Madgod Options

[Fiach]

I'm reminded of the works of Patrick Rothfuss here, the description, the music, the absolute madness...ah, the Shivering Isles! I'm going to have to play Oblivion again soon.. and maybe learn that song that Salyan sung... I love the idea of the Sentinel, as well as the contrast between Carnius' preference of Dementia, while Salyan prefers Mania ( I can't help but suspect that she's going to die tragically though, she just seems so..alive o3o)
Definatetly going to follow this

[King Coin]

… and had managed to get to know the rest of the staff in the space of one night.
Got to know them eh?

Carnius’ family background was interesting, especially his father. Now we know where Carnius learned his moves. Sounds like the father was a great guy when he wasn’t drunk, which also sounded rare. Then his mother dies and Carnius signs up for the arena.

I know I’ve said it before, but this pairing of Salyan and Carnius is great. They have very different personalities and she’s been in the Isles for a while. She’s very open where he’s kind of closed. And then their unique talents make for some very interesting fights. It was fun to see Salyan hold off the shaman long enough for Carnius to recover. I think some destruction spells are in order though. Where might she learn some?

[Lycanthropic-Legend]

I must say, I have been stalking this story for quite some time. I liked the character development you made with Carnius at the start after killing his friend, Agronak. I also like how you set up the scenes leading to the Shivering Isles and the humor, and of course, the descriptions of this alien land is vivid and entirely better than the ingame portrayal of it. We know lore and game world are both the same and different.

I'm a sucker for character development and backround and I enjoyed this chapter as it reveals about Carnius' parents. Tragic fate of his pops dying in a bar fight! Most tragic!

Additionally, the fight scenes here are truly vicious and amazing. I am hooked, dear sir, truly hooked!

[McBadgere]

Amazing stuff...All of it...

Loved Sentinel, loved the idea of him being part of Sheagorath that the DL was sick of and so cut him out!!...

Well done there!!...

I'm in love with Her Ladyship... ...Possibly something to do with her morphing into that gorgeous wench that was in Dexter, Warehouse 13 and Spartacus...But, shockingly enough, I've forgotten her name...Jaimie somethingorother...It'll turn up...But yeah, her...*Sighs*...

And then Xedillian...

Fantastic trawl through...Brilliant stuff...

Loving all of this tale, looking forward to wherever it doth go next!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Colonel Mustard]

Fiach: Thanks very much indeed! I'll admit I've never read any Patrick Rothfuss, but I've heard a lot of good things about his work in the past, and I'm truly flattered for a comparison like that.

If you want an idea of what Salyan's song sounds like, then you can do worse than listen to Marc Gunn's performance of it and then just adapt the lyrics in your head into the rather more, er, visceral ones sung by the folks of the Shivering Isles. I'm pleased you liked the idea of Sentinel, and he was actually one of the first ideas for unique and wierd characters that I had for this story (him and Rage basically kickstarted Madgod) and a lot of fun to write.

And I find both Salyan and Carnius to be a very fun pair of characters to write, simply because they're both quite different personality-wise and yet complement each other quite well, as you said. Whether Salyan dies or not, well, wait and see.


KC: Oh god, creepy eyebrow smiley is back!

*Cowers*

Pleased you liked the bit about Carnius' background, though it wasn't so much Carnius learning his proficiency with his fists from his dad as it was him inheriting it. Though his mother was very much alive when he joined up with the Arena; she passed away a few years later. Probably should have made that a bit clearer.

And I'm quite fond of those two as a pair, and it's fun to have them both be so different and yet still sticking together. Though Salyan shouldn't have too much trouble learning some destruction at the College of Bardic Lore in New Sheoth; she's hardly the only audiomancer out there, after all.


LL: Thank you!

I'm pleased you're enjoying the stuff I'm doing, and it's nice to see the effort I'm putting in paying off with a reader liking what they read. And while part of this is just adding extra to the Shivering Isles we know, there are going to be bits that are completely different and unique that I'm adding in too, mainly because I the ideas are cool and because I can.

Thanks for the complement on the fight scenes, by the way; I've got a few years of martial arts so generally use my own experiences with sparring to help add a sense of realism to the fight scenes (admittedly, they're still done with a good splash of creative license in order to make things more exciting) and I'm glad it's working for you.


McB: Chyahs, dahlin'!

Part of the stuff I'm looking forward to doing with this story is playing around with the rather unique nature of the Daedra and Oblivion; believe me when I say that Sentinel is just the start of proceedings!

I'm afraid I've got no idea who you're talking about with the actress playing Her Ladyship, but I hardly watch any telly, so that's no surprise.

As for where it's going next, well, just scroll down and see for yourself...




Chapter 17-Trap

An old, cold heart shuddered into its first beat in an age. Blood that had dried into dust crept into a liquid and began to pump along veins. Musty lungs were purged of their dust and cobwebs by a hacking cough. Colour began to return to pallid grey-blue skin. Arthritic fingers curled into life with a groaning creak. Eyelids opened over dry cataracts that faded with every passing moment.

Kiliban Nyrandil, the keeper of Xedilian, woke once more from his centuries-long sleep.

- - - - - - -

There was darkness all around. A thick, coiling, oily blackness, snaring and dragging at his eyes, slipping over his skin. He took a step forward, straining against the thick air, trying to look around, to see if he could find anything.

“Salyan?” he called. “Salyan, are you there?”

The darkness absorbed his words and spat them back at him with as a hissing echo. He took another step forwards, fighting the dark around him, and stopped as a curving line of white appeared before him. It widened into a crescent, a mouth.

“Alone,” it said, fangs flashing into view as its invisible lips parted in speech. “You are all alone now, forever.”

“What in the name of the gods are you talking about?” Carnius asked.

“Trapped. Caught in a trap. A morsel to be eaten!”

It opened wide, growing larger than Carnius, expanding and growing until they were as huge as existence itself, a maw of hungry night that swept over him. The ground swelled up under his feet, sending him tumbling down the slick sides of an invisible gullet and he was falling, down through the darkness.

He landed on his back on an anvil. The scarred visage of Cutter looked down at him, huge and imposing as she snarled.

“What the-” Carnius managed, before the immense smith said; “You broke our deal.”

“What are you talking about? What in the name of the gods is going on?”

“Our contract is broken,” Cutter replied. She had a knife in one massive hand, and two fingers pinned him to the iron. “I’m taking my forfeit.”

Carnius screamed as the knife sliced through his armour, a deft movement opening his ribcage like a flower. Pain roared through his body as he thrashed against the iron grip of Cutter’s fingers, and a pair of tweezers descended. With a ripping squelch, his heart was torn free. He was too blinded by pain to see the smith swallow it.

And then the anvil was gone, his chest was whole. Carnius stared at it for a moment, running a baffled experimental hand over it. It ached but that was the extent of the damage.

He looked up, glancing around at the room he was now in. He frowned as he recognised the cellar for what it was; the Bloodworks of the Arena. How in the name of the Nine was he here?

“Murderer,” a voice croaked.

“Who’s there?” Carnius asked, raising his fists.

“Murderer,” that same voice croaked again, this time from behind him.

From behind a pillar, a figure stepped out. It was clad in a rusted, pitted breastplate and a kilt of hardened leather, the grey-green skin was peeling away in patches, revealing bone underneath. An eye was gone, the other one brown with rot, but Carnius recognised the figure despite the decay.

“Agronak?” he asked, stepping back. “What’s going on?”

“Murderer,” the half-rotten thing repeated once more. “You killed me.”

“Agronak, what are you talking about?” Carnius protested. “We agreed that that was how the match would go; you didn’t want to win.”

“Justice,” it managed. “Now, I will have justice.”

“No!” Carnius protested. “Agronak! Please, what are you doing?”

The thing’s sword hissed from its sheath. He tried to raise his hands, tried to block, but his arms were locked at his sides as the blade was raised from his hands.

“Justice,” it said once more. “Now, justice. Murderer.”

The blade hacked down, a burning wedge of agony and Carnius screamed as an arm fell away, then the second. His vision turned black once more.

When his eyes opened, he was face down on a cold stone floor, this one free of bloodstains. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, casting around the room he was in.

It was nothing more than a box of ten feet in diameter, lit by a few candles on a desk that was ornamented only by a quill and a parchment. Behind that, there was another occupant; a man dressed all in grey, his skin the same shade, eyes glowing bright white. There was a look of shock on his face, and Carnius stepped back, raising his fists.

“You keep back,” he warned.

“You?” the man asked. “What are…what are you doing here?”

He glanced around at the walls and turned back to Carnius.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I did,” the man in grey said. “Please, I really am. Just let me out of here.”

“What are you talking about?” Carnius asked.

“There’s scratching,” the man in grey replied, only have hearing it. “Don’t you realise? Something is coming through the walls. Can’t you hear it? It’s going to come through the walls and kill me. Please, I swear, I’m sorry. Just I need to get out, though, before it breaks through the walls!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carnius said.

