Madgod Options

[mALX]

The scene with Cutter was tastefully tackled here, despite the shudder I got at the kiss tasting of blood, lol. Awesome write as always!

[Zalphon]

I rather enjoyed the previous chapter. I especially liked the "blood" aspect of that kiss. It was interesting and well-done.

[Colonel Mustard]

Christ almighty, this took a long time to write...

Apologies for the delay, everyone. January was a pretty hectic month in terms of work and so forth, and it probably didn't help that I got distracted by a case of writer's block, an exam resit and writing a couple of original fiction pieces this month as well (you can find them on my blog; there's a link in the signature. No this, isn't a shameless bid for bumping up my traffic ratings, that's a silly idea. Stop being silly). I'll try and get the next chapter done quicker.

LL: Well, Tulfis is a Daedra, and one under Sheogorath's authority, so she's been around since the creation of the Isles, and possibly earlier. And when your soldiers just keep respawning after they die, you're going to get some real hoary war veterans out there.

Heh, Almeria is swiftly becoming one of my favourite character that I've made up over the years, and she's a lot of fun to write. But yeah, Salyan's words hit home pretty hard, even if she didn't mean for them to, so it's no wonder Carnius took it badly.

And you'll get to meet the creme de la cream in...one chapter's time, after this one. Maybe two. I have a lot of stuff going on here, I know.

DE: Yep, new POV time; I figured that looking at things through Almeria's perspective was the best way to explore the Feasters, and I just felt that the story had been stuck in Carnius' own viewpoint for perhaps a bit long, so a change was a good way to spice things up.

I think the 'eaten' is correct in this case; technically speaking, the 'had' from earlier in the sentence is still applicable to it, and so the grammatically correct way of writing it would be 'had eaten' instead of 'had ate'.

McBadgere: Thanks!

I had a lot of fun playing with the Feasters, and I'm pleased you like them; I've been itching to include them for a while, but until Almeria came along I've been limited only to passing references. I'm pleased you liked them. Plus they're also a good way to challenge myself as a writer by making a sympathetic character out of somebody who practises cannibalism.

And yes, lesbian Cutter. I should have figured that would push your happy buttons.

mALX: Why old bean, I'm British. Good taste is what we do, eh wot?

*Puffs pipe whilst contemplating tea and scones*

But more seriuosly, I was trying to go for something that felt more loving and intimate between the two than just a 'ZOMG lookit the lesbinans!' angle. Though the whole taste of steel, smoke and blood was meant to be a sort of microcosm of Cutter herself, so to speak.

Zalphon: Thank you very much, I'm glad you enjoyed it.


And now for Chapter 22! Finally...





Chapter 22-The Barber and the Brothel Madam

Carnius left the palace by the Crucible Gate, stepping down the steps into the dank and labyrinthine city below. He traversed the streams of sewage that trickled down its lanes, squinting through the gloom and fog that still covered the streets from the now-abated storm. There were a few more figures on the streets now that the rain was gone, emerging from the crumbling and corpse-like buildings, and one or two lounging on the bridges, balconies and overhangs that shadowed the roadways.

Carnius stopped at one point to stare at three corpses hanging from a walkway over a street, blackened with rot, rain still dripping from their bloated toes. People were passing under them without comment, as if bodies being left on display in nooses above the road was nothing abnormal. Considering that this was Crucible, perhaps that was the case.

“Wanna stick, mister?” a wrinkled Bosmer who had appeared at Carnius’ elbow asked. “Good sticks, not a leaf on ‘em, great for pokin’ bodies! Just one coin!”

“I’m fine,” Carnius said.

“You sure? They’re the best sticks in all Crucible,” the Bosmer insisted.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Carnius said. “Actually, I do have a question.”

“Is it about sticks? I know a lot about sticks. I’m an expert on sticks, y’know.”

“No, not about sticks.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll see what I can help you with.”

“You know any good inns in Crucible?” Carnius asked.

“Well, I suppose there’s Sickly Bernice’s Taphouse,” the Bosmer said. “I gave her a good stick a while back, to help her walk. Very grateful for it, an excellent stick, she said.”

“Where’s that?” Carnius asked.

“Oh, just near the main gate,” the Bosmer said. “You sure I can’t interest you in a stick? Be good for prodding one of those bodies, and they’re nice and rotten now; poke ‘em hard enough and the neck might go, and then splat! That’s always funny.”

“No thanks,” Carnius said.

“Fine, fine,” the Bosmer said, rolling his eyes. “Nobody has time for sticks any more.”

He turned and shuffled away, muttering about the state of sticks, and Carnius headed on. It didn’t take him long to reach Cutter’s forge, but for some reason the door was locked when he tried it. He knocked on it a few times, but got no answer, and shrugged; she must have been having a day off, or was occupied with some other business.

He made a note of where Sickly Bernice’s was before he went through the fanged maw of the gate to Bliss. He blinked at the sudden transition into glaring sunlight, holding up a hand to block out the worst of the rays and where it gleamed off the gaudy ornamentation of the buildings.

His destination wasn’t hard to find, the sign ‘Ghan Shi’s House of Body Ornamentation’ hanging in the street. He pushed the door open, stepping into an antechamber as a bell rang above him. The walls were painted red, aside from a single thin white one, beyond which he could see vague silhouettes moving. A panel on the wall slid aside into a doorway, and Carnius stared at the figure that stood within it.

He was seven feet in height, lantern light glistening off golden scales, looking down at Carnius with slitted pupils over a blunt snout. Two pairs of arms were visible under the white coat he wore, one hand holding a comb, the other a pair of scissors, while a long tail was where his legs should have been, coiled up around him on the floor.

“Greetings,” the snake-person rasped, bowing low to Carnius. “I am Ghan Shi, and I bid you welcome to my shop. How might I assist you on this day?”

“I was just hoping for a haircut,” Carnius said after a moment. He became aware that he was staring and shook his head.

“Of course,” Ghan Shi said. “I am currently occupied with another customer, but I will not be long if you wish to wait.”

“That’s…that’s fine,” Carnius said.

“Then please, have a seat,” Ghan Shi said, gesturing to a small gathering of chairs in the corner. “I shall be with you shortly.”

Another bow, and the snake-man slid the panel shut. Carnius sat, looking around the room; there were a few paintings on the walls on some kind of parchment, depicting more of the four-armed snake people wielding katanas and spears battling what looked like orange Khajiit with black stripes in their fur. Here than there were what looked like small banners, decorated with strange characters that Carnius knew he hadn’t a hope of reading.

He didn’t have to wait long, and the panel-door slid open once more.

“And it shall be a pleasure see you again,” Ghan Shi was saying as he opened the door for his customer.

“For the both of us, I assure you,” a familiar voice said, as Her Ladyship stepped through the door. Her hair had been coifed upwards into an elaborate whirl of curls, held in place by a pair of pins through it. “Oh, Carnius. I didn’t expect to see you - Madgod, what happened to your face?”

