A Conclave of Princes Options

[Colonel Mustard]

Elizabeth Hollow: I was creeped out by it. Does that count?

I was trying to go for something creepy, there; I wanted him to be disgusting in appearance, but I thought the robes and staff would be good to give him a more sinister, cultish appearance as well, one that was kind of Lovecraftian.

Ghastley: Eh? Electrons are fundamental particles, along with quarks; the only thing they're made up of, as far as we know, is electron. And considering that Azura is a being for whom physics is something that is entirely optional,

McBadgere: Nah, don't worry about it. I was just joshing you.

The place with the dinosaurs and the place with lasers and radiation were actually separate areas. If you want to get a placing for it, well, just remember that some things never change.

Pleased you liked the Apocrypha and Hermaeus Mora; I was trying for something that was still fairly true to its depiction in Dragonborn, which I thought was fantastic, but I wanted my own spin on it, especially with Hermaeus Mora. The particle physics bit was fun, and I'm pleased you liked it. Still undecided on Michell Williams, though. Hmm.

Destri: Thanks!

I never really saw Hircine being the sociable type beyond those he'd view as pack members, and so I tried to write him as a sort of hermit for whom social niceties (even amongst Daedric Princes) would be something rather unimportant. Hence why he was more interested in the amoebas and rather disinterested in having a chat. On the it thing, I considered giving the werebeasts 'he' and 'she' pronouns, but ultimately I preferred the use of 'it' as it helped emphasise their more monstrous nature.

As for Azura stealing that book, it was to keep Hermaeus Mora from doing anything with what she's learned before the other Princes might keep him and each other in check; while it's a very big deal, it's not so much earth-shattering as it is a pretty damn big deal, and one that some of the Princes, Hermaeus Mora included, would exploit for themselves before the others knew about it, if they could.

And what happens next? Why, this does...


Sanguine

Azura wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent of sex, blood, sweat and rose petals that assaulted her nostrils as she stepped into the pink liquid air of Sanguine’s realms. Around her, lazy red bubbles floated and bloomed, each one a tiny pocket universe created by the Duke of Debauchery. She peered into one out of curiosity, seeing a group of mortals writhing together with such enthusiasm that they seemed one single mass of ecstatic flesh. Another was a crowd draining wine, puffing from pipes and feasting from a heavily laden table, stumbling around one another and laughing, paying no heed to a pair of elves copulating on a bench just off to the side.

“Well look who it is!” a figure declared, stepping out from a bubble. He, or perhaps she, bowed, one arm raised high, teeth flashing in a perfect smile. “Dear Azura, come to pay me a visit! Looking for a good time, oh star in my sky?”

“I’m here for business, Sanguine, not pleasure,” Azura replied.

Sanguine grinned at Azura, her perfect, sexless face illuminated by the easy grin between his full lips.

“Please, my dear,” she said. “Pleasure is my business.”

Azura rolled her eyes.

“We need to talk in private,” she said. “And for goodness’ sake, put some trousers on, will you?”

“What?” Sanguine asked, his eyes widening in mocking, innocuous look. “You interrupted me in the middle of something. Well, the middle of someone, really. Two someones, in fact. Very fun.”

Azura glared at him, and Sanguine shrugged. With a wave of her hands, his lower body was clothed in trousers of such tight leather that they may as well have not been there.

“You need to relax, Azura,” the Princess of the Perverse said. He gestured to her perfect, sculpted physique. “Come on, don’t tell me that there’s nothing about this body you find appealing.” His form began to change, becoming more muscular and distinctively masculine. “That more to your taste, perhaps?” She changed again, adopting the curves of a female form that an artist would have killed to put to canvas. “Or this?”

“Sanguine, I’m not here for-” Azura began.

“Wait,” Sanguine interrupted. There was a grin on his face, one that held more malice than mirth. Her form began to change once more, skin turning golden, features becoming familiar. “How about a fling with an old flame, huh?”

Azura’s palm slapped across his cheek. Sanguine cursed, reeling back, and scowled at her.

“Fine, fine!” he said, rubbing the side of his face, the blemish already faded. “If you want to talk, then let’s talk. We’ll go somewhere comfortable, shall we?”