“What?” the man in grey protested. “But…but you...”

The ground opened beneath Carnius in a maw of broken stone. For a few brief moments he looked up as the man in grey tried to scrabble after him pleading with him to wait, stopped from following by some invisible barrier.

He landed on his back on a bed.

He blinked, realising he was now naked, and raised himself up on his elbows. He recognised the room as Her Ladyship’s personal chambers and frowned.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice asked from next to him.

Carnius saw Her Ladyship rise from where she had been lying next to him, as naked as he was. He scrambled away, but the sheets snapped in place around his wrists, and Her Ladyship’s face twisted into a overly smile with fangs.

“This isn’t real,” Carnius managed, more to himself than anything else. “This is just Xedilian doing something to my head. This isn’t real.”

“Quiet,” Her Ladyship ordered. She leant in close to him, still smiling, before she said; “You thought you might be one of us, didn’t you?”

“Get away,” Carnius managed.

“You thought you might better yourself?” she asked, ignoring his protest. “That you might somehow rise above your station?”

She jabbed a few fingers into his stomach and Carnius gasped in pain as the muscle and skin parted before her nails, blood dribbling down his midriff.

“No,” she hissed, hand sliding into his gut with a wet squelch as Carnius screamed in pain. “You stay right where you came from. Grubbing in the dirt where you belong. Don’t you dare think to rise up above your station.”

Carnius managed to squeeze his eyes shut at that point. Just because he could not see it, however, did not mean it was less painful.

When it subsided, he dared to open them. He was in a cave, lit by the light of guttering braziers of beaten iron. A serpent, a huge, immense snake with a girth like the trunk of a tree, was coiled on a stone platform that Carnius stood before, and a lazy amber eye slid open as it saw him.

“Usurper’s pawn,” it hissed. “Why do you disturb my rest?”

Carnius frowned, stepping away from the immense serpent.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Akel,” it said. “The hunger, the first madness. True holder of the Madgod’s title, and yet my mantle has been taken by your master.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carnius said.

“No, of course you do not,” Akel said. “You scrabble in the dark like so many of your kind. Even now, in this place, you keep to shadow, ignorant and forever in denial about the nature of this cycle. Soon I shall be forced to feast once more.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re saying,” Carnius said. “But I know that this just an illusion made by this place. A lie.”

“Indeed it is, and yet it is not,” Akel said. “Xedilian’s visions are not illusions. They are insights. To find madness, all you must do is look deep enough into sanity, and I am there. Lurking. Hungry, always hungry.”

It uncoiled, rising over Carnius, fanged jaws opening wide as the gladiator backed away and braced himself.

“Time to wake up,” it said.

It struck down, and fuelled by desperation and terror more than anything else, Carnius struck back.

The next moment, he was standing, pinning a dunmer to the stone wall of Xedilian. The mer had a look of shock in his red eyes as he kicked and struggled.

“Who are you?” Carnius demanded. All he got was a choked gargling, and he loosened his grip slightly.

“Kiliban!” the dark elf managed. “Kiliban Nyrandil, the…the keeper of this place. Please…please put me down.”

Carnius lowered the man to the ground, glancing around at his surroundings. The shadows were free of any mocking, illusory spectres and he looked back at the coughing dunmer; he was fairly sure he was real, but he didn’t want to take any chances just yet. He was only at the bottom of the Resonator’s pedestal; throughout that entire experience, had barely moved a few feet.

“I’m really very sorry about that,” Kiliban said, as Carnius continued to scan the room. “The facility is designed to attack anybody who enters without permission, and because you activated it without the proper identification charm it thought you were one of its targets. An oversight on the behalf of whoever sent you, really.”

“Where’s Salyan?” Carnius asked him, not caring for the man’s explanation.

“Who?”

“Salyan, the young woman I came in with.”

“I don’t know, I only just woke up,” Kiliban said. “You’ve been the only person I’ve found here so far.”

“Gods above,” Carnius murmured, shaking his head. He picked one of the corridors at random and jogged through it, calling out; “Salyan! Salyan, can you hear me?! It’s me, Carnius! Salyan!”

He found her after a few minutes of searching, Kiliban in his wake. The bard was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf and quietly sobbing.

“Salyan?” Carnius asked, keeping his tone gentle as he knelt down next to her.

“Go away,” she choked, squeezing up tighter.

“Salyan, it’s me,” Carnius said.

“I said go away!” Salyan protested, not looking up. “I’m not a freak, just leave me alone.”

“Listen, I’m not one of the illusions this place has been throwing at you,” Carnius replied. “I’m real.”

She glanced up with bloodshot, distrusting eyes as he held out a hand.

“You’re not a trick, are you?” she asked after a moment. Carnius shook his head, and helped her to her feet. She grabbed him in an embrace. They were quiet for a few moments, before she said; “Can we please leave?”

“Let’s,” Carnius nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a while?” Kiliban asked. “It must have been quite a journey to get here; you must be tired, surely. And I appreciate some help clearing out all the Grummites’ things.”

“We’re fine,” Salyan said, picking up her lyre from where it lay discarded a few away. “You can tidy this place up by yourself.”

“But can’t you-”

“We’re going,” Carnius interrupted. There was a growl in his voice.

They left Xedilian in subdued silence. Outside, the drizzle had subsided, but the ground was damp the flora around them were glistening and slick with damp, the mushroom trees twisting over the road like disembowelled guts turned brown with rot. There was little conversation as they walked, Salyan remaining uncharacteristically silent and subdued. Carnius felt badly shaken and not in the mood for talking in any case, and he decided the best thing he could do right now was give her some space; she reminded him of a fresh-faced pit dog who had just lost their first good friend in an Arena match. It was in the evening, when they were taking shelter in the lee of a large mushroom tree, having finished a dinner of some of their travelling rations, that he decided that it might be a good time to breach a question that had been pestering him during the walk.

“Salyan,” he said. “What did you mean when you were said to me that you weren’t a freak?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Salyan said. “It was an old memory. A personal one. Too personal for the minute. Maybe another time.”

Carnius nodded, before he said; “Listen, you get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”

“Alright,” Salyan said. “Thanks.”

She unfurled her bedroll, taking off the jerkin and cloak she wore for travelling and climbed into it, leaving Carnius alone with the disturbing memories of Sheogorath’s trap.

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Dec 17 2012, 03:09 PM

[McBadgere]

Oooh...Niiice...

Pretty nightmarish stuff...

Ah! The man in the room!!...Yes, I remember him!!...

Loved the way you pretty much ignored the whole Xedillian "Let's torture some people even though you're a good character," thing...Well done... ...

And naked Ladyships are always appreciated... ...

Brilliant stuff matey...Looking forward to the next one...


Edit Nit:

There was little conversation as they walked, Salyan remaining uncharacteristically silent and subdued. Carnius didn’t felt badly shaken and not in the mood for talking in any case, and he decided the best thing he could do right now was give her some space;

Absolute brilliance....

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[Lycanthropic-Legend]

A gritty and dark chapter this was. And I love it. Yes. Indeed I did. The nightmares and visions were creepy, well-written and of course, relevant to the story. It was nice seeing Agronak again, or his apparition, calling Carnius a murderer and that justice had to be repaid. It clearly shows his death still lingers in Carnius' conscious and subconscious and manifested itself in this place.

The mood lingers still even upon leaving that dreadful place. The cheery young woman remained silent, as you put it, acting out of character. This was a good touch! I liked it a lot! Shows you are indeed capable of setting the mood. I can't wait to see wha Carnius will do now. And what darker things he may come across.

*dances crazily. Applauds heartedly. Fair dues, yes indeed, fair dues, oh yes!*

[King Coin]

The series of dreams were very creepy. Love it! Having the facility attack the two of them is brilliant, and makes more sense than having the hero torture people into either death or madness. I like how that part was skipped, would have made very little sense. I’d see Carnius and Salyan kill the keeper sooner than that. By the way, that bit at the beginning was neat; showing him coming back to life after his facility was now needed again. Not sure what the snake part was at the end of the dreams, but I assume that will be a talked about more at a later time.

And what the heck is this?

This post has been edited by King Coin: Dec 18 2012, 01:24 AM

[Colonel Mustard]

McBadgere: Nightmarish was exactly what I was going for with this chapte, and good memory on the fellow with the room. He's rather important, all things considered, you'll see how...

And if I'm honest, I didn't really avoid the whole Xedilian torture/kill thing on any kind of moral ground, if I'm honest, and I did the hallucination sequence because a) I thought my own idea was nastier, this allowed me to drop hints to some pretty vital plot points and generally make things wierd and disturbing and c) that in-game sequence never made sense to me simply because it always struck me as strange that the adventurers manage to somehow turn up the very moment that you activate the place. I mean, how did they get there so quickly?

