Madgod Options

[Colonel Mustard]

Hey everyone.

This has been rattling around my head for a while now, and I figure I might as well get it started with and continued while I've got the drive to write it. As you might have guessed, the following is based off the Shivering Isles, but I'm doing my own thing with it somewhat, so I should probably say now that, while there are bits of this that you'll recognise, there are a lot of parts that you won't; I'm bringing in a lot of new character ideas and so forth, and there will be interesting things done.

Anyway, I'm not very good at this whole introduction business, so I'll just let you get on and read it. Do enjoy!

Madgod

Chapter 1-The Champion

Sing deep, sing low, sing the song
pay the piper to play it on
to his tune you must dance
and slumber in eternal trance
for deep within its secret dreams
madness desperate plots and schemes
the gauntlet breaks the chain of snakes
and its bloody bounty it finally takes
the starving serpent eats the tail
consuming slowly as a snail
but patient, hungry, it awaits
the cyclic feast it anticipates
will we be free or forever slave
hear the siren call of ‘obey’
or will Madgod rise and strike down
mercury tide that would Isles drown?

Do not be here when it will come. It is hungry. It is angry. It has plans. Your nice little world which you’re reading this in won’t be all that nice if they come to fruition. Oh no. You lucky, lucky things. You honestly have no idea. Must I explain?

Very well. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.

Let’s step back. Right now, we are at the end. To begin at the end is impossible. Not impossible, no, not here, nothing is impossible here, but to begin at the end here is implausible. Is that the word I want? No. Unnecessary. It is doing it wrong. Sometimes it works, but here it does not. So let’s take a step back from here.



His fished crashed down, crunching bone. A scream rang out.

“Mercy! Please, mercy!”

“Mercy?” he asked, gauntlet raised above his head, his scarred, battered face contorted with rage. “You want mercy? That’s just too good.”



No, not far enough, further back we go. We need to get to before that. No context. That’s too close to the end for what we want.



He and Her Ladyship turned around on the glass platter as it rose above the city, stepping around one another’s feet as they danced.

“See,” she said. “I told you you’d be good at this; it’s all about the rhythm.”

He nodded, glancing down at their feet self-consciously as they moved.

“Relax,” she said, steering a hand gently down his back, guiding him along. “You’re learning fast, my dear.”

The world spun below them as they danced on their rotating glass platform, hovering in midair.



No, further back still. Is this it? Is this the place?



He pulled himself up the top of the ladder, through the trapdoor, into the great glass globe at the tower’s very top. He stared at the figure sitting cross-legged a few feet from him on a cushion, and the eyes of the man stared back at him.

In a voice as thick and rich as Felldew, Sentinel said; “Ah, you’re here. I saw you coming, you know.”



Not here, no. No, no, where is it? Where do I start?



The Angel of Rage slammed down before him in a landing that sent a cloud of ash blossoming around her. Wings of flame and lightning pinned themselves to her back, and a mace of fire materialised in her hand. Her ruined face twisted into a grimacing snarl as she beheld the intruder.

“Why are you here, mortal?” she demanded. “Why should I not destroy you?”



Not yet. She comes partway through. This is all too late, nobody will understand it, you fool!



They opened with a creak, and he saw it spread before him. A twisted landscape of gnarled roots, growing upwards into the air whilst leafy branches clawed at the ground. Rock formations of shimmering, rainbow stone formed bizarre shapes, ones that seemed to gain form as you looked at them, moved, grew, reached towards you. Faces grew from the scenery, hungry mouths and gasping maws, clawing talons.

He blinked and glanced away, setting off for the city in the distance.



No, not quite. Nearly there, nearly there. Here we are. Here, we begin.



He was drinking to the death of his best friend.

He getting slapped on the back, cheered, toasted, hailed as a hero, bought drinks, and all for the simple reason that he had just killed his best friend.

The night was a blur of tankards, one swallowed after another. There were yells of encouragement, the crowd urging him on once more, their favourite, their hero, their champion. He could only remember them being quiet from earlier, when they had all fallen silent right after that moment.

The taste of ale, the smell of smoke, the offensive eye-watering blur of flaming torches. He couldn’t focus his gaze properly, he noticed, and his tongue felt numb. He was getting drunk. Good.

