaddha do to me? You must do something!"
"I will, don't worry."
She nodded and wiped her eyes. "Can I go now?"
"Yes, of course," Wrothken said. "Just go on about your business."
With a dirty look at Herdir, she quickly walked back to the palace.
Herdir chuckled. "Anyone ever tell you you're too soft?"
Wrothken fumed. He had indeed heard that plenty of times from several people. "Oh and it's not a little too much to just attack people like that?"
"It got what we needed, didn't it?"
"Well, it did, but..."
"Just relax," Herdir said, rubbing Wrothken's shoulder. "By time this is over, you might even come to enjoy it a little..."
Wrothken groaned. This was going to be a long day.
Posted by: D.Foxy Aug 7 2010, 02:53 AM
When you are mad, being bad is rad!
Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 7 2010, 03:26 AM
So now it's on to Lady Paranoia, huh? I see Wrothken has recovered from the fiasco with Kalila.
Your explanation of why she doesn't know how men are - ahem - equipped is quite acceptable!
Looking forward to more!
Posted by: D.Foxy Aug 7 2010, 03:28 AM
She didn't know how men are equipped
Because in her previous experiece, they all had been...
... zipped.
Posted by: Olen Aug 7 2010, 10:32 AM
Well isn't dementia just a warm fuzzy sort of place. Syl is a great character, you caught her paranoia there (though is it paranoia if people are out to get you?)
Herdir is great, utterly mad but quite funny. He captures the less selfdestructive side of dementia perfectly by being just destructive. I can see how Wrothken will enjoy his company.
But which side will he like less?
Posted by: SubRosa Aug 7 2010, 08:16 PM
QUOTE(Jacki Dice @ Aug 6 2010, 05:49 PM)

Kalila + Cutter = Perfect match?
Can we see pictures!
If he didn't do it, he would still have to answer to Sheogorath and he didn't fancy having his intestines being used to skip rope with.Now this is logic that cannot be faulted!
A fun segment. I have been wondering how you were going to handle some of the more despicable things the Champion of Madness has to do in the SI main quest, like torturing people in this quest. I like how you are having Herdir do the dirty work. That leaves Wrothken not coming off as a villain. I wonder though, how long it will take before things do start to rub off onto him...?
Posted by: mALX Aug 8 2010, 02:57 AM
Wait...she devoted herself to magic so now can't tell the diff between males and females? Did I miss something here? I'll help her out, one looks like this: > that is the male. The one that looks like this: < is the female.
Posted by: ureniashtram Aug 8 2010, 03:11 AM
Caught up, and I must say:
WTF, did she just said 'deformed'? Well, I can't say I'm not sorry for Wrothken. That feeling is like questioning a boy if he likes wearing 'FeM' underoos and lipstick, in front of a large crowd. With some commenting how he manages an imaginary PMS, too. Not to mention someone asks if his chest is abnormal or just A... something.
Believe you all me, 'cos this guy is speaking in experience! (Alright, before somebody gets any funny ideas, 'tis a joke. Obviously)
Anyway, I loved this chapter. A shame Big W didn't, y'know, do something to Hirrus. And Kalila plus Cutter? That's a couple 'made in heaven'. An LB Altmer with a Bosmeri MSC. (get it LB and MSC,
=>
)
Posted by: Jacki Dice Aug 17 2010, 04:49 AM
haute ecole rider- I wouldn't say moved on, exactly, but is easily distracted♥
Foxy- Exactly 
Olen- Oh he dislikes Herdir much much more. Syl can be forgiven, so long as she wears the distracting dress 
SubRosa- I'm working on a picture! Trying to keep it PG-13 is a bit of a challenge though...
mALX- Lol Kalila is from a separate story all together (not Elder Scrolls related). If I ever get it finished I'll put the link in my siggy♥ Though that's a good way to remember all the parts♥
ureniashtram- Heehee, my poor Nord♥ I'm so mean to him
I'm glad your enjoying 
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Caught Red Handed-- Err Pawed!
As he followed Herdir through the streets of Crucible, Wrothken couldn't help noticing the giggles from various girls. Though he didn't miss a step and kept his head high, his rosy cheeks betrayed his nonchalance.
It didn't help that Herdir seemed to notice. "What'd you do, streak through the streets?"
"If only it was just that," Wrothken muttered.
Ma'Zaddha's house was easy enough to find, as the Khajiit carved his name in the door. Wrothken knocked a few times and when there was no response, Herdir kicked the door in.
The door wasn't the only thing with Ma'Zaddha's name carved in it. The walls, pictures, bowls, cups, furniture, even the food all had his name carved in.
"What? What do you want?" Ma'zaddha demanded. "Why are you looking at my things?" Ma'Zaddha squinted at Wrothken. "Aren't you the guy with the deformed hoo?"
"It's not deformed!" Wrothken snapped.
Herdir laughed. "You'll have to explain that to me later on," he said to Wrothken. To Ma'Zhaddha, he said, "We are here on official business."
"Right," Wrothken said, still fuming. "I'm acting as Syl's Grand Inquisitor. An anonymous source tells me you know of a conspiracy involving the assassination of Syl."
Ma'Zaddha scoffed. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."
Wrothken stared at him. Of course he wouldn't just confess. However, he remembered the look in Anya's eyes and the fear in her voice while she was confessing. As much as he didn't want to call anyone out, he didn't have much of a choice. "Are you sure you know nothing?"
"Yes, yes," Ma'Zaddha said dismissively. "Though since you're nosing around, perhaps you can find out who's been taking my stuff. They think I'm stealing, but I just want it back."
Wrothken stared in his eyes. "You're lying," he said.
"In that case," Herdir said gleefully. Like with Anya, he shot a surge of lightning at Ma'Zaddha. He hissed and doubled over, panting hard when he got up.
"You may continue to do your worst, Inquisitor," he spat. "But unless you have some evidence of this preposterous conspiracy, you'll get nothing from me."
Herdir narrowed his eyes at Ma'Zaddha. "He's right. I've seen guys like this and sadly I don't have the tools needed to break him. Come on."
Wrothken glared at Ma'Zaddha before leaving. He knew something, alright. In fact, Wrothken was willing to bet that he was behind it all.
Even though Wrothken didn't want to, Herdir insisted that they go to Bernice's Taphouse to grab some food and figure out how they were going to continue the case.
Wrothken slumped down at the bar as Herdir looked around, trying to appear inconspicuous as he listened in on conversations.
"Oh, there you are, dearie," Bernice said to Wrothken. "I was hoping to talk to you this morning, but you disappeared." When a reddish tinge spread across his face, she added, "I know, honey, I can't blame you for sneaking out. I warned you about her, remember? Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to rub it in, but the thing is, Kalila... well, she's never... you know... made whoopie with a man. Trust me, I'd know. I know most business that goes on around here."
"Great..." Wrothken said. "Still doesn't help that the whole town thinks I've got some sort of deformity lurking in my pants."
"I know, I know. Just give it time, and it'll blow over." She looked up and saw Herdir, leaning back in a chair, obviously trying to overhear a couple conversing. "Who is that man you came in with? Something sure seems a little off about him."
Wrothken nearly buried his face in his palm. "He's supposed to be helping me with something."
"With what? He's looks like he's spying and if there's anything I can't stand, it's an obvious busybody. He could at least be discreet about it."
"We're.... hey, Bernice, earlier you said you know everyone's business around here."
It was her turn to blush. "Well, sure, it comes with the territory..."
"Okay, look," Wrothken leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I need your help. Sheogorath has me helping Syl out and she wants me to find out who's been conspiring against her, and if I don't find out who, I'm as good as dead. Can you help me?"
"Hmmm..." She tapped her lip. "You know what, I've heard that Ma'Zaddha has been meeting with Nelrene, Syl's personal body guard, late at night at the sewers by his house. At first I thought they were just smitten, but the other day I heard him talking to Anya Perrick real threatening like. Could be nothing, but it seems a little fishy to me."
Wrothken felt a surge of relief. He would be able to catch Ma'Zaddha after all. "Thank you, thank you," he said.
"Remember, you didn't hear that from me," she said with a wink. "And something else you didn't hear from me, leave your friend at home. He doesn't seem to be very good at eavesdropping and you don't want to get caught. Besides, he gives me the willies."
"No problem," Wrothken said. "Thanks again, Bernice."
She smiled kindly. "Anything for you, dearie. Just get that man out of my taphouse!"
"Will do," Wrothken said. He lifted Herdir by the arm. "Come on, I have the information we need."
"What? How? You were..." Herdir looked at Bernice, who crinkled her nose at him. "Oh... I get it. You tortured that old lady without me! How could you?" He pouted.
Wrothken sighed. "I didn't torture anyone. Just meet me at the castle later, okay?"
"Yeah, sure. I have some.... friends waiting up there anyway. Toodle-loo!"
With urgency, he dashed up the stairs and through the doors to the palace grounds. Relieved to be away from Herdir, Wrothken set out to find a good listening point.
Several hours passed before the meeting happened. Wrothken was concerned that his milky skin would be too visible even in the shadows, so he crouched on the ground, curled into a ball, facing away from where Bernice said they would be. It was only after most of his body fell asleep that he heard footsteps.
"Have you made any progress?" Wrothken heard the syrupy voice of a Mazken. "Will Anya assist us?"
"No, that blasted Inquisitor got to her," Ma'Zaddha said. "We'll need to find someone else."
"See that you do so immediately. This is the one task which you were assigned. If you cannot complete it, you will be removed. Are we clear?"
"I will, I will! I want to see Syl dead just as much as you do. She cannot be allowed to survive, after what she's done. It's despicable."
"Good. I shall expect a progress report soon. And keep your head down; the Inquisitor must not become involved."
With that, he heard footsteps leaving the area. It took great effort to ignore the prickly feeling in his numbed legs and even more effort to walk, but he made his way to Ma'Zaddha.
"What? What is it now, huh?"
"I need to talk to you about the conspiracy."
"He snorted. "I thought I told you, I don't know anything. You can't prove a thing!"
"Bull. I heard you just a second ago."
Ma'Zaddha's ears quickly slumped down and his eyes widened fearfully. "What? I... I... It's for the good of Crucible! You must see that!" He grabbed Wrothken's shoulders. "Please, spare me! I'll do anything!"
"But why?" Wrothken asked. "Why do you want Syl dead?"
"You don't know, do you? She's kept it a secret even from you! She and Thadon..." His ears folded angrily and his nose crinkled up in disgust. "They've been meeting in secret. They've been doing things together. Consorting. You understand me?" Wrothken remembered Thadon's allusion to it. "It cannot be permitted! She must be stopped!"
He had all kinds of questions for that. He didn't understand the big deal. If anything, it could unite the cities. Wasn't that a good thing? He'd have to get the answers later. "Who else is involved?"
"I don't know, besides Nelrene. She's taking orders from someone, but won't tell me who. If I find out, will you promise to spare me?"
As much as he knew what Syl wanted, he just couldn't sentence the man to death. "Yes, of course. Just get me the names."
"Okay, okay. I'll get the names, and then you'll see. It will be worth it, I promise you! Meet me in my house tomorrow at midnight. I'll have information for you. Just please spare me."
They shook on it and Ma'Zaddha ran quickly to his house. Wrothken decided to head back to the Taphouse and get some rest. He passed Kalila and Cutter on his way to his room. Kalila quickly looked away, but Cutter seemed rather pleased as they entered the room across the hall.
It seems Thadon and Syl aren't the only ones consorting, he thought glumly. He laid awake, waiting to hear a shriek and sobs of deformity, but none came. He didn't feel like imagining what was going on. He decided that once he was finished with his job, it was time for a break from the Crucible.
Posted by: D.Foxy Aug 17 2010, 07:00 AM
"Great..." Wrothken said. "Still doesn't help that the whole town thinks I've got some sort of deformity lurking in my pants."
"I know, I know. Just give it time, and it'll blow over."
WHAT???
The Deformity will BLOW OVER???
Does that mean some one did a... .
a...
a...
a ------JOB on the DEFORMITY???!!!???
Posted by: Olen Aug 17 2010, 11:01 AM
QUOTE
waiting to hear a shriek and sobs of deformity, but none came
...

