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Post by FC4 on Jul 1, 2008 15:12:54 GMT
Author's Note: I'll admit, I was inspired to do this by BSparrow's fanfiction of the Oblivion Crisis. I am, however, making no claims to be like her in the method of story. I'll be following only one character throughout. But I will try to expand upon the game plot, and even better yet, I am still playing the plot, so am writing it as I play it. How's that for awesomeness? I hope you enjoy it.Chapter 1: Mysterious IsleThe ship cut through the water like a knife, leaving rippling waves behind it as the wind blessed the sails. Siena Hlaalu sighed, leaning on the railing of the Imperial Merchant vessel. Her windswept dark blue –almost black actually- hair rustled in the sea breeze, but she moved it away from her face when it got in the way. She had been assigned to this ship by her councilor, because the East Empire Company had been worried about their ships being attacked during the long naval voyage from Morrowind, around Black Marsh, and into Leyawiin. Of course, nothing had happened the entire voyage, which only served to further bore the young Hlaalu mercenary. She plucked at the chainmail cuirass that covered her chest, adjusting the tiny links to prevent them from pinching her skin. Of course, trying to adjust such tiny things was difficult with leather gloves, which she always found clumsy. But an archer needed gloves to protect their arms from the backlash of the bowstring, so she tolerated it. Just as she tolerated the thick leather boots on her feet and the quiver of plain chitin arrows on her back, along with the iron bow. The only thing she wanted to wear was the laced leather pants, which hugged her thighs and hips tightly and in her opinion made her look more attractive. But the rest was quite necessary if one wished to live in battle, so Siena put up with it. “Must you always be so antisocial on the job?” Came a male voice behind her, and Siena turned around to see Belmyne Dreleth standing on the deck, arms folded over his ashlander robes. Unlike Siena, his hair seemed to resist the breeze; likely because of all that hair gel stuff he put in it that he had bought in Balmora. Siena did not even want to fathom what stuff was in that gel. “I’m just bored, that’s all.” Siena remarked, leaning her rump on the rail as she rested her hands on it. “Am I not allowed to be?” “No, you are not.” Belmyne replied, striding forward and raising one hand to her face. “And you are not allowed to wear this thing in my presence.” He proclaimed, plucking shaded rectangular spectacles from her face. He held them in front of his face as if examining them, and Siena reached out and quickly snatched them back. “And why not?” She inquired to the blurring form in front of her, slipping the shaded lenses back on her small nose. Her ruby eyes seemed a darker red beneath those shades. Belmyne brought one finger to the bottom of the lenses and lifted them onto her forehead as he moved his face closer to hers. “Because I prefer to see your eyes without the darker shade.” He whispered before kissing her gently. Siena initially returned the gesture, but within a minute had one hand on Belmyne’s chest and pushed him back. “Not on the job, Bel.” Siena scolded, but her sly smile betrayed her serious expression. “We can’t afford distraction.” Belmyne sighed. “Very well. Perhaps you will join us and the crew for some dinner, though?” He sounded pleading, and it made Siena pity the mer. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. It isn’t formal, so it’s fine that I lack a dress.” She shrugged, turning to look into the waters of the Niben again. Belmyne snorted. “I don’t think I have ever seen you in a dress.” *** “But seriously, why would the Argonians have even thought of trying to attack this ship? You’re a purposeless trade vessel of the Empire.” Felas Sarandas remarked, bringing his flagon of Sajumma to his lips again. “Exactly.” Sheldon -one of the Redguard crew members- replied, pointing his finger across the table to Felas. “We are of the Empire, and the Argonians have never been pleased with Imperial expansion.” “Neither have the Dunmer.” Felas snapped back. The dark-skinned agent and sailor had been at it for almost a half hour now. “Or the Bosmer, for a matter of fact.” Dredhwen interrupted, brushing back her dark blond hair as the two men looked at her. “But Valenwood is more peaceful about its displeasure.” “How would you know? You’re a born and raised member of Hlaalu.” Siena stated as she arrived at the dinning table below decks, still in her armor and armed. The other Hlaalu mercenaries had also remained in their armor and kept their weapons; except Belmyne, who rarely wore armor anyways. The shaded glasses remained on her face, clouding her eyes in gray lenses in the poor candlelight. It served to further darken her eyes, as well as give everyone’s apparel that dark, dirty visage. Dredhwen looked up and smiled to Siena. “That doesn’t mean I don’t try to keep up to date on matters of my own race.” “Glad to see you finally decided to join us.” Belmyne remarked over his own mug of sajumma, resting his elbows on the table. Siena sent him a small smile, tilting her head to one side. “I can’t very well let you have ALL the fun, now can I?” “Adda girl… Nanette, we have any more food left?” Belmyne asked, looking up to the Breton woman in blue robes who was standing by the cupboards. She turned to look at him, frowned, and began to rummage through the cupboards. “Since when was I the servant around her?” She inquired, an undertone of anger in her voice. “Since you were the only non-Hlaalu hired to this floating tree-stump.” Felas answered, sneering. “How far are you in the Mage’s Guild anyways?” “Merely a conjurer rank, but I assure you I am not pathetic.” She received various ‘oohs’ and laughs for her blatant threat towards Felas as she rummaged through the cupboards. As the men continued with their merriment, Siena rose from her seat and approached the mage. “Don’t worry about it; I can find my own food.” “I’m quite sure you-“ Nanette began to snap, but stopped when she turned to look at Siena, and actually registered her words. An apologetic smile crossed her face. “Sorry… I’m just so used to Dunmer being-“ “Arrogant, rude, sex-driven egotists.” Siena finished for her, making Nanette lose track of her thoughts and simply nod her head. “Yeah, I get that a lot. But we aren’t all like that.” She stated with a simple conversational tone, rather than a defensive one. Moving around Nannette, she began to rummage through the cupboard to find something edible. “Well that’s good to hear.” Nanette managed to reply, before the ship lurched and she stumbled forward, landing atop Siena on the floor. Bottles and mugs crashed to the ground along with their possessors, who quickly picked themselves up. Sheldon looked around, motioning with one hand for everyone to be quiet. “The ship stopped.” He finally announced, much to everyone’s confusion. “All hands below deck! Man the oars! We have to keep moving!” The captain barked from above them, and Sheldon rushed out to answer the