“’nother drink!” he slurred out, swaying as he did so. Behind and beside him, the rest of the Blue Team cheered their approval and assent, ordering another round. He wasn’t paying tonight. He didn’t know who was paying tonight, and he didn’t care. What he wanted right now was noise. What he wanted right now was cheering. What he wanted right now was distraction.

His head was numb, spinning, buoyant. He managed to grin as complete strangers approached him, shook his hand, and grinning was good. Grinning meant he was happy, and he knew that it was important that he felt happy, that everyone expected him to be happy. He thought he was happy, so he was. He had the ale down the hatch, and that was good. That was a good way to get happy, get happy quickly.

“That’s our Carnius. Ain’t that something? Our Carnius, of all the people.”

That was one of the boasts. One of the favourites

“Waterfront boy, he is. Knew him since he were a kid.”

And there, another. He could pick the threads of conversation out as the Waterfront locals boasted about him, their Carnius, who had grown up around here. A real local hero. Something to boast about. Something to be proud of. Just went to show.

He stood, the sudden movement sending him swaying. There was a chorus of questions about what he was doing, where he was going and he answered them with; “Goin’ out back. Be back in a minute.”

He stumbled outside, moving through the inn, the crowd of blurry faces parting before him. He caught snippets of detail, a grin from an admirer, an alluring look from a hopeful wench, a torch burning in a bracket, a knot in the wooden surface of a table. The din of the tavern muted as he entered the back alley. It was a good tavern, that one. Good stories there. That time he and Agronak had nearly got arrested for brawling, only for the Watch to recognise who they were and haul everyone else off but leave them be, shaking their hands as they did so. That was one of the good ones. One of the favourites.

He urinated down the back wall, in the quiet, concentration taken up by the task at hand, before he finished relieving himself. And then, for a moment, in the quiet that followed, he was drawn back to earlier that day, in the hush that had come. The hush that had come when the battered, broken corpse had slumped to the floor of the arena, armour clattering, as Carnius had stepped back from the body of Agronak Gro-Malog, the Grey Prince. The hush that had come as he had limped away, down to the bloodworks. The hush that had come as he had done so without acknowledging the silent crowd, with the cheering only rumbling into his range of hearing as he had splashed chilly water from the Basin of Restoration onto his face.

And for a moment, the clarity and the harsh reality he had been avoiding since then hit him like the blow from a warhammer. Agronak was dead. He had killed him.

Carnius Hackelt, new Grand Champion of the arena, leant forwards against the wall and quietly wept for what he had just done.

[Colonel Mustard]

Quick! Call the Arcane University! We've got a threadomancer on the loose!


Chapter 5-The Door

There's scratching. Scratching in the walls. I don't know what it is. I don't know why there is scratching. Nobody told me that there would be this damn scratching.

I listened. Put down my quill, halted this chronicle, something dangerous in itself (don't tell them, please. They'll be angry with me. We can't let that happen) and listened against the walls. There is a scraping, a gnawing, a scratching, something eating away at them. It must know I'm in here.

Oh no. Please, if you're reading this, send help. Send help, stop it before it gets in!

But the chronicle…the chronicle must continue.

Must write it or they'll see I've stopped…

The crowd roared as the razor-edged claw closed over the heavy gauntlet, clattering against Daedric ebony and gripping. The land-dreugh tugged, trying to stumble Carnius with the grip it held against him, but the gladiator moved with it. He pulled himself in as he swung a punch with his free hand, slamming the spiked knuckles of the heavy metal gloves into the thick carapace that guarded its arm. The bone armour cracked on the impact and the claw released, and Carnius braced raised his arm as the other one swung towards him.

It hit the vambrace protecting his wrist and he turned his forearm as it impacted. The claws slid away before they could get a grip and Carnius' hand twisted around, gripping onto it as the land-dreugh lost balance, the crablike creature shrieking in anger and dismay before his free fist slammed home on the joint. Its cries turned to those of pain as the armour around it cracked into jagged shards that sliced into muscles and severed nerves, the claw lolling uselessly as the crablike being stumbled away from his grip.