That isn't a good image.
It was a good part though, the isles remained insane and it's denizens entertaining in their madness. Wrothken remained fustrated by the insanity. It's fun this and with some good characters. I want to see where this goes, as mch as anything to see how Wrothken's sanity fairs and where he sides.
I wonder what this break from Crucible might entail...
Posted by: Remko Aug 17 2010, 11:51 AM
QUOTE
Remko- Of course it was. Its the Shivering Isle after all
I wasn't critizising it, I thought the madness of that situation fitted perfectly in the story
Posted by: Jacki Dice Aug 17 2010, 04:15 PM
QUOTE(Remko @ Aug 17 2010, 03:51 AM)

QUOTE
Remko- Of course it was. Its the Shivering Isle after all
I wasn't critizising it, I thought the madness of that situation fitted perfectly in the story

I didn't take it as criticism there was supposed to be a smiley there...

it was hiding I guess
Posted by: SubRosa Aug 17 2010, 05:52 PM
I loved how Bernice is the one who tipped off Wrothken about the conspiracy. It is more original than just torturing random people on the street until someone talks. It also provides more depth to the relationship between Wrothken and Bernice, seeing her returning the favor he did in getting her the "cure".
Kalila and Cutter? yum. The only thing better would be Kristy, Lilltu, and Awour! rwar!
Posted by: mALX Aug 20 2010, 06:09 PM
QUOTE(D.Foxy @ Aug 17 2010, 02:00 AM)

"Great..." Wrothken said. "Still doesn't help that the whole town thinks I've got some sort of deformity lurking in my pants."
"I know, I know. Just give it time, and it'll blow over."WHAT???
The Deformity will BLOW OVER???
Does that mean some one did a... .
a...
a...
a ------JOB on the DEFORMITY???!!!???

