A Conclave of Princes Options

[Colonel Mustard]

A Conclave of Princes

Part 1-The Call

Azura

Tick

Of all of the many secret places of Moonshadow, the meeting chamber that Azura stood in was the best hidden and least-known, so obscure and unknown it was not even myth.

Tock

Hidden from all prying eyes by spell and ward and ancient ritual, the room was built like an amphitheatre, a great tiered circle of white stone surrounding a single raised dais. Behind the dais was the clock, a ring of brass, silver and pearl, gleaming in the silvery light that illuminated the room. An engraved pendulum swung left and right with the passing of every second, delicate hands clicking as they moved, the cunning of its long-dead artificer and the spells he had laid upon it ensuring that it would keep time with perfect precision until Akatosh himself finally passed.

Tick

The chamber was empty but for one person, a woman clad in shining silver-white hooded robes, the garment woven from moonlight by blind seamstresses. Her face was three faces in one; that of a youthful maiden, of a kindly, smiling mother and of a wrinkled, wizened crone, all three of those at once and yet at the same time none. Her name was Azura, the Lady of Dawn and Dusk, and right now she was waiting and listening to the clock.

Tock

The timepiece itself had been a gift to her, made for her long ago by a Dwemer admirer, a clockmaker and timekeeper with skill beyond repair. She had honoured the generous donation by hanging it within this hall and, when he died, by taking his soul to her realm of Moonshadow that he might continue his craft forever more.

Ti-

The pendulum froze mid-swing, caught in the precise halfway point between one second and another. Azura took a moment to glance at it, and nodded. Her sacred time had come, the precise moment when day turned to a night of a crescent moon, a span of time so short that it could stretch to eternity. With a nod, the doors lined around the hall groaned open, and now that they had been invited to Moonshadow and into Azura’s secret eternity, the cats entered.

Untold numbers of them came, an uncountable army of the animals prowling through the doors. Fat, pampered lazy housecats trotted alongside scarred and battered strays who had lived every day of their lives on the vicious gauntlet of the streets, old cats wheezed their way in whilst kittens rolled and played around their paws. Short-haired breeds from Hammerfell came alongside the thick-haired cats of Skyrim and shared space with the elegant stock bred by the Altmer of the Summerset Isles, while the large desert wildcats of Elsweyr loomed over the animals around them. All of them had come by the secret routes known only to cats and the mistress they served, arriving in the time that was there only for them

Somehow, despite the millions of animals that entered the room, there was no struggle for space. The amphitheatre seemed to grow with its audience, expanding with its crowd as the cats went to their seats and waited. One or two greeted each other by tentative sniffing, and a few old friends that could meet only on this day; on one of the rings, a Hammerfell tom met the Valenwood tabby that he had bumped into in the last meeting, and was introduced to the litter of kitten he had fathered for the first time. There was no yowling, hissing or snarling between them, and even little in the way of normal, conversational mewling, the gathered assembly silent out of respect for their lady and mistress.

One by one, the cats began to form a line, and Azura took a knee as the first one approached. He was an Summerset breed, tall, lithe and proud, his white fur groomed with meticulous care, the tufts of hair on his ears twitching as he sauntered forward, as if speaking to a goddess were something he did every day. Azura bowed her head as he stopped next to her, and as she bowed it, the feline told of her of all the secret things he had seen. Once she had listened to his account, she nodded, and the cat trotted away, back home, and the next one took his place. She had the nervous enthusiasm of a newcomer, and her report was stammered out. As with the first, the Mother of the Rose listened to all she had to say, and when she was done, she dismissed it, briefly stroking her spy behind her ears before she went.

So it went on. Each cat gave their report, and each one was given equal time by Azura, and the lowliest of street cats was listened to with the same care and attention given to the sacred cats of the island nation of Laalket, bedecked as they were in their finery and jewels. Everything the Daedric Prince heard, she remembered and digested, and was added to her great libraries of knowledge, the books and shelves filling up as she listened.

Yet one cat, a feline who said she lived in a temple of the Nine as a mouser, told her something that gave her pause. After a moment, Azura instructed her to stay until her council with the other cats was finished, but all of the other information she heard was received with an uneasy frown. Even though the place she inhabited was timeless, the Lady of Dusk began to feel it drag, and she was glad when the final stragglers gave their news.

As the final cat made her way out, herding her kittens with her, Azura returned her attention to the feline that had given the news to her earlier. She asked the mouser to expand on what it was she had said, to give as much detail as she could remember. Azura quizzed her on where she had heard it, how the overheard conversation had gone, asked her to repeat it word for word to the best of her memory.

Finally, once she was satisfied that she had heard everything from it that she possibly could. She permitted it to leave. She watched it scurry out of one of the doors, back to the warmth of its basket by the hearth. For a few moments, Azura lingered in the chamber, debating her options. There only really one to take, she knew, but though it was necessary it did not make it one she wished to do so.

A gesture of a hand and a doorway appeared before her, gnarled oak in a white frame. She turned the knob, stepped through it, and disappeared. There was work to do on this night.

-ck

Behind her, the pendulum of the clock swung into motion once more.




So what's this? A 3-part story, each part divided into 18 chapters, each chapter following a Daedric Prince and one other mystery entity. Each part is a short one, between 900 and 1500 words (so I can hopefully update at a reasonable pace) and if you think of it as something like a shorter version of the Canterbury tales set in the planes of Oblivion you've got something akin to the right idea.

Do enjoy, do leave any comments or critique that you think are useful and do have a lovely day, my dear readers.

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Mar 10 2013, 10:28 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

DE: I won't lie, writing the scene with Sanguine was probably the most fun scene I've written for this so far, and it probably helps that I've always had a soft spot for him as well.