She turned around, and with a flick of finger called a bubble to him. She tapped it, and it expanded, the shimmering membrane growing large enough for entrance, and as he stepped through, muttered; “Frigid old cow.”

The small pocket dimension he lead Azura to seemed to be nothing more than a single large, spacious room, decorated with thick red drapes and a lush carpet. There were well-stuffed leather chairs around a crackling fireplace, and a bar to one side, as well as a bookshelf set into one of the walls. Azura ran an eye over the titles; The Lusty Argonian Maid, Love in the Time of the Blight, Lady Chattelia’s Lover. Typical.

“Welcome to my dear little cubby hole,” Sanguine said as she made his way to the bar. “Where I retreat to when I need a little privacy. Drink?”

Azura shook her head.

“Suit yourself. Please, have a seat,” Sanguine said. She reached beneath the bar, pulling out a long, all glass and several bottles. After a moment, he took a few more from the shelves behind him. “So, what are you here for?”

“I’m calling a meeting,” Azura said. She sat and watched as Sanguine got to work, juggling and pouring from the bottles with the deftness of a court jester.

“A meeting, you say?” Sanguine asked as she sprinkled a dusting of fine white powder into the drink. “Something like that hasn’t occurred in an age, all of us gathering under the roof. What’s the occasion?”

“Bad news,” Azura said.

“It’s never for something good, is it?” Sanguine said. He placed a cap on top of the glass and began to vigorously shake it. “You know, I’d love, just once, to have a little social gathering. Have a bit of fun, everybody relaxing, good food, good drink, all of just enjoying ourselves.”

“You’d just be there to try and sleep with everybody,” Azura said.

Sanguine shrugged as she placed the glass back down on the table.

“What can I say?” he asked. “I’m the curious type. You ever wondered what Mehrunes Dagon is like under the sheets? I mean, think about it; he always takes that big, muscled form, so he’s got have something that scales with that, right? And imagine what Hermaus Mora could do with all those tentacles!”

“I’d rather not,” Azura said.

“Prude,” Sanguine muttered. She snapped his fingers together and a flame danced into life on the tip of one of them. It brushed the surface of her drink and a small column of fire roared upwards for a moment like the hawked magma of a volcano. “Would you look at that? Magnificent.”

“So will you be coming?” Azura asked as Sanguine sipped his drink.

“Mmm, that is good!” Sanguine declared. “You sure you don’t want one? Oh, sorry, yes, Moonshadow. I’ll come; nice place, and your average Winged Twilight is good company as well.”

“So you’ll come, then?” Azura asked.

“Will there be wine?”

“I’ll accommodate you all the best that I can,” Azura replied.

“Sounds good to me,” Sanguine said. “Then I’ll come, in return for one little favour.”

“You’re going to benefit from attending, Sanguine.”

“I know, I know,” Sanguine said. She pinched his fingers together. “It’s just one thing. One tiny, tiny thing, and I think you’ll like it.”

“What’s that?” Azura asked.

“You come here,” Sanguine began. She saw Azura’s frown and held up a hand as if to try and mollify her. “Hear me out, hear me out. You come here, I meet you, and we have ourselves some dinner together, and maybe a little wine. We’ll go somewhere nice, one my little places or maybe we can find somewhere pleasant with good food over in Mundus. Just enjoy ourselves a while.”

“And what’s brought on this sudden act of generosity?”

Sanguine shrugged.

“You always seem busy,” he said. “I thought you might want to unwind; it’d be good for you.”

“And this has nothing to do with getting into my pants?” Azura asked.

“Well, getting yourself shagged silly now and again is always good for you as well, I’d say,” Sanguine grinned. “What do you say? It’ll be fun.”

“I suppose there isn’t much to lose,” Azura said. “You have yourself a deal.”

“Knew you couldn’t resist!” Sanguine said. “And with that little transaction concluded, our deal is complete; I will see you in Moonshadow.”

He raised his glass in a mock toast to Azura as she stepped through the looking glass. She was but moments into Oblivion a fine, sharp cord looped around her neck and pulled tight.

“So,” a voice hissed in Azura’s ear. “What have you been up to?”

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Mar 22 2013, 03:59 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Guhh. Sanguine. XD

[Colonel Mustard]

Elisabeth: Oh yeah, you aren't a fan of him, are you?