Oh no you didn't! I'm still surprised you had nothing to say about this line:
QUOTE
He laid awake, waiting to hear a shriek and sobs of deformity, but no one came.
@ Jacki - I am so in love with your story! I knew you would be great when you were wondering if you should post this over at the BGSF !!!!
*
Posted by: Mumatil Oct 11 2010, 09:47 AM
I've been reading this from the Beth forums, and I enjoy it.
But Cutter doesn't strike me as the girl+girl type.
Remembering all those phallic illustrative dialogue of blades going into the skin and all....
Also I really like your story back in Kvatch, I think you did very well on bringing those 3 elves alive.
Wrothken's gonna need a bigger mace to keep the ladies off.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Nov 10 2010, 11:46 PM
Hey everyone. I'm really sorry its been so long.
I'm posting to let everyone know that I am still continuing this story. Its just myself and my family have had some medical issues and it's been difficult to give Wrothken the attention he deserves. As soon as things settle down (which they are slowly) I'll be back.
Promise. ♥
Posted by: haute ecole rider Nov 11 2010, 12:29 AM
Come back when you're good and ready.
mALX was gone for a couple of months over the summer for similar reasons. As for her, we'll be here for you when you come back - don't worry!
Family takes precedence over forum, and all of us here know it.
Take care of yourself!
Posted by: SubRosa Nov 11 2010, 12:35 AM
I hope you and yours get better soon.
Posted by: mALX Nov 11 2010, 04:28 AM
I'm so sorry to hear you all have been ill. My best wishes for you and your family's speedy recovery. We'll wait till you feel up to it, don't worry!
Posted by: Linara Nov 13 2010, 01:32 AM
Hope your family and yourself get well soon. Don't worry, we can wait!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 5 2010, 07:34 AM
Thank you to everyone for your well wishes
Now, let us continue♥
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Hints From a Dead Man
The next night Wrothken headed to Ma'Zhadda's house. He hoped Ma'Zhadda would be true to his word and the conspiracy would be foiled and he could be done. However, the ever growing cynic inside him told him not to expect any simplicity.
He knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked harder and when there was still no answer, his insides began to churn. He looked around, wondering if he should get a Mazken to help. After some thought, he decided against it. He didn't want to alert them about the conspiracy, especially since one of their own may be involved.
He tried the back door, but it was locked. He took out a pick and opened it up after his fourth try. After looking around to make sure he wasn't seen, Wrothken slipped in the house.
"Ma'Zhadda?" He called out as he crossed the threshold. As soon as he closed the door, he was overwhelmed by the stench of blood. "Oh no," he whispered.
He ran down the stairs and saw Ma'Zhadda lying in a pool of his own blood. There was a single stab wound in his chest.
Wrothken knelt by the dead Khajiit, tears welling up in his eyes. He promised his life would be spared if he got the names. Guilt washed over him. Even he wasn't the one who had stabbed him, he felt like might as well have. If only he didn't coerce him into naming the head conspirator. If only he hadn't agreed to be Sheogorath's champion. If only he hadn't entered the damn door in the first place!
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. The saying popped in his head as he wiped his eyes. There was nothing he could do now except bring the conspirator to justice. He closed Ma'Zhadda's eyelids and headed to the door.
"Maybe that creep Herdir can figure out where to go from here," he said to himself. He was heading back up the stairs when he noticed a crinkled note half under a bowl on a table by the door.
I haven't got much time. She's coming for me.
Nelrene asked me to hold on to this sword. Said I should give it to Anya and have her do the deed, but Anya wouldn't. Now maybe it can find a better use as evidence. Syl will recognize it.
Muurine is in charge. She's the one telling Nelrene what to do. If I'm not around, I hope this is enough evidence to bring her in.
I hope I'm alive to see it.
"You may not be alive to see it," Wrothken said. "But I'll be damn sure you didn't die for nothing."
He glanced around. It wasn't in plain sight. He'd have to do some searching.
The living room was bare and Wrothken was thankful to leave the room. He followed the stairs to a locked door. Wrothken didn't feel like dealing with a lock pick, so he used his mace to bash the doorknob in. If anything, he could blame it on the killer.
He checked the bed and the chest, but there was nothing. The only thing left was the cabinet, and of course it was locked. He didn't recall seeing a key in the bedroom which meant it was located on Ma'Zhadda. There was no way he was going to fumble around Ma'Zhadda's pockets, especially since it risked himself getting stained with his blood.
He raised his mace high above his head and swung it as hard as he could, cracking the stone doors. He beat it until it smashed. He cleared the chunks and smiled when he saw the sword. It had a curved handle and the edges of the blade were heavily serrated. He hoped a similar one wasn't what killed Ma'Zhadda. Sword and note in hand, Wrothken headed back to the castle to confront Nelrene.
Posted by: D.Foxy Dec 5 2010, 07:45 AM
Welcome back to health and (our vitrual) hearty, my girl! You and your talents have been...well and truly missed.
Posted by: mALX Dec 5 2010, 03:40 PM
Welcome back Jacki, and I hope your Birthday was AWESOME! (I hope the fact that you're back means that all the health issues have disappeared for good !!!)
Finding Ma'Zhadda dead was a shocker for me too, your writing captured the feel of walking into his house and finding him so perfectly!!
You have been missed, so glad you and Wrothken have come back to us !!!!!
Posted by: SubRosa Dec 5 2010, 09:31 PM
Yay! Jacki and Wroth are back! As mALX said, I hope this means your health issues are under control.
I would like to say this was a fun episode, except of course that it was rather grim. Wrothken has to face his nagging sense of guilt at flipping Ma'Zhadda, and thusly making him a target. On the other hand one might consider that Ma'Zhadda had it coming, being part of a murder conspiracy. On the third hand, if anyone ever deserved it, it is Syl, so hard to blame him.
Posted by: Zalphon Dec 5 2010, 10:04 PM
I like how descriptive you are
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 5 2010, 11:35 PM
Thanks everyone.
My health is back to normal now so yes I am finally back ♥
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Syl Wins: Fatality!
Wrothken was barely able to keep his cool when he saw Nelrene standing by Syl's empty throne. "A word, please," he said through grit teeth.
"Yes, Inquisitor? How may I serve?"
"Don't give me that!" He said. "I know you were involved. Thanks to this stupid plot of yours, someone is dead!"
"Shame," she said indifferently. "However, I'd like to remind you that you have no proof!" She sneered. "You cannot hold me accountable for anything!"
"Oh?" He presented her sword and the note. Her eyes filled with anger as she read it.
"So what are you going to do? I'm not even the one you want." She folded her arms. "Muurine is behind it. You'll need solid proof to pin it on her."
Wrothken dangled the note in front of her face. "I think this and your admission is proof enough."
He could nearly feel the anger emanating from her and seeing as how she had no problem planning the murder of the Duchess, she would likely have no problem gutting a mere temporary inquisitor so he left without another comment.
He hastily walked back to Crucible, hoping he would be done going back and forth and back and forth again.
Not to worry, he thought.
After this, its time for a little me time. Bother Sheogorath. He can wait...I hope. The suicidal blond remained at the top of the stairs. He glanced at Wrothken and let out a loud, overly-dramatic, wistful sigh. "Nope!" Wrothken said, passing him by.
"Muurine..." He said, looking around the city. Judging by the name it was likely an elf. He peeked in shops and on the streets when he remembered Bernice and her vast wealth of knowledge. He dashed to the taphouse.
Bernice smiled to him as he took a seat at the bar. "Oh, hello dearie! I've barely seen you all day! Have you had any luck with..." She looked around and leaned in. "Ma'Zhadda?"
Though they were far from friends, the mention of his name stung. "You could say that," he said. "On the subject, do you know a Muurine?"
She chuckled. "Oh boy," she said. "Sure, I know her. Rather kooky Altmer if you ask me. You know, I heard she's got her uncle living with her?" She said as if that were scandalous.
"So?"
"Sure, seems normal enough except the man died five years ago! And she always smells ripe. Anyway, what about her?"
"Oh nothing." When she pouted he added, "I'll fill you in later, I promise. I'm just in a bit of a rush."
"Oh, alright. And when you get back you better come and eat something proper! You're looking a bit thin and I don't trust other people's cooking. Sheogorath only knows how they keep their kitchens!"
After asking around a bit more to find her house, Wrothken stood on her porch, mentally preparing himself. He had the sword in one hand and the note in his pocket. Just in case she tried anything, he wore his full set of armor. He knocked on the door.
An elderly looking Altmer answered the door. She looked down at him with a disgusted look. "What do you want?"
"I'm here about the conspiracy."
She smiled dryly and clapped her hands together. "I see you've done quite a bit of work to track me down. Yes, I orchestrated it," she said proudly. "Syl deserves to die a painful death for turning on all of us, and consorting with our enemies."
"What is so wrong with Syl and Thadon 'consorting,' as you all say?"
"My poor boy," she said, patting his head. "You don't get it. You can't. You're not one of us. Now be a good boy and take me to that despicable woman." She held her hands out in front of herself.
He was surprised. He didn't need to offer his proof or put up a fight. "Fine, off we go then."
Syl was waiting for him in her throne, Anya and Kithlan seated at each side. "What news do you have to report, Inquisitor?" She demanded. "Have you found who is responsible?"
"Yes," he said, stepping aside to make Muurine more visible.
"Is that so?" She said, stroking her chin with a smile. "Bring her to the torture chamber at once."
Wrothken took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't make him watch a long, drawn out death. That would be too much.
As the three entered, Herdir looked positively giddy. "Well, well! Looks like we have a visitor!" He clapped Wrothken on the shoulder. "Good job, lad! We'll have to do this again sometime!"
Wrothken squirmed inside, but nodded just to get away from him.
Muurine was led into a cage in the center of the room. She didn't make any effort to escape or even resist. Wrothken knew he shouldn't feel sorry for her after what she did to Ma'Zhadda, but he couldn't help it.
Syl approached her smugly. "You've confessed to attempting to kill me, I understand. The penalty for this treachery is death, and is to be carried out immediately. Do you have any final words?"
"Nothing to you," Muurine spat. "But you," she looked at Wrothken. "Know this, little one: You've chosen a side." She closed her eyes. "You'll get what's coming to you eventually."
Her words sent a chill inside Wrothken. What exactly had he gotten himself into?
Syl pressed a button and lightning flew from the walls on either side of the cage and jolted Muurine until she fell dead. Herdir checked her pulse and gave Syl a thumbs up.
Wrothken looked away. All this death for something that could have been put to an end with a simple jail cell...
Well it's not called the plane of madness for nothing, Wrothken thought.
Syl didn't notice Wrothken's displeasure. She seemed almost as joyous as Herdir. "You see now what happens when those who oppose me fail, which they always do," she said, poking the tip of his nose. "I am pleased with your work, Inquisitor." She motioned for him to follow her to the throne room. "As a token of my appreciation, I shall spare your life, and make you a Courtier of Dementia. In addition, accept this Bow." She took it down from the wall. It was the same color as Nelrene's sword with an ornate gold decoration on the handle. As she put it in his hands, she said, "May your enemies fear you and never know from where or with what enchantment you shall strike."
"Thank you, Lady Syl," he wasn't sure what to do with it, but he'd figure it out later. First, he had to tell her about Ma'Zhadda. "I didn't do it alone, though."
"Oh, yes I know. Herdir shall be rewarded as well."
"No, no, not him," he said. "His name was Ma'Zhadda. He was the one who pointed me to Muurine. Unfortunately it cost him his life."
"Oh. Well, since he did provide you with her name, I'll see to it that he is buried with honors."
"Thank you, Lady Syl."
It didn't quite make up for his death, but it was the best he could do. He left the palace and without looking back, he set of on his own personal journey, to relax and make sure his head was still on straight.
The sun was setting, giving Kvatch a fiery tint. As the crowds bustled to the arena a Breton dressed in a long red hooded robe, clutching a set of books to his chest, walked through them. No one seemed to notice him. Oh the poor fools. Soon they would all perish and they had no idea.
He walked to a house in the far north side of the city. It was a small little house in the poor side of town. Its shabbiness was magnified by the yellowed, unkempt yard. He knocked on the door.
An Imperial answered, opening the door just a crack. The Imperial was short and somewhat plump, with warm sparkling brown eyes and a spattering of brown freckles across his face. The Imperial looked the Breton over. "Dawn is breaking," the Imperial said.
"Greet the new day," the Breton responded.
The Imperial opened the door all the way. "Welcome, brother. My name is Capaneus Tempestas. I guess you're they guy they sent to help me get started."
"Milun Cazenove," the Breton said, entering the house. By Dagon, it was a sty. Master Camoran could have at least warned him of the toxic conditions he would be working under. The only couch was covered in stains, some so hideous Milun didn't dare imagine their origins. The kitchen was obviously unused, or else Capaneus would have surely died of food poisoning. All kinds of clutter imaginable carpeted the floor. It was no wonder this man didn't live in the Sanctuary. This filth wouldn't have been tolerated.
Capaneus didn't seem to notice Milun's disgust. That or he didn't care. After all one man's hovel was another man's nirvana.
"Right," Capaneus said. "I set up a room for you. Master Camoran said this would take awhile to get everything set up."
As Milun followed him to the room, he found himself envisioning an explorer fighting his way through a dense thicket of jungle. He felt that way clearing space between bottles, old rotted food, soiled clothes, and other things.
When Capaneus opened the door, he was surprised to see it was actually somewhat livable. It was a small space with only room for a bed and dresser. but it would do. If it came down to it, he could work outside, behind the house.
"Thank you, brother," he said. "If its alright with you, I would rather discuss our mission in the morning. It's been quite a journey."
"Not a problem," Capaneus said. "Sleep well."
Milun nodded and as the door closed he set his books on the dresser. He peered out the window. Master Camoran said the job would likely take several months, if not a year, to complete. He hoped sooner. He was ready to cleanse the world and make way for Lord Dagon.
Posted by: SubRosa Dec 6 2010, 12:17 AM
Now that was an emotionally grueling end to one of the more displeasurable quests in the SI. Poor Wrothken, he really has gotten himself in over his head. He is going to have to learn how to get rid of that pesky conscience if he is going to stay in the Isles. Either that or go insane...
Your description of the man-cave in Anvil was appropriately disgusting! I especially loved the sentence about the Imperial not using the kitchen! For a moment I thought the Imperial was http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Oblivion:A_Stranger in Anvil, which would have really been weird!
nits:
"You'll get what coming to you eventually."
I think you meant what's?
Posted by: mALX Dec 6 2010, 01:02 AM
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Dec 5 2010, 06:17 PM)