I can see Bal being the sort who would adore the idea of having another Prince under his control, and considering that Azura was in a pretty bad way, he'd take that chance.





The fight was difficult, though, what with the entire thing being all but impossible for a human being to comprehend or to relate using our pathetic mortal words that exist in a mere four dimensions. I was pretty pleased by the way I managed it, though.




Liz: Cheers!




Grits: It was tricky to work out how, but I was pretty pleased with the solution I thought up. Thanks very much!











Meridia

"My lady, may we speak?"

The golden-skinned mer waited respectfully in the doorway of Azura's private chambers, where Azura sat cross-legged in the centre of the circular room of white stone. Her eyes were closed, and they snapped open at the query.

"Of course," she said. "Come in, Nerevar."

Indoril Nerevar, Lord Protector of Moonshadow and the last Chimer, bowed his head in deference to his mistress' order, the plume of black hair along the top of his head dipping with the movement, and stepped into the chamber. The boots of his moonlight-forged armour clanked against the floor as he approached, and the gleam of his two curved blades, Trueflame and Hopesfire, flickered around him.

"How fares my realm?" Azura asked.

"We have managed to extinguish the worst of the fires and I am still arranging rescue efforts for those trapped in the rubble," Nerevar said.

"And how many dead?"

Nerevar was silent for a few moments.

"Too many," he finally said. "My lady, I must ask; what happened out there?"

"I was ambushed by Mephala whilst traversing Oblivion," Azura said. "She wanted to know the purpose of my travelling, and refused to wait for an answer. She attacked me, we fought and she gained the upper hand."

"That would explain the devastation here," Nerevar nodded. "I trust that you will be spending some more time to recuperate your power and to help restore Moonshadow."

"No time," Azura said. "This is urgent."

"My lady, I don't think that's entirely wise," Nerevar said. "I'm already uncertain about the wisdom of bringing the rest of the Princes here, even if you and Moonshadow were at full strength, but considering the extent of your injuries, such a course is too dangerous to consider."

"And what would you have me do instead?" Azura asked.

"Send out Winged Twilights to carry your message to the others Princes," Nerevar said. "Invite them here whilst you recuperate. If necessary, send me instead."

"That will not work," Azura said with a shake of her head. "Most of my messengers would be ignored; my presence gives the summons the urgency they need to be heeded. And you would most likely die. Several times."

Nerevar shrugged.

"Death loses the worst of its sting after the first few times," he said. "As I said, if I go then-"

Azura held up her hand to silence him.

"I must go myself," she said. "That is final."

"My lady, as Lord Protector of Moonshadow, I cannot allow that," Nerevar protested. "If you find yourself forced to fight once more, who knows what kind of damage could be wrought here? If you go you would jeopardise the realm, and my duties cannot allow that."

"This is not something I will debate," Azura said, standing. "Good day, Indoril."

She disappeared in a fine white mist, and Indoril Nerevar cursed.

Uncaring for Nerevar's concern, Azura sped through Oblivion. She kept a leery watch on her surroundings as she went, wary of another emergence of Molag Bal or Mephala, but she could see nothing.

Her destination was easy to find, a glaring, bright inferno in Oblivion, a white ball of blazing heat and energy. Walls of magnetic energy and charges particles surrounded it in heat that would immolate even a Flame Atronach, roaring and crackling with a brightness that melt the eyes from the sockets of a mortal. Plasma roiled and seethed across it, and viewed across electromagnetic spectra the result was a spectacular whirlwind of colour. The Citadel of Fusion, home of Meridia.

Azura dove in, weaving around the currents of spectacular energies that twisted around her, dispensing with a corporeal body that would have been cast to atoms in mere moments. The solar fortress' walls pushed and tugged against her, but even the power of a sun was not enough to keep her at bay.

She broke through, into the inhospitable realm of heat and light that was Meridia's home. The immense hollow ball of energy, a Dyson Sphere of cataclysmic solar fury, raged and screamed around her as she hovered in the cauldron of heat that was its heart.

"Meridia!" Azura called. "Meridia, I am here!"

From the flame and heat and energy, a being coalesced, a figure of a woman on a cosmic scale. Her skin was stellar fire, her eyes the blazing hearts of suns, the hair that flowed down her back the delicate, obliterative gossamer of solar flares.

"Greetings, sister," Meridia said, her voice the crackle of hydrogen fusing into helium. Azura's robes whipped and rippled at the blast of heat that accompanied the words. "What brings you unto my realm?"

"Greetings," Azura returned, bowing her head even as her hood was ripped from its top by the hurricane force of Meridia's words. "I come bearing news."

"News?" Meridia asked. Azura pulled up her hood, and with a small portion of her power, fixed it in place. "Of what, sister?"

"I am calling a meeting," Azura said. "All of the Princes, in Moonshadow."

"That is unusual," Meridia said. "What is the cause of this?"

"It will be revealed at the meeting," Azura said. "But I can tell you that it concerns your father."

Meridia flared, crackling energy streaming from her form.

"What of him?" she asked. "Azura, I must know."

"You will, Meridia, you will," Azura said, raising a placating hand. "Simply come to Moonshadow when I call, and I will tell you everything."

Meridia nodded.

"I will be waiting, Azura," she said. "I wish to hear everything once I am there."

"And you shall," Azura said. She nodded a farewell. "I still have many others to visit, Meridia, so I must leave. Thank you."

"If this meeting bears any fruit, then it me who owes you thanks, Azura," Meridia said. "I shall speak to you soon."

Azura bowed once, and left.




Yes, I know, the ending's very abrupt, but it's late, it's been hellishly tircky to write, and by god I am so damn tired right now.

I'm going to bed.


This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Mar 28 2013, 10:44 PM