Mephala

The wire burned against Azura’s skin as its noose cut into her neck, a line of stinging heat just out of her view. She considered her options, shifting form or splitting her essence to escape, rally her power and fight back, or rub the black diamond given to her by Nocturnal and call on her sister for aid.

She reached for the pocket that it was in, before another hand grabbed her wrist, skin cold and smooth as chitin or crystal.

“Don’t do that,” a voice hissed in her ear. “And don’t think you can escape this little noose so easily, either; I forged it from the souls of some of my greatest and most devoted assassins, and it will constrict anything.”

“Release me, Mephala,” Azura said. “I have no quarrel with you.”

That gave her assailant pause.

“How did you guess that, I wonder?”

“Luck and good judgement,” Azura said. “Now let me go.”

“I don’t think I shall, not yet,” Mephala said. “My brother wants his book back, Azura.”

“It’s not on me,” Azura said. “I’ve hidden it in Moonshadow. He can have it back after the meet.”

Azura felt the constriction of the cord loosen a little.

“You plan to meet with him?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you that?” Azura asked. “He used his dear sister to do his bidding without actually telling her why, didn’t he?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mephala said, voice turning to a hiss of suspicion.

“What that means, Mephala, is that you’ve been used,” Azura said. “Some Prince of Deceit you are.”

“Be quiet!” Mephala snapped, and in her distraction, the noose loosened just a little more. That was all Azura needed.

A painful lance of dim twilight burned into Mephala’s hand, and she shrieked in pain and fury. Azura ripped herself free of the noose’s grip, pain flaring a few chunks of essence caught on the wire before one end of the cord was dragged from Mephala’s grasp. She went formless for a short way, and rebodied herself a safe distance from the Lady of Lies.

There was an expression of fury in the eight smooth, black orbs that were Mephala’s eyes. One hand was rubbing the injured one, the three other pairs of arms from her torso splayed in readiness for combat, each one holding their own unique implements of murder.

“Bitch!” Mephala snapped, lower jaw splitting at the chin as she spoke like the mandibles of a spider.

“Self defence,” Azura replied.

Mephala snarled at that, before she asked; “What meet was this you spoke of?”

“I’m gathering the Princes in Moonshadow. Something has come up.”

“What is that, then?” Mephala asked.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the meeting,” Azura said. “You’d take advantage of it, and I’d rather not have that.”

“Tell me,” Mephala ordered. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” Azura asked. “You can’t kill me, Mephala, you know that.”

“No, I can’t kill you,” Mephala nodded. “But trust me, if you don’t tell me now, I can make you wish you could die.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mephala,” Azura said. “Once you come to Moonshadow, you can find out everything you want. And your brother will get his book back as well.”

“But as you said, I can use this to my advantage,” Mephala replied. She smiled, and the smile looked lost, frightened and lonely on her mirthless, pale face. “And woe betide that I let an opportunity slip through my grasp.”

Mephala slipped closer towards Azura, the Lady of Twilight scudding backwards through the aether of Oblivion in response.

“Tell me what you found,” Mephala said. “And I will let you go.”

“I’m not doing that,” Azura said. “Let me be, Mephala.”

“Not until you tell me,” the Mistress of Murder insisted, features twisting into a snarl.

“I will tell you when-”

“You will tell me at once!”

Mephala lunged upon Azura, and two Princes fought.

It was not a battle fought with weapons or hands, as two warriors would conduct combat, nor was it one conducted with hurled spells or hexes as with a duel of mages. A mortal viewer who would somehow be able to survive exposure to the raw fundament of Oblivion would have seen nothing but two indistinct shapes writhing around one another and nothing else. The two did not fight in any way a mortal could understand; there were no armaments drawn, no spells cast. Instead, the raw matter of their essences clashed in a single, deathly embrace.

The unreality of Oblivion around them shrieked and screamed as the two did battle, their beings wrestling against one another in a struggle that would have immolated any matter around them. Gouts of pure arcane energy blasted from their struggle as they tore at one another, sending the void rippling and rending around them. Screaming, formless concept-beings of mindless magical sentience were birthed from the battle, flailing blind with ethereal limbs in desperate search for form and purpose before their existence used up the energy that powered them and they faded from being.

