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.

That Lilitu is some piece of work Loved it Jacki!

This continues to be great fun to read. You bring your characters to life wonderfully!

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

~~~♥~~~

Awour



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.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 05:49 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.


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!

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!

Actually, I think she meant BED boys were so much more fun.

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.

Nicely done, Jackie and fun to read!

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!!!!!

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.





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.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 05:52 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?

O.O My word!




I have missed you Foxy and I'm glad to know my story cheers you up!

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!

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!

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!!!

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.

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.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:22 AM

Yay! Wrothken is back! I was started to wonder if you were still writing. So glad to see you are!

Jygglepuff or whatever his name was.


I loved the rooftop fight club. I thought it was cool when I came across it in the game, and I wanted to join in too. It was brilliant tying it into Kalila, and using it as a lead into her and Wrothken getting in the sack. But that was even better!

"He's...deformed!" She cried out.
Oh poor Kalila, she's been playing for the wrong team all this time!

All in all, I like how you are piling the craziness on. Every part of this segment underscores that this is indeed the Realm of Madness.



nits:
The words that you bolded, are usually italicized instead.