But yes, that was why more than anything else. As you might have guessed from a story set in a place where things such as religions that practice human sacrifice are fairly run of the mill and people rub shoulders with Daedra and vampires and the like and view it as pretty mundane, this story is delving into rather subjective morality, and that whole 'kill or craze' quandry would have fitted quite nicely if I could have somehow made the adventurers turning up so quickly work (and hadn't radically altered the nature of Xedilian itself anyway).

Thanks for the nit, by the way, I've gone and sorted it.


LL: Agronak's death was a pretty key moment for Carnius, and it's impact was pretty lasting, even if he's beginning to get over the worst of it; seeing as Xedilian's attacks on the psyche are immensely personal ones, it's going to exploit a raw psychological wound like that one against Carnius.

As for what other things he comes across, well, one of those things is a new character. Read on and take a look!


King Coin: Like I said to McBadgere above, I wasn't so much bothered by the nature of Xedilian's kill or craze quandry (I love that term!) as I was by the question of how the adventurers got there quickly in the first place. I could see how Carnius could have problems with it, but considering that Salyan has lived the Isles almost all of her life and thus has a rather more lasseiz-faire approach to these things, I'm not so sure she'd be bothered. She'd probably find the ways the place drives visitors insane rather entertaining...

And the snake will return in due course. If you're clued up on some of the more obscure parts of TES lore (and I'm talking rather obscure indeed) then you've probably worked out what it is, but rest assured that it's a pretty important part of the plot later.

And that smiley is something I'm pretty sure the admins put in there to traumatise us all with its hypnotic, terrifying eyebrows. Suffice to say, my own Xedilian nightmare would probably comprise of an eternity of that and nothing else...



And new part time! Whoop!


Chapter 18-Feaster

A night’s sleep had done them both some good. Salyan was more talkative on the road, and now that he had slept on it, the worst of the shock had worn off on Carnius. The path they were taking was leading them through dense thickets of mushroom forest, trunks snaking over the road and plunging it into shadow, thick funguses and stunted plants fighting for light in the undergrowth.

“Salyan,” he said at one point, running a hand over the top of his head, grimacing as he felt the fine fuzz of hair that was creeping up from his scalp. “Is there anywhere in New Sheoth that I can get my hair cut?”

“Well, there’s Ghan Shi, in Bliss,” Salyan said, ducking her head to avoid a slick vine that was hanging over the road. “He’s a good barber.”

“Good,” Carnius said. “This stuff’s annoying me and I forgot to pack a razor.” He glanced over at Salyan, whose own hair was somehow clean and well kept despite the absence of bathhouses that was prevalent on their journey to Xedilian. “How come you’ve managed to keep yourself looking alright?”

“It’s a spell I know,” she said. “Just one for hygiene and so forth, that’s all.”

“Handy for you,” Carnius said. “Makes me wish I was good at magic.”

“Some have the talent, some don’t,” Salyan said. “To be fair, you’re much better at hitting things instead.”

That got a quiet chuckle from Carnius.

“I suppose it balances out in the end, in that case,” he said, smiling.

“And that’s why we work so well together as a team,” Salyan said, before her brow furrowed. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“There’s somebody shouting something,” Salyan said, hurrying forwards. “Just ahead.”

Carnius followed, the sound beginning to come through to him as the pair made their way along the road that wound through the dense mushroom tree forest. The sight they came to was enough to give them pause for a few moments.

The forest cleared to a bleak, flat moor. To one side of the, a crystal twice the height of a man jutted from the ground, a jagged silvery monolith, and surrounding that a small group of men armoured in plate cut from the same material. They had company; one of them a figure in dark blue robes and a helmet of that same crystal and the other, a woman wearing mail and light plating, was trying to kill every one of them.

“The Madgod watches over me, abominations!” she cried as she smashed the pommel of the two-handed sword she carried into the visor of one of the armoured warriors, knocking it back. In a movement to swift to follow, the blade whirled around and sliced down onto the top of its helm, cutting it in half from head to groin. It dissolved in a shower of silver powder, and as a heavy silver object thudded down on the ground, the woman turned on the spot with impossible swiftness to block a strike from another foe. “The primal hunger will see you consumed!”

She stepped out of the way of a stab from one trying flank her, jabbing the tip of her blade through its neck. Like its fellow, that one dissolved into a pile of dust, and as the other one hacked its blade towards her she managed to bring her own weapon around in a parry.

“She needs our help!” Salyan exclaimed.

“Really?” Carnius asked as he watched her fight. “She seems to be doing fine.”

That earned him a glower from the bard, and he shook his head.

“I’m not serious,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Salyan nodded as Carnius began his charge.

The first enemy he hit barely saw him before his gauntlet slammed into the side of its helm. It stumbled back, the crystal cracking under the impact, and in the corner of his vision Carnius saw the figure in the blue robes point the crystal-topped staff it carried towards him. Salyan’s silence spell killed the light glimmering within the stone a moment later, but the automaton had managed to recover. It stabbed at him with the blade, Carnius catching its tip with his left vambrace, a rolling motion deflecting it away and stumbling it. He grabbed its arm with his right hand, stamping down on the side of its knee, reversing his hold and smashing his knuckles into the side of its helmet once more. It dissolved into dust and he turned towards the enemy with the staff. He was backing away, the magical weapon raised to defend himself, and Carnius charged. The man turned to flee, but the point of a blade erupted from his midriff, the gore-slick tip lifting him into the air and letting him slide down it. The woman lowered the weapon after a moment, kicking the body off, and a moment later the tip of the blade, somehow now clean of blood, was resting against Carnius’ throat.

“Who are you?” she challenged.

“A friend,” Carnius said, taking in her appearance for the first time. Caramel skin, slight points to her ears, dark hair pulled back in a topknot. She was shaking with adrenaline, and Carnius saw that the pupils of her eyes were so huge that her amber irises were nothing more than a faint ring of colour around them. The tip of the blade pressed slightly harder against his throat, before she drew it back.

“No, Madsen, I believe him,” she said, seemingly to nobody. “Almeria Dranedil, Cleric of the Feasters. Who are you? Be quick, we haven’t much time.”

“Carnius Hackelt,” Carnius said.

“Salyan Irrenius,” Salyan added.

Almeria nodded as the crystal began to glimmer with light.

“There are more of them coming,” she said. “I don’t know how to shut this thing down but I won’t allow these creatures to roam this area unchecked. Help me fight them, I beg of you.”

Carnius and Salyan nodded, glancing round as the crystal began to hum with power. Blue energy arced from its core, striking the body of the man in robes, lifting him into the air and healing shut the wound in his midriff. White mist seeped from it, beginning to solidify and take form as more of those beings with blades of crystal in their hands.

Almeria pulled a flask filled with a glowing green liquid from her belt, unstopped it and emptied it of its contents in a single swig. She convulsed in a single violent movement, taking a deep and ragged breath, and righted herself.

“Sing praise to Sheogorath, and consume the flesh of his enemies!” she cried, before throwing herself towards the enemy. The robed figure was her target, and he didn’t have time to block before her greatsword descended and sliced across his body, a streaming sheet of delicate crimson trailing the blade like a banner as the man’s guts spilled on the ground.

As two more of the crystalline figures took form, Salyan sent a frenzy spell slicing towards one of them. As they began to fight, Carnius turned his attention to another one of the armoured beings that had just appeared. He stepped into its reach as it drew its blade, knocking the weapon aside before hammering a series of punches into it, the Daedric ebony on his knuckles cracking the crystal the protected it. It dissolved into dust and he parried a slash from another of the creatures.

“Kneel!” it screamed at him in a voice like the pealing of shattered bells. “Kneel!”

It withdrew and slashed at him again, and Carnius reeled back as a burning furrow of pain cut across his face. He cursed and stumbled back, hot blood beginning to seep from it, and barely managed to parry the next strike that slashed towards him.

He managed to push the next stab aside and open up its guard, and it screamed at him once more.

“Kneel!”

“Bugger off!” Carnius replied as he slammed his fist into its faceplate. It dissolved into silver powder, a heavy round crystal thudding to the ground from where its chest once was, and his next survey of the scene was enough to three of the things descending on Almeria. Her own blade was a blurred whirlwind of steel as she parried their strikes, turning and spinning on the spot, her movements those of a dancer as much as a swordswoman’s. She stabbed out once, ripping through the throat of one and leaving it to crumble to nothing, before she turned the weapon the spot and blocked a slash from another of those crystalline creatures. Both blades sang as they ran along each other, Almeria ducking under its blade arm and behind its reach in a movement so swift Carnius would have thought it impossible. Her greatsword swept around and parted its head from its shoulders and she barrelled through the dissolving body to feint at the remaining one and then bring the blade under its guard and stab into its armpit.

“Feast on the flesh of the unrighteous!” she cried in triumph.

