Champion of Madness, ~A Shivering Isles story Options

[mALX]

"Great..." Wrothken said. "Still doesn't help that the whole town thinks I've got some sort of deformity lurking in my pants."

"I know, I know. Just give it time, and it'll blow over."


WHAT???

The Deformity will BLOW OVER???

Does that mean some one did a... .

a...


a...


a ------JOB on the DEFORMITY???!!!???

Oh no you didn't! I'm still surprised you had nothing to say about this line:

He laid awake, waiting to hear a shriek and sobs of deformity, but no one came.

@ Jacki - I am so in love with your story! I knew you would be great when you were wondering if you should post this over at the BGSF !!!!

*

This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 20 2010, 06:10 PM

[Mumatil]

I've been reading this from the Beth forums, and I enjoy it.

But Cutter doesn't strike me as the girl+girl type.

Remembering all those phallic illustrative dialogue of blades going into the skin and all....




Also I really like your story back in Kvatch, I think you did very well on bringing those 3 elves alive.

Wrothken's gonna need a bigger mace to keep the ladies off.

This post has been edited by Mumatil: Oct 11 2010, 09:48 AM

[Jacki Dice]

Hey everyone. I'm really sorry its been so long.

I'm posting to let everyone know that I am still continuing this story. Its just myself and my family have had some medical issues and it's been difficult to give Wrothken the attention he deserves. As soon as things settle down (which they are slowly) I'll be back. Promise. ♥

[haute ecole rider]

Come back when you're good and ready.

mALX was gone for a couple of months over the summer for similar reasons. As for her, we'll be here for you when you come back - don't worry!

Family takes precedence over forum, and all of us here know it.

Take care of yourself!

[SubRosa]

I hope you and yours get better soon.

[mALX]

I'm so sorry to hear you all have been ill. My best wishes for you and your family's speedy recovery. We'll wait till you feel up to it, don't worry!

[Linara]

Hope your family and yourself get well soon. Don't worry, we can wait!

[Jacki Dice]

Thank you to everyone for your well wishes

Now, let us continue♥

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Hints From a Dead Man

The next night Wrothken headed to Ma'Zhadda's house. He hoped Ma'Zhadda would be true to his word and the conspiracy would be foiled and he could be done. However, the ever growing cynic inside him told him not to expect any simplicity.

He knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked harder and when there was still no answer, his insides began to churn. He looked around, wondering if he should get a Mazken to help. After some thought, he decided against it. He didn't want to alert them about the conspiracy, especially since one of their own may be involved.

He tried the back door, but it was locked. He took out a pick and opened it up after his fourth try. After looking around to make sure he wasn't seen, Wrothken slipped in the house.

"Ma'Zhadda?" He called out as he crossed the threshold. As soon as he closed the door, he was overwhelmed by the stench of blood. "Oh no," he whispered.

He ran down the stairs and saw Ma'Zhadda lying in a pool of his own blood. There was a single stab wound in his chest.

Wrothken knelt by the dead Khajiit, tears welling up in his eyes. He promised his life would be spared if he got the names. Guilt washed over him. Even he wasn't the one who had stabbed him, he felt like might as well have. If only he didn't coerce him into naming the head conspirator. If only he hadn't agreed to be Sheogorath's champion. If only he hadn't entered the damn door in the first place!

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. The saying popped in his head as he wiped his eyes. There was nothing he could do now except bring the conspirator to justice. He closed Ma'Zhadda's eyelids and headed to the door.

"Maybe that creep Herdir can figure out where to go from here," he said to himself. He was heading back up the stairs when he noticed a crinkled note half under a bowl on a table by the door.

I haven't got much time. She's coming for me.

Nelrene asked me to hold on to this sword. Said I should give it to Anya and have her do the deed, but Anya wouldn't. Now maybe it can find a better use as evidence. Syl will recognize it.

Muurine is in charge. She's the one telling Nelrene what to do. If I'm not around, I hope this is enough evidence to bring her in.

I hope I'm alive to see it.

"You may not be alive to see it," Wrothken said. "But I'll be damn sure you didn't die for nothing."