orders, followed by the few other sailors in the room. The Hlaalu mercenaries exchanged worried glances before also heading onto the deck. When they were on deck they met thick fog. What had once been dusk had become night; what had once been clear became so murky that with or without her glasses, Siena could not see past the length of her arm. The sails were lax, no wind billowing into them, and the lapping of waves upon the side of the ship had ceased. As if the entire Niben had become still. That all changed when the ship jerked upwards, going skyward. The crashing of disturbed water rang out in the stillness of the night as the entire ship was thrown onto their backsides from the sudden motion. “What in the name of Talos-“ Captain Jayred’s voice punctured the gloom, only to be cut off by one of his crew. “Sir, it’s land!” “What?!” Captain Jayred snapped, and rushed over towards the direction of the voice to investigate. That one motion seemed to set the entire ship off balance, as it tilted to the right and began to fall. But apparently the joy-ride was far from over, as the ship was launched skyward again, this time accompanied by the splintering of wood. Siena soared through the air towards the still waters, flailing her arms in futile desperation. The ship overturned in the sky and crashed into the water, crushing some of the sailors instantly between sea and wood. The water was like ice when she hit the surface, and the cold pierced into her lungs. She thrashed, trying to reach the surface, and when she did all she could hear was the screams of men as the ship sank. The sailors began to swim for the dark island that had appeared from nowhere, following a beacon of sky-blue light at the crest of the land. Siena tried to tread water, but found those ‘necessary’ items to be weighing her down tremendously. As she began to sink she fumbled with the bow and arrows, finally removing them and trying to kick for the surface again. The next time she broke the surface she heard a very different voice mix with that of distressed sailors. It was unlike any voice she had ever heard, somewhat high-pitched and sporting the most unusual accent. “Well, that was certainly marrrvelous timing!” If the voice had continued, she couldn’t tell, since her armor began to drag her under yet again.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 2, 2008 1:53:48 GMT
Chapter 2: Voice of Madness Light pierced her eyelids in a glow of light blue, and she tightened them shut to try and block out the light. It helped none, and she groaned before managing to open her eyes. The world was not blurry, but… spotted. Spotted with globes that distorted her vision. Siena blinked, realizing it was water on her glasses just as she registered the sound of water lapping at shoreline.
But she didn’t feel soft sand around her. Only hard rock; smooth, hard rock. Confused, Siena picked herself up onto her elbows, and looked around. She was waist-deep in water, lying on an inclined slab of stone. Crawling forward she dragged herself fully onto dry land, and then turned over to sit down.
Her feet were bare upon the smooth, mossy stone. She’d lost her shoes while fighting to stay surfaced. She’d lost her gloves as well, and every weapon she had owned. All that remained was soaking wet leather pants, a chainmail curiass, and her shades. She shook her head, shaking the large droplets of water off her lenses and out of her hair, before setting her chin on her knees.
What happened? We were just suddenly… tossed in the air like dolls. That sailor had said land… but that makes no sense. Siena groaned. I’m on a strange island and I have lost everything… Even Belmyne is gone. Absently she stared at the water of the Niben, but she could see nothing farther than a half mile. The fog was thinner now; thin enough to allow for sunlight to pierce, but the horizon was still shrouded. As she watched the water, a piece of driftwood floated past.
Wait… that’s a body! Siena stood quickly, leaning over the edge of the stone slope to get a closer look. It was indeed a body floating facedown in the water. She could make out five appendages. The fifth looked like an Argonian tail. But Argonians don’t drown… do they?
The clash of steel that interrupted her thoughts made Siena nearly jump back into the water as she turned to look towards the top of the cliff that the slope hugged. From that cliff a body fell into the water, splashing before bobbing up to the surface. Siena observed from her position, horrified.
It was one of the sailors from the merchant ship, his chest slashed open and oozing blood into the river waters. She recognized the face of the Nord, but the clothes were… different. They were a dark gray-brown and looked like they had been patched up and sewn together many times. And the shoulders were flared up in a fashion that made a mockery of noble dress.
If there had been any doubt that Siena was confused before, that was all erased now. The confusion on her face was as noticeable as the corpse bobbing in the water not far off. She slowly began to back away, creeping backwards up the slope, until her hand felt the top of the cliff.
Quickly she looked to her left to see the plateau that made up most of the island, and froze. There was simply no other reaction she could muster but paralysis. Trees with a multitude of thin trunks protruded from the rocky surface to burst into leaves of both fall and spring colors. Mushrooms of a coloration and texture she had never encountered blossomed at the base of the boulders of the island in myriad clusters. But what truly caught her attention was the stone statue at the center of the plateau.
It was… well, the oddest work of art she had ever seen. Three faces, one to each of the three sides that she could see. Maybe there was even a face on the back. She could only see half of the left and right faces, but one had a big, toothy grin, while the other was a smug, calm smile. The center was the strangest of all, for it was angry, and the mouth was opened to become a doorway from which sky-blue light radiated. All of the faces were of the same bearded man with a big nose, shallow cheeks, and wrinkled forehead.
And in front of this doorway, statue… thing were two figures; one a guardsman, the other a Khajiit. The guard had his sword sheathed, but the blood on the ground told her more than enough of the story. Siena cringed. But what choice did she have on this island?
Finally mustering the courage to approach, Siena followed the stone pathway that ran a ring around the front of the plateau. To her surprise the guard did not attack her on sight, but approached and even greeted her.
“Morning ma’am. I’d advise you stay back. It isn’t safe here.” The guard told her, cutting right to the chase.
“Well, can I at least stay with you?” Siena asked, looking at the statue and frowning.
“Well, sure.” The guard shrugged. “But I’d stay back from that door if I were you. Nothing that’s gone in has come out right.” He remarked, nodding his head towards the glowing gate. Siena looked back at him.
“What happened? Someone’s gone in there?” She almost squeaked it out, fearing the worst.