More of the things were beginning pull through from the pulsing crystal, and the eviscerated figure in the robes was beginning to rise from the ground once again, his wounds healed.

“Sheogorath and the Isles are one and the same!” Almeria announced as she launched herself into combat. “His divinity permeates the land!”

She blocked a strike and the return stab killed her enemy in a moment. Salyan’s shockwave spell knocked a few of the foe away, and Carnius used the opportunity of them being stumbled to launch himself into their midst while they were stumbled.

“All living things grow from the Isles!” Almeria yelled as she bisected another foe. “All living things are of Sheogorath!”

She blocked a swing from another of the shining crystalline beings as she stepped to its side, swung her claymore under its guard and sliced into its armpit and out past its neck, head and arm sliding away from the rest of it body before it crumbled.

“To partake in that which lives is to partake in the Madgod!” Almeria cried. “To consume his living creatures is to consume Sheogorath himself!”

Carnius blocked a sideways slash from one of the creatures, pushing its arm away and stumbling it. He stepped after it into its reach, slamming both his fists into its midriff with a grunt of effort. It doubled over and he smashed both fists down on the back of its helm, sending it crumbling to dust.

“To consume the divine is to become divine!” Almeria called as she sliced down on another crystal soldier, hacking deep into its chest and turning it to powder. “Every living thing we eat makes us akin to Sheogorath!”

Salyan sent another Silence spell at the robed figure with the staff, and that was enough to put his staff and any spells he had out of action before the tip Almeria’s claymore tore up under his jaw. He hung from its point like a grisly pennant before a flick from the blade sent the top of his skull sailing away from the rest of his body.

“Let nothing remain unconsumed!” she cried. “Feed the primal hunger! We are the Feasters! We shall be of the Madgod!”

Carnius blocked a blow that one of the crystalline creatures sent at him and managed to step out of the way of a second’s swing. A third appeared on the edge of his vision, and he barely succeeded in avoiding the stab it sent spearing towards him. One of them exploded into dust as the point of Almeria’s blade tore from its chest, and she took advantage of its comrade’s confusion to stab the weapon through its midriff. Carnius grabbed the wrist of the remaining one’s sword arm and swung his free hand upwards, smashing it into the thing’s elbow. The crystal around it cracked and peeled away, revealing a core of white light as the thing screamed, and Carnius slammed his hand forwards again into its chest. The stone splintered, and a second blow smashed it into nothing.

“There is but one thing the true Feaster can do!” Almeria cried. “Sing praise to Sheogorath, and consume the flesh of his enemies!”

The fight went on, relentless waves of the crystalline beings forming from the monolith that created them, their commander rising once more whenever he was killed. Carnius was beginning to flag, his reserve of stamina potions running dry and Salyan’s magicka replenishment elixirs having been long since exhausted. If it had not been for the unstoppable whirlwind of pure violence that was Almeria, they would have died long ago, but even she was beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

They needed help, and they needed it soon.

- - - - - - -

Kiskella Tulfis stopped her rayet with a gentle tug of the reins, halting the rest of the patrol as she heard the noise coming up from head. From between the mushroom trees, the sound of steel clashing against steel, yells of something that she couldn’t quite make out. A fight.

“Weapons ready, sisters,” she said, drawing the long, curved cavalry sabre that she carried at her waist. “Trouble ahead.”

The Dark Seducers under her command complied without a word, drawing their own blades and taking up the shields they had stowed, Kelrin and Loria drawing and stringing their bows. A squeeze of her knees set Tulfis’ rayet into a trot, and as she continued down the path, the Kiskella ready for trouble as the other seven Mazken that made up the patrol followed. She cursed when she saw the sight before her; Order Knights surrounding one of their characteristics obelisks of silver crystal. It was a sight she knew all too well from the battles she had fought during the previous Greymarches.

“Kelrin, Loria,” she said. “Flank around the enemy and provide archer support; stay swift and aim true. The rest of you, with me! For the Isles! Charge!”

She kicked her heels into the sides of her rayet and with a hoot it surged forwards with the rest of the patrol. The six mounted troops hit the side of the Order Knight’s flank in a wedge, momentum and mass bowling the enemy over as they charged. Tulfis hacked down on the helm of one of the Order Knights as she passed it, speed and the force behind the blow crumbling it to nothing, and the backswing knocked away another one of them before an arrow from either Kelrin or Loria speared into its arm. The next moment, an Imperial stepped from the melee and smashed a heavy gauntlet into its helm; before she could speak to him, her rayet reared up and kicked out with her powerful hind legs at an Order Knight that had been charging her. The crystal Daedra was knocked to the ground and as she had been trained, her mount stabbed down with the heavy steel spike that had been attached to the end of her beak, ending its life.

“Imperial!” she called out over the noise of the fight. Her words were cut short as another Order Knight charged her side, stabbing towards her; she caught the blow with her shield and stabbed down its neck and into its chest. “Imperial!”

“What?” the man replied, glancing over from where he had pummelled another Order Knight to dust with the heavy gauntlets he was wearing.

“The crystals they drop, get them to the monolith!” Tulfis said, knowing there was no time for formalities. “Push them into it; it’s the only way to shut it down!”

The Imperial nodded, grabbed the round crystal that had fallen on the ground, and made for the monolith, calling out; “Salyan, give me a hand!”

As she hacked down at another Order Knight, she saw in the corner of her eye another mortal plucking the strings of a lyre she was holding and sending some kind of spell at a pair of Order Knights trying to block the Imperial man’s way. As they began to fight one another, he barrelled past, grabbing another one of the crystals from where it lay on the ground and reaching the monolith itself. He pushed the two stones into its side, both of them sliding into the seemingly solid material without effort, and he turned back, casting around for another crystal. Tulfis silently wished him luck as she turned her attentions on another foe, a stab forcing it back and into the reach of her rayet. As the Mazken’s mount had been trained to do, it stabbed its metal-sheathed beak into the Order Knight’s vulnerable side, spearing it and sending it dissolving away.

A deep, groaning crack split the air, and for a moment the combat halted as all eyes fell upon the monolith. The light within it died, and lightning-bolt fractures began to spread across its side. With the sound of shattering glass, it came apart, great chunks of it tumbling down to the ground.

The combat that remained was brief, the remaining Order Knights and their leader pressing back on their enemies in one last bid for vengeance. The Order Priest that lead them was wounded by an arrow and a young woman with tan skin and black hair finished him with several vicious strikes from the greatsword she carried. She turned on an Order Knight nearby and finished in a brief and furious flurry of blows.

After that, silence fell on the battlefield.

[Darkness Eternal]

Please. Morality in Daedric realms? There is no such thing. Daedra are what they are. You can't go up to Molag Bal and tell him to stop raping people. He can't. Because he is rape. The physical manifestion of rape. Sheogorath is madness and that's what makes them so interesting. Evil is just a little sad title used by mortals to label Daedric Princes. "Herp derp! Daedra are da bad guys!"

Nonsense. When one is in a Daedric realm, all concepts of "morality" is thrown out the window. There is even a famous quote in the ES universe that says: "When thou enterest into Oblivion, Oblivion entereth into thee."

The realm becomes a part of the individual and it rubs off into their psyche. They adopt the concepts of the realm around them if they stay for too long. Such as the Soul Cairn taking piece of the player, vice versa, in Dawnguard or the player mantling Sheogorath and becoming the heart of madness itself. Or simple men going into the Hunting Grounds and coming out Big Game Hunters/werewolves.

So, am I saying I expect Carnius to turn into a giggling loon, demented professional entrail-jump-roper Duke of Sheogorath's Nut House?

Hehe, not quite, but it wouldn't surprise me. It won't matter if a gladiator goes into a Daedric Realm, what matters is how he returns from the experience. If he ever returns at all. You're doing a good job so far and trust me, I've been reading this. Just haven't commented on it. It's my sneak mode.

Story:

A night’s sleep had done them both some good.
No ?

Haircuts? Puh-leeze! Gladiators don't need haircuts. And damn, Almeria went crazy yet her words seem to make sense as she fought the enemy. And some Mazken action ensued after that. Hell yeah! That was a hell of a battle between the Order Knights and the Hot Dark Seducers led by Kiskella.

[Colonel Mustard]

Well, that's exactly the point I was trying to mak; the Daedra follow their own rules and transcend the limitations of traditional morality and instead follow their own definitions of what is moral in order to be Deadra; they're the ultimate example of Nietzsche's Ubermensch, defining for themselves what is moral and what is not. And that morality of theirs is subject to their own desires and whims, ergo their morality (and that of this story) is subjective. It's still a moral code, but just one that most people wouldn't recognise.

(Apologies if that makes no sense, I was tired when posting that).

A night’s sleep had done them both some good.
No ?

You used the smiley. I don't like you any more.

That's hardly an innuendo in any case...