On Nirn, the side effects of the battle were seen across the globe. As Mephala shredded a chunk of Azura’s being with barbed energies, the Ka’Po’Tun of a coastal village of Akavir were shocked to see the setting sun scream aloud as they brought their fishing boats in for the night. Azura stabbed at Mephala’s form, and in Narsis an assassin of the Morag Tong gasped as his throat collapsed, choking and grabbing his gullet, dying whilst utterly ignorant of what killed him. A blow sent Azura reeling and the people of Bravil were baffled as every cat in the city laid their ears flat and yowled at the night sky. Another sent a shrine of Azura built in Mournhold bursting into flame, and a third caused the High Twilight of Elsweyr to fall to her knees, bleeding from her eyes and screaming portents of doom.

Azura was losing the fight. She was strong, but Mephala was a personification of bloodshed, violence and murder, and Azura had been mauled, could feel chunks of her essence leaking away, spread thin, ethereal mercury over impossible glass. Her strikes against the metaform of Mephala were growing weaker, whilst the Mistress of Murder continued to scrape and tear at her being.

Azura fled, rolling up her essence into a single dart and speeding away. Mephala followed, snapping at Azura’s contrail as she bled filmy energies that slicked into Oblivion like dilute oils. Azura’s path was not towards Moonshadow; even in her realm, she would not necessarily be safe from Mephala in her mauled state, and she had to go somewhere where her enemy dared not follow but where she might have some degree of refuge. She could think of only one, one that was little safer than her current predicament but one that would have to suffice.

She found the realm, jumped into it, and came to a halt outside a riven set of gates in walls of grey stone. Gibbets and iron hooks displayed a grisly menagerie of severed rotten bodies and severed limbs, lit by weak sunlight filtered through an ash-choked sky. The ground was a dead and cracked sludge, the air chill, and the scent of death and misery was an all-pervading omnipresence.

Azura gasped as she took physical form once more, falling to her knees and bleeding from dozens of wounds torn across her person. Mephala followed, leaking brackish black blood from scratches of her own, and the eight chitinous orbs of her eyes seemed to widen with fear as she saw where she was. She spat, the gobbet of phlegm hissing as it struck the ground, and roiled inwards on herself in a cloak of cobwebs and shadows. A moment later, a humanoid figure, a semi-bestial giant with horns curling from his brow and a whipping tail covered with scales and fur alike, landed on the ground where Mephala was, hooves sending up a puff of dust from the impact.

His gaze turned upon the battered goddess, and lips slid back to reveal yellowed fangs in an approximation of a grin.

“One of my sworn enemies is brought to my realm along with your wounded self. You picked strange company for a visit, Azura,” Molag Bal said.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I like the way you described the battle between the two princes, Colonel, and the effects it had on different areas of Nirn.

[McBadgere]

Oh my... ...

I loved the Him/her crossing with Sanguine...That was funny, as was the constant "Frigid old cow" type of stuff...I loved that a lot...

As for Mephala...The fight was magnificent, I loved the way you had the ripples extend onto Nirn...That was a close one for Azura...

Brilliant stuff matey...

Nice one!!...

*applauds heartily*...

[Grits]

Oh my goodness, this just keeps getting better and better. I am in absolute joy over this story, Mustard. I would tell you how many times I’ve gone back and re-read, but I lost count.

Molag Bal’s entrance was pure awesome. I’m already looking forward to Monday.

[Colonel Mustard]

Lizzy H: Thanks very much! I had a bit of trouble trying to work out how to describe two beings like the Princes actually fighting each other, but I'm glad it worked.

McBadgere: Out of the frying pan and into the fire, right?

Thanks very much, and I was especially pleased with the way Sanguine turned out, with the sort of charismatic charmer with an undercurrent of nastiness to him/her.

Grits: Aw, now I've got a warm and fuzzy feeling. Thanks.



Molag Bal

Azura pulled herself to her feet as Molag Bal approached her, the Prince of Rape grinning as he went. His musculature rippled with each movement, an obscene parody of an idealised male physique, and the claws at the tips of his fingers gleamed in the dead sunlight of Coldharbour.