“Yeah. There was a shipwreck reported around here yesterday and we were sent to investigate. We’d found this place. A few of the sailors we found here or floating in the water. They kept saying that the others had gone into that there gate.”
Yesterday? So she’d been out for almost twenty-four hours, and others had gone inside the gate. Belmyne might have gone in there!
“Please sir, tell me!” Siena nearly jumped at the guard, grabbing his shoulders and pleading with him. “What happened to them? Have any of them come out yet?”
The guard shrugged her off, stepping back and snapping at her while pointing at the Khajiit. “Look for yourself! Their brains are addled! Got no sense! For all I know, perfectly normal people went in there. This is what came out.” Siena stared at the Khajiit, trying to remember who she was. She had to be one of the sailors or maybe one of the Trade company employees.
“You can’t see me. You can’t see me. Neither can He. No one can see me.” The Khajiit began muttering incessantly when she was mentioned. Siena slowly walked up to her, reaching out a hand in an attempt to comfort her.
“What happened in there?” She asked softly, as if addressing a child. The Khajiit reared back, moving away from Siena and blocking her with one outstretched hand.
“No. Go away. I’m not here.” She barked, and Siena took a step back, raising one eyebrow.
“What do you mean you’re not here? You’re right there.”
“You can’t see me. You can’t see me. Neither can He. No one can see me. I’m not here.” The Khajiit continued to mutter, cowering away from Siena. She was about to continue but thought better of it, sighed in exasperation, and turned back to the guard. She put one palm to her forehead, hoping to rub all of this away as a bad dream or a migraine induced hallucination. But she already knew it was a futile effort.
The others went in there… Dredhwin, Belmyne, Felas… Why wouldn’t they? It’d be like scouting out the area ahead. But if they ended up like her…
I have to find out what’s going on! I have to find them! Maybe I can help them! She looked up again at the guard, looking more determined than before. But one could tell her closed fists were shaking with anxiety.
“I’m going in.”
“Ha!” The guard laughed, pointing at her. “It’s your funeral. I’m just here to warn people, not keep them out.” He held his hands out at his sides, shrugging. “I’ll just stay here to clean up the mess when you come out. Go ahead in.”
Siena glared at the guard, then at the gate. The man’s manners were certainly lacking, even by an adventurer’s standards. “I feel as comforted by that knowledge as I did when I arrived.” She remarked coolly at the man, only to get a smile and a tip of his helmet in return.
“Always a pleasure, ma’am.”
Siena pouted at the man, looking back at the gate and choosing to ignore him if he said another word. She stepped up the small stairwell towards the glowing portal, only to have a Dunmeri figure materialize in front of her, and she quickly caught him as he fell towards the ground.
It was Belmyne! And yet… just like that Nord sailor he was wearing patchwork gray clothes, rather than his usual robes. The robes she had last seen him with. She cradled him in her lap, embracing the crouched man.
“Oh Belmyne! I was so worried. Something’s terrible wrong with this-“
“I won’t go back.” The Dark Elf battlemage muttered at the ground. He began to shake his head wildly. “I won’t go back!” He threw Siena off him as he screamed. She lay on the stone steps, mouth agape in horror and ruby eyes wide. “You can’t make me go back!” Belmyne curled himself into the fetal position again, cradling his head in his hands and sobbing. He continued like this for a minute or more.
Siena closed her mouth, gulped, and crawled towards him. “Bel? Bel, it’s alright. You don’t have to-“ She whispered, only to be cut off by the raving Dunmer.
“I’ll kill you all!” He screeched, hand grasping at an iron dagger he got from Gods-knew-where and ripping it from his belt. Siena recoiled, her hand retracting like turtle into a shell. Belmyne turned towards her, and she got the first good look at his face.
The handsome dunmer she once knew was replaced by a warped, horrific visage of the Belmyne she had loved. His eyes were wild, almost drunken or drugged. His lips were curled back in an animalistic snarl as he spat with each word.
“Stay back! This one’s violent!” The guard snapped at Siena, but she didn’t need to be told twice as the perversion of Belmyne leaped at her.
“You’re all going to die!” He spat, the iron dagger lashing out at Siena. A Bravil guardsman shield blocked it as the guard rushed in front of her, silver longsword bared and already stained with blood. The guard spun to his right, exposing his back only briefly to Belmyne.
The lunatic tried to take advantage of the opening, but by the time the dagger was dislodged from the shield it was too late. The silver blade severed skin and muscle at Belmyne’s waist, sending blood onto the ground and Siena. The guard ripped the blade violently from the body, before sheathing it. Without hesitation he picked up the corpse and carried to the edge of the cliff.
“Belmyne!” Siena managed a broken, sobbing cry as she reached out for the body, just before the guard dropped it into the river. Her hand retreated back to her chest as she cuddled herself against the wall.
His blood… Belmyne’s blood. It was all over her, sticky and warm. He’d been changed by whatever lay beyond that gate. She had lost him long before the guard had killed him. “Belmyne.” She whispered softly, closing her eyes.
“Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy! Useless mortal meat. Walking bag of dung!” Someone exclaimed. It took a moment for Siena to register that voice; it sounded familiar. A somewhat high-pitched voice with an inexplicable accent, drawling at some words and screeching at others. She began to uncurl herself, looking slowly around. Her watery eyes locked with the guard’s.
“Did you hear that?” She gave no response. “Did you?” Siena shook her head gently, still looking near tears. The guard rolled his eyes. “Voices from nowhere, madmen… Where does it end? How did I end up with this posting?” He moaned.
“A nice effort though.” The voice remarked almost politely. Siena began to look around again, uncurling her legs from her chest. “Shame he’s dead.” There was an echoing sigh. In fact, the voice seemed to echo itself, just a millisecond after it spoke. “These things happen.”
Siena knew what he was talking about, and narrowed her eyes. The voice was obviously male, and whoever spoke was rude and cold. Her lover had just died, and the voice just shrugs it off as nothing? She began to look around for the source of the voice, her eyes glancing over Belmyne’s dagger. With a face of stone she reached for it, wrapping her hand around the hilt of the blade.