And Carnius is getting a haircut; Kraven can go around all dreadlocked up like a savage, but Carnius likes his head smooth and clean. It also allows me to write in Ghan Shi the barber, who should be a lot of fun.

Pleased you liked the battle, and Almaria's words are basically the foundation of the entire religion of the Feasters, and seeing as they're a Shivering Isles religion I was aiming for something that was both crazy and yet kind of philosophically sound. You'd be amazed at they use those words to justify, though. And Kiskella is actually a rank in the Dark Seducer military and not her name, and I think it's basically the equivalent of an NCO in a regular military. I'll try and edit the chapter to make that clearer.

Thanks for reading and commenting, by the way!

Also, so everyone knows, I'm going to be away for the next week or so may be without any access to the net, so I'm afraid there might not be an update coming until the New Year at the earliest. It depends on whether I can get a connection at where I'm staying or not, but I'm not getting my hopes up. After that, however, I should probably have quite a number of chapters for you all.

[McBadgere]

Oh yeah!!...

Loved the fight, you have an amazing talent for the fighty stuff...Brilliant...

The new characters' introduction was superbly done...Easily got a handle on them straight away...Brilliant again...

Looking forward to more when you return...

Nice one!!....

*Applauds heartily*...

Oh, and btw...While I have no wish to spam up the thread with a morality debate...When I said the thing that launched the morality discussion...I was simply talking about my experience with the Xedillian thing...I am, and will always play the Good Knight character...So I did have many issues with the SI questline...

I understand other people's views on the Daedra and morality...And all that...

Although, going by the lore that I read on the official website, I will say that Molag Bal doesn't appear to be the physical manifestation of rape...Simply that he's an ordinary Daedric Prince (An Aedra who was lazy) who likes his hobby a bit too much...

And the argument that you can't hold the DLs up to our standards of morality seems like an excuse...If by my standards what the DLs do could be considered evil, then they bloody well are...Rape is evil, Molag Bal loves to rape, Molag Bal is evil...Whether that makes me a bit too black and white where this whole thing is concerned...I don't give two sh*ts...(Sorry Mustard)...

That said, I actually genuinely don't mind what happens - moralistically speaking - in any given story, (Even when I was reading DE's) just so long as I enjoy what I'm reading...

I'm assuming that whatever happens, Carnius isn't going to start wearing a tracksuit and calling himself Jimmy any time soon no?... ...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Dec 21 2012, 04:23 PM

[King Coin]

First of all, because I'm evil:



*cackles like a madman... appropriate considering the story.

Second, I share similar views as McB on morality.

Third, the story!

That was a neat fight you showed, and who is this new crazy we've met? Definitely dangerous with that sword of hers. I found it funny that she kept up that tirade throughout the entire fight. She's no vegetarian! I was wondering when someone would come along and inform them of the proper way to destroy one of those monoliths. I loved it that it was a cavalry formation of Mazken. Whatever it was that they were riding, it seemed much more helpful than a horse would have been in a fight.

[Zalphon]

I apologize for my absence, but I would like to say the story is just as interesting as it was when I left. I am eager to see where you'll take it.

[Colonel Mustard]

McB: Well, my point, as labyrinthine and unclear as it was (stupid fuzzy morning brain...) was more that the laws of morality simply can't touch the Daedric Princes. You can call them evil all you want, but they're Daedra. They don't care.

Anyway, back to the story, thanks for the kind words and I'm glad you enjoyed it, and that you managed to get a decent sense of what Almeria's like. There's a few other sides to her character along with the fanatical craziness, but yeah, that's a fairly major part to it.


KC:

First of all, because I'm evil:

Okay, even a daedra would call that evil...

I'll admit that Almeria is a character very much inspired by Games Workshop's Warhammer 40,000 universe, where the primary faction of ostensibly good guys are a bunch of insane, xenophobic, fanatical quasi-space-catholics, and having warrior-priests yelling out prayers to their God Emperor in the middle of battles is par for the course over there (though they usually do so wielding chainsaw-swords instead of regular ones because if there's one thing 40K does well, it's over the top insanity). And she's defeinitely not a veggie, not by any stretch of the imagination! The cavalry squad of Mazken were fun to write, and the mounts they were using, Rayet, first appear back in chapter 12, along with Kallix the Dremora and Haila the Dunmer. I reckon it's probably debatable as to whether they're better than horses in a fight (horses , but I guess they score points with the beak. Eh, you'd probably have to ask somebody who knows more about horses than I do.

In any case, thank you very much for reading!


Zalphon: Thank you very much, and there's no need to apologise for not commenting; so long as you're enjoying reading this, that's good enough for me.




And, to make up for being away and not updating this, here's two chapters for y'all to enjoy.

Chapter 19-I can’t think of a bloody title!

“So what exactly were those things?” Carnius asked the Dark Seducer that had come to their rescue, picking up a crystal that one of the beings they had fought had dropped.

“They go by the name of Order Knights,” the Daedra, one that went by the name of Tulfis, replied. She had introduced herself as the patrol’s Kiskella, a leader of some kind. “They’re the footsoldiers of the Greymarch, the backbone of Jygallag’s army. The man with them was an Order Priest, something like a junior officer; they summon the obelisks which call Order knights and other forces of the Greymarch through, and command them in battle.”

“So that obelisk was what was keeping him alive, then,” Carnius said, glancing at the body. Almeria was crouched over it, having removed his helm and the clothing on his upper body for some purpose. There had been a greyish tint to his skin, and his eyes were milky white “We must have killed him a dozen times over and he kept getting back up.”

“Indeed,” Tulfis said. “You were lucky to have stumbled upon it when it had only just been called into being; Order Knights are bad enough when there are a lot of them, but if any Coensors or Dominions had managed to break through then things would have been much more difficult.”

Carnius nodded, gingerly feeling the blood-caked scar that had been sliced across his face by one of the things.

“And if one of those Arbitrators had arrived then things would have gone badly,” he remarked.

“I doubt that one of them could summon together the energy to appear this early in the Greymarch,” Tulfis replied. “And they’d only appear somewhere important, if my experience with other ones is anything to go by.”

“You’ve been in other Greymarches?” Carnius asked.

“Of course I have,” Tulfis said, giving Carniu a look that suggested that the question he had asked was incredibly simple. “I’m a Daedra after all; we can’t die. I’ve fought in every single one of them, ever since the creation of the Isles.”

She whistled, and her Rayet wandered over to her, a curious hoot sounding from its beak.

“I’ll need to report this to Sheogorath at once, if Sentinel hasn’t already,” she said. “You’ll be alright making your way to wherever you’re going on foot, I hope; judging by the way you three handled yourselves in that fight you won’t be needing an escort.”

“We’ll manage,” Carnius said.

“Glad to hear,” Tulfis said, taking her mount by its bridle. She inclined her head to Carnius. “May the Madgod watch over you until we meet once more, mortal.”

“May he watch over you too,” Carnius said, deciding that it was the polite thing to say.

“We make for New Sheoth, sisters,” Tulfis called to the rest of her patrol. The other Dark Seducers nodded and began to mount up; with a final farewell, they started down the road in a swift trot.

Carnius glanced over to Salyan where she was sat on a rock, looking at the scene of the fight. The ground was churned up and there were still crystals scattered about from the enemy dead, but it didn’t particularly look like a battle has taken place there a few minutes ago.

“You alright?” he asked as he approached.

“I’m fine, yes,” she said. She looked tired but pleased, her hair matted and grimy and her brow still damp with exertion. “The adrenaline’s just wearing off, that’s all. Didn’t realise how tired I was.”

“You never do until it’s over,” Carnius said. “Not unless you’re fighting for a long time. You did well, by the way; was that the first big fight you’ve been in?”

“I’ve been in the occasional tangle with zealots or heretics or wildlife before, but nothing on that scale, no,” she replied. “If I’m honest, all I really did was stay on the sidelines and loose off spells while you and Almeria got stuck in.”

“That was the sort of thing we needed, really,” Carnius replied. “Besides, it’s what you do best.”

“We were lucky Almeria was there, though,” Salyan said, nodding towards the woman. She was still crouch next to the corpse of the Order Priest, though her body obscured what she was doing. “I wouldn’t have fancied our odds if she hadn’t been helping us.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Carnius said. “Gods, if she’d been in the Arena she’d have been Grand Champion within a week.”

“Do you think we should ask her to help us?” Salyan asked. “I mean, she’s a Feaster, so she wouldn’t need much persuasion.”

“I could certainly see her coming in useful if we get into another fight like that,” Carnius said, standing up. Salyan followed suit. “Let’s ask.”

They approached, and Carnius stopped as she saw what Almeria had done ot he Order Priest’s body; both of his arms had been stripped of skin, and she was carving a cut of muscle from them with a long, sharp dagger.

“Almeria,” Salyan said. “We wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?” the Feaster asked, glancing up from her grisly work.

