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

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

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

Chapter 9-Threshold

The stars were wrong in this place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You trying to follow her, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carnius nodded.

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

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

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

“To victory, my friend,” Jayred said.

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


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

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

“Where are you going?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Thunderous applause*...

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

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

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

Nice one!!...

*Applauds thunderously*...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

I’m still very much enjoying this, Mustard!

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

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

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

The pollen creating a natural shield effect - Awesome idea!

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

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

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

KC: Thank you very much, yer majesty!

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

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

Chapter 10-The Bard

“Murderer!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Those were his orders,” Haskill replied.

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

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

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

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

He glanced around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s cooking?” Carnius asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Playing music,” was her reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn Heretics,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Killed it,” Carnius said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, thanks,” Carnius said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I suppose so,” Carnius conceded.

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

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

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

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

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Sep 3 2012, 11:31 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please, continue... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Thank you for reading, and I love you all!


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

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

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

Nice one!!...