It took Carnius a moment to realize what she was talking about; the line of pain that had been slashed across his face by the Order Knight had faded to a dull, almost invisible throb that he had now grown used to and paid no heed.

“I was attacked,” Carnius said. “There was a group of Order Knights which I had to deal with. One of them gave me this.”

“I see,” Her Ladyship said, a look of concern crossing her features. She became aware of Ghan Shi hovering behind her and added; “Come and see me in the Baliwog when you’re done, Carnius, we can speak then.”

She stepped out into the street, and Ghan Shi turned his attentions to Carnius.

“Come on through, please,” he said, his four arms pointing Carnius through to the partitioned room. The main feature was heavy, padded chair before a mirror, and beside it was a basin, along with cases of razors, scissors, combs, lathers and other things Carnius couldn’t identify. Ghan Shi gestured for Carnius to take a seat, coiling behind him. “So what can I do for you today?”

“I just want a shave,” Carnius said, running his hand over the fuzz on the top of his head and over his chin. “Get rid of all of this.”

“Ah, be as bald as myself,” Ghan Shi hissed, baring long, needle fangs in what Carnius hoped was a smile.

“That’s right,” Carnius said.

“Of course, of course,” Ghan Shi said. He turned away, flicking open a case. Two razor blades whirled between deft, clawed fingers, while his other pair of hands began to rub together soap into a thick lather.

“I can’t say I’ve met one of your people before,” Carnius said after a few moments, deciding that would be the most tactful way to broach such a subject.

“I’m not surprised,” Ghan Shi replied, turning to face Carnius’ reflection in the mirror. “Our peoples have had very little contact during the course of Nirn’s history,” Ghan Shi said. “But we go by the name of Tsaeci; perhaps you have heard of us? I would not be surprised if we are mentioned in a few books here and there, perhaps.”

“Maybe you were,” Carnius said. “I’ve never been much of a reader.”

Ghan Shi shrugged, before he began to massage the lather across Carnius’ scalp. The sensation of the foaming suds being rubbed into the top of his head and across his cheeks by the Tsaeci’s pointed claws was surprisingly pleasant.

“I suppose that not all of us can spare the time for reading,” Ghan Shi said rinsing his hands and taking up another pair of razor. “Now, I must ask that you hold still; I will have to answer difficult questions from the guards if you do not.”

Carnius did as asked, and four sharp blades rose and fell, edges gliding across his skin, controlled by the deft hands of Ghan Shi the barber. Hair was sliced through, trapped and harvested in the foamy suds, and rinsed down the drain of Ghan Shi’s basin.

“I really have to ask,” Carnius said as the Tsaeci ran one of his razors over the top of Carnius’ head. “Where did you learn to cut hair?”

“I picked up the art from an Imperial who did the same,” Ghan Shi said. “I found myself in the Isles, entered this shop and saw him cutting hair and said to him; ‘Teach me how to do that.’ And he did. When he passed away, I inherited the shop.”

“I suppose four arms probably lets you do twice as much work,” Carnius said.

“It certainly helps,” Ghan Shi replied. “And I had a little knowledge of some Tsaeci body decoration techniques which I gave him in return for his teaching.”

“What are those?” Carnius asked.

“Tattoo magic,” Ghan Shi said, rinsing one of the razor blades of foam. “An old type of spellcraft from my homeland; trap a spell in a tattoo and cast it without needing training.”

“I can see that being useful,” Carnius said.

“Very much so,” Ghan Shi. “It’s not as a effective as proper magic, and you can only use it one or two times every day, but if you need a quick spell or a way to give a weapon a temporary enchantment, there is little better.”

Carnius was tipped back in his chair, the remaining lather rinsed off his head and he was tipped forwards again, cleaned of the soap.

“And we are done,” Ghan Shi announced, folding away the razors. “What do you think?”

Carnius ran his hand over the top of his head, feeling smooth skin all across his scalp.

“That was just what I wanted,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Ghan Shi said. “I can show you some the spell tattoos I can give you if you would like.”

“Maybe another time,” Carnius said.

“Ah yes, there is no use delaying when a beautiful woman has asked to meet with you,” Ghan Shi said, grinning with those terrifying fangs. “In that case, ten gold pieces for the shave.”

Carnius handed over the money with a promise to return, and headed back out to the streets of Bliss. It didn’t take him long to find the Baliwog, and the two guards at the gate simply nodded him through.

Inside, the building was bustling with activity. There was no greeter at the desk this time, and Carnius made his way into the main hall, where several of the staff were busying themselves with readying the room for an evening of drinking, eating and expensive debauchery.

“Carnius, over here!” Her Ladyship called from the side of the room, waving him over. Carnius headed towards her, where she pulled up a few spare chairs and table for him to sit. “Apologies for the chaos, but Thadon has announced that he’s going to be turning up tonight so that means we’re laying on a little extra for him. Hence all of the work, and me needing to go to Ghan Shi’s in order to get my hair touched up in the way that Thadon likes. And happens to be rather high-maintenance and inconvenient, but he should spend enough coin here to make it worth it.”

She nodded at Carnius’ shaven head.

“I should have got it cut like that,” she smiled. “I’m sure it’s a great deal easier to look after.”

“I suppose it is,” Carnius said with a shrug. “But yours definitely looks better than mine.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that,” Her Ladyship said with a quiet laugh. “But thank you.”

Her gaze flickered to Carnius’ scar.

“You say that was Order Knights who did that?” she asked, voice becoming more serious.

“That’s right,” Carnius said.

“I see,” Her Ladyship said. “Tell me, was there an obelisk of some kind with them?”

“There was,” Carnius said. “It’s definitely a sign of the Greymarch, if that’s what you’re thinking; the only reason Salyan and I survived was because we met a Feaster missionary fighting them and a group of Dark Seducers charged in to save us.”

“My word,” Her Ladyship said, shaking her head. “I’m just glad you survived.”

“That makes two of us,” Carnius said. “Though you said something about Thadon just a minute ago.”

“Yes,” Her Ladyship said. “He’s visiting us. Why do you ask?”

“Sheogorath wants me to introduce myself to the Duke and Duchess,” Carnius said. “You seem like the sort of person who would know about them.”

“Is that so? I can certainly help you with that,” Her Ladyship said, leaning back in her chair. “Let me see. For Thadon, I’d say he’s the sort of person who likes to…live well, so to speak.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“He indulges himself, and in the eyes of many, indulges too much,” Her Ladyship said. “The Dukes and Duchesses of Mania have partaken in decadence and debauchery ever since the days of Arden-Sul, but Thadon is losing more and more focus on his duties as time goes by; he’s jaded, addled, spends more time feasting, drinking, taking Felldew and Greenmote and sleeping with all sorts of men and women than he does ruling.”

“I see,” Carnius said. “What about Syl?”