“Voices from nowhere again… I don’t get paid enough.” The guard remarked, and to Siena it was almost as equally cold and heartless as the voice’s remark. But she had already vowed to herself to ignore him.
“Bbbbring me a Ccchampion! Rrrend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion, to wade through the entrails, of my enemies!” As the voice roared out its demands, Siena looked up at the three faces. She couldn’t help but think that was the origin of the voice. Her grip on the dagger tightened.
“Really, do come in.” The voice spoke up again, changing from the previous rage to a calm, courteous tone. “It’s lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit.” Uncontrollably, one of Siena’s eyebrows rose questioningly. Something was definitely wrong about this voice, this gate, this place. She turned to look over her shoulder at the guard, who was standing there anxiously. Inhaling, she turned back to the gate.
Whoever you are… you killed Belmyne. You killed his mind! I am going to stop you from doing the same to the others, and make you pay! She thought, before stepping into the light. Even with shades on, the light was blinding, engulfing her. And then, it was gone, replaced by darkness. She could see only a faint dot of light, candlelight. Her shaded glasses made it harder to see in the dark room.
“Let’s be civil, shall we?” A voice pierced the darkness, making her turn her head towards the candlelight. This voice was not the same as the other. This one sounded Bretonic, snobbish and noble. And bored.
“Please, sheathe your blade and have a seat.” Something dark moved, motioning towards the candle. What could she do, except walk towards it?
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Post by FC4 on Jul 2, 2008 22:45:03 GMT
Chapter 3: Stomach Full of Butterflies Siena strode forward, removing her shaded spectacles as she came. Now she could see brighter, but not clearer. But the important thing was that she could see. She placed the arm of her glasses into the links of the chest of her cuirass, as her wet feet padded on smooth stone. She was still dripping wet. Once she approached the candle, she could see a little better.
It was a stone room, and sported only a stone table with two chairs. One was empty, the other occupied. Occupied by a bald Breton man wearing unusual clothing. It had a red collar-piece and black cloth, flared shoulders and skin tight waist. A medallion of a metal she was uncertain of hung around his neck. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes –she could barely see his face minus the nose- but they were squinted anyways. The man moved, placing his fingers together in front of him.
“Please do sit down, and we can carry on. Just set the dagger on the table.” He said absently, and Siena absently responded, finally releasing her vice grip on the dagger and dropping it to the table. It landed beside a tome, the Madness of Pelagius. Somehow, Siena felt that tome belonged there. Hesitantly, she sat down. For a moment there was silence, and it was then she could hear ticking.
On her left was a pyramid with a stick attached at the bottom; a metronome. That wrinkled-forehead-and-bearded face was carved into the metronome stone. Unconsciously, she was watching the metronome with her ruby eyes.
“What can I do for you?” The Breton finally asked, sounding almost forced. “I imagine you are here about the door?”
Siena broke her gaze from the metronome with difficulty, and looked at the man for a moment. Then his question registered as her mind caught up with the world. “Um, yes… that strange door I went through.” She looked back to see the light blue portal was actually still there, too.
“Yes. You have entered and now you are here. Amazing.” The Breton remarked, his fingers still held together in front of him. He had one leg propped on the knee of the other. “Truly.”
Siena snapped her head back to the man, narrowing her eyes at him. That had to have been the driest sarcasm she had ever heard in all her life; and she heard plenty of sarcasm. “Who the hell are you, anyways?” She snapped.
The Breton man seemed unaffected by her outburst, as he simply placed one hand on his chest. “I am Haskill, Chamberlain to the Lord Sheogorath.”
“Sheogorath?” Siena repeated, gulping.
“Did I stutter?” Haskill inquired, but Siena ignored it. Sheogorath…. One of the Four Corners of the House of Troubles.
“So this is?” Siena asked, motioning at the room.
Haskill nodded curtly. “Yes, you are approaching the Shivering Isles. Through the door behind me lies the realm of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, Lord of the Never-There.”
“Never-There?” Siena repeated, eyes moving back to the bright portal behind her. “Why is that door there? The island just… appeared out of nowhere… why?”
Haskill sighed, as if the answer was obvious. “Because my Lord wills it to be so. It poses no threat to Mundus.” Siena’s eyes narrowed.
“It destroyed a trade ship.” Her words were smoothly cold and curt.
“Ah yes, well, that was an untimely accident.” Haskill explained, putting his hands on his crossed knees. “I assure you that otherwise, the Door is harmless; no compact has been violated. It is merely a doorway, an invitation. Perhaps you will accept it for what it is.”
An invitation into a realm of one of the Four Corners? “Why am I being invited?”
Haskill didn’t skip a beat with his answer; it seemed like the man had an answer for everything. “You? I do not know. My Lord seeks a mortal to act as His Champion.”
“Why would He need a mortal for a champion?” Siena interjected, the question coming from her mouth the moment she thought of it. Why would a Daedric Prince need a mortal for anything other than a plaything?
“To attempt to fathom His intent is a foolish endeavor.” Haskill replied smoothly. “His will is His own; His reality follows suit. You are here because you chose to enter; you were not summoned.”
Siena let out a ‘hmph’ at this, taking his words with a grain of salt. Maybe she was just crazy, but the voice certainly sounded like it was summoning her, beckoning her in. Beckoning her to find her comrades. Siena nearly leaped forward out of the chair as she hurriedly asked her next question, making Haskill move his head back in retreat.
“The people who came in here! The people out there! What of them?” Siena cried out her question. Haskill was silent, until Siena sat back down.
“They entered this realm, and were ill prepared.” He replied as if nothing had happened. “Their minds are now the property of my Lord.” His remark was so calm, so unemotional.
“Minds are not property; they cannot be bought or sold.” Siena hissed between her teeth. Her eyes flickered briefly to the blurry form of the dagger on the table. She felt a desire within her to bury it in this man’s chest. Cut open his rib cage and see just how black that heart truly was. But she held back. He had information. Maybe he knew how to help them, so more of her comrades did not end up like Belmyne.