He glanced around. It wasn't in plain sight. He'd have to do some searching.

The living room was bare and Wrothken was thankful to leave the room. He followed the stairs to a locked door. Wrothken didn't feel like dealing with a lock pick, so he used his mace to bash the doorknob in. If anything, he could blame it on the killer.

He checked the bed and the chest, but there was nothing. The only thing left was the cabinet, and of course it was locked. He didn't recall seeing a key in the bedroom which meant it was located on Ma'Zhadda. There was no way he was going to fumble around Ma'Zhadda's pockets, especially since it risked himself getting stained with his blood.

He raised his mace high above his head and swung it as hard as he could, cracking the stone doors. He beat it until it smashed. He cleared the chunks and smiled when he saw the sword. It had a curved handle and the edges of the blade were heavily serrated. He hoped a similar one wasn't what killed Ma'Zhadda. Sword and note in hand, Wrothken headed back to the castle to confront Nelrene.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:03 AM

[D.Foxy]

Welcome back to health and (our vitrual) hearty, my girl! You and your talents have been...well and truly missed.

[mALX]

Welcome back Jacki, and I hope your Birthday was AWESOME! (I hope the fact that you're back means that all the health issues have disappeared for good !!!)

Finding Ma'Zhadda dead was a shocker for me too, your writing captured the feel of walking into his house and finding him so perfectly!!

You have been missed, so glad you and Wrothken have come back to us !!!!!

[SubRosa]

Yay! Jacki and Wroth are back! As mALX said, I hope this means your health issues are under control.

I would like to say this was a fun episode, except of course that it was rather grim. Wrothken has to face his nagging sense of guilt at flipping Ma'Zhadda, and thusly making him a target. On the other hand one might consider that Ma'Zhadda had it coming, being part of a murder conspiracy. On the third hand, if anyone ever deserved it, it is Syl, so hard to blame him.

[Zalphon]

I like how descriptive you are

[Jacki Dice]

Thanks everyone. My health is back to normal now so yes I am finally back ♥

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Syl Wins: Fatality!

Wrothken was barely able to keep his cool when he saw Nelrene standing by Syl's empty throne. "A word, please," he said through grit teeth.

"Yes, Inquisitor? How may I serve?"

"Don't give me that!" He said. "I know you were involved. Thanks to this stupid plot of yours, someone is dead!"

"Shame," she said indifferently. "However, I'd like to remind you that you have no proof!" She sneered. "You cannot hold me accountable for anything!"

"Oh?" He presented her sword and the note. Her eyes filled with anger as she read it.

"So what are you going to do? I'm not even the one you want." She folded her arms. "Muurine is behind it. You'll need solid proof to pin it on her."

Wrothken dangled the note in front of her face. "I think this and your admission is proof enough."

He could nearly feel the anger emanating from her and seeing as how she had no problem planning the murder of the Duchess, she would likely have no problem gutting a mere temporary inquisitor so he left without another comment.

He hastily walked back to Crucible, hoping he would be done going back and forth and back and forth again. Not to worry, he thought. After this, its time for a little me time. Bother Sheogorath. He can wait...I hope.

The suicidal blond remained at the top of the stairs. He glanced at Wrothken and let out a loud, overly-dramatic, wistful sigh. "Nope!" Wrothken said, passing him by.

"Muurine..." He said, looking around the city. Judging by the name it was likely an elf. He peeked in shops and on the streets when he remembered Bernice and her vast wealth of knowledge. He dashed to the taphouse.

Bernice smiled to him as he took a seat at the bar. "Oh, hello dearie! I've barely seen you all day! Have you had any luck with..." She looked around and leaned in. "Ma'Zhadda?"

Though they were far from friends, the mention of his name stung. "You could say that," he said. "On the subject, do you know a Muurine?"

She chuckled. "Oh boy," she said. "Sure, I know her. Rather kooky Altmer if you ask me. You know, I heard she's got her uncle living with her?" She said as if that were scandalous.

"So?"

"Sure, seems normal enough except the man died five years ago! And she always smells ripe. Anyway, what about her?"

"Oh nothing." When she pouted he added, "I'll fill you in later, I promise. I'm just in a bit of a rush."