Your description of the man-cave in Anvil was appropriately disgusting!
This sounds like the first line of the chapter you posted today !!!!
@ Jacki - Oooh, Mythic Dawn !!! Now we're talking !!!!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 7 2010, 05:05 AM
SubRosa~ Hee the man cave was quite easy... All I had to do was peek in my brother's room 
mALX~ Yep! I was going to wait on them but I couldn't contain it anymore!
Foxy~ Lol yes Syl should have though about that before donning that dress... ♥
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Reflections
The next morning Wrothken set off for Bliss to pick up some supplies for his trip. His only stop was at Common Treasures where he picked up a bedroll, some food, and a few torches. The moment he exited the city gates he felt as if a weight had been lifted from him.
He didn't venture far for fear of getting lost. The spot he selected was just a few miles away from New Sheoth, across the path from some old ruins. Having no desire for fighting anything other than animals, he stayed away from it.
For the first time in ages, he was able to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of the Shivering Isles. The caps of the mushroom-like tree he settled under were a vivid turquoise and the flowers around him blossomed every shade the rainbow could offer. The leaves of other trees were all the rich colors of autumn and the sky above was cloudless blue, speckled with gold stars. Perfect.
He stretched out on the ground and stared up to the sky. This place was so beautiful yet so dangerous. Who knew that by entering a door he'd be thrust into a world of sex, drugs, and violence? So much violence... Though he'd gone hunting all throughout his life and on occasion various bandits didn't know when to quit and lethal force was required, this was different. People were so eager to group up and plan your demise for something as trivial as who you share you bed with! No wonder Syl was so paranoid.
He sighed. What he wouldn't do to go back and stop himself from entering the door. Maybe someone else would have come around and helped Sheogorath. Someone with a higher tolerance for this. Meanwhile he would be back in his house....
His house! He jolted up. All this time he hadn't realized that now Awour was the sole owner of his house! Great, he thought. He had no way of finding out if she had sold it or worse turned it into a marital home for her and Bacchus. He huffed. At least he'd still have Kirsty... or had his job been replaced too?
Kirsty was tough, no question, but there were times she needed an extra hand, even if to keep the drunks in order, especially after arena fights where they were angry over losing bets. If she had hired someone else, would he be able to work there again? If he had no house and no job, would he be stuck in the Isles forever? He shuddered just thinking about it. He'd sooner stoop to begging. Besides, the Fighter's Guild was always recruiting. Maybe he'd give that a shot. He sighed, relaxing again.
Thinking of Kvatch, no matter how dismal things seemed, made him feel a little homesick. He missed the culture, the food...the sanity. How easy it was to take it for granted. He looked up at the sky. He wished he could just slip out of the Isles and pretend this was all a bad dream, but he knew better than to try and hide from a Daedric Prince. Especially ones that would wear his organs as jewelry.
Champion of Sheogorath... He recalled how proud he had felt and how he would be sure to revel in it. Now he wasn't too sure he wanted it. Being the champion of a god had to have some sort of perk, but at what cost? His sanity?
A new realization entered his mind. Maybe that was the point. The champion of a lunatic couldn't very well be sane. It wouldn't make sense. Beside, Sheogorath sure seemed to enjoy tormenting him. He wondered if the Khajiit and Dunmer who he had seen outside the door had been attempted champions who just couldn't handle it anymore. Oh what to do, what to do? There had to be a way to come out with his wits still about him.
He tried to think of other times where he needed a way to keep his cool. When family drove him insane, he had his friends or Awour. When Awour began to work his nerves, he had Kirsty. So now that Sheogorath and his band of crazies were driving him he had... "Bernice!"
She may be a gossip and the biggest hypochondriac he'd ever seen, but she seemed somewhat sane...usually. If he took it slow and leaned on her when he was losing it, maybe he could come out alright. After all, Sheogorath never said he had to keep everything a secret!
Posted by: D.Foxy Dec 7 2010, 06:26 AM
Why? WHY do you keep doint this to me, Jacki....
...
... I swear you're doing this ON PURPOSE!
If he took it slow and leaned on her when he was losing it, maybe he could come out alright
It took just one dyslexic "doing" replacing "losing" for the Foxy imagination to run riot...
Otherwise, an excellent chapter, as usual.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 7 2010, 06:38 AM
QUOTE(D.Foxy @ Dec 6 2010, 10:26 PM)

Why? WHY do you keep doint this to me, Jacki....
...
... I swear you're doing this ON PURPOSE!
If he took it slow and leaned on her when he was losing it, maybe he could come out alright
It took just one dyslexic "doing" replacing "losing" for the Foxy imagination to run riot...
O.O Oh my....
Its an accident, I swear!