“But property is not exclusive to product.” Haskill replied, his mannerism only furthering Siena’s anger.
“How can I cure them?” Siena demanded, her voice rising in pitch. That dagger was looking all the more inviting.
“Cure?” Haskill returned, raising one eyebrow quizzically. “You speak as if they are diseased. They live now in another state of being.” Haskill tilted his head to the left just so, furthering that aristocratic stuck-up visage. “Perhaps it is you who needs a cure.”
Siena grit her teeth, and held the sides of the chair with white knuckles, staring at the ticking metronome as she tried to garner control. Her ruby eyes followed the stick as it swayed left and right, wondering what that strange letter-like thing on the top was. It looked like a Daedric symbol, but one she was not familiar with. Watching it had an odd affect on her, as each time that metronome seemed to take longer to swing from left to right, and right to left. And each time, she felt her anger wane.
“Perhaps indeed.” Haskill remarked with an undertone of disgust as he watched the Dunmeri girl, snapping her back to reality. Embarrassed, she brushed back a strand of her soaked dark-blue hair that had fallen into her face unnoticed. For a moment her mind was blank of all thought, but then she finally came up with something.
“What happens now?” Her voice was softer, a sharp contrast to her anger a moment ago.
Haskill shrugged. “You do as you will. You may leave the way you entered.” He motioned towards the portal with his hand. A casual, can’t-be-bothered wave. “You’re life will be none the worse for your time spent here. Or-“ Haskill pointed to the stone door behind him. “-you may continue onward, through the door behind me.” He put his hands in his lap. “If you can pass the Gates of Madness, perhaps the Lord Sheogorath will find a use for you.”
Siena did not find this pleasuring in the slightest, the idea of becoming some puppet to this Lord of Madness. “And if I go through the door?”
“Who is to say? There are always choices to be made. The Realm of Madness is no different in that regard.” Haskill told her. “Your choices are your own. Enter or not, but make your decision.” Haskill’s voice became irritated, the third emotion she had so far heard from him alongside sarcasm and disgust. “I’ve other duties to which I must attend. Speak with me again when you made up your mind.”
“The anticipation is almost too much to bear.” His voice dripped of immense sarcasm, and she could imagine he had rolled his eyes. Sometimes these bad eyes are a pain.
She looked at the dagger on the table as she thought about her decision. Something about that dagger; it felt like a focal point of her goals, the reason she was even making this choice in her mind. Indeed it was. She did not know its origin, but it had once been held by Belmyne, and now it would be held by her.
Things had gone terribly wrong, spiraled out of control. If she had remained above decks, if she hadn’t gone down to the dinner, she could have seen it coming, could have warned the crew beforehand. If she hadn’t blacked out for twenty-four hours, she could have held them back, resisted and prevented Belmyne and the others from ever entering this hellish Realm of the Outer Worlds. If only…
No, Father always told me to not dwell in the past, but to thrive in the present and decipher the future. I can’t fix what happened before, but I have to find a way to recover what was lost. Belmyne may never come back… But I may still be able to save the others.
And give this God a piece of my mind, even if it kills me. Siena looked back up to Haskill, her mouth taunt with determination. Haskill gave her a glance of faked interest. “Well? Have you made up your mind? The tension is almost palpable.”
She shrugged off his cynical remark with remarkable ease. “I’ll do it.”
“Fine.” Haskill replied simply, sounding almost… displeased? Maybe her lack of reaction to his taunt had gotten under his skin. Siena’s lip curled with delight. She’d managed to best him. “I’m sure my Lord will be most pleased, assuming you ever manage to see Him. You’ll want to pass through the Gates of Madness.” Haskill rose from his seat, turned stiffly, and walked towards the stone door.
Siena expected him to open it up, but instead he turned to look at her, almost as if he had forgotten something. “Oh, and mind the Gatekeeper. He dislikes strangers to the Realm. Enjoy your stay.” That single courteous statement sounded so bland, so insincere, that it failed to serve its welcoming purpose completely. Turning back to the door, Haskill continued to walk, and went right through it.
Almost as if it were never there. Siena caught her breath in surprise, fright gripping her. What was this? He never said-
The walls began to squirm, rippling and moving as if alive, and Siena screamed. Throwing her hands over her head she closed her eyes, but rather than hear something, she heard nothing. Opening them again, she found a swarm of butterflies fluttering around her, their wings a shade of blue not unlike her own skin. She watched them in wonder, before they began to leave, flying off on their own or in groups into the distance.
Leaving nothing but Siena; a stone desk with a book, metronome, and dagger; Haskill’s empty seat; the candlestick, and the rug everything stood upon, atop a slab of marble. The walls were gone. The darkness was gone. And a blurry world of washed-out colors greeted her eyes.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 3, 2008 20:26:24 GMT
Chapter 4: On the Fringe of Madness Hastily Siena fumbled at her chain-mailed chest, groping for the spectacles she had hung from the chain links and slipping them onto her face. The world took on a shaded hue, but it also took on a sharp clarity now. She was awestruck by what she saw.
The world was remarkably colorful and vibrant. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue, dotted with odd sparkling cloud formations. She could swear she heard birds chirping in the distance as she looked around.
Some distance to her left was a tall stone wall with sloped roofs, running parallel to the horizon. Looking back, the portal was still shimmering with life behind her. Mocking her with the option of return. Something told her returning to Tamriel was not an option any longer, and she then remembered she was in a Daedric Realm, which startled her into rising from her seat.
This looked nothing like any Daedric Realm she could have imaged, especially for a God of the Mad. It actually reminded her more of home than anything else. Five large trees grew around her plateau, but unlike trees they had no leaves. Their branches were bare, and cradled the underside of a mushroom as they grew before curling over the edge of the fungus and defying gravity, shooting upwards. It was very different from the mushrooms of home, true, but they struck a cord with Siena nonetheless. The fungal like pods growing at the base of one of the trees did not, though. They were like large Kwama eggs glowing a soft blue, and Siena found herself sickened by them. She half expected a Kwama forger to squirm out and spit acid at her.
