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 !!

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?







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.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:27 AM

Bring it on, baby, Wrothken! Let the Chump-pee yon of Madness be the Champion of READ BADness!!! Yay!!!

"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.

Foxy:

SubRosa: My favorite chapters are the ones with Sheogorath He's so expressive and fun.





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.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:28 AM

Oooh!!! Awesome Chapter !!!! Riveting beginning paragraphs of Lilitu's inner thoughts !!!!

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.

She's a fence and no longer goes out for jobs

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.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:30 AM

he said, as if Wrothken had asked him to count the all stars in the sky.
I love the way you capture Haskill.

while simultaneously picturing bashing Haskill's head in and leaving him in the bushes.
You also capture the way Haskill makes everyone feel extremely well!

Phew! Those Obelisks of Order are tough! I remember my first time running into one that was active. I had no idea how to shut it down. In the end I had to just run away, after killing a ton of knights.

Since he hadn't met a Golden Saint that he liked, he approached the Mazken.
My feelings exactly!

"Et tah, Mazken"
Et tu Brute?

A Mazken with a sense of humor. He'd consider marrying her if she weren't a daedra.
Uh oh, Kristy might have some competition after all!

As always, a wonderful read. I am so glad to see you back and giving us more Wrothken and company again!

Nits:
"Then how to I deactivate it?"
Looks like a typo in do?


Thee was a gate on each side, one with Golden Saints and one with Mazken.
I think Haskill absconded with the "r" in There.


The Mazken had all retreated back to the halls of Cylarne so he onl had one option left.
He swiped the "y" in only as well.

ROFL !!! I loved Haskill !!! Another great chapter!

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




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.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 3 2011, 06:03 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?

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.

This post has been edited by Wrothken Champion Of Madness: Jan 6 2011, 12:14 PM

Welcome !!

SubRosa-

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

♥♥♥♥

I just caught up with your story. In one sitting, I couldn't stop! I love it, Jacki Dice!!!

Grits~ Thanks a lot ♥

In the end I decided to start a new thread. Its been cleaned and reorganized in a better way See you there ♥

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

I agree !!