“We were hoping you might be willing to travel with us,” Salyan said. “We’re trying to stop these creatures from attacking the Isles and we need all the help we can get.”

“You’re working against the Final Starvation?” Almeria asked. “In that case, yes, I will gladly assist both of you; my duties as a Feaster ask no less of me.”

“You will? Great,” Salyan said. Almeria nodded.

“I’ll need to report this to the Temple of the Feast first, of course, and get permission from Feast Lord Dranden to do that instead of my usual duties as a missionary, but it shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.

“We’re going to New Sheoth anyway,” Salyan said. “You hear that, Carnius?”

There was no reply, and she glanced around. The gladiator was staring at the half-butchered corpse. “Carnius?”

“What are you doing to that man?” he asked.

“Preparing his flesh for consumption, so he may given to the Madgod as part of the Feast,” Almeria replied. “After all, is it not written in the Book of the Feast ‘Sing praise to Sheogorath and consume the flesh of his enemies?’”

“I have no idea,” Carnius said. That got him a frown.

“How can you not know of the Feasters?” Almeria asked. “I appreciate that there are many people who aren’t of my faith, but nonetheless you must have at least heard of us.”

“He’s from Nirn,” Salyan said. “I don’t think they approve of eating people over there. I don’t think they approve of many things, really.”

“That’s interesting,” Almeria remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever met somebody from there before. Is it true that you people worship the Aedra?”

“You mean the Nine Divines?” Carnius asked. “Yes, we do. I was never devout a worshipper, I’ll be honest, but we do, by and large.”

“How strange,” the Feaster said, before she shrugged. “But no matter. Give me a few minutes to finish off here and we can go.”

Salyan nodded, and she and Carnius stepped away as Almeria got back to work, muttering a prayer as she did so.

“I can’t help but feel slightly worried by the fact that I don’t feel as appalled as I think I should be,” Carnius said. “I think this place is beginning to get to me.”

“Maybe,” Salyan simply said.

The gladiator shrugged, before he glanced over to Almeria and called; “Are you nearly finished?”

“Almost,” she replied, where she was stowing the cuts away in her pack. Once she was done, she slung it on her back, and the trio set out.

- - - - - - -

They reached New Sheoth in the middle of the day after that one, but it was already dark. For the entire morning, an impenetrable phalanx of black clouds had been marshalling like the forming of a mob, and by the time they found their way to the basalt gates that lead into Crucible, it had turned into a storm. It was not an angry storm, the wind more biting than it was violent, the rain damp and heavy and yet not striking, and the thunder and lightning were desultory efforts from the clouds rather than any wrathful blows hurled at the ground by the sky.

The main square that greeted Crucible’s visitors was quiet, rain dripping from the statue of Sheogorath that occupied its centre. A figure in a cloak hurried past them, hunched against the weather, while a pair of Dark Seducers patrolled nearby, carrying guttering torches to combat the early darkness; they gave no sign as to whether the weather caused them any measure of discomfort.

“So what first?” Salyan asked. “Are we going to the palace?”

“It would be a good place to start,” Carnius said. “I’ll need to see Cutter about my gauntlets too, and see about that haircut.”

“Great,” Salyan said. “So are going to head through Bliss then, or-”

“Why would we go through Bliss?” Carnius interrupted.

“Because it’s nicer than Crucible,” Salyan said. “And Almeria needs to stop off at the Temple of the Feast too.”

“Almeria going there wasn’t why you said that, though, was it?” Carnius challenged. “What’s your problem with this place, Salyan?”

“I don’t have a problem with Crucible,” Salyan said.

“Then why do you never want to stay here?” Carnius asked. “Why do you complain about being here? Why is everything much better over in Mania than Dementia, then?”

“Well it…it just is,” Salyan said. “Everything here is old and grimy and poor and I don’t see why we need to have anything to do with it.”

“You know who you sound like?” Carnius said. “Some stuck up noble’s brat, that’s what.”

“A noble’s brat?” Salyan said. “Don’t you dare call me a brat! Don’t you dare, do you hear me?”

“Well then why do you sulk like one whenever we come here?” Carnius asked.

“I do not…you know what?” Salyan said. “Fine. Say I’m sulking, if you want. I don’t care; I don’t even know why I even need to bother staying with somebody who clearly liks to spend his time wallowing in filth.”

Before Carnius could stop her, she stormed away towards Bliss. Carnius blinked in surprise at that development, at how sudden the flaring of tempers had been, and Salyan had already disappeared from the square. Almeria was quiet for a moment, hovering.

“I should probably go and report to Feast Lord Dranden,” she said. “I’ll try and find you later.”

She left, leaving Carnius standing alone in the rain. He sighed, shaking his head, and set out for the palace.

Either the Dark Seducers at the Crucible gate had been informed of his arrival or recognised him from somewhere, as they opened it for him without question. He made his way across the palace’s courtyard, avoiding puddles that had formed in the path, and a glance up at the sky on the Mania side showed that, even though there was no storm, it was still overcast and drizzling.

He pushed the door to the palace open, and stepped through. There was a servant waiting to receive guests inside, and Carnius thanked the man as he handed him his cloak. Carnius pushed the door to the throne room, and frowned when it refused to budge. He knocked, and a few moments later, Haskill pulled it open.

“Lord Sheogorath will not be receiving any dignitaries, guests or petitioners today,” he said, before he saw who had knocked. “Though perhaps he will want to speak to you.”

He pulled open the door, and Carnius stepped through. Sheogorath was on his throne at the far end of the room, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a scowl on his face.

“Order Knights,” he said as Carnius entered. “Jyggalag’s damn Order Knights are already tramping about my realm. I am not happy, Carnius, not at all.”

“I’m sure,” Carnius said. “Do you mind coming down here if you want to talk? I’d rather not crane my neck.”

The snake that was curled around the throne began to lower Sheogorath to the floor.

“It’s quite refreshing to speak to someone who hasn’t the faintest idea of how you should address nobility, you know,” Sheogorath said. He gestured around the throneroom, as if indicating an invisible court thronging the room. “I can be surrounded by lackeys and lickspittles and lollygaggers at times. Is lollygaggers the right sort of word to use, Haskill?”

“I’m afraid that I don’t believe it is,” Haskill replied.

“Pah,” Sheogorath spat. “What does it matter? I’ve got Order Knights being called and the Greymarch’s monoliths popping up out of the ground. Who cares about a word when all that is happening?”

He stopped by Carnius, and he said; “Well, have you got any good news for me, at least? Is Xedilian working again?”

“Yes, it is,” Carnius said. “And speaking of which…”

His fist slammed into Sheogorath’s jaw. Even though Carnius’ knuckles were not encased in their gauntlets, the Daedra reeled back with a cry of shock, clutching where Carnius had struck.

“Tell us when you’re going to go risking our sanity like that!” Carnius snapped at him.

The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the ceiling of the throne room, with Sheogorath looking up at him.

“Now,” the Daedra said. “You get a free pass on that because you’re clearly upset about what happened in Xedilian and that action was a spur of the moment one, and goodness only knows that I’m spur of the moment made form. But if you strike me again, Carnius Hackelt, the things that I’ll do to you will make Xedilian seem like a picnic. Do you understand?”

Against the invisible force that was pinning him against the ceiling, Carnius managed to nod. He was lowered to the floor with a gesture from Sheogorath.

“I won’t on one condition,” Carnius said. “Don’t hold back information like that again. If you do, I’m leaving and you can find somebody else to help you.”

Sheogorath was silent for a moment, before he said; “You know, I think you’re probably one of the few mortals I’ve ever heard of who has the spine to say such a thing to a Daedric Prince while they’re standing in their realm. I mean, right now, I could do anything I wanted to you; I could turn you into a flammable gas and burn you, or click my fingers and rip your skin off, or transform you into a sweetroll, but you still stand up to me. I may have to take that backbone of yours and mount it on my wall when this is all over.”

“Does that mean we have a deal?” Carnius asked.

Sheogorath rubbed his hands together, taking a few contemplative steps away from Carnius.

“Tricky, tricky, tricky,” he said. “After all, right now what I would like is for somebody with a good head on their shoulders, and what I need is a sane man, but I wouldn’t want you to keep your head just because I made things easy for you. That wouldn’t do at all; would scupper them at the last moment quite magnificently.”

He spun on the spot to face the gladiator once more.

“You know, a good number of all the churches in the Isles believe that I send my people hardships and misfortune in order to test their faith and let them prove themselves worthy,” he said. “It’s a dreadfully silly thing to think, really, and most of the time I send bad things their way because it just makes me laugh to see everything fall apart around them, but I always find it very uplifting to see them rise above their troubles on the rare occasion that they do; it brightens my day up no end. But in your case, Carnius, I’m going to send bad things your way because it will be a test, because I need you to prove yourself worthy; I can’t have a weakling as my champion, and I need somebody who’s strong in the mind and well as the body to be that person. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Carnius said. “But if you’re going to test somebody, test me; my friends don’t need to be tormented by you.”