“The best advice I can give you on that is to be very, very careful around the Duchess of Dementia,” Her Ladyship said, her face darkening for a moment. “There’s an old Nord saying I once heard that always made me think of her; ‘a hanging man will kick at anything when he feels the noose start to tighten’. She’s always been paranoid, imagining plots and schemes against her, but as time goes by she’s become more and more rash and inclined towards locking people up for torture on the slightest suspicion. And all that does is cause more and more people to start turning against her.”

“You don’t think she’s going to last long?” Carnius asked.

“Even without the Greymarch coming I’m fairly sure she won’t survive to the end of this year,” Her Ladyship said. “Frankly, I can’t help feel that the pecking order of both halves of the Isles could do with some alterations for their own good, especially with Jyggalag on his way.”

Carnius was silent for a moment.

“Are you alright?” Her Ladyship asked.

“That sounds like politics,” Carnius said.

Her Ladyship shrugged.

“Those at the top stay at the top stay at the top until those beneath them kill their way upwards,” she said. “Such is the way of things. It’s just like the Arena, really. It’s strange, when you think about it, how society condemns murder and yet uses spilled blood to grease its wheels. Makes you wonder what the difference between a murderer and a hero is.”

“Scale,” Carnius said. Her Ladyship raised an eyebrow. “You kill somebody in front of no witnesses and they call you a murderer. Kill somebody in front of thousands of witnesses and they say you’re a hero.”

That got a quiet laugh from Her Ladyship.

“You might be right,” she said. “Though thinking of heroes and killing, I have been thinking of something we might use to help combat the Greymarch.”

“What’s that?” Carnius said.

“I’m planning to raise a militia,” Her Ladyship said. “Start training any men or women in my lands who might wish to volunteer. If there are obelisks beginning to appear then we’ll need to deal with the problem; otherwise Jyggalag can use them to cripple the Isles before the Greymarch even begins in earnest.”

“Do you think you could get the other nobles on board with that idea?” Carnius asked.

“I intend to try,” Her Ladyship said. “I might even mention the idea to Thadon when he comes here tonight, though considering he probably won’t remember the conversation in the morning doing it then may be somewhat of a wasted effort. Speaking of which, do you want to stay for that? There’s going to be an orgy.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” Carnius said.

“Oh,” Her Ladyship said, something flickering across her face for a moment. “I was rather hoping you’d say yes.”

“Not really my sort of place,” Carnius shrugged. “I don’t think I’d fit in. What was that look, though?”

“What look?”

“When I said no, you got a look just there,” Carnius said, a slight grin on his face. “You were pouting, weren’t you?”

“No I wasn’t!” Her Ladyship protested. “I do not pout!”

“Really?” Carnius asked. “You look like you’re pouting now.”

“Oh stop it,” Her Ladyship said, smiling as she rolled her eyes. “You’re sure I can’t change your mind, though?”

“I’m sure. Don’t think I’d really fit in.”

“Your loss,” Her Ladyship said. She looked disappointed. “Why not?”

“Well, haven’t got much to offer, have I?” Carnius said, gesturing to the livid scar running across his face, his nose that had been broken and reset by clumsy hands more than once and cauliflower ears.

“I don’t think you’re doing yourself justice, personally,” Her Ladyship said. “But if you insist.”

“You’re too kind,” Carnius said. “But, I’m afraid I need to go. There’s some business I need to sort out.”

“Of course,” Her Ladyship said. “I’m going to be heading to my estate in the Laughing Coast in a few days, to see what I can do about raising this army to fight the Greymarch with, but if you want to see me here before I go, you’d be welcome; I enjoy talking to you. Though not tomorrow; I probably won’t be at my best then.”

“Thank you, maybe I will,” Carnius said, rising from his seat, Her Ladyship doing the same. “And thanks for the help, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“You can thank me after we’ve defeated Jyggalag and the Isles are safe once again,” Her Ladyship said. “And we’ve still got a way to go yet. Come, let me show you to the door.”

As they stepped through into the atrium of the Golden Baliwog, Her Ladyship asked; “So what is it that you have planned to do now?”

“Make amends,” Carnius explained. “Salyan and I had a bit of a falling out. I’m hoping to patch it up.”

“I see,” Her Ladyship said as they reached the door, held open for them by a servant. “Oh, before you go, I’ve got a little something to give you.”

She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Carnius blinked.

“For luck,” she said. “I’ll be thinking about you tonight. Now go on, off you go.”

Carnius stepped out without another word, surprised at the move. He headed down the driveway, Her Ladyship watching him as he went, and into the streets of Mania, off to make things right.

[McBadgere]

Bosmer with a stick!!!... ...

Oh hells, I did not stop laughing for ages...Loved that... ...*Applauds heartily right at the start...Realises he still needs to type and gives up*...

There really was so much to love in this chapter...The Tsaeci was amazing, loved the tapestry with the "tiger" on it. And, yet again, the thing with the tattoo magic sounds amazing...Looking forward to seeing how you use that...Yes you will, you know you will... ...

And again with the Ladyship...*Sighs*...I think I'm in love with her...

A truly excellent chapter, loved it!...No sign of any trouble there matey!!..

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...


PS...There really are better pictures of Jaime Murray out there... ...

[Darkness Eternal]

Welcome back to writing bloody tales, dear friend! Glad to see Carnius and his adventures in the Shivering Nut-House return!

"Wanna stick, mister?"

For some reason this made me chuckle. I don't know why. Seeing as how we had our fair share of mad Bosmers in the ES universe such as one falling from the sky, asking us for money in Vvardenfell and of course, being paranoid, something as simple as selling sticks wouldn't surprise me and it pretty funny. Carnius should have told him to go home and rethink his life

He was seven feet in height, lantern light glistening off golden scales, looking down at Carnius with slitted pupils over a blunt snout. Two pairs of arms were visible under the white coat he wore, one hand holding a comb, the other a pair of scissors, while a long tail was where his legs should have been, coiled up around him on the floor.

Holy Shi . . .vering isles! Tsaesci? Nice to see one in the Isles. And a barber, too? I guess they like to do what they never had done before. Do they even have hair?

“Ah, be as bald as myself,” Ghan Shi hissed, baring long, needle fangs in what Carnius hoped was a smile.

That answers that. I like his hairstyle. It's almost like mine! I keep it Tom Hardy-Bane/Vin Diesel. I couldn't imagine a snake-person with hair. It wouldn't look right at all.

I did enjoy the whole hair-cutting process. A welcome change of the violence happening from time to time. So, now I can picture our protagonist a bald headed toughie. And speaking of paranoid Bosmers, Carnus gets to meet Lady Syl . . . .Shi..vering isle's is about to get real!

“I’ll be thinking about you tonight. Now go on, off you go.”

"Hehe . .Alright!"

I liked the flirty conversation between Carnius and her Ladyship. She was pouting!

And again with the Ladyship...*Sighs*...I think I'm in love with her...

PS...There really are better pictures of Jaime Murray out there... ...

