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]

Hello everyone. Apologies for the lateness but I had no internet access yesterday so couldn't post the next chapter up. My apologies for this, but if it makes you feel better, here's a sketch of Azura I drew to make it up to you.

Liz: Pleased you liked it; from what we know of Meridia, she seems associated with suns and is called 'Wayward Solar Daughter', so I figured it would make sense that she would be MADE OF SUUUUUN!!

McBadgere: Pah, can't keep up with this because of real life? You know what that is, Mcb? An excuse. And excuses are for the weak. You don't want to be weak and ugly, do you?

I liked the idea of Azura keeping Nerevar around and it sort of made sense, so I figured I'd roll with it. Not surprised you had that same idea, though. Great minds, right?

And yeah, I was absolutely knackered. I might go back and fix it at some point. Later, though, Bioshock Infinite's nearly done installing.


Jyggalag

Azura shivered as she stepped into the Boundary, the dead place’s chill seeping against her being. She drew upon her power to help stabilise her form in this halfway-point, the gossamer-thin infinite unplace between Mundus and Oblivion, inimical as it was to both Aedric and Daedric alike. The infinite grey desolace stretched around her, and she moved through it like a swimmer through barbed water, grimacing with every motion as it tugged and pulled against her being.

The grey mortis of the Boundary may have been desolate, cold and barren, but it was not silent. From infinite distances were the sounds of battle, of arms crashing against arms, voices bellowing war-cries and the screams of the wounded and dying. She could feel the fights raging all around her, the energy of bloodshed and turmoil, and she followed them along, tracing and tracking them, until she found what she was looking for.

The plain was riven and battered, soil turbidised into mud by spilt blood and tramping boots as two armies clashed. On one side, soldiers from every race, creed and nation fought, Stormcloaks locking shields with Imperial Legionaries, Knights of the Nine standing alongside the Forebears of Hammerfell, Ordinators and Bouyant Armigers battling next to Orsimer clan-warriors. On the other, being clad in plate cut from grey crystal stabbed and hacked at their enemies with blades and spears forged from the same matter. Larger versions of their ossific brethren took to the air with silvered wings, wielding great hammer as they plunged into the enemies ranks to swing, smash and retreat.

Azura went over the two armies, unnoticed by the foes below, passing above the ranks of silver warriors. Her passage to the back lines was unchecked, hidden as she was from view, and once she decided she was far enough over the main battle, she dropped the glamour that kept her concealed, waiting and hovering in midair.

It did not take long for her to be noticed. An immense figure, fifteen feet in height, powered up through the air towards her, a winged and armoured giant carrying a mace and shield. White light gleamed from beneath its helm, and the air around it whined and crackled with each beat of its wings as it drew to a halt.

“Hail, Arbitrator,” Azura called to it. “I come bearing peaceful tidings, and wish to speak to your master.”

“My master shall gladly receive you,” the Arbitrator said. “What brings you to his realm?”

“That is for Jyggalag alone to hear,” Azura replied. “If you would bring me to him, then I will speak to him right away…”

She paused for a moment, and added; “My apologies, but which of his Arbitrators are you? I always have difficulty telling you apart.”

“I am Obedience,” the Arbitrator said. “Come, I shall take you my master.”

The Arbitrator dipped its wings and swooped away, Azura following close behind. The geology of the place they were approaching became more mineral, silvered crystals jutting from the cracked and rocky ground. Grey mist loitered at their bases and over crevasses, and the air began to grow even colder.

She was lead to a building, a fortress-palace of cut crystal, towering high and foreboding into the Boundary’s vacant sky. Obedience landed on its ramparts, the Arbitrator folding its wings away and gesturing for Azura to follow. She did so, through a doorway and into the main tower, into an immense room covered with maps, charts and stratagems, bustling with servants both mortal and Daedric. In the centre of the activity, wearing crystal and silver armour of the same cut as that of his servants, the lord and master of the tower pored over charts.

Jyggalag, Daedric Prince of Order, the Antithesis, Anu-Padomaic abomination that was hybrid of the Aedra and the Daedra, regarded Azura with cruel features as she entered, that look alone enough to cause her essence to ache. She was afraid, in the presence of a being whose impossible nature made him something so powerful that the combined might of sixteen Daedric Princes had been able only to subvert him. Unlike the Aedra, and unlike the other Daedra, Jyggalag did not simply survive the discomfiting nature of the Boundary, but thrived in it, held in check only by the dead.

“What brings you here, Lady of Dusk?” he asked, his deep, powerful voice causing Azura to wince.

“Dire news,” Azura said. “I’m calling a Conclave in Moonshadow, and I require the presence of all of the Princes, yourself included.”

“A Conclave? Concerning what?” Jyggalag asked.

“I will reveal all then,” Azura said. “But suffice to say, I need your presence as well as that of the others.”

“As urgent as your need may be, I’m afraid it cannot be done,” Jyggalag said. “Ebonarm’s forces press against the Grey Crusade constantly, and ever since his suit to Shor to gain the support of Sovngarde’s dead bore fruit he has had himself a constant supply of Nords eager for battle. My forces can hold them, but if I were to quit the field now it would spell disaster; Ebonarm would not hesitate to take advantage that such an opening would leave.”

“Surely your Arbitrators would be up to the task of serving as generals in your stead?” Azura asked.

“They are good, but Ebonarm is a war god,” Jyggalag said. “He would best them. I cannot leave, not yet.”

“I need you there, Jyggalag,” Azura said.

“Your need does not concern me,” Jyggalag shrugged. “I cannot leave this place, not yet; that is not open for debate.”

“What if I were able to persuade Ebonarm to a ceasefire?” Azura asked. “A temporary truce so you could attend these negotiations?”

“And how would you do such a thing? Ebonarm hates all of the Princes,” Jyggalag pointed out. “He would not listen to you, Azura.”

“There is one of us that Ebonarm would listen to,” Azura said.

“You mean Sheogorath?” Jyggalag sneered. “What makes you think that my prattling fool of a brother would be of any use?”

“Well, considering that he and Ebonarm are allies, he would be listened to, certainly,” Azura said. “And if that were the case, you could attend the conclave.”

Jyggalag shrugged.

“Very well,” he said. “If you think that that imbecile will be of any use, go to the Isles and speak to him. If I hear of Ebonarm offering a truce, then I shall attend this meeting of yours and see whatever matter it is you wished to convene on.”

“Then I will make for the Isles at once,” Azura nodded. “Thanks you for your time, Jyggalag, and I shall see you in Moonshadow.”

“If you say so,” Jyggalag said. “Farewell, Azura.”

“Farewell.”

Grateful that she could be gone, Azura stepped into the air and left.