"Oh, alright. And when you get back you better come and eat something proper! You're looking a bit thin and I don't trust other people's cooking. Sheogorath only knows how they keep their kitchens!"



After asking around a bit more to find her house, Wrothken stood on her porch, mentally preparing himself. He had the sword in one hand and the note in his pocket. Just in case she tried anything, he wore his full set of armor. He knocked on the door.

An elderly looking Altmer answered the door. She looked down at him with a disgusted look. "What do you want?"

"I'm here about the conspiracy."

She smiled dryly and clapped her hands together. "I see you've done quite a bit of work to track me down. Yes, I orchestrated it," she said proudly. "Syl deserves to die a painful death for turning on all of us, and consorting with our enemies."

"What is so wrong with Syl and Thadon 'consorting,' as you all say?"

"My poor boy," she said, patting his head. "You don't get it. You can't. You're not one of us. Now be a good boy and take me to that despicable woman." She held her hands out in front of herself.

He was surprised. He didn't need to offer his proof or put up a fight. "Fine, off we go then."



Syl was waiting for him in her throne, Anya and Kithlan seated at each side. "What news do you have to report, Inquisitor?" She demanded. "Have you found who is responsible?"

"Yes," he said, stepping aside to make Muurine more visible.

"Is that so?" She said, stroking her chin with a smile. "Bring her to the torture chamber at once."

Wrothken took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't make him watch a long, drawn out death. That would be too much.

As the three entered, Herdir looked positively giddy. "Well, well! Looks like we have a visitor!" He clapped Wrothken on the shoulder. "Good job, lad! We'll have to do this again sometime!"

Wrothken squirmed inside, but nodded just to get away from him.

Muurine was led into a cage in the center of the room. She didn't make any effort to escape or even resist. Wrothken knew he shouldn't feel sorry for her after what she did to Ma'Zhadda, but he couldn't help it.

Syl approached her smugly. "You've confessed to attempting to kill me, I understand. The penalty for this treachery is death, and is to be carried out immediately. Do you have any final words?"

"Nothing to you," Muurine spat. "But you," she looked at Wrothken. "Know this, little one: You've chosen a side." She closed her eyes. "You'll get what's coming to you eventually."

Her words sent a chill inside Wrothken. What exactly had he gotten himself into?

Syl pressed a button and lightning flew from the walls on either side of the cage and jolted Muurine until she fell dead. Herdir checked her pulse and gave Syl a thumbs up.

Wrothken looked away. All this death for something that could have been put to an end with a simple jail cell... Well it's not called the plane of madness for nothing, Wrothken thought.

Syl didn't notice Wrothken's displeasure. She seemed almost as joyous as Herdir. "You see now what happens when those who oppose me fail, which they always do," she said, poking the tip of his nose. "I am pleased with your work, Inquisitor." She motioned for him to follow her to the throne room. "As a token of my appreciation, I shall spare your life, and make you a Courtier of Dementia. In addition, accept this Bow." She took it down from the wall. It was the same color as Nelrene's sword with an ornate gold decoration on the handle. As she put it in his hands, she said, "May your enemies fear you and never know from where or with what enchantment you shall strike."

"Thank you, Lady Syl," he wasn't sure what to do with it, but he'd figure it out later. First, he had to tell her about Ma'Zhadda. "I didn't do it alone, though."

"Oh, yes I know. Herdir shall be rewarded as well."

"No, no, not him," he said. "His name was Ma'Zhadda. He was the one who pointed me to Muurine. Unfortunately it cost him his life."

"Oh. Well, since he did provide you with her name, I'll see to it that he is buried with honors."

"Thank you, Lady Syl."

It didn't quite make up for his death, but it was the best he could do. He left the palace and without looking back, he set of on his own personal journey, to relax and make sure his head was still on straight.




The sun was setting, giving Kvatch a fiery tint. As the crowds bustled to the arena a Breton dressed in a long red hooded robe, clutching a set of books to his chest, walked through them. No one seemed to notice him. Oh the poor fools. Soon they would all perish and they had no idea.

