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.

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



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

Dolce

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 05:24 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...

I can testify to the filter. When I tried to say Aye Arr Ess Eeeh, the forum changed it to 'British Boat'.

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.

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!


*

This post has been edited by mALX: Apr 11 2010, 08:29 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!

Actually, I have it on good authority that her number is


69-99-MUNNYCUNNY

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-

Lilitu

Wrothken
He didn't look that skinny on paper -_-'' Just imagine him a bit huskier

and a map of everyone's house

Map of Kvatch





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."

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:19 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:
Seems to me there is a pice of dialogue by Wrothkar missing that She responds to with: "again with..."

This post has been edited by Remko: Apr 12 2010, 03:24 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...

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.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 15 2010, 10:44 PM

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 !!

This post has been edited by mALX: Apr 16 2010, 07:42 PM

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




"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?

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 05:35 AM

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: That's a tough one that gets by many people. Its the 'g' that gets doubled, not the 'r' - exaggerated.

More please.

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.

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.

Your depiction of Haskill is spot on!

I'm still with you and quite enjoying your romp through the Shivering Isles. I liked what you did with Cutter!