It must be my subconscious being rather naughty....
Posted by: SubRosa Dec 7 2010, 06:26 PM
Who knew that by entering a door he'd be thrust into a world of sex, drugs, and violence?
He picked the Punk Rock Star door? Cool!
I like Wrothken's very sane and natural ruminations over what he has gotten himself into. He really does not fit in the Shivering Isles. He is too sane, and too nice. So far. At the same time you also present the very real quandary he is in which the game ignores. Once you commit to a Daedric Prince, they are not going to just let you quit. As Wrothken noted, they tend to wear your organs as jewelry if you try that.
And finally his turning to Bernice is simply perfect! Just as his thoughts slowly led him to her, you have shown us since he first arrived in New Sheoth that she is the best friend he has in the Isles. I always did like her too...
Posted by: mALX Dec 9 2010, 01:14 AM
Ew, leaning on Bernice the Sickly? ** cough cough ** - we usually just throw a bucket of water when dogs get stuck together... does this have to do with his ... deformity? ROFL !!!
Just kidding Jacki !!!!! Foxy got me started, blame him. A very introspective chapter !!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 9 2010, 07:31 AM
SubRosa~ I always liked her too. Out of all the people there, she seems the most grandmotherly to me
mALX~ Lol oh my. Poor Wrothken will never live down his deformity rumor, will he? 
~~~~~♥~~~~~
On the Road to Cylarne
After a couple well-deserved days of rest and relaxation, Wrothken made his way back to New Sheoth. Well, it wasn't all laying under the trees and staring at the stars. First a hideously emaciated creature came and during the fight it somehow ate away at Wrothken's armor and later on an elytra had shown up. One thing led to another and before he knew it Wrothken had cleared out a cave full of them.
As he made his way to the palace, he crossed a shop called The Missing Pauldron. He looked down at his dented and dingy armor and decided to stop in and see if it could get repaired.
Like everything else regarding Bliss and Crucible, this shop was a stark contrast to Cutter's place. It was clean and well lit. The top floor had stained glass windows. It even smelled like sticky buns.
"Hello?" Wrothken called, walking down the stairs.
"Hello!" A gruff voice called back cheerily. An Orc stood behind the forge wearing a pink frilly apron as he wiped the counters. "I'm Dumag gro-Bonk. Best
and prettiest smith in town."
Wrothken couldn't help staring at the ribbons tied into his hair.
"Sticky bun?" Dumag offered, lifting the top to a cake dish.
"No...thank you," Wrothken said. "Actually, I was wondering if you could repair this." He motioned to his armor.
"Oh, my word," Dumag said. "Well, take it off and let's see what we can do!"
Wrothken was put off by Dumag's unfaltering stare and thankful he wore regular clothes under his armor as he stripped it off. He set the damaged goods on the counter. Dumag tsked and shook his head.
"Somebody's been a violent bear! Don't worry, I'll have this fixed right up for you," Dumag said with a wink. "Oh and how's that big, heavy mace?"
Wrothken looked it over. It wasn't in danger of breaking, but it was better to repair it before it got too busted up. "That'll need a repair too, actually."
"Alright, well normally this would cost a little over twenty gold, but since you're so damn cute I'll do it for fifteen!"
He handed over the money, happy to get a discount even if it was because the Orc was being flirty. Dumag took his hand in his and giggled. "What nice hands you've got!" Slowly letting go of them and putting the coins in a box he said, "They'll be about an hour. Why not sit and make yourself comfy?" He nodded to a floral printed love seat between two suits of gold armor.
"You know," Wrothken said, backing towards the door. "I actually have to go see someone. Why don't I come back when they're ready?"
"Oh, I guess," he said pouting. "I'll see you later then."
As much as he didn't want to see Cutter, he didn't think he'd be able to exclusively go to Dumag. Maybe he could switch between them in order to not overload.
When Wrothken approached the throne, Sheogorath lept up with a grin. "Well, well," he said walking toward him. "So you've experienced both shades of madness. Wonderful." He clapped his hands together. "You seemed fulfilled. Full of fill." He patted Wrothken's stomach. "Bursting at the seams. Seamless. Now to the meat of your endeavor. The crux of the situation. The reason for your being here!" He put his finger to his lips and added, "And the likely cause of your death."
Wrothken's eyes widened. "What?!"
Sheogorath proceeded on, as if he didn't hear him. "You'll be stopping the Greymarch. Altering the course of events, breaking the cycle! A fly in the ointment. A new cause for a different effect. We're going to change things." He put his arm around Wrothken and hugged him close. "No... things will be different this time around." He released him and poked his chest. "You'll be my champion. You'll grow powerful. You'll grow to be...me! Prince of Madness, a new Sheogorath. Or you'll die trying. I love that about you." He picked Wrothken's cheek.
Getting a little irritated at the constant poking and prodding, Wrothken took a step back and asked, "Why me?"
"Because you seem a nice enough sort. And you've made it this far. And if you don't, I'll swallow your soul and vomit it into the Everfilling Chamberpot of the Ageless." Sheogorath leaned in. "But mostly because I asked nicely," he said menacingly, squishing the eyeball atop his cane.
"How can I possibly be you? Or a Daedric Prince even?" He couldn't imagine it, though it did fuel his theory that Sheogorath was purposely trying to drive him insane.
"A fair question," Sheogorath said, rubbing his goatee. "You won't, really. At least I don't think so." He shrugged. "But you'll have power. My power. Try not to lose it. It's a pain to replace. But, for all intents and purposes, you'll be Me. A Me to fight the Him. Since I won't be around. It's simple, really. If you don't think about it."
It took every fiber of his being not to bury his face deep in his palm. A glance at Haskill showed that he was enjoying the show. "Wait," Wrothken said. "You won't be here? Then where in Oblivion are you going?!"
"Not here."
Oh really? Wrothken's mind screamed. Sheogorath continued. "Didn't I say that? I'm never here when Jyggalag walks. It's one of the Rules!" To Wrothken, Sheogorath seemed like the last person in the world to be concerned about rules. "I've told you too much for now. Listen to me prattle on. I can see your mortal brain straining." Sheogorath tussled Wrothken's hair. "We'll talk more later."
Straining? Wrothken's brain was sobbing, if anything. "Fine, what's next then?"
"Now... you've seen the Great Torch that burns brightly over New Sheoth?"
Wrothken honestly couldn't recall seeing a torch over the city. Maybe he was to busy with everything else to notice, but he shook his head.
"No?" Sheogorath said, raising his eyebrows. "Because it doesn't!"
Trick question. Of course.
"It should. But it doesn't. You'll fix that. You'll go to Cylarne and bring back the Flame of Agnon to relight the torch. Oh... and take care with my minions at Cylarne. In their eternal quest to please me, they're constantly fighting over Cylarne. It can be tiresome. But, really, it's divine. Divinely tiresome. Well. That's your problem now," he said waving his hand. "Oh," he leaned in Wrothken's ear, saying quietly, "Don't forget to make use of dear Haskill. Between you and me, if he's not summoned three or four times a day, I don't think he feels appreciated. Now, off with you. I don't want to see you again until the Great Torch is lit. I wouldn't want to have to hurt you. Much."
Wrothken looked at Haskill and sighed. "Can you tell me where Cylarne is, exactly?"
Haskill sighed heavily as Wrothken took out his map. "Cylarne was once the capital of the Shivering Isles. Perhaps the first capital." Wrothken didn't really want a history lesson, especially from Haskill, but he figured if it would help him not die trying, he would take what he could get. "In any case, the Flame of Agnon here is always used to light the Great Torch of New Sheoth. It has always been so, and presumably always will be so." He gave Wrothken back the map and continued.
"Now, the Flame of Agnon can only be lit by the immortal servants of Sheogorath: the Golden Saints and Dark Seducers of His creation. In normal times, Sheogorath would simply command it and his servants would leap to sacrifice themselves upon the Altars of Rapture and Despair. But, alas, the times are not normal, and Sheogorath has given you this task, without the authority to command it. I'm afraid you may have to be a little bit clever. I know that will probably be a stretch for you."
First order of business when I become Sheogorath, fire Haskill, Wrothken thought.
"Why is the flame so important?" He asked. "If its out now, then why bother with it?"
"It is a symbol of Sheogorath's power and a source of great comfort for the citizens of New Sheoth. For eternity, the start of the Greymarch has been heralded by the torch going out. Lord Sheogorath, in His wisdom, wishes for you to relight the Torch, to help ease the worries of the populace."
"Or... he could just talk to his people himself and tell them he's going to have it stopped, right?"
"Aren't you the curious one?" Sheogorath piped up from his throne. "You know what they say about curiosity, though, don't you? It killed the intrepid adventurer who really should just be doing exactly what I say at all times!"
Wrothken sighed. He figured that if he needed more information from Haskill he could always summon him later. Armed with little information, he left the castle trying not to think of it as possibly the last trip he would ever go on.
Posted by: D.Foxy Dec 9 2010, 10:30 AM
Bring it on, baby, Wrothken! Let the Chump-pee yon of Madness be the Champion of READ BADness!!! Yay!!!
Posted by: SubRosa Dec 9 2010, 06:08 PM
"Well, take it off and let's see what we can do!"
hubba hubba! And from the prettiest girl in town no less!
A fun interaction with Dumag. The closest thing ES gets to a transperson (outside of pronoun errors in dialogue)
Everfilling Chamberpot of the Ageless
Ewwwww!
Wrothken's brain was sobbing, if anything.
I loved this line!
First order of business when I become Sheogorath, fire Haskill, Wrothken thought.
This made me laugh out loud!
A fun segment, as those with Sheogorath always are.
nits:
"Somebody's been an violent bear!
Looks like a leftover from a previous edit. That should be an a.
Haskill sighed heavily as Wrothken too out his map
Looks like Sheo absconded with the k in took.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 11 2010, 12:47 AM
Foxy: 
SubRosa: My favorite chapters are the ones with Sheogorath
He's so expressive and fun.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
The Sneaky Fox
Lilitu awoke to the scent of pumpkin bread. At first she thought maybe her neighbors might've made it but it was too strong. There was no doubt it came from her own kitchen. But how? She was paranoid enough to not just lock the door, but add a chain and stick a chair in front of it. Windows were also locked tight and the door leading to the basement did only have one lock, but after hearing Dolce's ferocious barks most people would run. And why on Nirn would they make pumpkin bread in her house?
He's back... The thought came unbidden from her mind. She shook her head, trying to keep paranoia from taking over. First of all, "he" was in prison. Second, she certainly didn't tell him where she had left. And she had moved twice since then. Last, not only could he not bake to save his life, but there was no logical reason to bake pumpkin bread of all things.
Could have bought the bread and poisoned it... "Stop it!" She said, holding her hands in front of her ears, as if trying to block out the words of a ghost.
If he were here, or anywhere nearby, Dolce would go crazy. Sharing the same sixth sense of character judgment that most animals possess, Dolce hated him with a passion. If he were to have somehow gotten past the locks, Dolce would have woken her up with her barking or at least have run in the bedroom and woken her up.
She crawled out of bed, grabbing a silver dagger that was kept behind her headboard at all times. She held it in the sleeve of her robe as she opened the door.
Silence. Not even a peep from Dolce. That was the most unsettling part. If she didn't manage to get in Lilitu's room in the morning, she always ran upstairs the moment the door opened. Her stomach started to flutter.
"Dolce," she called. No answer.
Poison... Her heart raced and tears began to well up in her eyes. He tried to poison Dolce once before. The monster. Abandoning her stealthy approach, she ran down the stairs, mental images of Dolce's dead body sprawled out on the floor refusing to go away.
"Dolce!" She dropped her dagger.
"Woof!" Dolce looked up at her, halfway through a basket of meat. She sat, staring at Lilitu with her tail wagging and a smiling pant.
Lilitu snatched it away, ignoring Dolce's whine. "You know better than to eat food from..." She saw a basket of bread on the counter. It was still warm and smelling of pumpkin. There was a note attached.
Dear Lilitu,
The Gray Fox is in need of your expert services. Meet him tonight at Durzum gro-Khazor's house, here in Kvatch, at eight-thirty pm.
Signed,
X
She relaxed, giving Dolce back her meat. "X" was the way that man in Anvil signed his name. Not helpful in the least. For some reason his name was always just beyond the tip of her tongue. She could remember the name of her every friend, enemy, lover, or even acquaintance, but his... She shook her head.
She took a slice from her basket when it finally hit her. The Gray Fox himself wanted to meet with her! She grinned. She needed to find something nice to wear.
After a quick overview of their mission, Capaneus gave Milun a tour of Kvatch. The town seemed like the perfect place for the first gate to open. With the Arena being such a hotspot, the destruction of Kvatch was bound to get the attention of the entire empire.
In a hushed voice, Milun asked, "Where do you think the gate should open? Capaneus?"
The Imperial was staring inside a busy bakery at a Bosmer girl behind the counter. The sparkle in Capaneus' eyes dulled, replaced by a dreamy expression. The meat pie in his hand had grown cold. He didn't even notice the flies settling on it.
Milun nudged him. "Did you hear me?"
"I come here everyday, just to see her," Capaneus said, ignoring the question. "Each day I promise I'll go in there and talk to her, but I never do." He looked at Milun. "Can you believe all this time she's never even noticed me?"
Milun rolled his eyes. As far as he knew, all sleeper agents, including Capaneus, were sent out to secure a place for Lord Dagon when he arrived, not fawn over some busty elf!
"Look, I'm a 'sleeper', not dead," Capaneus said, obviously reading Milun's face.
Milun shook his head. He was about to head back to the hovel-- house, when he noticed a Dunmer with a dog entering the bakery. From her long hair, down to her feet, she was dressed in various shades of red. The monochromatic outfit reminded him of their robes. "Capaneus, are there any other sleeper agents around here?"
He shrugged. "Not that I know of." He followed his eyes. "Oh, I've seen her around. I'm not sure who she is. I know she hangs around Kirsty a lot."
"Kirsty?"
"The Bosmer."
"Oh," he said flatly. Then a cruel idea crept in his mind. "Are they lovers?"
Capaneus choked on his meat pie. "No! I mean... I don't think..." His face flushed red.
"I'll be back." Milun entered the bakery and tapped the Dunmer on the shoulder. "Dawn is breaking," he said.
She turned with an eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry?"
"Nevermind," he said.
Capaneus ran over to Milun as soon as he walked back outside. "What did you do?"
"Sorry, brother," Milun said. "I asked and it seems they plan to wed next Frost Fall."
Capaneus looked sick. "Really?"
"Yeah," he said quickly. "So how about we scope out the best place for a gate?"
Capaneus sighed and shrugged. "I guess."