Across the arena sands, man and beast faced one another. Carnius panted, blood pounding in his ears as he sized up his opponent in an instant. One of its claws was now useless, nothing more than a barely-controllable club with a sharp, bony edge, the other still working but injured. The razor-tipped forelegs it had were still very much in commission and sharp enough to gut him if he wasn't careful, and he needed to get around those if he wanted a chance to kill it. The head was what he needed to deal with; pulp its tiny brain and it would die.

A moment later, he had formulated a plan for that. One that would look nice and dramatic for the crowds, too.

He moved, shifting over to the left, the dreugh following his movements as he did so. He pressed along the wall of the arena, yelling at the beast as it watched him. It dithered for a moment as the crowd yelled and bellowed for it to do something, before the noise and pain pushed it too far and it charged forwards with a shriek of anger.

Carnius crouched, grabbed a handful of grit and hurled it at his enemy as it skittered towards him. It gave a hissing wail as it was blinded, stumbling and staggering away. It drew to a halt, its remaining good claw scraping over its beady eyes as it tried to clear the stinging sand, and Carnius moved. It may not have hit the wall like he had hoped it would, but it was good enough.

He darted behind it while it was distracted, vaulting onto its back. The dreugh shrieked as it realised where he was, jolting as it tried to throw him and slicing a claw towards him. Carnius grabbed onto one of the lesser arms that protruded from its back with one hand, blocked with the other, the thick chitin claws glancing off the Daedric ebony and throwing it away.

He took his opening, pulled forwards and punched.

The blow crashed into the back of its skull, snapping the shell that protected it and pulping the soft meat beneath it. The Dreugh shrieked and toppled forwards, staggering before Carnius drew his fist back again, the spikes on his gauntlet's knuckles dripping with transparent pink blood and chunks of bone and gore. He smashed it home again, and the Dreugh pitched forwards, toppling onto the sands.

As he rose the crowd roared, clambering to their feet as they bellowed their approval. He looked around at them and raised an arm in acknowledgement. He could pick out coin being passed between customers and bookies along with a few angry words here and there.

He gave a final wave as he headed back down towards the Bloodworks, making his way through the tunnel built from viscera-stained stone. He pushed open the door at the bottom, smiling as he looked at the gore-stained basin in the circular room at the bottom.

He splashed water from it onto his face, the cool and salty liquid running over his skin and bringing the dirt with it. The enchantment on the basin took effect immediately, the fatigue in his muscles seeping away and the nicks and bruises from the fight fading and closing.

Owyn was waiting for him in the Bloodworks, and the Redguard nodded the new Grand Champion his approval as he saw him.

"Good work," he said, stepping from the wall which he was leaning on. "Crowd loved that one if the noise they were making out there was anything to judge by. Here, your pay."

He handed Carnius a small purse that gave a quiet clink as it dropped into the gladiator's palm. Carnius pulled its neck open to check it, the red glint of light within showing its contents to be rubies.

"Should be a thousand Septims' worth of them in there," Owyn said. "Easier to carry than that many coins."

"Thanks," Carnius said as he pocketed it.

"Of course," Owyn said, the Redguard stepping through into the rest of the damp innards of the Bloodworks. There were a few gladiators lounging about, practicing against dummies or sparing against each other with wooden weapons. "Hey, pit dog!"

The Argonian he addressed looked up from where he was expecting a shield, and a clawed hand picked up a flail.

"You're on in two minutes, pit dog," Owyn said. "Head up to entrance, get ready."

"Of course," the Argonian said, standing up and sliding on a helmet, heading past them. He paused as he saw Carnius. "Hey, are you…?"

"Not now, pit dog," Owyn barked. "Head up; crowd's waiting."

"Good luck, kid," Carnius added, to which the lizard-man nodded his thanks. He hurried away up the stairs, scaly tail brushing against the floor with a dry hiss. "Saw him before; was doing alright. He any good?"

"He's a quick learner, I'll give him that much," Owyn replied. "And he's survived this long. Refuses to hear that his flail's not the best weapon for the sort of brawling you get in an arena."

"If I remember right, you said the same thing about me fighting with my fists," Carnius replied. "Look how that turned out."

"You just got lucky," Owyn said.

Carnius snorted.

"What?" Owyn asked.

"Every one of us here is just a wet-behind-the-ears pit dog to you, aren't we?" Carnius asked, gesturing to the gladiators.