He walked to a house in the far north side of the city. It was a small little house in the poor side of town. Its shabbiness was magnified by the yellowed, unkempt yard. He knocked on the door.

An Imperial answered, opening the door just a crack. The Imperial was short and somewhat plump, with warm sparkling brown eyes and a spattering of brown freckles across his face. The Imperial looked the Breton over. "Dawn is breaking," the Imperial said.

"Greet the new day," the Breton responded.

The Imperial opened the door all the way. "Welcome, brother. My name is Capaneus Tempestas. I guess you're they guy they sent to help me get started."

"Milun Cazenove," the Breton said, entering the house. By Dagon, it was a sty. Master Camoran could have at least warned him of the toxic conditions he would be working under. The only couch was covered in stains, some so hideous Milun didn't dare imagine their origins. The kitchen was obviously unused, or else Capaneus would have surely died of food poisoning. All kinds of clutter imaginable carpeted the floor. It was no wonder this man didn't live in the Sanctuary. This filth wouldn't have been tolerated.

Capaneus didn't seem to notice Milun's disgust. That or he didn't care. After all one man's hovel was another man's nirvana.

"Right," Capaneus said. "I set up a room for you. Master Camoran said this would take awhile to get everything set up."

As Milun followed him to the room, he found himself envisioning an explorer fighting his way through a dense thicket of jungle. He felt that way clearing space between bottles, old rotted food, soiled clothes, and other things.

When Capaneus opened the door, he was surprised to see it was actually somewhat livable. It was a small space with only room for a bed and dresser. but it would do. If it came down to it, he could work outside, behind the house.

"Thank you, brother," he said. "If its alright with you, I would rather discuss our mission in the morning. It's been quite a journey."

"Not a problem," Capaneus said. "Sleep well."

Milun nodded and as the door closed he set his books on the dresser. He peered out the window. Master Camoran said the job would likely take several months, if not a year, to complete. He hoped sooner. He was ready to cleanse the world and make way for Lord Dagon.

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:08 AM

[SubRosa]

Now that was an emotionally grueling end to one of the more displeasurable quests in the SI. Poor Wrothken, he really has gotten himself in over his head. He is going to have to learn how to get rid of that pesky conscience if he is going to stay in the Isles. Either that or go insane...

Your description of the man-cave in Anvil was appropriately disgusting! I especially loved the sentence about the Imperial not using the kitchen! For a moment I thought the Imperial was "The Stranger" in Anvil, which would have really been weird!



nits:
"You'll get what coming to you eventually."
I think you meant what's?

[mALX]

Your description of the man-cave in Anvil was appropriately disgusting!

This sounds like the first line of the chapter you posted today !!!!


@ Jacki - Oooh, Mythic Dawn !!! Now we're talking !!!!

[D.Foxy]

Syl deserves to die a painful death for turning on all of us, and consorting with our enemies."


Foxy-transaltion: Syl deserves to die a painful death for GETTING US ALL *cough cough* EXCITED .... AND SLEEPING WITH OUR ENEMIES





My goodness ... for a moment I thought Syl deserved to die a painful death for doing one of those "shows" on stage with their enemies...and turning them all on...

[Jacki Dice]

SubRosa~ Hee the man cave was quite easy... All I had to do was peek in my brother's room

mALX~ Yep! I was going to wait on them but I couldn't contain it anymore!

Foxy~ Lol yes Syl should have though about that before donning that dress... ♥

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Reflections

The next morning Wrothken set off for Bliss to pick up some supplies for his trip. His only stop was at Common Treasures where he picked up a bedroll, some food, and a few torches. The moment he exited the city gates he felt as if a weight had been lifted from him.

He didn't venture far for fear of getting lost. The spot he selected was just a few miles away from New Sheoth, across the path from some old ruins. Having no desire for fighting anything other than animals, he stayed away from it.

For the first time in ages, he was able to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of the Shivering Isles. The caps of the mushroom-like tree he settled under were a vivid turquoise and the flowers around him blossomed every shade the rainbow could offer. The leaves of other trees were all the rich colors of autumn and the sky above was cloudless blue, speckled with gold stars. Perfect.