Sheogorath was quiet for a few moments.

“That’s a reasonable compromise, I suppose,” he said. “Goes against my grain somewhat, but if that means you’re happy then I’d guess that it’s for the best. Speaking of friends, what happened to Salyan Irrenius My Lord?”

“We…we had a disagreement,” Carnius said.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Sheogorath said. “It’s always a pity to see a good friendship go bad. Except when they go really bad; they’re quite entertaining to watch, then. But in this case, patch it up, I say; you’ll need all the friends you can get for the road ahead, that much is for certain.”

“Yeah, I was hoping to do that in any case,” Carnius said.

“Good man, good man,” Sheogorath said. “What sparked that little fued of yours, anyway?”

“I just got angry about the way she was always criticising Dementia,” Carnius said. “And then, I don’t know, both our tempers just flared up much more than they should have and she stormed off.”

“Ah, I see,” Sheogorath said. “That might have been my fault; people on the Isles always have spats and fallings out when I’m in a bad mood, and this news about the Order Knights didn’t do much for my temper.”

“So this storm is your fault, isn’t it?” Carnius asked.

“Oh yes, I can be held responsible for that little piece of inclement weather, I suppose,” Sheogorath said. “You didn’t catch a chill in it, did you? If I gave my own champion a cold I’d never hear the end of it from Peryite.”

“I’m fine,” Carnius said. “So what’s next?”

“Next? Hmm, that’s a good question. Next, next, next, let’s see. A meet and greet, that’s what! Get to know the Isles a little better.”

“A meet and greet with who?”

“Why, the cream of the Isles’ society,” Sheogorath said. “Duke Thadon of Mania, and Duchess Syl of Dementia. Go and introduce yourself to them, get yourself into their good books, earn their trust. Earning their trust will be useful for later, I’m sure of that. Their estates are right here in New Sheoth so there’ll be no need for any long journeys to far off places like Xedilian. Of course, they might require that of you in any case.”

“My Lord, might I be so forward as to suggest that we also urge your champion in the direction of the Pillars?” Haskill asked. “We can hardly afford to dally with the Greymarch on the way, after all.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sheogorath said. “Alright then, two things; introduce yourself to the Duke and the Duchess and run any little errands they might need you to do; after that, fetch me the Pillars of the Isles. And get your friend back. That’s three things to do.”

“What are the Pillars?” Carnius asked.

“Artefacts,” Sheogorath said. “Very, very powerful artefacts left behind by Jygallag in order to make the Isles easier to destroy during the Greymarch, hence why I can’t just nip over there and fetch them myself. If you get those, that’ll certainly make my life easier. And yours, too; a friend of mine is an enemy of Jygallag’s, after all.”

“And they’re going to be kept by, what, some kind of trap? A dungeon filled with Grummites? A guardian of some sort?” Carnius asked.

“A guardian, yes,” Sheogorath said. “Well, no. There are four Pillars, you see, one on each cardinal point of the Isles, and each one is guarded by one of my Angels.”

“So I’m taking it that I need to get these Pillars for you without the Angels killing me,” Carnius said.

“Exactly,” Sheogorath said. “Except they won’t kill you, really. Except Rage. She’ll kill you, if she gets the chance, and quite spectacularly too. The others won’t try and end your life, though, at least not directly. You probably won’t survive, all things considered.”

He glanced at Carnius.

“Are you still here?” he asked. “Get out of here, you know what to do. Shoo! Shoo shoo shoo shoo shoo!”

Sheogorath clapped his hands together, and Carnius found himself standing in the palace courtyard, his rain-cloak and pack next to him. He glanced around for a moment, baffled as to how he got there, before he shrugged and picked them up. He had a job to do, after all, and it was time to get to work.

[Colonel Mustard]

Chapter 20-The Faith of the Feasters

As was tradition, Almeria prostrated herself before the statue of Arden Sul before she tried to gain entry to the Temple of the Feast. The flesh-sculpture of the holy Prophet glistened in the rain that had spattered on its sides of bare muscle; the beating heart that the father of the Feasters held in his left hand sent bloodied water spraying on the pavement around it with every convulsion.

After she had murmured the Words of Supplication before the blessed chosen of Sheogorath, she rose, stepping through the open doors of the Temple. The threshold was decorated in its usual ornamentation of bones, meat and organs, and thanks to the weather the blood that they dripped was landing on the red-stained flagstones around the entrance with even greater rapidity. A drop of blood spattered on her forehead and she wiped it away with the back of her hand and licked it clean; tasted like Orc.

Almeria took a moment to marvel at the glorious, gore-soaked magnificence that was the central hall of the Temple of the Feast. The pillars that supported its roof gleamed in the light of the braziers that dotted it, coated with a layer of reshaped bone from generations of sacrifices. Organs and cuts of meat decorated the room, kept alive and fresh by magic, each one a living relic given willingly by the heroes and martyrs of the Feasters.

Along the walls were the freizes of various significant moments from the history of the Isles and of her faith; the Contemplation of Arden Sul and the first Sacred Gorging, his battle with the unholy force that had been Silver Famine, the penning of the Book of the Feast, his sacrifice to the Madgod where he had consumed so much flesh and viscera that his stomach had burst, an offering of himself to his fellow disciples. She stopped a moment by one of her favourite decorations, a tryptich of the martyrdom of Saint Ilvis at the hands of the Starvers; the unfortunate saint had been locked away by them without food or drink, fated to perish from malnourishment, but to spite them and to glory the Madgod she had ripped her own heart from her chest and eaten it in front of her captors.

With reverent steps, she approached the centre of the hall, the flesh-sculpt of Sheogorath himelf, sat upon a throne of carved bone. At his feet was an altar, the top already adorned with offerings, and from her pack Almeria took two of her own; the cuts she had taken from the Order Priest, unwrapping the meat from the waxed paper that held it, and the silver heart of one of the Order Knights.

“Great Madgod, mighty and benevolent lord the feast, eater of flesh and organs, accept this offering from your humble servant,” she prayed, kneeling before it. “I give unto you offerings from two of your enemies, that by consuming them you might take their strength and weaken their resolve.”

She drew her blade, and lay it flat befre the altar and the statue.

“My lord,” she said. “In your mercy and your wisdom, I beg you to bestow Madsen with the blood that is worthy and release her from her torment.”

She was quiet for a few moments more, in silent contemplation of the Madgod and Arden Sul, then rose from her kneeling position, sheathing her blade. There was a man waiting for her, a Redguard with sunken, anaemic features and a sallow shade to his dark skin, dressed in the traditional crimson robes of Feaster priests.

“You’re back ealier than I expected, Almeria,” he said as the missionary turned to face him.

“Feast Lord Dranden,” Almeria said, bowing her head. “I had to cut my mission short; I come bearing important news, and need to make a request.”

In truth, now that she was back in New Sheoth, she wanted to see Cutter, but it was more important that she gave her report to the Feasters.

“What news?” Dranden asked, frowning.

“The Final Starvation,” Almeria said. “It’s upon us.”

“Sacred Madgod,” Dranden murmured. “You’re certain?”

“I am,” Almeria said.

“I see. Come with me, missionary, we will need to discuss this.”

With Almeria in tow, the Feast Lord left the main hall of the temple, pushing open a door to the building’s living quarters tucked away in the corner. They headed down some of the corridors, stopping at a doorway which Dranden pushed open. The room within was musty with the smell of old parchment and vellum, the only light the glow of a few crystals on a desk, where a bearded Dunmer was hunched over a desk with a quill and a heavy grimoire.

“Feast Lord,” he said, looking up from his work. “Do you need something?”

“We need to speak to you in my office immediately, Camelran,” Dranden said.

“Could it wait a little while, Feast Lord?” Camelran said. “I’m in the middle of something at the moment.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” the Feast Lord said. “Bring a copy of the last prophecy of Arden Sul, as well.”

“If you insist,” the Dark Elf said, rising from his seat and heading to a shelf. He ran a finger over the parchments stored away on it, drawing one free. “Here we are.”

Dranden nodded, leaving with the lore keeper of the Feasters and the missionary follow him. He headed to his office, a spacious room dominated by a large desk; when he stood behind it and motioned for Camelran to set the text had taken down on it, looked over by the skulls of the previous Feast Lords and Feast Ladies that had come before him, set into alcoves on the walls above.

“Almeria,” the Feast Lord said. “What makes you think that the Final Starvation is upon us, then?”

“Just a few days ago, I was forced to fight at the foot of an obelisk that was creating crystal beings called Order Knights,” Almeria said. “I was aided by two others, a Manic named Salyan and an outsider from Nirn who came here through Sheogorath’s doorway, and managed to destroy the obelisk with the help of a Dark Seducer patrol.”