Azura took a step back, concentrating on drawing back the savaged chunks of her being that had been scattered across Oblivion. The gashes and scratches across her face began to stop leaking misty silver blood and some elements of her power were beginning to return. Right now, though, the only thing she had going for her was the hope that Molag Bal might not immediately attack her.

“I’m here on business,” she managed, trying not to pant. “Something important.”

She would just tell him, and then get out of here. Slip through Oblivion, avoid Mephala and return to Moonshadow to gather her strength and lick her wounds. Convey the information and then leave.

“Business?” Molag Bal asked. “What business is that, Azura.”

“I’m calling a meet,” Azura said. “A conclave.”

“Ah, like I once did,” Molag Bal nodded. “To meet Sotha-Sil and the rest of the Tribunal. What cause is it that makes such a thing necessary; another pantheon has arisen in secret, perhaps?”

“Something similar,” Azura said. “I’ll explain everything at the meeting.”

“And where will that be?” Molag Bal asked, sliding closer. “Neutral ground, perhaps?”

“Moonshadow,” Azura said. “I hope to see you there. I’ll send out a signal, and you can all attend. I’m afraid I still must visit some others, so I can’t linger here.”

“Leaving so soon, then?” Molag Bal asked. “How very disappointing.”

“As I said, there are other Princes that need-”

A clawed, scaled hand closed over her neck, and Azura found herself drawn up close to the bestial snout of Molag Bal.

“I don’t think you get to go just yet,” he purred. This close, Azura could smell the scent of blood and the terror of others on his breath. “Oh no, you don’t.”

“Unhand me,” Azura ordered, her voice steely and steady. “At once.”

“You know you’re in no position to make demands,” Molag Bal said. “And now you’re in my realm, you’re mine to do with as I please.”

“I said, let go of me,” Azura said.

“You think I care for that?” Molag Bal asked. “What else did you expect to happen if you came here? All things in Coldharbour belong to me, whether they wish it to be or not. You are no exception. It makes me wonder why you came here, after all.”

“Calculated risk,” Azura said. “You’re an enemy of Mephala, so I knew that if I lured her here she’d have to flee.”

“And you miscalculated,” Molag Bal said. “And now you’re at my mercy.”

“Just let me go, Bal,” Azura replied.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I said let me go!”

The exclamation was accompanied by a blast of white darkness, the power in the arcane impact breaking Molag Bal’s grip and sending him hurtling backwards. He tumbled on impact, cursing as he hit the ground.

Azura’s legs folded from under her, the last of her power gone, and as Molag Bal pulled himself to his feet, he snarled at her.

“What was that supposed to accomplish?” he asked. “Do you think that that would stop me.”

“No,” Azura said. “But it could slow you.”

She folded into nothing, dropping out of Coldharbour and into Oblivion, already fleeing. Her form was flickering and indistinct now, barely kept together, and as she ducked and weaved through the currents of the unreality, she called out; “Mephala! Here I am, Mephala! Come get me!”

Molag Bal boiled into the void behind her, chasing as a screaming orb of fury, red light boiling and glowing from his form. Ahead of her, Mephala formed into existence, and the determination to finish Azura that was apparent in her eight eyes morphed into shock as she saw Molag Bal’s approaching form.

“She’s mine!” the Lady of Murder cried as the Prince of Rape surged towards them both.

“Take her from me, then!” Bal challenged.

Mephala threw herself forwards, and Oblivion screamed around them as the two Princes clashed. Azura fled onwards without a backwards glance, Molag Bal and his mortal enemy heedless of her flight as their hatred for one another boiled up into a nucleus of uncontrolled violence and fury.

Azura grabbed what scattered shards of herself that she could as she fled for Moonshadow, making a beeline for the relative safety of her realm before Molag Bal and Mephala ceased trying to maul each other; with luck, they would weaken each other to such an extent that they would not try to pursue her.

She found Moonshadow, the barrier of silver thorns that surrounded its borders parting for her in recognition. Her entrance to the realm was not dignified, crashing down from the starlit sky, and tumbled to the ground in the courtyard of the Palace of Roses, white marble cracking and splitting from the impact. She lay there for a moment, bleeding mercurial blood from dozens of wounds, breathing heavily.