But she wasn’t here to sightsee. Snatching up the dagger from the table, she stopped when she saw out of the corner of her eye that the metronome had stopped. Curious, she tapped the stick with the dagger’s tip. It began again, but then stopped. Frowning, Siena ignored it and went around the table, walking down the hilly slope. To each side of her were pillars of granite, or maybe marble, overgrown with vines and crumbling. More mushroom trees dotted the land around her in large and small sizes, demanding her attention but getting none of it. The path turned to her right, and the pillars followed suit, as if guiding her down this strange road.
There was a giant mushroom tree further down the path, by far the largest tree she had ever seen. Its trunk wasn’t even a single body, but multiple root-like trunks that bended upwards from the ground to meet as one, and then rise into the air before blossoming into a mushroom umbrella. Siena gazed at it as she walked down the path, marveling at the sheer size.
But she stopped abruptly when she heard an unfamiliar sound. It was like a growling cat, but with a watery quality to it; like the cat in question was drowning or something. Crouching low, she carefully placed one bare foot in front of the other, flipping her dagger in her hand to hold it in reverse. Approaching a fallen section of pillar and peaking over, she narrowed her eyes through her shades.
It was a goblin. No, wait… What is that thing?! It looked similar to a goblin, and yet was definitely not one. The creature’s torso was too thick and flabby to be a goblin, and it stood on legs that were double-jointed like the beastfolk of home. And it had two rows of three spines growing progressively longer as they went up the back. The only real relation was the sickly green color of its skin, which was darker on the creature’s back than the chest. She couldn’t see the thing’s face in detail from here, but she imagined it was hideous. Rough metal gleamed in its hand, and a body lay in the pool of water where the goblin-thing stood.
Dang it… If only I had my bow! I’ll have to find a way around. Siena wasn’t fond of close combat. She preferred archery, despite the protests of her teachers concerning her imperfect vision. It allowed her to fight her enemies from afar, get to know them better before she had to get up close and personal. Analyzing her options she saw an opening between a Mushroom trunk-root and a boulder. She could go through there, around the boulder ahead, and to the other side back onto the path. Should be simple, right?
Looking back over the pillar, the thing had its back to her. Taking her chance she dashed across the road, feet padding softly and chainmail clinking. It was likely the clinking that did her in, as a growl reminding her once more of a cat underwater rose behind her. Siena couldn’t even bring herself to turn around and look. She just knew it was after her.
There was a gray vine growing around the tree trunk, and she grabbed it, jumping up and hanging onto that handhold. Knowing it wasn’t going to get her onto the tree she had jumped sideways, her legs swinging towards the nearby boulder. Kicking off that and sending her upside down she flipped onto the tree trunk, stabbing the dagger into the wood to anchor herself in place.
Only then did she look back towards the beast, to see it at the base of the tree, growling at her. The thing had nightmarishly pale eyes that lacked any sort of pupil she could recognize. Rows of thin, sharp teeth with no lips to cover them snapped at Siena from that smooth face with only two hog-like nostrils for a nose.
Her mind uncontrollably envisioned a fat goblin body with a slaughterfish mouth and Orc’s face, and it was the best comparison she could ever hope to create. The fish-man shook a rough iron dagger –which looked more like a toothed spear tip with a leather handle than any sort of smith-fashioned blade, and was etched with odd symbols on the sides- up at her, muttering in that strange noise it made. It took immense effort to draw her eyes away from the monster and to the surroundings, looking for escape.
The large boulder! I can’t go around it now, but maybe I can go over it and find a path. She prayed to Azura that her hopes would be true. She would have prayed to Vivec, or maybe Almalexia; but in the waxing years of the Third Era their religious prominence had died in Morrowind, replaced by the worship of the Ancestor Daedra. The Good ones.
And if Sheogorath had spawned this hideousness, she had one more reason to agree with the Temple placing him in the House of Troubles. Because he was giving her a crap load of trouble to deal with now. Ripping the iron dagger from the tree, she braced herself as she slid down towards the eagerly awaiting beast.
It wouldn’t get its meal just yet, though, as she leaned forward and kicked off the tree, rolling atop the boulder to a chorus of unintelligible beast-curses. Smirking, she proceeded to run across the stone.
Only to have something bang into her leg, knocking her off balance. Crashing into the pool of clear water, she tightened her grip on the dagger and fumbled to get onto her hands and knees.
Yet again, her glasses were wet. There are times where I wished I didn’t need these. The creature was blotchy and bulbous in her vision, but as a badly aimed stone splashed into the water close to her head, the answer to what knocked her off the boulder came; a primitive beast’s lucky shot.
Snarling, the green-hide charged at her, growing larger in her water-distorted field of view. She reflexively thrust out her left arm, grabbing the oncoming arm holding the spear-point dagger. The strength of the beast forced her down from her awkward kneeling posture and her head went under water as it overshadowed her.
Panicking, she stabbed at the thing’s side, feeling her dagger slip between ribs and enter flesh. The monster weakened and she rolled atop it quickly, gasping for air as she submerged it in the pool and held it down with her weight. She still gripped the arm holding the dagger, keeping it away from her. The beast stilled.
That’s when she noticed the wound in its side had stopped bleeding, the cloud of blood in the water having dissipated. The fish-man gurgled under the water, its large nostrils flaring. The thing was breathing!
Crying out in a mixture of frustration, fear, and instinctive panic Siena began to stab wildly at the wrestling monster, even forcing it to stab itself with her iron grip on its arm. She was no longer caring where she stabbed, or how bad the wound became, she was just stabbing and slashing and stabbing. Finally the beast fell still once more, and Siena quit her efforts, panting.
Its own dagger jutted from the hideous skull, the three fingers still wrapped around the hilt. Hers was dripping blood into the pond as she held it pulled back, ready to stab again. The bleeding didn’t stop, the creature didn’t move, and after a few minutes of holding this position, Siena rose from the corpse, shaking the blood off her dagger in the water first. She didn’t even look at the other body, but did note it had the underbelly of a slaughterfish; with four legs.