It may have hurt, but Milun figured he was doing him a favor. How much worse would it be when she perished during the Great Summoning if he was still infatuated with her?
"That was weird," Lilitu said, turning back to Kirsty.
Kirsty watched the man walk away. "And he's with that Imperial..." She said softly.
"What Imperial?" Lilitu turned and saw them both. "Do you know him?
Kirsty shook her head. "But he's always there. Every morning he just stares." Glancing at Lilitu's expression, she hastily added, "But I don't think he's trying to be creepy. At least, he doesn't make me feel that way."
"Ohh... I get it now. Oh, Kirsty, he's got a thing for you!"
Kirsty blushed lightly. "Oh, Wrothken would say the same thing, but I don't have time for that. Besides, how could he? He's never said a word to me."
Lilitu sipped a cup of apple spiced tea. "Because men are visual creatures."
"Doesn't explain anything," Kirsty said, unable to help glancing at Lilitu's tiny waist. Hers was not too tiny, as she had a habit of sampling her treats often.
"Really?" Lilitu said, almost exasperatedly, as the envy over Kirsty's bust and hips flared up. Tight-lacing could to wonders for the waist and stomach, but curves like Kirsty's were sheer luck.
"Anyway," Kirsty said, arranging fresh muffins in a glass cake pan. "How weird that he just broke in your house like that! He could have just left the baskets outside your door."
"I thought that too, until I realized that if someone got too curious and peeked, they'd know exactly where and when they could find the Gray Fox."
"Oh, you're right..." She wondered what she would have done with the information. Of course, knowing that Lilitu was a part of the guild, she couldn't very well turn him in.
Lilitu grinned. "I just can't believe I'm going to meet him! I wonder what he'll be like in person." She licked her lips. "Maybe a nice big Nord wearing fox skins..." She put her hand on her heart. "Oh, what a fox that would be..."
"But I heard," Kirsty leaned forward, not wanting anyone else to overhear. "He's over three hundred years old!"
"Oh, good point," Lilitu said. "Well, I guess I'll have to find out for myself tonight."
Eight-thirty came and Lilitu was a bundle of nerves. The Gray Fox, the man who she had emulated since joining the guild years ago, wanted her specifically. She saw an Orc standing outside. "The Gray Fox is inside," he said as she approached his house.
She nodded. "Dolce, stay," she commanded.
Dolce snorted indignantly but sat on the porch anyway.
Lilitu stepped inside the house. She was taken aback when she saw him. The Gray Fox. He was a Colavian man, wearing the famous Gray Cowl. The words, "shadow hide you" were inscribed down the center of the mask.
"Lilitu Serano, I presume," he said. "Have a seat, please."
She sat across from him, her heart racing. "It's an honor to meet you," she said breathlessly.
He smiled. "I am well aware of your devotion to the guild. Though I know you are no longer an active thief, I have need of your special gifts. There is an item, hidden away in a remote monastery. I need you to go get it for me. The monastery is extensive and well guarded, so you should make sure to be well prepared. Should you succeed, I will pay you well for your services."
Her heart sank. She retired over a year ago...but how could she refuse him? "Of course," she said.
"Capital!" He clapped his hands together. "The monastery is called the Temple of the Ancestor Moths. It is where retired, blind Moth priests go to wait out the rest of their days. I will mark the location on your map. Look for it in the far northeast of Cyrodiil, beyond Cheydinhal." He set a map on the table between them. Lilitu tried to mask her shock at just how remote it was. "I need you to acquire Savilla's Stone. It is a large crystal with special properties that I need to gain... advantage." He handed her a drawing of what looked like a large crystal ball. "Remember," he said while she looked it over. "Do not shed innocent blood. However, there is no bloodprice for slaying the stone's guardians, human or inhuman. When I receive word that Savilla's Stone is missing, I will be here waiting for you."
Lilitu folded the drawing and the map and nodded. "I'll leave at dawn," she said. She glanced away for a moment, about to ask him a question but when she looked back he was gone. She left the house, sighing. A quick look at the map showed her that it was on the way to her family home, just north of Cheydinhal. Oh this was going to be a long trip.
Posted by: mALX Dec 11 2010, 03:51 AM
Oooh!!! Awesome Chapter !!!! Riveting beginning paragraphs of Lilitu's inner thoughts !!!!
Posted by: SubRosa Dec 11 2010, 04:11 AM
Ooooh, mysterious! I wonder who this "he" might be who Lilitu is so afraid of? Valen Dreth perhaps? Whoever it is, I can only hope they receive an ugly death. Anyone who would try to poison a dog deserves exactly the same themselves.
Mr. X on the other hand, was nicely done! I loved how you described Lilitu's inability to remember his name! So utterly perfect.
"Dawn is breaking," he said.
"Well then fix it!" Sorry, I always think that when I hear that line.
I have to admit, I thought the news of Lilitu's impending nuptials with Kirsty was hilarious. Although I am a little surprised that Capaneus fell for it. Then again, Cap does not seem to be the brightest welkynd stone in the ruin...
Lilitu sipped a cup of apple spiced tea. "Because men are visual creatures."
Quoted for truth.
So Lilitu is retired from thieving? I thought that was how she made a living in Kvatch?
All in all a fun chapter. It is lots of fun to meet up with Red and the Busty Bosmer again.
nits:
Last, not only could he couldn't bake to save his life
I think this is a leftover from previous edits. Perhaps you wanted "could he not bake"?
They Gray Fox
I think the Fox reverse-pickpocketed an extra "y" into your The.
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 11 2010, 04:41 AM
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Dec 10 2010, 08:11 PM)

So Lilitu is retired from thieving? I thought that was how she made a living in Kvatch?
She's a fence and no longer goes out for jobs
Posted by: Jacki Dice Dec 28 2010, 02:27 AM
Fight for Dominance
The road to Cylarne was long and scattered with walking trees and the emaciated creatures, identified by an annoyed Haskill as gnarls and hungers. Wrothken was thankful that Dumag, uncomfortably flirtatious as he was, was a good smith and his armor was holding up nicely.
He was almost there when he came across a large obelisk, twice the size of the one he had come across when leaving Xedilian. Two Knights of Order were standing guard and a man in a purple robe and Orderly mask knelt between them, as if praying.
There was no way he could take on all three at once and they were smack in between him and Cylarne. He summoned Haskill to see if he had any advice.
"Yes, what is it you require," he said as he appeared by a tree. He looked and saw the Knights. "Oh dear. I suppose you want to know how to deal with them quickly?"
Wrothken nodded.
"Very well," he said, as if Wrothken had asked him to count the all stars in the sky. "The Knights are mere shells. Use that brutish strength of yours to beat them to a pulp. Now the Priest... A bad lot they are. Traitors. They perform rituals at the obelisks to summon Knights to the Realm. Their link to Jyggalag gives them power. As long as their obelisk is active, they cannot truly be killed."
"So, if I can deactivate the obelisk, then they can be killed?"
"Precisely," he said. "Remind me to give you a cookie when you return to the castle."
Wrothken rolled his eyes. "Then how do I deactivate it?"
"You just lost your cookie." Haskill tsked. "You need to place three hearts of order into the obelisk. It will cause an overload of sorts and shut it down."
"Alright...where can I get a heart of order?"
Haskill pulled what looked like a jagged gray stone from his pocket. "This is a heart of order. It comes from a, believe it or not, Knight of Order. I see how you may have been confused. You will find them in the chest cavity of a Knight."
He nodded, accepting the heart from Haskill, while simultaneously picturing bashing Haskill's head in and leaving him in the bushes. Only in dreams. "That's all I needed."
As he started to vanish, he said, "My work is never done."
Wrothken left the bushes, catching the immediate attention of the priest and his knights. "Kill him," the priest shouted. The two knights rushed over.
Both knights slammed their swords down on Wrothken. They landed in an "x" which Wrothken blocked with his mace. The knights pressed hard on their swords, but Wrothken pushed harder, knocking one of the knights down.
The first merely recoiled for a second and Wrothken took advantage of the moment to bash its head. It let out no cry or scream of agony, which gave Wrothken goosebumps. The other knight came running back and was greeted by a mace to the temple.
Wrothken was about to crack open their armor to collect their hearts when he felt a sharp tingling sensation in his body followed by a brief numbness that knocked him to the ground. Trails of lightning etched themselves all over his body.
The priest was backed against the obelisk. "Fall in the name of Jyggalag!" He cried.
Wrothken got up and ran at him, not wanting to feel another shock. The priest took out a small dagger and swung at him, slashing his cuirass. Wrothken blocked his next swing with one arm and headbutted the priest.
"Ow," he said, rubbing his head with the back of his hand. That priest had one good helmet.
When Wrothken felt another charge of lightning surge through him, he roared and swung his mace upwards, getting the priest just under the chin. He flew back, leaving the obelisk undefended.
Wrothken tossed the first heart of order in and was just about to crack open one of the knights, when he felt a blade nick the back of his neck. In a panic, he turned and saw a Knight of Order behind him. After Wrothken took it down, he reached for the fresh wound. It was just a shallow cut. The knight must have swung before it was close enough to do any real damage. Even after casting a healing spell, he shook. His head could have been lopped clean off.
He tried not to think about it as he cracked open the chest cavity of the fallen knight. Wrothken shuddered. There were no organs, no blood. Just a hollow cavity that held the heart. He was told that they were mere shells, but it still gave him chills.
He loaded the second heart into the obelisk and once again, a knight appeared. It was then that Wrothken made the connection that loading hearts brought more knights. Wonderful.
After that knight was dead, Wrothken looked at the priest, who was starting to stir and he grabbed another heart and tossed it in the obelisk. The priest let out a sharp gasp and stopped moving. Wrothken was left with the final knight. "Last one, last one, last one," he chanted as he fought it. As soon as it fell, he collapsed to his knees, panting hard. He sat leaning on the deactivated obelisk for awhile before continuing on to Cylarne.
Wrothken could tell he had reached Cylarne because of the incredible tension in the air. There was a gate on each side, one with Golden Saints and one with Mazken. Since he hadn't met a Golden Saint that he liked, he approached the Mazken.
"State your business," she said, glancing at the Golden Saint across the way. "Cylarne is holy ground, unfit for mortals."
"Sheogorath sent me to light the flame," Wrothken said.
Her eyes lit up and she smiled warmly to him. "Then you are free to enter the Shrine of the Flame of Agnon. This key will allow you passage through any door in Cylarne." She handed him a large, deep blue key. As Wrothken unlocked the gate, she added, "The Flame is lit from the Shrine's two Altars. Once the Aureals are driven out of Cylarne, it will be our pleasure to light the Flame for Sheogorath. The Grakedrig Ulfri will explain everything. You should speak to her at once."
Wrothken paused. "Drive the Aureals out? You mean the Golden Saints?"
The Mazken huffed. "There is nothing saintly about them. They are arrogant and bring great shame to our lord Sheogorath. One day he will see that we Mazken are his only truly loyal servants."
As much as he really didn't want to take sides, she had a point about their arrogance. "Okay, thank you."
The fortress was dark, much like Xedilian had been, except it was as clean as a fortress could be. There were several busts of Sheogorath around, giving Wrothken the paranoid feeling of being watched through them. He shut his eyes and forced the thought away. No way in Oblivion was he going to wind up like Syl.
When he opened a second gate within Cylarne, he was stopped by another Mazken. "A mortal wandering the halls of holy Cylarne... and a male no less," she sneered. "Explain yourself."
Wrothken was taken aback by her remark. "I..." He cleared his throat. "I need to spreak with Grey.... Um... Grak..?"
"Grakedrig Ulfri?" She asked impatiently. "What do you want with her?"
"Sheogorath sent me to light the flame."
"Then I am at your service." She said, this time without a trace of attitude. "The Grakedrig Ulfri commands here. You will wish to speak to her at once, no doubt."
She led him to a Mazken with closely cropped brown hair. She was checking the weapons and armor of another Mazken. Upon seeing Wrothken, she said, "Begone, mortal, or you will soon find yourself between the Mazken and their prey. A most dangerous place to be." She nodded to the Mazken in front of her, granting her permission to leave. "We are preparing to wipe out the arrogant Aureals once and for all. Once they break themselves on our defenses, Cylarne will be ours, a gift for our Lord Sheogorath."
"That sounds great, and I can see you're busy, but Sheogorath really needs me to light the flame. So how about you light it for me and I'll leave you to your war."
"You wish to light the flame?" Ulfri grinned. "Then you have arrived just in time to help us defend the Altar of Despair. Once the strength of the Aureals is shattered, I will be honored to light the Flame as my Lord Sheogorath commands."
He sighed. Haskill said he'd need to be clever, but this was not what he expected. "Look, like you and the other Mazken have noticed, I'm just a mortal, and a male at that. I wouldn't be that helpful to you fighting the Golden Saints...so why don't you just light the flame and I'll be on my way. Please?"
"The two altars, blessed Despair and holy Rapture, feed the great Flame of Agnon above us. Only Sheogorath's immortal servants can kindle the Altars, and I am at my Lord's command. But I only hold Despair... for the moment. The Aureals hold Rapture, and are massing to attack us." Wrothken's eyes widened. Ulfri smiled reassuringly. "But never fear, they are no match for us. They'll come down the main passage from the Altar of Rapture." She pointed at a path on a lower floor. "They always do. They are overconfident, as usual. We have prepared many traps and ambushes. It will be a glorious slaughter. Once the Aureals are destroyed, I will light the Flame of Agnon for you. Will you help us defend the Altar of Despair?"
Wrothken stared at her with his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He wanted to ask if she was serious. He really wanted them to just put their fight to the side for fifteen minutes and light the damn flame, but that would be too easy. And he had a feeling Sheogorath knew it. Sometimes, Jyggalag and his ways of Order didn't seem so bad.
He sighed, looking at his battered armor. It was already banged up from dealing with the Knights of Order. But what choice did he have? If the Golden Saints were about to attack, then going to them for help would be at the price of attacking the Mazken.
"Alright, fine. Just promise to light the flame."
"This will be a glorious day! Cylarne will finally be free of the Aureals. Follow me. We're expecting the attack at any moment."
She led him to a group of Mazken and to his surprise, there were a few men in the group. "The Aureal plan to attack through the their usual passage. We are prepared for them and our Lord Sheogorath has sent us his emissary to aid us, proving that we are His chosen!" Ulfri clapped him on the back and the Mazken cheered loudly. Of course, that was not the reason he was there, but there was no point in lowering their morale.