You and me both! Ah, I remember her from Gods of the Arena. Oh my . . . talented actress.

[McBadgere]

...Oh yes...I remember her very proudly displaying her talents to great effect... ...

[mALX]

I absolutely loved the entire section with Carnius and “Her Ladyship,” what a personality you have developed in her!

Gotta love this line:

“Scale,” Carnius said. “You kill somebody in front of no witnesses and they call you a murderer. Kill somebody in front of thousands of witnesses and they say you’re a hero.”

The whole dialogue between the two was wonderfully enjoyable! Awesome Write!

[Colonel Mustard]

Gah, sorry this update took so long to come, everybody, but for some reason writing it was really, really, painfully slow. No idea why, but I'll try and be quicker with the next one.

McBadgere: Wanna stick? Sticky stick stick!

Jaime Murray as Her Ladyship! Bloody perfect! I'd been trying to work out my dream team of actors in the insane off-chance that this should ever be made into a film, and she'd fit quite nicely with Ralph Fiennes as Carnius (I always imagined Carnius looking rather like Mr Fiennes did in his adaptation of Coriolanus) and Naomie Harris as Almeria. Still need to work out somebody to play Salyan, though.

And combined with Cutter's Madness Ore modifications for Carnius' gauntlets, Ghan-Shi's tattoo magics promise to be a lot of fun. You'll enjoy it a lot, I'm sure.

Darkness Eternal: The Elder Scrolls series does have a lot of mental Wood Elves. To be fair, the fellow in that scene was one of the Shivering Isles' NPCs making an appearance, a fellow by the name of Goolorolos (or something equally long and difficult to spell like that) but he helps increase that rota quite nicely.

Yep, one of the famous Snake People of Akavir, in the flesh and cutting hair! I figured that it would probably be a good way to wind back after the violence of Almeria's introduction and the rather gory scene in the Feasters' temple, so that haircut and the chat with Her Ladyship were there to wind things back a little. The flirting between Carnius Her Ladyship was a lot of fun to write, though she'd insist that she didn't pout and that she never pouts!

mALX: Thanks! I had a lot of fun writing that scene, and Her Ladyship is an enjoyable write; glad you're having a good time reading her, too, as I find her kind of tricky to write properly at points. Pleased it worked!



Thank you for reading everybody, enjoy the next instalment of Carnius' adventures in the Shivering Isles!

Chapter 23-Fire, Steel and Song

The gates of the College of Audiomancy were open as Salyan made her way through them, grumbling under her breath as she went. Her shoulders were hunched against the drizzle, the water slipping off the cloak she wore, hood pulled up to ward away the weather. It rarely rained in Mania, only when Sheogorath was in a bad mood; something must have upset him.

The College was a large construction; three buildings of golden stone arranged around a central central courtyard. The largest one in the centre was the main performance hall, white marble pillars sweeping up its façade into its domed top. Salyan ignored it for the moment, taking the leftmost building, a much smaller one which housed the College’s students.

She pushed open the main door, and hurried across the hallway and up the stairs to the third floor, found her bedroom, unlocked it, dropped her things on the floor next to the bed, sat down on the thin straw mattress and swore.

Why was Carnius so damn defensive about Dementia? It wasn’t as if he lived there after all, and the place was disgusting. She couldn’t think of any reason why he would want to be that way unless…

She froze, searching through her memory, mentally recounting their time together. Had she accidentally given it away? Had he worked it out or suspected it somehow? After all, if he had then it was no surprise he had been like that with her; the merest pretence and he would be rid of her, of course he would, anybody would. Most people wouldn’t even bother with pretending, they’d just hate her, reject her and throw her out into the emptiness and wildnerness where she belonged. No, he didn’t know. She would know if he knew.

Salyan gave a quiet sigh of relief and lay back on the bed as she decided that no, that couldn’t have been the case. There was no way he coud have found out, so the only conclusion she could reach was that he was being a stubborn and irritable idiot. It was his problem, she decided, and if he didn’t want her help saving the Isles then he wouldn’t get it.

For a few moments, she was quiet. She didn’t want to dwell on Carnius, she decided, and it would be a good idea to find something to distract herself with. A new spell; even if she wasn’t travelling with Carnius any more, a destruction spell would still be useful. She would take some time to rest from the road and get some of her affairs in order, she decided, and then she would head to the rest of the college and see what she could learn.

- - - - - - -

The third wing of the College was the Hall of Audiomancy. While not as large as the performance hall, it was by far the most important; the concert hall may have been used for bringing in money through music and acting, but the Hall of Audiomancy was where the audiomancers researched and learned their magic and did their work proper.

The room she was looking for was a large one on the ground floor. The door was bound with steel and made from fungwood so aged and hardened it was like iron, blackened by scorch marks and pitted with deep scars. Salyan tried the handle and found it unlocked, and pushed it open with a grunt of effort.

The room within was just as hardy as its entrance, everything within it made to withstand impacts, blasts and coruscating arcs of unctrolled energy. It was akin to an archery range, a set of practice dummies at the far end of the room along an alleyway, while the other magical equipment and bookshelves there were all covered in heavy steel casing.

A willowy Altmer woman with short-cut blonde hair looked up from the flute she was practicing on, putting the instrument down for a moment, and smiling at the bard.

“Salyan!” she said. “I hadn’t expected to see you here. Where have you been?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Taritha. I’ve been doing some travelling,” Salyan replied. “There were some things I needed to do, places that I had to go to.”

“Of course,” Taritha said. “So what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to maybe learn a destruction spell or two,” Salyan said. “There was some trouble on the road, I thought it might be useful to learn something I can fight properly with.”

“Well, I should be able to teach you something basic,” Taritha nodded. “Maybe a fire spell? I know one that’s good for beginners. Let me show you.”

The High Elf raised the flute to her lips and blew a note, chanelling arcane energy into the sound. A ribbon of flame curled from the end of the instrument, licking and snapping at the air, tasting it like the tongue of a snake. With an alteration in pitch it swung round, curling and twisting in time with a brief melody Taritha played. She finally stopped playing and the flames faded into nothing.

“It’s the same principle as any other kind of Audiomantic spell,” the Altmer said. “Just find the starting pitch for the spell, channel magic into it and from there change the pitch and apply your will to the fire in order to steer and move it.”

“Got it,” Salyan said. She plucked at her lyre’s strings for a few moments, and found the tone she wanted. It was ominous, low hum, the buzzing of an Elytra’s wings just before they would launch it into a leap with scything claws and venomous mandibles. Her fingers danced on the strings as they maintained the pitch, and as instructed she began to channel magical power into the tone. Sparks snapped from her fingertips, small flames running from them along the strings to leap from them and coalesce into a single solid stream that curled like a slack cord in the air in front of her.

“Wonderful,” Taritha said, more to herself than Salyan, the High Elf’s gaze transfixed on the fire. Salyan resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the former Sister of Immolation.