“This is ridiculous.” She muttered in exhaustion, shaking her head sharply. Water droplets rained around her, getting at least some off her glasses so she could see better. If this was going to be a regular occurrence, she’d have to find a handkerchief somewhere. If there even was a ‘somewhere’ that would have handkerchiefs in this deranged landscape of freakish beauty, of course.
She found out a small while later, though, that there was indeed a civilization in this Realm. She passed ruins that reminded her of those Ayleid structures she had seen on the shore when they were nearing Leyawiin’s waters. These weren’t quite the same, though they were equally overgrown by plant life. One was a square tomb-like building, and had a statue of a creature she had never seen before on one side. It resembled a Daedroth, one of Molag Bal’s servants, and yet it did not, lacking that long and toothy snout. She shuddered as she realized it was more closely related to the beast she had just wrestled and moved on.
The other was a tall tower of stone with no discernable entrance or real décor, so she ignored it as well. But when she saw the stone archway in the distance with a wooden stairwell running up the side, she grinned widely and raced towards it. As she passed under it she made out two figures, one of them Redguard and the other Dunmer. All too eager, she rushed over to them. When she was next to them she stopped, resting her hands on her knees and panting.
“Hello!” The Redguard spoke up. The sound of his voice made Siena jolt her head up in surprise, and her eyes widened.
“Sheldon!” Hope radiating from her face she turned to the dunmer, her joy only rising. “Felas!” She pressed her left hand to her chest and exhaled, regaining control of her over-excited state. “Oh I am so glad to see you two. We have to find the others and leave here.”
“Leave? Are you kidding? I’ve been here the longest! That’s why I’m mayor of Passwall. That, and because I am the best at being in charge.” He spread his hands towards the measly assemblage of three stone shacks. “Welcome to my town!”
Siena was stunned into silence, and looked over to Felas pleadingly, her mouth agape as if about to argue. Felas stared at her for a moment and then stepped back, holding up his hands to protect himself. “Don’t breathe on me.”
It was then that she noticed their new apparel. They both wore a thick cloth vest over their chests with a feathery shirt underneath. Studs dotted the suit nearly everywhere and straps held a waistcoat tightly around them. It looked almost like a pathetic attempt at armor.
Couple the attire with their responses, and Siena knew deep in her heart it was hopeless, sinking to her knees and silently sobbing.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 8, 2008 0:46:21 GMT
Chapter 5: Keeper of The Gates Sheldon and Felas knelt next to the crying form of Siena, her shoulders heaving as she cried. Felas hesitantly reached out a hand, but then pulled it back. Sheldon instead placed his hand on Siena. “What’s wrong?”
“Wha-what’s wrong?” Siena snapped through her tears, looking up to glare at Sheldon. “You’ve all gone insane! The mayor of Passwall… how could you be a mayor of a town in less than twenty four hours?”
“Well, the place was pretty deserted when I got here.” Sheldon admitted, shrugging. “Of course, once I was here others followed. Can’t say I blame them.”
“Of course you can’t blame them!” Siena raised her voice at the Redguard, causing him to back away. “They came into the portal just like you did!”
“I find it to be a nice place. Less dirty than others.” Felas remarked, causing Siena to turn her wrath upon him. “The old man, in the room made out of butterflies, he said to wait here.”
Siena stopped, unable to think of a nasty comment. Instead she blinked, her anger fading into simple inquiry. “Wait for what?” Felas simply shrugged.
“I think we are supposed to wait for the Gatekeeper to allow us through.” Sheldon remarked, and Siena found herself turning her head back to him.
“Through what?”
“The Gates of Madness.” Sheldon replied as if he were talking about the sunny weather.
“One leads to the lands of Mania, and one to Dementia. The Gatekeeper makes sure no one gets in who isn’t supposed to.” Felas explained, folding his arms over his chest.
“The Gatekeeper?” Siena asked again, looking about as confused as when she had first set eyes upon the island portal.
Sheldon nodded. “He guards the Gates of Madness. They say the keys are sewn up in the Gatekeeper’s body.” Siena cringed at this, wondering what perversion was required to accomplish such a task. “Basically, that means you’re not getting in.”
“So… the Gatekeeper guards the Gates of Madness, which is the only way out of here?” Siena questioned, looking dazed.
“Yeah, he’s pretty scary isn’t he?” Felas asked, looking at Sheldon.
“Yeah. Come see for yourself, he’s about to destroy a party of adventurers.” Together Felas and Sheldon took off down the path with more gusto and excitement than Siena felt was truly appropriate. But what could she do except follow? She was stuck in this world, so far as she knew, and the Gates of Madness were the only escape she knew of. So she ran after them warily, her feet moving from cobblestone road to marble staircase and back again, as she brought herself up through four flights of stairs onto a small valley between two walls of stone. Before her lay a large wall with twin arches almost as tall as the tree she had seen on her way to Passwall. The architecture reminded her distinctly of Imperial battlements in Morrowind. Between the arches was a giant bust of a man, looking remarkably like the doorframe that led into this wretched realm, only with a closed mouth. He looked like he had the collar of a suit not unlike Sheldon and Fela’s on his shoulders. From beneath the giant archways came two curving stairwells that ended in a plaza of marble.
And that plaza was the scene of a bloodbath like no other. Siena stood between Felas and Sheldon as an Orc in iron armor charged forward. “Stay back! Leave the Gatekeeper to us!” The Orc had snarled, but Siena had lost him in the sheer horror of what she saw.
It wasn’t man. It wasn’t beast. It wasn’t even a Daedra recorded by mortal hands. It was… a behemoth of flesh. It had no face, at least none she could discern from this distance. It had to be almost ten times the size of the men it faced in battle now, obscenely large feet stomping down the comparatively miniscule steps as it charged. It didn’t roar, didn’t snarl, but gave more of a deathly groan, deep, loud, and throaty.
Chains connected to a cast iron choker on the monstrosity clanked as it landed on the stone plaza, its big toe crushing the steel-clad Argonian’s foot. Two leather belts as wide as Siena were wrapped around its waist above a steel codpiece she was thankful was there. She might have puked if she saw the organs beneath that metal. A Nord with a steel claymore charged forward, sinking his blade into the leg of the Gatekeeper.