“Milady?” a voice asked, concern evident on its tones. “Milady, are you harmed?”

Azura’s eyes fluttered open, to find one of her Winged Twilights standing over her, the daedra’s face a mask of worry for her mistress.

“I will confess, I have been better,” she managed as her servant offered a taloned hand to help her up. She stood, weakened, and looked around the palace; its masonry had been cracked and battered as if by a storm or earthquake, and columns of black smoke formed incorporeal umbilical cords between ground and sky.

“What happened out there, milady?” the Twilight asked. Azura merely shook her head.

“Later,” she said. “Help me to my chambers, please; I must rest, and gather my strength.”

“At once,” her servant nodded, offering a winged arm for Azura to take. Aided by the Twilight, Azura limped into her palace.

[Darkness Eternal]

Sanguine is, of course, that old sleazy fellow who drinks and copulates like there is no tomorrow. I like him third to Hircine and Molag. Great job with him.

And I enjoyed the lore reference of the meeting of Princes with Sotha Sil. So, something similar has arisen? Molag Bal doesn't seem to kind to Azura, but we all know kind isn't his thing and how he's possessive when it comes to people venturing into his realm. I never knew he had the balls to try and keep Azura there too. The stones on this guy!

The fight was awesome! Never had I imagined a fight between two Daedric Lords(of three) would be liks this. But the action between Azura, Bal and Mephala take the plate. The war in the cosmos!

[Elisabeth Hollow]

That was awesome!

[Grits]

Yikes, a close call for Azura. I wondered how she was going to escape Coldharbour without getting Bal-ed.

[Colonel Mustard]

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




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





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




Liz: Cheers!




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











Meridia

"My lady, may we speak?"

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

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

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

"How fares my realm?" Azura asked.

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

"And how many dead?"

Nerevar was silent for a few moments.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nerevar shrugged.

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

Azura held up her hand to silence him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meridia flared, crackling energy streaming from her form.

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

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

Meridia nodded.

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

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

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

Azura bowed once, and left.




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

I'm going to bed.


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

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I am satisfied with Meridia's description. So little is known about her and her realm. It's fitting that it would be what the undead are most vulnerable to.

[McBadgere]

Blimey... ...Can't seem to keep up with this...Sorry matey...Bloody RL...

Aaamywho...Here now...

Molag Bal!!...Badass?! ...That was pretty scary stuff...I did feel as though I needed a shower afterwards...Ich...I loved the way that Azura escaped and then drew Bal to Mephala and left them to it...

Shockingly enough, I loved Nerevar... ...The undying knight...Excellent character!!!...

The idea that her realm suffered the damage from the battle with Mephala was cool...When Gods fight and all that...

I had a much similar idea for Meridia meself...Must have meant it was a good one!!... ...Nevertheless, yours was yet another amazing thing of beauty that I never tire of reading...

Yes, it did seem to end abruptly, and I can imagine that you must have been tired...

Doesn't mean it was a bad ending though... ...

A truly amazing story that I will enjoy to the end...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Colonel Mustard]

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

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

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

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

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


Jyggalag

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A Conclave? Concerning what?” Jyggalag asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jyggalag shrugged.

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

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

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

“Farewell.”

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

[Lopov]

Great stuff, Colonel Mustard! I've read only first page so far and I'm glad to see I've many more to read. I'm at work but when it gets slow, I'll peak in immediately, I'm very curious about the other Daedric Princes.

She rose into the air before they could protest, taking flight over the realm of the Hunting Ground. She passed over forests which reverberated to the howls of wolves and the yells of mortals, across a great, hot plain where immense lizards made their home, over a ravaged wasteland where the beasts were made monstrous by radiation and the people hunted game with strange weapons made from tubes or that cast beams of focussed light. She paused at that one for a moment, watching in curiosity, before continuing on her way, to where she sensed Hircine was.

I loved that paragraph and the one where HM has a game with Julianos! Good work, keep it up!

[McBadgere]

You know what that is, Mcb? An excuse. And excuses are for the weak.

Well, excuuuuuuse me...

I'm sorry, yes, I know using real life as an excuse is utterly cliched...I would have tried something original but unfortunately...*Raises eyebrow*...The dog ate my book...

Proper excellence here!!...