"Well, what can I say?" Owyn said. "That's what I all saw you as, and first impressions stick. Except for Ta'Zarna."

"Oh, and what was he?"

"A goddamn maniac. And that never changed."

Carnius shrugged at this, and Owyn suddenly glowered.

"Arran!" he called out to a Redguard gladiator who was practising a series of combat manoeuvres with a pair of scimitars. She stopped what she was doing as the Blademaster approached. "What in the Nine's name do you call that?"

"I'll leave you to your berating," Carnius said as he stepped over to the small locker and mannequin that held most of his arena possessions. He slid off the studded leather tunic and kilt that formed the large part of his armour as the Imperial Arena's champion, and removed his gauntlets. A shirt and trousers of loose, cool and clean cotton, top dyed blue and the bottom simple black, were pulled on, and he inspected the gauntlets. They were still flecked with a few stray chunks of Dreugh-matter, and he wiped them off with a cloth, setting about oiling and cleaning them the best he could. The daedric metal that bladed his knuckles was undamaged, the hardened ebony resilient enough to withstand anything a Dreugh could throw at it and was already clean of blood; he had noticed that was always a strange trait of those bands that ran along them, as if it were somehow drinking it in.

The work did not take long, and soon enough he left, heading into the bustling streets of the Imperial City with his gauntlets safely stored away in the Bloodworks. The crowds flowed around him as he made his way along the pavements, his journey uninterrupted aside from when he was nearly sprayed by a sheet of water from a passing carriage. He halted by a street corner where a boy was standing with a bundle of scrolls under his arm, brandishing one of them like the sceptre of some king, and bellowing at the top of his lungs; "Black Horse Courier! Black Horse Courier! Get all the news you could possibly want here!"

His gaze glanced towards Carnius as he saw him draw to a halt.

"Want a copy of the Courier, mister?" he asked. "Only a Septim."

"What's it reporting on today, then?" Carnius asked.

"What everyone's talking about," the boy said. "The island that's appeared in the middle of the Niben Bay."

"Island?" Carnius asked.

"Yeah," the boy replied. "It just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night, with this door on it, and nobody knows why. People are worried that it's another gate from when the Hero of Kvatch stopped them last time, but nothing has come out yet."

"Let's see a copy," Carnius said, interest piqued.

"Course, mister," the boy said. "One Septim, please."

Carnius reached for the purse at his belt, and realized that the only one he had was the pouch of rubies that Owyn had given him. He took one of the precious stones out of it and handed it to the boy, who frowned.

"I don't think I can change this, mister," he said.

"Just keep it," Carnius said. "I don't need it, anyway."

"Really? Thanks, mister," the boy said with a grin, handing over a rolled up copy of the Courier. "Wow. Have a good day. Thanks."

"Not a problem," Carnius replied.

He left, heading towards the Elven Gardens district, deciding to read the scroll over some lunch at the King and Queen. The bouncer at the doorway, a grizzled Orc who had once been an adventurer if his scars were anything to go by, nodded at Carnius as he passed through the door; his clothes may have been far simpler than that of most of the upper-class tavern's clientele, lacking as it was in jewellery and ornamentation, but it was clean and there was a sack of coin at his belt, and that was enough for the hulking Orsimer.

Eating here was somewhat of a guilty pleasure for Carnius, but as he ordered a platter of bread, cheese and a few slices of cured pork, he felt he needed a good lunch, and the inn served the best in the city. He waited at the table for his order and unfurled his copy of the Courier, tracing a calloused finger under each word as he read.

Niben Bay Mystery Door!

In a bizarre and alarming turn of events for the citizens of Bravil, the city finds itself to be the neighbour of a new landmass within the Niben Bay. The small island, no larger than fifty feet in size, is reported to have simply appeared in the middle of the bay at midnight with a flash of light, much to the surprise of the local residents. On the island itself, it is reported that a gateway, shaped like three faces, is the dominant feature, along with a number of plants that local experts from the Bravil Mages Guild have been unable to identify as anything belonging to Mundus. Fearing that it may be another incident similar to the attack that Bravil suffered during the Oblivion Crisis, Count Terentius dispatched a contingent of city guards and mercenaries to seal the area; while nothing Daedric has come out of the gate, the mercenaries who entered returned from their experience after having suffered some kind of severe shock, and reports say that their recollection of events beyond it remains somewhat incoherent.