“That’s rather unusual, but I’m not sure how that relates to the Final Starvation,” Camelran said. “It sounds more like the Church of Mania’s myths of the Greymarch, or the Sisterhood of Immolation’s stories about the Extinguishing.”

“I know, but ther’s more to it,” Almeria said. “There were things I saw which related to the final prophecy of Arden Sul, links to it.”

She unrolled the parchment, and pointed at one of the lines on it.

“‘Kneel shall the crystal call, armoured silver stone of the starvation dreadful,’” she read out. “The Order Knights I fought, they kept shouting kneel at us, like it was a war cry of some kind; that’s all they would say, kneel. And they were made of a silver-coloured crystal as well.”

“That sounds rather like what those lines of the prophecy were describing,” Camelran nodded.

“Exactly,” Almeria said. “And there’s more.” She pointed to another line. “‘Up shall stab the obelisks of the antithesis, Isle’s headstones sustaining hunger’s servants eternal.’ The Order Knights we fought were lead by someone called an Order Priest; every time we killed him, he would simply get back up again, resurrected by the crystal.”

“You think this is the Final Starvation, then?” Dranden asked.

“And the Greymarch and the Extinguishing, and every other story that’s ever been told about the end of the Isles,” Almeria said. “These are the end times, there’s no doubt about that.”

The room was silent, Dranden giving a giving a sober nod.

“I’ll send word out to all of our missionaries and have them recalled at once,” he said. “We shall gather all of our people and face the Final Starvation together.”

“That was the other thing I wished to see you about, Feast Lord,” Almeria said. “The outsider I mentioned, the one who came here through the doorway, he’s trying to stop it; I want to help him. That means I can’t be with the Feasters, though.”

“If you think it’s for the best that you stay with him, then go with him, by all means,” Dranden said. “I turst your judgement, Almeria.”

“Thank you, Feast Lord,” she said.

Dranden nodded, before he said; “Camelran, you can return to your work. If you could stay here a few moments, Almeria, I would be grateful.”

“Of course,” the missionary said as Camelran gathered the parchment and left.

“How is Madsen?” Dranden asked after the Feasters’ lore keeper had departed.

“She’s as well as she can be, I suppose,” Almeria said. “I’m still looking for the right person, though.”

“Perhaps this mission of yours will be what brings you to them,” Dranen suggested. “Averting the end of the Isles is worthy cause, after all, and you can’t deny that Madsen would be of great use to you in that cause.”

“I’m not letting my sister stay the way she is just because she’s useful,” Almeria said, sudden anger slipping into her voice. “I’m going to make sure that she dies, that’s what matters.”

“You’re right, of course,” Dranden said. He decided ot change the subject. “What of your supply of Madgod’s Blood?”

“I was forced to use it all in order to deal with those Order Knights,” Almeria said. “I need to speak to Brewing Mistress Lucia about getting some more.”

“Of course,” Dranden said. “One last thing, and then you can go; this outsider you’re travelling with, may I speak to him about this mission of his?”

“I’ll let him know that you wish to talk, of course,” Almeria said, standing up. She bowed her head. “Until we meet again, Feast Lord.”

“Until we meet again,” Dranden said.

She made her way through the corridors of the temple, exchanging a few greetings and words with the fellow Feasters she bumped into as she went. She went downwards, into the basement of the temple where the vats were kept. She sniffed at the sweet scent that wafted towards her as she opened its door, and headed down the stairs.

The vat rooms were lit by glowing stones in order to minimse the risk of any fires, and and the soft white light they cast left long, deep shadows stretching across the room. Almeria headed through the room, eyes in a slight squint against the darkness.

“Anybody here?” she called out. “Lucia?”

“Who’s that?” a voice replied, and a moment later an Imperial woman stepped out from around a corner of the cellar. “Oh, Almeria, I wasn’t expecting to see you here; I thought you were still out on missionary work.”

“Something came up and there’s something else I need to do,” Almeria replied. “And I need to resupply.”

“What happened to the last lot that I gave you?” Lucia asked.

“I used it all up,” Almeria said. “There was a fight that I was part of, a big one that went on for a while, and I ended up using it all up then.”

“Right, of course,” Lucia said. “Let’s see about getting some more. Come on, then.”

She stepped back around the corner, Almeria following to the area where the final stages of preparation for the Madgod’s Blood were made. The potent drug was the greatest weapon in the asenal of any Feaster missionary short of their unwavering faith in the Madgod, an elixir developed by Arden Sul in a fit of divine inspiration to boost the strength and speed of any who took it to remarkable levels. Over time, those who took it would grow stronger than most, muscular power boosted by the Felldew, Greenmote and other potent substances, along with alchemical sorcery within it. It was also highly addictive, and after a hwile caused the body and mind to break down and fail; the lift of a Feaster missionary was not a long one, and if the people and creaures of the Isles did not kill them, the Madgod’s Blood would.

“Here we go,” Lucia said, handing over a carrying case packed with small glas vials, each one filled with a dose of the potent substance. “Good luck with this mission of yours, Almeria.”

“Thank you,” the missionary said as she tok it, pushing aside the craving that began to rise at the sight of it. She’d have some Felldew later, she decided, that would allay the worst of the rising need for the drug she was currently feeling. She’d go and find Cutter as well, get her blade attended to as well as some other matters.

She bowed her head to Lucia, and left, heading up through the temple and out into the steets of Bliss. She set her course for Crucible, abandoning the notion of finding Carnius for the moment, instead heading through the town to the forge.

She pushed open the door to the forge, and called out; “Cutter? Cutter, it’s me.”

The Bosmer was bent over an anvil, hammering a blade, and she looked up from her work. She was wearing goggles, and with the soot on her face she looked like a in insect of somc kind. She pulled them up, a ring of clean skin surrounding her eyes, wide in surprise.

“You’re back already?” she asked.

“Something came up,” Almeria said. That was enough for both her and Cutter, and they kissed. The smith’s lips tasted like blood, steel and smoke.

“I missed you,” Cutter said.

“I was only gone a few days,” Almeria said. Cutter gave her a grimy smile.

“They seemed longer when I thought you were going to be a few months,” she said.

After that, she slid the bolt on the door shut and flipped the sign in the window to say that the forge was no longer open. They went upstairs on the pretense of Almeria washing away the dirt of the road and Cutter cleaning off the forge’s soot. For a while, Almeria allowed herself to forget about the oncoming threat of the Final Starvation, about Madsen, about the cravings for Madgod’s Blood she was feeling, about the work she had ahead of her. For a while, she simply celebrated the fact that she was back in the arms of the woman she loved.

[Lycanthropic-Legend]

TWO JUICY CHAPTERS!!!

"Chapter 19-I can’t think of a bloody title!"
LMAO.

Tulfis is old! Goodness! Grey March happen every millenia, and this guy's been around for all of them?

Almeria truly is something else, isn't she? The Starvation of the Isles? Count me in to help stop it! I loved the trip to Sheol and the argument between Carnius and the "brat,". Too bad he left in the cold rain , but he's a gladiator. He toughed it up. I can see why he got upset though. He lived in the Waterfront District in Cyrodiil, where it was old and grimy and simple. He was offended by her words, I'm sure.


And we get to meet the Creme De La Creme of the Isles . . ,Lady Syl and her rather large . . .paranoia :lol.

Sheogorath, though my least favorite Daedric Prince, makes me laugh all the time. Even more when you write about him. I chuckled when Carnius got "shoed" from the palace. And it's off to some Angels, huh. I will post for the next chapter when I read it, but I'm tied at the moment and need some sleep!

Good post!

[Lycanthropic-Legend]

Edited.

This post has been edited by Lycanthropic-Legend: Jan 3 2013, 03:48 AM

[Darkness Eternal]

How gruesome. Blood, viscera and all manners of oily remains! Chapter 20 was full of it! It had a cultish and religious, almost sacrificial feel to it. And this was a different chapter indeed! No Carnius! WOAH! At least we got some love at the end aside from all that blood and gore . . .nevertheless it was a juicy chapter. The Grey March is upon them!

Nits: The Madgod she had ripped her own heart from her chest and eaten it in front of her captors.
Surely you meant "ate," or is eaten correct in this term?

[McBadgere]

Bloody hell...And, most definately, Wow...

The sheer imagination gone into this story makes it one of my favourite things I've ever read anywhere...I love it!!...

The depth to all the characters and things like the Feasters, and the little details like the living statue by the doors to the temple...Brilliant...

Oh, and a lesbian Cutter too?...Awww, monsieur you spoil us...*Punches skyward...causing air traffic control no end of trouble*...

But then, that's just me... ...

Absolutely loved both sections...Also loved the fact that Carnius really doesn't care about standing up to Sheagorath... ...

Brilliant stuff matey...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...