Jyggylag!!!...Most excellent stuff, loved the idea of him being a proper, bloke in a tent with map type of General...Well, prince in a fortress, but the imagery is similar... ...

Was that a reference to Carnius with the Ebonarm thing?...Whoever it was, the idea of lining all them fighty types up (and yes, I loved the KOTN reference )...Was pretty gosh darned excellent...

Brilliance be here!!...

Loved it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Acadian]

This continues to be a fun (albeit not for Azura) romp through the Daedric Realms as she meets with the liege of each. Hircine is patient. Hermosa reminded me of Jabba. Sanguine is adorable in princely debauchery and shifting gender. Mephala seems to be the original spider daedra; like Malog Bol, they are both easily distracted by dark passions they seem unable to control. Meridia is just full of light and fire! And I quite like Jiggy – after all, anyone who dislikes Sheo is okay in my book.

Nice work!

[Colonel Mustard]

*Hastily hides tome of black magicks*

Nope, no threadomancy to see here. Nothin' at all. What a silly idea that is.

Lopov: I know you don't seem to be around to read this at the moment, but thanks! Glad you're enjoying it, and the little details I'm putting it; worth doing for when a reader notices and like it

McBadgere: I always imagined Jygallag to be a very 'martial' type of character, so I thought that it would be most fitting with his personality for him to featuer as a general in command of an army. Ebonarm isn't actually a reference to Carnius, no, and instead he's a rather obscure part of TES lore which marks him as a war god with a strong favouring of men and a powerful hatred of all of the Daedra except Sheogorath; it made sense to me that if anybody would try and curb Jygallag's ambitions, it would be him.

Acadian: Thanks very much! I've been trying to capture the spirit of each Prince, and I'm pleased it's been working. I'll be honest, though, Jygallag is the Daedric Prince of Order, and order of the oppression and tyranny type; he might not like Sheogorath but that's far from making him okay


And now, for a brief summary, as it has been absolutely yonks since the last update:
Azura has received disturbing and disquieting news from the cats she uses as spies, and in response has resolved to gather the Daedric Princes together in order to seek a solution. So far, she has visited Hermaeus Mora, Sanguine, Hircine and Nocturnal, and has persuaded them to attend her meeting without too much trouble. She also ran into Molag Bal and Mephala, who both intended to capture and interrogate her in order to find out her secret before the other Princes, who she narrowly escaped when she set them both to fight each other. In the last chapter, she visited Jygallag, Daedric Prince of Order, who is engaged in a long-running war against the god Ebonarm, who hates all Daedric Princes except Sheogorath; in order to persuade Ebonarm into a truce, Azura must now visit Sheogorath in order to see if he can get Ebonarm to agree to a cessation in hostilities.



Sheogorath

Azura came to a halt in the before the gates of Bliss and looked up at the bronze portal, carved with grinning and howling faces. It was the middle of the day, sunshine illuminating the open gates and the people in the main square beyond.

It was a market day, and Azura moved through the crowds as just another stranger, just a woman with silver hair and a grey-white cloak. Around her, people bartered, haggled and hawked wares, some of them arguing over prices. She saw a stall advertising goods from Moonshadow, selling soul gems, alchemical ingredients, quickmercury weapons and armour and jewellery and precious stones. Golden Saints were on patrol around the edges of the markets, the women-shaped daedra scanning for trouble with slit-pupilled eyes of amber; the marketplaces of Bliss were always teetering on the fine precipice between rambunctious and violent.

Making her way through the bazaar, Azura slipped through into the streets of Bliss, the broad thoroughfares between the buildings of golden coloured stone decorated with flowers, trailing silk banners and garish painted frescoes showing scenes of debauchery and glut. On one street corner, the head of a dunmer had been hung from a rafter by its ears and was cackling and leering at passers by, and Azura hurried past it; if there was one thing the people of the Isles were famous for, it was their disquieting taste in decorations.

Her route stopped for a moment as she came to a halt at the Feasters’ temple. The usual fresco of body parts was hung around the temple’s doorway, tributes to Sheogorath, but she ignored those, instead looking at the statue before it, a bronze representation of an elf, wearing the mail armour of Feaster clerics and with an immense blade held in both hands. At the base of the statue was a small plaque saying; St Dranedil, Hero-Martyr of the Feasters. Azura nodded her respects to the statue, having met the young woman centuries ago in the time of the Oblivion Crisis and the Greymarch.