“So how do I manipulate it?” Salyan asked.

“What? Oh, that’s simple,” Taritha said. “Raise the pitch to push it away, lower it to bring it close, and just will it to move as you do to steer it.”

Salyan tried it, frowning in concentration as she adjusted the position of her fingers upon the strings. In a slow, cautious move the tip of the flame shifted away from her, then back again, span in a circle. She smiled as she began to feel more confident in controlling it, moving it more rapidly, back and forth. She yelped as it brushed close to her face, singeing an eyebrow, and cut the flow of magic.

“Well, that’s the basics of it,” Taritha said. “It would probably do for you to get some practise in, though.”

She spent the rest of the day trying to practicing the spell, working out ways to manipulate the tongue of flame with help from Taritha. It was towards the end of it that there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Salyan said. She pulled at the heavy handle, saw that it was Henrique and looked over his shoulder; the Breton’s insistence that he was invisible meant that he always sulked when people looked directly at him, and it was easiest to simply humour him. “Is anyone there?”

“It’s Henrique,” the audiomancer said. “There’s an Imperial in the courtyard who wants to see you, Salyan.”

“An Imperial?” Salyan asked, raising her eyebrow at the air just to the left of Henrique’s shoulder. “Is he a big one, shaven head, scar on his face?”

“That’s the one,” Henrique said. “He kept insisting he could see me, but I didn’t believe him; he’d need a detect life spell for that and he doesn’t look like a mage.”

“He probably couldn’t,” Salayn agreed. “Did he…did he say what he wanted?”

“That he wanted to say sorry,” Henrique said. “I don’t know what for.”

Salyan hesitated for a moment. She supposed that, if nothing else, it would be good to hear him say sorry and admit that she was in the right. That would be why she would go, she decided, to magnimously accept his apology, and then leave as the better person.

Carnius was standing in the courtyard, looking over at the performance hall, and Salyan paused for a moment. She decided she might as well keep it simple.

“Hello,” she said.

He glanced over at her.

“Hello Salyan,” he replied. “You alright?”

“I can’t complain, I suppose,” Salyan said.

Carnius nodded.

“Your friend you greeted me was an odd one,” he said after a moment, picking another topic of conversation. “Kept moving around when I tried to look at him.”

“Henrique? He thinks he’s invisible,” Salyan explained. “He always gets upset when you stare at him directly.”

She silently cursed herself for explaining something Carnius didn’t understand to him; that had become a habit in their short time together.

“Ah, right,” Carnius said. “I should’ve guessed.”

“So,” Salyan said. “What were you here for?”

“Because…” Carnius began, before trailing off. “Because I wanted to say sorry. Sorry for getting as angry at you as I did about the Dementia thing. It was stupid.”

Salyan nodded, before she said; “Fine. You’re forgiven, Carnius. We’re even.”

“No, not quite,” Carnius said.

“Why not?”

“I owe you an apology for getting angrier than I should have,” Carnius said. “But you owe me an apology for saying what you said in the first place.”

“What? No I don’t!” Salyan protested, folding her arms.

“Yes, you do,” Carnius replied. “You were looking down your nose at Dementia for no reason, insulted the place without call and then all but said that I was beneath you for liking it.”

Salyan was quiet for a few moments.

“When you put it like that, maybe you’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s a Manic thing, that’s all. We don’t always get along very well. But I shouldn’t have been like that anyway.”

She stuck out her hand.
“Are we even now?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think we are,” Carnius said, shaking it.

“So what now?” Salyan asked. “I stormed off before you spoke to Sheogorath, I realise.”

“I’m supposed to do two things,” Carnius said. “Speak to Thadon and Syl and do anything they need me to do, and then get the Pillars of the Isles.”

“The Pillars?” Salyan asked. “Did Sheogorath warn you about the Angels?”

“He did,” Carnius said. “We’ll work out a way past them.”

“Let’s hope so,” Salyan nodded.

“I was thinking we could meet up tomorrow morning after breakfast and start off with Syl,” Carnius said. “I need to drop off my gauntlets and that madness ore we found at Cutter’s and try and find Almeria as well.”

“Of course,” Salyan said. “I’m surprised you didn’t drop the ore off with Cutter already.”

“Place was closed for some reason,” Carnius replied with a shrug. “Don’t know why.”

“Oh, I see,” Salyan said. “So where are you staying? At the Baliwog?”

“Sickly Bernice’s Taphouse,” Carnius said. “They were busy at the Baliwog tonight. You know where the Taphouse is?”

“I do,” Salyan replied. “I’ll see you there tomorrow.”

“See you then,” Carnius said. He smiled at her. “Glad to have you back with me.”

“Glad to be back,” Salyan smiled in return.

- - - - - - -

This time, when Carnius knocked on the door of Cutter’s forge, he and Salyan were greeted with a call of; “Come in.”

The forge was warm and there was the faint smell of wood smoke in the air. Cutter was by a grindstone, running the edge of blade over the spinning wheel, and she looked up as they entered.

“Carnius, Salyan,” she said. “It’s good to see you both again. What can I do for you?”

In reply, Carnius reached into his pack and pulled out one of the lumps of metallic rock they had taken from Xedilian.

“Think this might be madness ore,” he said. “Thought we should just check.”

Cutter stopped her work, rising from the forge and taking the piece of stone. She inspected it for a moment, and nodded.

“That’s it,” she said. “Do you have any more?”

Carnius pulled out the small pouch he and Salyan had filled.

“Wasn’t sure how much we’d need, so we got a lot,” he said by way of explanation as Cutter took and opened it to see how much was inside.

“That should be more than enough,” she nodded. “I’ll need a few days to refine the ore and then rework your gauntlets, but it should be more than worth the wait.”

“Good to hear,” Carnius said, fishing the two heavy metal gloves out from his pack. “I think we’re going to be in New Sheoth for the next few days in any case, so hopefully I won’t need them.”

Salyan was about to say something when a voice from the other side of the room asked; “Salyan? Carnius? I wasn’t expecting to see you two here.”

Almeria was standing at the bottom of the stairwell that presumably lead up to Cutter’s private quarters. She was out of the armour she usually wore, dressed in a short-sleeved tunic and dark trousers, and her black hair was running down her back instead of pulled up in its topknot.

“Neither of us thought you’d be here either,” Salyan said. “This is a surprise.”

“Well, I just heard voices downstairs and I thought they sounded a bit like yours,” Almeria said. “So I thought I’d see.”

“We were hoping to find you, actually,” Carnius said. “Wanted to talk about our next move.”

“Of course,” Almeria said. “I was going to make some breakfast, so we can talk over that, if you’d like.”

Carnius nodded, before he said; “Just a minute. I need to sort out a final bit of business with Cutter.”

He glanced back at the smith.

“How much would reworking those gauntlets cost?” he asked.

“Well, you get a discount as I can use the spare ore you brought with you to work on some other pieces, but the rework would probably be in the region of five hundred gold pieces,” Cutter said.