He stretched out on the ground and stared up to the sky. This place was so beautiful yet so dangerous. Who knew that by entering a door he'd be thrust into a world of sex, drugs, and violence? So much violence... Though he'd gone hunting all throughout his life and on occasion various bandits didn't know when to quit and lethal force was required, this was different. People were so eager to group up and plan your demise for something as trivial as who you share you bed with! No wonder Syl was so paranoid.

He sighed. What he wouldn't do to go back and stop himself from entering the door. Maybe someone else would have come around and helped Sheogorath. Someone with a higher tolerance for this. Meanwhile he would be back in his house....

His house! He jolted up. All this time he hadn't realized that now Awour was the sole owner of his house! Great, he thought. He had no way of finding out if she had sold it or worse turned it into a marital home for her and Bacchus. He huffed. At least he'd still have Kirsty... or had his job been replaced too?

Kirsty was tough, no question, but there were times she needed an extra hand, even if to keep the drunks in order, especially after arena fights where they were angry over losing bets. If she had hired someone else, would he be able to work there again? If he had no house and no job, would he be stuck in the Isles forever? He shuddered just thinking about it. He'd sooner stoop to begging. Besides, the Fighter's Guild was always recruiting. Maybe he'd give that a shot. He sighed, relaxing again.

Thinking of Kvatch, no matter how dismal things seemed, made him feel a little homesick. He missed the culture, the food...the sanity. How easy it was to take it for granted. He looked up at the sky. He wished he could just slip out of the Isles and pretend this was all a bad dream, but he knew better than to try and hide from a Daedric Prince. Especially ones that would wear his organs as jewelry.

Champion of Sheogorath... He recalled how proud he had felt and how he would be sure to revel in it. Now he wasn't too sure he wanted it. Being the champion of a god had to have some sort of perk, but at what cost? His sanity?

A new realization entered his mind. Maybe that was the point. The champion of a lunatic couldn't very well be sane. It wouldn't make sense. Beside, Sheogorath sure seemed to enjoy tormenting him. He wondered if the Khajiit and Dunmer who he had seen outside the door had been attempted champions who just couldn't handle it anymore. Oh what to do, what to do? There had to be a way to come out with his wits still about him.

He tried to think of other times where he needed a way to keep his cool. When family drove him insane, he had his friends or Awour. When Awour began to work his nerves, he had Kirsty. So now that Sheogorath and his band of crazies were driving him he had... "Bernice!"

She may be a gossip and the biggest hypochondriac he'd ever seen, but she seemed somewhat sane...usually. If he took it slow and leaned on her when he was losing it, maybe he could come out alright. After all, Sheogorath never said he had to keep everything a secret!

This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Jan 2 2011, 06:15 AM

[D.Foxy]

Why? WHY do you keep doint this to me, Jacki....


...



... I swear you're doing this ON PURPOSE!


If he took it slow and leaned on her when he was losing it, maybe he could come out alright


It took just one dyslexic "doing" replacing "losing" for the Foxy imagination to run riot...


Otherwise, an excellent chapter, as usual.

[Jacki Dice]

Why? WHY do you keep doint this to me, Jacki....


...



... I swear you're doing this ON PURPOSE!


If he took it slow and leaned on her when he was losing it, maybe he could come out alright


It took just one dyslexic "doing" replacing "losing" for the Foxy imagination to run riot...

O.O Oh my....

Its an accident, I swear! It must be my subconscious being rather naughty....

[SubRosa]

Who knew that by entering a door he'd be thrust into a world of sex, drugs, and violence?
He picked the Punk Rock Star door? Cool!

I like Wrothken's very sane and natural ruminations over what he has gotten himself into. He really does not fit in the Shivering Isles. He is too sane, and too nice. So far. At the same time you also present the very real quandary he is in which the game ignores. Once you commit to a Daedric Prince, they are not going to just let you quit. As Wrothken noted, they tend to wear your organs as jewelry if you try that.

And finally his turning to Bernice is simply perfect! Just as his thoughts slowly led him to her, you have shown us since he first arrived in New Sheoth that she is the best friend he has in the Isles. I always did like her too...