Commenting on the situation, Captain-

"Interesting read?" a voice asked from behind Carnius. The gladiator glanced up as the chair opposite him was pulled away and Her Ladyship sat.

"Interesting enough, I suppose," Carnius said, raising an eyebrow. "Can't say I expected to see you here, milady."

"I was here on some business of mine and thought I would stop off for something to eat," Her Ladyship replied. Behind her, Carnius could see her two bodyguards waiting nearby, the twins' hands resting on the pommels of their weapons "And who should I happen to see other than my favourite gladiator enjoying some lunch of his own?"

"What sort of business?" Carnius asked.

"Oh, there have been one or two trade opportunities that have recently opened up here in Cyrodiil that my own estates and people could benefit from," Her Ladyship replied. "I'm merely helping the process along the way."

"That the sort of thing nobles usually do?" Carnius asked.

"Not typically, but the territory I rule over is rather unusual," Her Ladyship said. "I need to take a more active interest in its affairs in order to ensure that things run smoothly."

She snapped a finger at a servant girl, and glanced at Carnius as she hurried towards them. "But in all honesty, I'd rather give business a rest for the moment and simply enjoy some lunch with a good friend of mine."

"What can I get you and your friend, ma'am?" the serving girl asked, bobbing a curtsey as she reached them.

"Just a luncheon platter, if you may, with sliced chicken instead of the usual pork," Her Ladyship replied. "And some wine; do you have any good vintages in your cellar?"

"We have a few bottles of Surilie Brothers three ninety-nine, ma'am," the serving girl said. "Would that be acceptable?"

"Perfect," Her Ladyship said. "One bottle, chilled, and two goblets for Carnius and I. That will be all."

The serving girl curtseyed and hurried away to fetch her order, and Her Ladyship turned back to Carnius.

"Now, how has your time as Grand Champion been treating you so far?" Her Ladyship asked.

"Can't complain," Carnius replied, setting his copy of the Courier down on the tabletop.

"Can't complain?" Her Ladyship asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're the Grand Champion of the Imperial City Arena, with fame, gold, inns treating you to free drinks and hordes of women who are completely overwhelmed with admiration for you and you merely can't complain? You'll forgive me if I'm a little incredulous about that."

Carnius shrugged.

"Well, I suppose it's good," he said. "I'm pretty lucky to be where I am, after all."

"And yet now you're here, it isn't enough," Her Ladyship said. "Tell me, Carnius, what lies in store for you now that you're actually Grand Champion?"

"Training, the occasional match, that sort of thing," Carnius said. "What I did before, really."

Her Ladyship nodded.

"You were perfectly happy being a gladiator before you become Grand Champion," she said. "So why the sudden change in heart?"

Carnius was quiet for a moment, leaning back in his chair before he said; "I liked doing all this gladiator stuff back when I was working towards something. I had…I had purpose, a goal. Something to achieve."

Their conversation was interrupted for a moment as the serving girl Her Ladyship had talked to earlier set down a few trays with food, along with the bottle of wine in ice and a pair of goblets.

"Enjoy your meal," she said with a curtsey, disappearing a moment later to deal with a customer."

"Go on," Her Ladyship said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to Carnius.

"Well, now I'm here I don't really have anything to work towards. I've won," Carnius said. "I kind of feel like…what's that term sailors use? When there's no wind?"

"Doldrums, I believe," Her Ladyship said.

"That's the one," Carnius said. "Doldrums. It's like that. Before, there was a breeze, wanting to make it to Grand Champion, but now I'm actually the Grand Champion, it's gone. I'm just drifting. I don't have any direction now."

"There must be something for you to do, I'm sure," Her Ladyship said.

"Well, there's talk of getting the Arena over in Kvatch going again now that the city's beginning to get back on its feet," Carnius said. "I figured that I could probably help there; got experience in this, after all."

"I've heard much that same, but in all honesty, how long will that take?" Her Ladyship asked. "After all, they still have to worry about how well stocked their granaries are and if people are going to bother trading with them; the good people of Kvatch will have a few more pressing matters to deal with before they can make time for gladiators and circuses, I believe."