Carnius blanched for a moment; that would be taking a pretty significant chunk out of the funds he had brought with him to the Isles, and between purchasing food, supplies and accommodation they were threatening to run dry. He’d need to rasie some more, somehow.

“Fine, but they’d better be worth it,” he said after a moment, reaching into his pack for the coin.

“Trust me, they will,” Cutter replied.

“I hope so,” the gladiator said, handing over a small pouch of coin. He saw Salyan and Almeria had disappeared upstairs.

“You can go and join them, if you want,” Cutter said. “Just don’t clear the pantry and it’s fine.”

Carnius went up, footsteps thudding quietly on the wooden stairs, and found Almeria and Salyan in Cutter’s kitchen. Salyan was sitting on the corner of the table, and Almeria was at the counter, cracking a few eggs into a bowl. A crystal in the stove next to her was glowing as heat began to thrum through it, and the Feaster glanced at it for a moment before returning her attention to the mixing bowl.

“I thought we could talk over breakfast,” she explained before Carnius could ask. “I haven’t eaten yet so I was making some pancakes. You want any?”

“I’ve already had something to eat at Sickly Bernice’s, thanks,” Carnius replied as he pulled up one of the chairs from underneath the table. “You…you never struck me as the cooking type, you know.”

“Well, they wouldn’t call us Feasters if we didn’t know a thing or two about food,” Almeria said as she began to whisk. “In any case, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Carnius gave a brief explanation of what Sheogorath had asked him to do. By the time he had finished, Almeria had finished cooking the first pancake and slid it onto the plate by her side.

“I’ll help you, certainly,” she said, coming to the table. There were a few slices of a greyish-green ham on the table, which Carnius guessed was swattle meat, and with a few deft cuts with her knife she scored away some flesh for her breakfast. As she reached across, Carnius couldn’t help but notice the patchwork of scars crisscrossing her arms, and the tattoos etched into her skin, black text spelling out the words of something. Almeria looked at the pancake for a moment, and frowned. “Just one minute.”

She stuck her head out of the kitchen’s door and called down; “Cutter!”

“Yes?” the smith’s voice floated up from below.

“Do we have any cheese about?”

“Have you checked the pantry?”

“Of course I have.”

“Was there cheese there?”

“No, there wasn’t.”

“Then no, we don’t have any cheese.”

Almeria shrugged and elected to roll up her breakfast in any case.

“So how do you know Cutter?” Salyan asked.

“I needed somebody to do some maintenance on my sword and Cutter was recommended,” Almeria said. “We started talking and we got along well, one thing lead to another and now we’ve been together for about six months or so.”

She glanced over at Carnius.

“That isn’t a problem, is it?” she asked. “Only you’re the first Mundan person I’ve met and apparently you people get upset over the strangest things, sometimes.”

“Not for me,” Carnius said. “One of the gladiators I knew back in blue team, she was into women, but she always had the team’s back in the arena and was damn good at what she did; as far as I could tell, that was all that mattered.”

If he decided to make it a problem, Carnius couldn’t help but think, he risked not leaving the room alive.

“Her family always gave her trouble about it, she said,” he added. “Poor woman had to end up severing contact with them.”

He glanced at Almeria and added; “Do you have much of family, actually? I never asked on our way back.”

“Not any more,” Almeria shook her head. “My father was a missionary like myself, and he died spreading word of the Madgod, and my mother passed away a few years ago. I had a sister once too, but…there was an accident. She’s gone now.”

The look in her eyes at that sentence had Carnius and Salyan in silent agreement that they should stop that line of conversation there.

Almeria finished off her meal, and then looked at the plate for a moment with a contemplative expression. After a moment, she wiped a few streaks of grease off it, and reached to her belt, drawing out a small pouch. With care, she poured out a small quantity of a luminous green powder onto it, and with her knife divided the pile into three neat lines, miniature barrows on a snowy field. A strip of parchment was rolled up, one end placed into a nostril, the other hovering at the end of one of the lines. There was a snorting sound and she sucked it up, the entire line disappearing up the tube. Almeria sat bolt upright as she finished it, blinking a few times and sniffing.

“What was that?” Carnius asked.

“Greenmote,” Almeria replied. “Refined, of course. Either of you want some?”

“I prefer to smoke it, thanks,” Salyan said. “And if I’m honest, I try not to do it too regularly.”

“Carnius?” Almeria asked. He shook his head. “Suit yourselves.”

“Is that like Moon Sugar, or something?” he asked as Almeria snorted the second line.

“A bit like it, I suppose,” Almeria said. “It’s one the main ingredients of Madgod’s Blood, that potion you saw me take in the fight to help me. It’s addictive, but this helps me put aside the cravings for a while. Ward them off so I can keep the Madgod’s Blood for when I need it.”

“Is that very good for you?” Carnius asked.

“‘In all things the Madgod calls for sacrifice,’” Almeria said. “‘Be it your life, your mind or that which you treasure most dear, he may call upon you to render it unto him. Do so graciously and do so gratefully, for through sacrifice he is pleased and through sacrifice thou art rewarded by his favour.’ The Book of the Feast, the Gospel of Bloodletting, verse seventeen two. I give up some of my health for him, as dictated by the tenets of Adren Sul.”

She inhaled the final line of Greenmote, sat up, wiped underneath her nose and said; “I think it’s time we got on with dealing with the Duke and Duchess, don’t you think?”

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Feb 26 2013, 02:11 PM

[McBadgere]

*Applauds*...

Truly beautiful and excellent work right there, that is...

“Got it,” Salyan said. She plucked at her lyre’s strings for a few moments, and found the tone she wanted. It was ominous, low hum, the buzzing of an Elytra’s wings just before they would launch it into a leap with scything claws and venomous mandibles. Her fingers danced on the strings as they maintained the pitch, and as instructed she began to channel magical power into the tone. Sparks snapped from her fingertips, small flames running from them along the strings to leap from them and coalesce into a single solid stream that curled like a slack cord in the air in front of her.

You know me, sucker for a bit o'magic talk, fantastic description...Loved it!!...

I thought the entire college section was fantatically done...Henrique cracked me up no end... ...

And again with Cutter...*Sigh*... ...

*Cough*...

Aaamywho, looking forward to whatever gets thrown at us next...

Very very nice one indeed!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[Darkness Eternal]

I was worried you had given up on this story. Glad to see you are back in action! So Salyan pays a visit to band camp the College of Audiomancy.

It rarely rained in Mania, only when Sheogorath was in a bad mood; something must have upset him.

Isn't that something? Daedric Lord gets mad and he makes storms to rain on everyone's parade. I enjoyed to see Salyan learning a new fire whip spell! Crackalakin! The witty banted between Salyan and Carnius was well-written and heart-warming. Good to see that they are even now.

So, there are Madgod missionaries? Who knew!? Your expanding of lore is most appreciated and very fitting in this tale. I love it!