Metallic footsteps rang through the halls. "The Aureals are beginning their attack! Show them no mercy! Today, Cylarne shall finally belong to us!"
The following ordeal was among the most terrifying things Wrothken had ever experienced. Everywhere he turned, maces and axes were swung. Arrows whizzed uncomfortably close to him, one grazing him just under his eye. Everything was a blur of blue and gold bodies with splashes of red blood. "Et tah, Mazken" and "Et tah, Aureal," rang through his ears until finally and to his relief, the Golden Saints were defeated.
"Victory is ours!" Ulfri cried. "I have already instructed my subordinates to kindle the Altar of Rapture. It is my honor to sacrifice myself on the Altar of Despair at Lord Sheogorath's command. I have hoped for this moment since I took command of the Mazken at Cylarne."
"Sacrifice yourself? But...then... why not just have a Golden Saint do it? I mean...you wanted them...dead after all."
"The Altars which feed the Flame of Agnon can be kindled only by the willing death of an immortal. Every Mazken under my command would gladly accept this honor, if it was not my own to claim." She smiled gently, patting his shoulder. "You fought well. I would almost grant you the honor of kindling the Altar, if you were an immortal. Farewell. The waters of Oblivion await me."
As the remaining Mazken knelt before the altar, Ulfri stepped onto the altar and took out a dagger that rested at her side. With a smile, she plunged the dagger into her stomach. She fell over and burst into blue-green flame.
In a way, it was beautiful, though a little sad. When the rest of the Mazken stood up, Wrothken headed outside. He was greeted by a roaring blue-green flame in the center of Cylarne. "Okay..." He said. How could he get the flame to New Sheoth? He snapped his fingers. "A torch!"
He ran to the nearest Mazken. "Are there any torches around here?"
She paused. "There may be. We have no need for them ourselves, but there are plenty of other things around here we have no use for. Look at all the Aureal we dispatched," she said with a wink.
A Mazken with a sense of humor. He'd consider marrying her if she weren't a daedra.
Minutes later, she returned with a torch in hand. He hoped a sudden gust of wind wouldn't blow it out on the way back to New Sheoth. That would be so Sheogorath.
Hoping for the best, he stuck the torch in but to his disappointment the flame wouldn't catch. He put his hand on the end and it was cold to the touch. He held it in once again sticking it in as far as he could, but nothing.
The Mazken had all retreated back to the halls of Cylarne so he only had one option left. He summoned Haskill again.
Haskill appeared with a loud sigh. "I wondered how long it would be until you needed my help...yet again. Though shockingly, you did accomplish your task. There's no denying the Golden Saints are defeated. Spearing fish in a barrel might have proved to be too challenging. So, what was it that you require?"
Wrothken ignored his backsass. "How exactly do I get the flame to New Sheoth? I thought about lighting it with a torch, but it won't ignite."
"Did you try stepping into the flame?"
Wrothken's jaw dropped.
"Careful, you may catch flies that way."
Wrothken shut his mouth and stared at the roaring green flames. "How stupid do you think I am?"
Haskill smiled. "Do you want an honest answer?"
Wrothken glared at him. "Go into the flame? Why so I can burn to death?"
Haskill shook his head. "You don't trust me? How disappointing. Think, if it's not too much of an effort for you. What good would you be burned to a crisp? Keep in mind that if this doesn't work, I suffer as well. Can you even begin to imagine what it is to endure Lord Sheogorath after finding his realm demolished? You would soil yourself. Now be a good boy and jump in the fire. My Lord will be waiting for you." With that, Haskill disappeared.
"Not very helpful," Wrothken said, glancing back at the flames. He reached toward it nervously. It was warm, but not scalding. Cringing his thrust his hand in and to his amazement, it didn't burn. In fact, it was rather comfortable. He slowly moved the rest of his body in until he was engulfed in the bright flames.
Posted by: mALX Dec 30 2010, 08:52 PM
QUOTE
Wrothken shut his mouth and stared at the roaring green flames. "How stupid do you think I am?"
Haskill smiled. "Do you want an honest answer?"
ROFL !!! I loved Haskill !!! Another great chapter!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Jan 3 2011, 06:22 AM
SubRosa~ Ugh those stupid obelisks kicked my "boat" each time. I quickly got in the habit of running the other way >.>
mALX~ I just love Haskill. Not while I'm playing, of course. Then I echo Wrothken's sentiments 
~~~~~♥~~~~~
The Lady of Paranoia
Dawn was breaking. Lilitu couldn't help laughing a little. Such an odd thing to say. Poor fellow must have just sampled his first skooma. It wouldn't be long before he wound up like the other addicts.
She was already in her leather armor. It had been so long since she'd worn it, that she had forgotten how comfortable it was. It was like slipping into a second skin, with how comfortable it was. Her favorite part about it was the rabbit fur lining on the inside. Not only was it incredibly soft, but it kept her toasty warm.
She grabbed a tan guar-hide sack that rested on top of her wardrobe. She crinkled her nose at the dust caked on it. "Disgusting," she said. After making a mental note to dust upon her return, she shook it clean and packed her supplies for the trip. Judging by the map, she would most likely reach the monastery the next afternoon, if she didn't make any detours. Detours included, extremely late next night she would reach Savilla's Stone.
"Dolce!" She called. The dog trotted up the stairs and sat, looking at Lilitu with a gleeful expression. She had obviously seen the mound of meat and rice overflowing in three separate bowls. "I need you to be a good girl while I'm gone. Don't cause a fuss. Don't eat everything at once. And for the love of all things holy, do your business on the papers. So help me if I find mess in my bed!" Dolce's expression didn't change, save for the wagging tail. Lilitu got on the floor and held Dolce tightly, tears threatening to fall as she rubbed her cheek on her soft fur. "I love you, baby." Dolce returned the sentiment by licking Lilitu's cheek repeatedly.
She locked and latched the front door and pushed her couch in front of the door as a barricade. After making sure all the windows were locked and curtains shut tightly, Lilitu left through the basement, locking up behind her. She hated to leave Dolce behind, but she couldn't have her running off trying to take on bandits or worse, wild animals. Before leaving the gates, she looked back toward her house, her stomach knotting.
She'll be fine, she thought.
She's stayed home alone many times and everything is always fine. Still, she worried. She didn't know how she would live if anything ever happened to her.
Capaneus plopped himself right at the bar, his head resting glumly on his hands. Disappointed as he was, the fact that Kirsty was off the market made it easy for him to approach her.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
For a moment, Capaneus could only stare. Her hair was tied back in what was once a neat braid. Now locks had escaped and framed her face. She was wearing a simple turquoise shirt under her apron, and it was covered in flour. Her eyes sparkled. He could tell at a glance that she loved what she did.
"Are you okay?" She leaned in. He realized his mouth had dropped open.
"Yeah!" He said sitting up and clearing his throat. "Um... what's your special?"
She lifted a glass cover, revealing light brown squares. "Peanut butter fudge with a glass of milk." She smiled more. "Its my first time making it for other people."
"Then I'll take that then," Capaneus said. A single bite sent him to paradise. He never had anything like it. It melted so delicately in his mouth. As he was about to compliment her, he noticed that she didn't wear a ring on her finger. He wondered if when two women got engaged, if they both wore rings or if the one who got proposed to get the ring. He didn't see the red haired dark elf anywhere so he couldn't check her for one.
Kirsty... She could cook and judging by the immaculate counters, she could clean too. Two of the few things he looked for in a wife. He couldn't be mad at the dark elf. He'd scoop her up quickly if he had a shot at her.
He paid for his purchase and left, heading back to his house when he came across a tall, slender Altmer. Upon seeing him, her eyes glistened and she began to twirl her long, blond hair, while licking her lips. Capaneus didn't know her personally, but he knew she was normally with a blond Nord that used to hang around Kirsty a lot. Now that he'd thought about it, he hadn't seen that Nord around lately. Poor sap probably found out about Kirsty and the dark elf and left town.
Now the Altmer was all alone and looking quite flirtatious.
When one door closes, another opens... Lilitu walked down the Gold Road, head high, chest out, the very epitome of confidence. However, she was jumping at every twig's crack, wind's sigh, or animal sounds. When at home, sure she was paranoid, but at least she could duck into alleys or even houses if needed. Out in the wilderness, she felt more than unprotected. She felt like she was naked and all of Cyrodiil was watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Looking around, it was a pretty sight. Everything was green and the sky was cloudless. Bright flowers sprung up from the ground and birds chirped merrily. It should have been calming, but it wasn't. She needed the security of walls and crowds.
As the Gold Road curved, Lilitu was able to barely make out the Waterfront of the Imperial City. She walked off the path onto the beach, staring ahead. "If only I could swim," she said aloud. She took her smooth ponytail in her hands. If she got so much as a drop on it, it would blossom into wild curls. She couldn't have that.
Though she desperately wanted to find an inn before nightfall, she couldn't help sitting down and getting lost in thought. While she certainly didn't miss living at the Waterfront, she did miss Methredel immensely. The very thought of the Bosmer brought a smile to her face.
Naughty little imp, she thought. It was she who had introduced Lilitu to the hidden world of the Thieves Guild....
And many other things, she thought with a smile. It had been so long since they'd seen each other, as Lilitu couldn't persuade Methredel to run away with her years ago. She understood, though. The Imperial City was all Methredel had ever known.
She half considered taking another detour, but as she'd have to go all the way to the bridge and possibly run into some people she'd rather not see, she decided against it. After all, Dolce didn't know the meaning of restraint and probably already ate up all the food left over for her. Maybe they could go another time. Maybe on a caravan.
She continued onward, wishing with every fiber of her being that she had at least brought Dolce. Then she could talk to herself without really talking to herself. Breathing heavily, she figured she needed a way to distract herself. She collected a handful of flowers.
"He loves me," she said, plucking a petal. "He loves me not. He loves me, he love me--"
A Redguard stepped in front of her. "Your money or your life." His hand rested on his hand axe. Lilitu knew only too well where this was supposed to head. Even if she gave him her money, there was always a chance of him attacking anyway in order to keep her from coming back with a legionnaire.
"Come on, wench, I don't got all day!"
He was much bigger than her and he was suited in heavy armor. Her dagger would have to get him in a weak spot to do lethal damage. Besides, she hated using it. The squish of driving a blade into human flesh always nauseated her.
She knew what to do.
She held out her purse. As he reached to snatch it from her hand, she reached around his neck, pulling him in for a firm kiss.
The Redguard was not prepared for that, nor was he prepared for the paralysis holding his body in place. Lilitu wasn't prepared for the awful taste of the man's mouth. "Oh, my word!" She gagged, spitting on the ground.
She pushed him to the ground and knelt down next to him. She looked his axe over and stuck it in her bag and took his coin purse "Hmmm..." She said, looking inside. "Only fifteen septims? You know, you'd do a lot better joining the Thieves Guild." His armor was beaten and filthy, but looked like it was once expensive. She would have loved to strip him and sell it, but she would never be able to carry it all.
"I'm....gonna....kill....you..." He forced out with great effort.
She believed he would if given the chance. Luckily, by time the spell wore off, she'd be long gone. She dragged him into the brush to keep him from watching as she continued down the road.
She could have hugged each and every person at the Faregyl Inn. At last, people! Not as many as in Kirsty's Bakery, but enough to put her mind at ease.
Most people were already in groups at the table, either singing along with the bard or talking amongst themselves. Something each group seemed to bring up was a door.
Maybe someone busted the door down recently? Lilitu couldn't imagine why. Inns and taverns weren't hot spots for thieves. Quite the opposite, really. Making sure her crimson locks were tucked away behind her hood, she took a seat at the bar.
A Khajiit woman behind the counter approached her. After bringing Lilitu a plate of food and offering a bed, she asked, "Is the huntress here for the door?"
Lilitu raised her eyebrows. "What door?"
"It hasn't heard?"
Lilitu shook her head.
"Some moons ago a door appeared out in the water. S'Jirra has not gone to see it but many travelers come, seeking gold and fame. It has been said that they become touched by Skooma Cat, or in Elf tongue, Sheggorath, and never come out the same."
She looked around and indeed most of the people in the inn were young men, each with the glow of hope. Listening closely, she could hear some of them brag about what they'll find and how nothing will tamper with their minds. Men... Lilitu thought, shaking her head.
She went to bed after too many shots of whiskey. She stumbled upstairs, hoping she was in the right bed and a little more than half hoping that Colovian she was drinking with would join her. Too soon to tell, sleep came and she was quickly washed away by her dreams.
Posted by: SubRosa Jan 3 2011, 05:44 PM
Looks like Lilitu has been retired indeed, given how long it has been since she wore her leather (for shame a woman not wearing skin-tight leather on a regular basis!) and used her stealing bag. The bunny fur lining of the leather was a good touch, as was the guar-hide sack.
I can relate to Lilitu's feelings about leaving Dolce while she is gone. My cat has never gone more than 24 hours without seeing me! I was a little surprised that she did not ask Kirsty to watch her though.
She could cook and judging by the immaculate counters, she could clean too.
Well there you have it! Perfect marriage material!
Poor sap probably found out about Kirsty and the dark elf and left town.
Without a doubt!
And many other things, she thought with a smile.
Oh my, am I just reading way too much into this, or were Lilitu and Methie an item!
And it seems Lilitu was born under the sign of the Lover! How delicious! The entire encounter with the bandit was excellent. Lilitu's assessment that he might kill her even if she gave him her money, her dislike of actually stabbing people, and her surprise kiss. Wonderful!
All in all a fun episode. As much as I like Wrothken, I love seeing the girls most of all.
nits:
She was wearing a simple turquoise shirt under apron and it was covered in flour.
I think you missed an "an" between under and apron. Probably a comma after apron as well?
Posted by: Wrothken Champion Of Madness Jan 6 2011, 12:08 PM
I bet you are all wondering who Wrothken is why I am he and he is me for I am him.Jacki Dice is my bride to be oh and surprise honey I am here I told you I would be or was it I should be? But anyway on with my adventure.
Posted by: mALX Jan 8 2011, 02:27 AM
QUOTE(Wrothken Champion Of Madness @ Jan 6 2011, 06:08 AM)