Not long afterwards, she reached Sheogorath’s palace. A wave of her hand gave her a glamour powerful enough to fool the guards, but by now Sheogorath should have seen her coming and he would, with luck, be waiting for her in his throne room. Ignored by the dark seducers and golden saints that patrolled the split paace, she pushed open the doors to the throne room.

There was a snowman on top of the Madgod’s throne, and a note on the footstall in front of it. Azura picked it up, read it and with a shake of her head muttered; “Oh come on.”

Out for lunch the note read. If urgent business, please consult with Count Frostinius. Love, Shoggy

After a moment’s deliberation, Azura threw a fireball at the snowman.

“Assassin!” a voice behind her cried. “Murderess! Bloodthirsty monster! You killed the Count!”

It was Sheogorath, a sandwich in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other.

“It took me hours to make him,” the Madgod added. “Ruined a perfectly good pair of boots in the snow while I was rolling him into shape. Now who’s going to run the realm next time I’m off for a bite to eat?”

Azura bit back her opinion that leaving the Isles unmaintained would do no harm to Sheogorath’s realm that his rule had not done already.

“I’m sure you’ll work out something,” Azura said.

“I should hope I will,” Sheogorath said, taking a bit of his sandwich. “Now are you here for a reason, or do you just want to commit yet more rampant bloodshed and murder? Because if you are, I wouldn’t mind coming along; been a while since I’ve had a good old-fashioned bloody rampage. Ooh, we can invite Mehrunes Dagon too! He loves that kind of thing!”

He grinned.

“Murder party, hooray!” he declared. “There can be wine and cheese and dancing girls!”

“I’m not here about a murder party,” Azura said, doing her best to keep her tone neutral. She had forgotten how exasperating Sheogorath could be.

“Aw, I wanted a murder party. One of the good ones here you can rip out the guests’ innards and drink whiskey and blood from them.”

An idea came to Azura, and she smiled as she thought of it.

“I’m not hosting a murder party,” she said. “But I’m having a different kind of party, which you’re invited to. I’m getting all of the Princes together in Moonshadow for...for a big celebration.”

Sheogorath grinned.

“Wonderful!” he declared, draining his wine. He raised his arms up and pirouetted on the spot. “What an absolutely marvellous idea. Everyone together at last! That hasn’t happened since last Morndas, and even then it was a bit of a miserable affair, I must say. The rain positively ruined the atmosphere.”

“There is one thing I need you to do, though,” Azura said, deciding that the wisest course of action would be to ignore Sheogorath’s last comment. “I’ve invited Jygallag, but he’s still having his little disagreement with Ebonarm. I was hoping, seeing as you’re a good friend of Ebonarm’s, that you might be able to talk him into calling for a break so Jygallag could come.”

Sheogorath’s face fell, and his shoulders slumped.

“Do I have to?” he asked. “Jygallag’s no fun at parties. He’ll just spoil everything. Let’s just leave him to have that silly war of his. We can have our party without him.”

“Now, Sheogorath, it’s not fair of me to let all the other Princes come but then leave Jygallag out of it,” Azura said, folding her arms. “You know that. And he’d be very upset if he couldn't come just because of you being selfish.”

“I...but...fine,” Sheogorath said. “Fine. I’ll go ask Ebby if he can let Jygallag go for a while. But he’ll spoil the party, I’m telling you.”

“It’s my party, and I’ll bear the burden of his presence,” Azura said. “Just talk to Ebonarm, please.”

“Fine, I will,” Sheogorath said. He raised a foot, as if he were about to step into or over something, and then paused with a final point towards Azura. “But I’m holding you to that promise of ice cream, you hear?”

He stepped down and vanished, leaving Azura alone in the throne room to wonder exactly when she had promised him ice cream.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

-giggles- Gotta love Sheogorath!!

[McBadgere]

...

Sheogorath is always fun... ...

Love the ice and snow obsession...The snowman had me laughing from the start...

Nice description of Bliss also...

Always look forward to more...

Nice one...

*Applauds heartily*...