[Colonel Mustard]

Yeah, this part took forever to write. No idea why, it just did. Guh.


McBadgere: Thanks very much! I had a good amount of fun working out the details of how Audiomancy would work, and I pleased that you enjoyed reading it. Cheers!

DE: Oh no, it wasn't dead, it was just very slow and difficult to write. Like this chapter was. Huh.

I figured the weather would be affected by Sheogorath's moods and whims seeing as the Isles themselves are him to an extent. It raises some interesting worldbuilding questions at points.

And yeah, there are Madgod missionaries; that was only mentioned about five chapters ago!


Chapter 24-The Grand Inquisitor

The building before them could be called no other word but monstrous. A huge, brooding tyrant of a structure hewed from grey-black stone, it loomed before the three, façade adorned with gargoyles and freizes of misery. The black iron gates, adorned with carvings of ancient runes the very meaning of which could not be pronounced, were surrounded by regular spikes of jagged stone, and in opening seemed to be the invitation from a hungry maw for vulnerable morsels to step inside.

A pair of Dark Seducers stood on either side of the doorway, wearing the black hoods of executioners and carrying immense two handed axes, and as they approached one of them asked; “What business have you at the court of Lady Syl?”

“We were sent here by Sheogorath,” Carnius said. “He wanted me and my friends to speak to her, to introduce ourselves to her.”

“I see,” one of the Daedra said. “Wait here, Madgod’s champion. I will bring word to the Duchess that you are here.”

She stepped through the doorway, and was gone only a few minutes before she returned once more.

“She will see you and your companions immediately,” she said. “Follow me.”

The room she lead them into was a high-vaulted hall, built of the same sooty black stone as the building’s exterior. It was a gloomy, funereal place, lit only by guttering candles of black tallow, while snarling maws and weeping faces protruded from the walls and vaulted ceiling, shifting across it in utter silence, following Carnius, Salyan, Almeria and their guide as they progressed. In alcoves on either side of the hall were crosses, men, mer and beast-folk nailed to the wood, naked and thin, skin criss-crossed by lacerations, eyeless sockets glancing across the room. Carnius and Salyan avoided looking at them, but Almeria was merely indifferent, instead clenching and unclenching her fists with such force that her knuckles turned white.

At the far end of the hall, on a throne of tarnished brass, moulded into the shape of gnashing teeth and grasping hands, a Bosmer woman sat, flanked by two more axe-bearing Mazken in hoods. Her face was veiled and she wore a black mourning dress, its collar an immense, magnificent ruff of carven bone. She examined the small group before with piercing, intense grey eyes, leaning forward on her throne as they approached.

“I bid you welcome, champion of Sheogorath,” she said, her tone devoid of any warmth. “As is custom, I extend the hospitality of the court of Dementia to yourself and your companions whilst you are here.”

“You honour us, your ladyship,” Salyan said before Carnius could speak, stepping forward and bowing down on one knee. “You have our deepest gratitude.”

“Get up and be silent, little Manic girl,” Syl snapped back. “I will entertain you and the Feaster only because the Madgod’s champion is with you; otherwise your presence within my court would not be tolerated. As for you, Carnius Hackelt, I will allow you this one erring in etiquette. But let me be clear that displeasing me will not bode well for you, Sheogorath’s champion or not.”

She gestured to one of the crucified individuals lining her hall.

“And that is the consequence of displeasing me or moving against me,” she said. “These crosses were enchanted by Relmyna Venerim herself and the magic within them can keep a man alive in agony for weeks; their bodies begin to degrade but they do not die, and sooner or later, the wood will absorb its victims and be hungry for more. I always have more crucifixes upon which to hang those who attempt to double-cross me.”

Hearing her, one of the victims raised his head.

“Please, my lady,” he managed to rasp through cracked lips. “You must understand; I am a loyal subject and innocent of any plot against you.”

“A plea of innocence is guilty of wasting my time,” Syl snapped back at him. She turned her attention back to Carnius. “Do you understand, champion?”

“I do,” Carnius said.

“Good,” Syl nodded. She rose from her throne, and gestured for Carnius and his companions to follow. “We must speak in private, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.”

“Who’s going to eavesdrop here?” Carnius asked, looking around the hall. “It’s just, your bodyguard and these poor sods on the crosses.”

“And you don’t think that these betrayers would take any chance they had to stab me in the back once more?” Syl said. “They will take any opportunity they get to whisper secrets they overhear into traitorous ears if I let them. The conversation I wish to carry out must be conducted in private. Follow me.”

One of the Dark Seducers pushed open a side door in the main hallway for the Duchess, and without much choice, the three of them followed, uncomfortably aware that, aside from Salyan’s lyre, their weapons were all at Cutter’s. They were lead down a grey stone corridor to a private room, the heavy door pushed open by one of the hooded bodyguards who checked its innards before nodding an all clear. She entered first, and the Dark Seducer at the back waited for them to enter before she shut the door behind them.

“Any listening charms?” Syl asked her remaining bodyguard.

The Daedra raised a crystal and swept it across the room before staring into its surface.

“None that it can detect, milady,” she said.

“Good,” Syl nodded, before she turner her attention to the three companions. “Do you know why I’ve called you here, Champion?”

“Indulge me,” Carnius said.

“I’m under attack,” Syl said. “Everywhere I’ve looked, I’ve found conspirators, traitors, scheming backstabbers, all of them planning my undoing. One or two, perhaps, could be dissidents or insurrectionists or individual malcontents, but the numbers I have found point to a conspiracy of a scale I dread to imagine. None of the traitors I’ve brought in have been willing to confess who it is, but there must be someone, somewhere, who is orchestrating it.”

She glanced at Carnius.

“You’re new here, so that makes you marginally more trustworthy than the rest of them,” Syl said. “I am appointing you as my Grand Inquisitor; I want you to find these conspirators and bring them to me.”

“Any leads?” Carnius asked.

“Go speak to Herdir,” Syl replied. “He’s my torturer, and he can help you track them down. He’s in the dungeon.”

“I see,” Carnius nodded. “We’ll be going then.”

Syl nodded, and the three left. They headed through the corridors, going downards in the hope of finding the dungeon.

“So are either of you two surprised that she finds conspiracies everywhere?” Salyan asked once they were out of earshot.

“No,” Carnius and Almeria said in unison.

“Thought not,” Salyan said. “I mean, we could just drag somebody in here from the street and tell Syl that they’re the mastermind behind this supposed conspiracy and she’d probably believe us.”

Carnius glanced over at her.

“I’m not suggesting that we do it!” Salyan protested. “I’m just saying that she’s likely to buy it.”

“She’s right, you know,” Almeria nodded. She wiped a finger underneath her nose and frowned at it.

“You alright?” Salyan asked.

“Nosebleed,” Almeria replied. She shrugged and pulled a kerchief from her pocket, dotted with small red stains, and held it underneath her nose. “They happen sometimes, I just need to wait for it to subside.”