I bet you are all wondering who Wrothken is why I am he and he is me for I am him.Jacki Dice is my bride to be oh and surprise honey I am here I told you I would be or was it I should be? But anyway on with my adventure.
Welcome !!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Jan 9 2011, 02:11 AM
SubRosa-
QUOTE
And many other things, she thought with a smile.
Oh my, am I just reading way too much into this, or were Lilitu and Methie an item!
Well..yes and no.... It's complicated, but will be explained later on

♥
Wrothken-

Hi honey

It was very sweet of you to come visit

Cute little rhyme btw (oh and don't you post any spoilers!

)
~~~~~♥~~~~~
As of now, Champion of Madness needs a little bit of a clean up. There are things I feel could use a lot of work. I considered closing this thread and starting a new one, but that would just be silly, as its mainly the later chapters I feel needs some extra work. I will update you all when its finished
And if anyone has some advice/suggestions anything, please feel free to PM me
♥♥♥♥
Posted by: Grits Jan 12 2011, 04:48 AM
I just caught up with your story. In one sitting, I couldn't stop! I love it, Jacki Dice!!!
Posted by: Jacki Dice Jan 13 2011, 02:24 AM
Grits~ Thanks a lot
♥
In the end I decided to start a http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4588. Its been cleaned and reorganized in a better way
See you there ♥
Posted by: Zalphon Jan 14 2011, 02:59 AM
If I may say so myself, I find that it is a very good fanfiction.
Posted by: mALX Jan 14 2011, 09:16 AM
QUOTE(Zalphon @ Jan 13 2011, 08:59 PM)

If I may say so myself, I find that it is a very good fanfiction.
I agree !!
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