She took a sip of her wine.

"So," she said. "You want something better to do with your life, then. A new goal, perhaps. Why not simply leave the Arena and do something else?"

"Look, I've said before, it isn't like that," Carnius said. "You can't just up and go."

"I'm well aware of what you said, Carnius, but it simply makes no sense to me," Her Ladyship said. "It seems to me that it's for the best if you have yourself a fresh start, but you seem to be quite insistent on staying there."

Carnius shrugged, ripping a hunk of bread from the platter before him and taking a bite.

"Tell me, Carnius," Her Ladyship said. "Would you call yourself a free man?"
"What sort of question is that?" Carnius asked with a frown. "Of course I would."

"I see," Her Ladyship said. "Then it seems to me, Carnius, that for a self-proclaimed 'free man' you wear an awful lot of chains. You don't wish to leave the Waterfront despite the fact that it's a gods-forsaken pool of filth-"

"Hey!" Carnius managed.

"And you will defend said gods-forsaken pool of filth despite the evidence that piles up to paint it as such," Her Ladyship continued. "And you choose to linger at the Arena for no discernable reason even though it's clear that you are simply wasting your time there."

She shook her head.

"What in the name of all the gods that have ever been are you doing, Carnius?"

"And why do you care?" Carnius asked.

"I suppose it's because I invested a great deal of time and effort in you," she said. "And I've come to care about you as more than just a mere investment as well. But if you want to sit here in your doldrums and spend the rest of your life doing nothing of worth simply because you feel obliged to then I suppose there isn't much I can do about it."

Carnius shrugged as he chewed on a mouthful of salted pork and bread.

"Look," he said. "I need to stay here, alright? It's what's expected of me."

Her Ladyship was quiet for a moment, before she said; "Perhaps you are right, Carnius. All I'm saying is that you should keep your options open."

Her gaze fell on the open copy of the Courier that was resting by Carnius' plate.

"Speaking of openings, I see you've heard about that doorway and mystery island," she remarked.

"It's an interesting read, I'll give it that," Carnius said. "You think it might be another Oblivion gate like the ones that we got in the Crisis?"

"Call it a hunch, but I'm not certain," Her Ladyship replied. "There are no hordes of ravening Daedra spilling forth, for a start."

"Maybe," Carnius said. "Still, the people who did go through got a shock from something in there. Not sure if anybody else is going to be following through."

"I would beg to differ," Her Ladyship replied. "I have a feeling that there are going to be a great number of people doing quite the same thing."

"Really?" Carnius asked. "Who would that be?"

"Adventurers, I would guess," Her Ladyship said. "People seeking fame, riches and glory. But others too; those who want a fresh start, or run where people aren't going to follow, where they can leave their old lives behind. You always get souls like that."

Conversation turned as they ate and drank, meandering through various subjects, and Carnius found he was enjoying himself. Considering the vast gaps between their backgrounds, he had somehow felt that he and Her Ladyship would have no common ground. But despite this, the conversation was enjoyable, flowed on its own accord and Her Ladyship seemed to be having an equally good time. If anyone from his local home on the Waterfront could see him now they would either be amazed or outraged.

"I'm afraid I really must be leaving," Her Ladyship said some time later, just as she was finishing the last of her wine. "As much as I've enjoyed talking to you there is still a good deal of business that needs attending to."

She smiled at him as she stood.

"We should meet up again, sometime," she said. "I'll send a courier to find if you if I'm in the Imperial City again."

"Of course," Carnius said, heading towards the door. Her Ladyship fell into step behind him, her two bodyguards following behind. "I'd like that, I reckon."

He pushed open the door, and allowed Her Ladyship through into the street. She waited for him on the pavement for a moment as he stepped through.

"Well, I suppose this is where we part ways," she said. "I hope you find some kind of calling, Carnius. I really do."

"Thanks," the gladiator said. Her Ladyship curtseyed him with a smile that seemed to mock what she was doing, and swept away up the street. Carnius watched her go for a few moments. Then he returned back to the inside of the King and Queen, found their table and picked up his copy of the Black Horse Courier so he could do some more reading on this doorway.