“If you’re sure,” Carnius said.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Almeria replied, a snap in her voice.

“Hey, you two,” Salyan said, stopping outside a havy door of wood and iron. “I think we’ve found the dungeon.”

She raised her fist and thumped it against the door a few times. After a few moments of waiting, there was the sound of bolts sliding and locks rattling, and it groaned open. On the other side was a middle-aged balding Imperial, and he looked at the three of them with a look between curiosity and some kind of hunger.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Are you Herdir?” Salyan asked.

“I am, yes,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Syl asked us to find you,” Carnius said. “We’re trying to track down the mastermind behind all of these conspiracies, and she said you could help.”

“Ah, of course,” Herdir nodded. “Yes, you look like you could be of some use to me. Come in, come in.”

The room he ushered them into was a large box of dark stone, occupied by a table and desk scattered with parchments. Along one wall was a large chart, different words connected by writing. A few moments of staring at them, and Carnius realised that they were different names.

“Are these all conspirators?” Salyan asked.

“They were,” Herdir nodded. “And while they might have been uncovered there are always more out there.”

“I’m sure there are,” Almeria said. “So what leads do you have?”

“I have reason to suspect that the Duellists, or at least members of their group, are plotting against Lady Syl,” Herdir said.

“The Duellists?” Carnius asked.

“They are a group of Crucible’s citizens who meet periodically on the rooftop of Sickly Bernice’s Taphouse,” Herdir said. “As their name suggests, they fight each other in organised bouts whenever they meet. They’re highly secretive about their meetings, though; they will avoid talking about the group when not in their meetings, and are suspicious of any outsiders.”

“So what makes you think they’re plotting against Syl, then?” Carnius asked.

“If they had nothing to hide, they would not be so secretive,” Herdir said. “As they’re being secretive, they must be up to something, and more likely than not, it’s a conspiracy against the Duchess. This is where you can help, though; you three have no connection to Syl, so they may be willing to let you in. At least they’ll let you in, Imperial; your two friends are Manics and most likely they’ll be rejected.”

He frowned.

“The only issue is how to get into the Duellists themselves,” he said. “Joining them is supposed to be notoriously difficult.”

“That’s easy,” Almeria said. “I’m a member.”

“You’re a…what?” Herdir asked. “How?”

“Well my girlfriend of six months is a member of the Duellists and I was made an honorary member not too long ago,” Almeria said.

“But how did you get in?” Herdir said, almost in protest. “You’re a Manic.”

“I’m really good at fighting things, apparently,” Almeria shrugged. “So they let me in.”

“I see,” Herdir nodded “Perhaps I could question your-”

“Lay a finger on her and I will hurt you,” Almeria said. Her tone was flat, but the threat on it was evident. “We can ask around at the Duelists and see what we can find out. You stay here, that’ll make it easier for us to keep our cover.”

“Of course,” Herdir said. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

The three took it as their cue to leave, and as they shut the door behind them Carnius asked; “So when are the Duellists meeting next?”

“Tonight,” Almeria said as they set out along the corridors of Syl’s court to the outdoors. “Getting both of you in should be pretty easy seeing as both myself and Cutter can vouch for you. After that, you can ask around all you need to.”

“And are there any burgeoning conspiracies against Syl there?” Salyan asked.

Almeria glanced around for a moment making sure they were alone.

“Outside,” she said in a low voice. “I can explain more there.”

They hurried out into the streets of Crucible, and Almeria lead them a short way away. She stopped by an alleyway and ushered them into it, Carnius dropping a few coins to an old Dunmer beggar sitting by its mouth.

“Go and get yourself something to eat,” he said to the mer as the septims landed in the wooden bowl held in his wrinkled grey hands.

“Of course,” the beggar said, his voice cracked, harsh and scraping. He rose to his feet with the aid of the staff he carried, and tucked the bowl into a fold of his tattered robes. “Madgod smile upon you, kind sir.”

Almeria shot him a glance as Carnius stepped into the shadows with her and Salyan.

“Just making sure we aren’t eavesdropped on,” he said. “So what was it you wanted to say about the Duellists, then?”

“There is a plot,” Almeria said. “And they do plan on taking down Syl. I don’t know the full details, and you’d have to ask Muurine about it, but the Duellists are just part of the plan against Syl. Crucible hates her, and Muurine is one of the people heading up the fight against her.”

“So how did you get involved in this?” Carnius asked. “I mean, it’s not as if that’s going to affect Bliss, is it?”

“No, it won’t,” Almeria said. “But Cutter’s part of this and she could potentially get hurt; somebody could inform on her and the next thing I know a squad of Dark Seducers have knocked down her door and dragged her off to Herdir. I can’t let that happen.”

“We’ll help,” Salyan said. “I don’t like Syl anyway.”

Carnius nodded.

“From what I’ve seen of Syl, this Muurine might have the right idea about getting rid of her,” he said. “I’m in.”

Almeria nodded.

“I’m pleased to hear that,” she said. “Thank you, both of you.”

She smiled.

“I’m sure Syl doesn’t stand a chance.”

[McBadgere]

Excellent stuff!!...

I went to Thadon for my runthrough, so this is all going to be a bit different for me...I've no idea of the Syl side of things... ...

Absolutely loved the description of her palace though...Beautiful imagry...The crucifictions were disturbingly excellent!... ...

I thought it was a bit risky for Almeria to reveal that little snippet about Cutter though... ...Hope that doesn't come back to bite her... ...

Carnius seemed a bit subdued in this one...But then, he was having to be polite ...

Absolutely loved it matey!!...You talent for inventive descriptiveness and witty dialogue is a pure joy...

Long may you continue!!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Darkness Eternal]

Ah, I remember visiting Syl frequently. I just sided with Dementia, because well, I can relate to that sort of madness. And because we can all agree that Syl's bosoms are a sight to behold.

In alcoves on either side of the hall were crosses, men, mer and beast-folk nailed to the wood, naked and thin, skin criss-crossed by lacerations, eyeless sockets glancing across the room. Carnius and Salyan avoided looking at them, but Almeria was merely indifferent, instead clenching and unclenching her fists with such force that her knuckles turned white.

Woah!Some intense stuff here. Truly demented. If you showed the colors of Syl and what is inside her domain, I wonder what you will do with the torture scenes.

Speaking of torture, that is truly horrific what she does to those who oppose her. Imagine the pain of staying alive for weeks! From here we can tell that she's the stuff of horror.

Her paranoia is also evident and you painted her personality well with her snappy attitude and paranoia when saying those victims of cruxifiction could pose a threat to her.

I agree with Mcbadgere here. Carnius kept calm, but he was in no place to act his usual manner in the presence of a woman like Syl. The slighest disrespect could cost him his body parts!! This episode was excellent. So Carnius is the inquisitor now, huh. Inquisitor Carnius has a nice ring to it.