Siena couldn’t see the wound inflicted from here, but she didn’t see any blood, and that worried her. Reaching down with its massive left hand, the assortment of flesh batted the Nord away with the iron bracer it wore. Like swatting a fly, the Nord clattered to the stone a yard away and did not get up. That same left hand moved to grab the Argonian who had been crippled. Lifting the lizard from the ground effortlessly as the others futilely smashed at its shins, its fleshy fingers wrapped around her ever tighter.
Siena had to close her eyes and plug her ears to drown out the scream of agony, and kept her eyes closed when another cry rose shortly after.
“Oh no. Their bleeding all over the place!” Her eyes sprung open as Felas said this and she straightened to stare at him. Who was this man who looked like Felas?! He was holding his hand to his mouth and… Giggling!
“They should have listened to me.” Sheldon said haughtily. Siena looked between the both of them in disbelief, before clenching her fists and cuffing the both of them in the head.
“They are dying and all you do is watch?!” She cried out as both men rubbed the backs of their heads, glaring at her.
“Well yeah.” Sheldon snapped back, not flinching under Siena’s harsh gaze beneath her shades. “Jayred Ice-Veins wants to kill it, but that sounds like suicide to me.”
“The Gatekeeper looks indestructible.” Felas affirmed, nodding towards the scene. Siena watched, as the last of the adventurers was cut vertically into two halves by a man-sized toothed sword. As his two sections fell to the ground, the Orc from before ran past them.
“He’s too much! Killed all my men! Get out of my way!” The Orc stammered, shoving Siena out of the way and into Felas, who hastily pushed her away and began brushing off his suit.
But Siena could not take her eyes off the scene. She had only just realized the blade that had dealt the fatal blow was not held in a hand; it was the hand! From the right elbow down there was only iron, molded into a viciously serrated sword.
“Yuck. Look at all the blood and gore! I’m getting out of here.” Felas remarked, and quickly removed himself from the premises.
“They should have listened to me.” Sheldon sighed, shaking his head. Then he nodded to Siena. “Don’t get to close to him, or he’ll kill you. And leave a mess in my town like they did.” Without another word Sheldon followed Felas, leaving Siena staring at his back like he had grown spikes along his spine.
Lower lip quivering, she turned to look back at the scene. Blood was smeared like confetti upon the right steps, at the base of which the massive fleshy thing stood. Shredded steal and gore decorated the ground. If Siena had eaten in the last day, she would have puked it up. Shuddering, she took a step forward, uncertain why. But her eyes were trained on the faceless giant in the distance in front of her.
When she felt her bare foot touch cold stone, the face of flesh turned to look at her with eyes that did not exist. She could see now that crimson red symbols were etched on its brow, and in various places on its body. Lines of red weaved around the Gatekeeper’s body, a quilt of badly sewn together flesh. A low, rumbling groan emanated from the Gatekeeper, which lumbered toward her.
Siena screamed and fled, fear gripping her heart tighter than at any other time in her life. She stumbled down the stairs in a rush, hearing the impossibly heavy footfall of the Gatekeeper behind her.
On the second steps she fell, rolling to the base to look up and see the wicked sword coming towards her. “Ahhhh!” She rolled to her right, and felt the earth rumble beside her as bits of stone and dirt fell from the air. She wanted to lay there and catch her breath, but as the horror groaned she knew she had to move. Getting to her knees she crawled away desperately, feeling leathery skin brush against her wet leg as the hand closed around thin air behind her. Scrambling to her feet she ran with renewed energy.
The Gatekeeper took one step forward, and she knew it was already upon her again. Biting her lip she forced herself to concentrate as she leaped off the top of the third set of steps and into the air, arms spread as if she were flying. A whoosh of air informed her of how close to a skewering she had been.
She brought her arms over her head and bent her elbows, bracing herself for impact. Her hands hit the ground first, pain flaring in her wrists as they absorbed the shock and she rolled onto her back, getting to her feet at a crouch.
Her breath caught in her throat when she expected the thing to slash at her now, destroying every attempt she had made to survive. But nothing came. In a daze from the adrenaline rush Siena turned to see the Gatekeeper staring at her with that empty face, before it turned around and lumbered up the steps once more.
Trembling childishly, Siena looked at where she was; she had leaped over the third and fourth set of steps, getting back to the road to Passwall. A shaking hand brushed back her dark blue hair from the side of her face as she looked warily up the steps from beneath her shades. It had… stopped. It did not chase her past those steps. She was shocked into a stupor, unable to say or even think anything.
And then she heard a grumbling, and leaped to her feet. Her iron dagger shook in her hand as she looked around her to find nothing attacking. The grumble came again, and she looked down.
It was her stomach.
Sighing, Siena inhaled deeply, closing her eyes before exhaling. She continued these deep breathes for half an hour until her heart had calmed, and then sheathed her dagger. Opening her eyes again, she placed her hands on her lean stomach.
“I need to eat…” She moaned, turning to the small town of Passwall. Jayred Ice-Veins wants to kill it. Jayred… wasn’t that the ship captain?! Siena thought as she approached the Wastrel’s Purse. Maybe I should find him when I am done eating. She knew on thing was certain. If she were to get through the Gates and find a way to help her friends, she would have to kill the Gatekeeper and get the keys from its flesh.
But as she came to the door of the Inn, she shuddered at the image of the Gatekeeper amongst all that gore. She forced herself to forget the image for the sake of her appetite.
It may be that the real reason she would have to kill the Gatekeeper would be in order to eat and sleep properly again. And that was more powerful an enforcer than helping her friends.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 14, 2008 21:22:48 GMT
Chapter 6: Mother of Monstrosities Siena opened the door to the Wastrel’s Purse as the sun began to dip in the sky. As her feet touched the floor she became distinctly aware once more that she was barefoot. The Inn floor was damp and mossy, like it had not been cleaned for some time and felt chilling on the soles of her feet. She shuddered as she saw the innkeeper; a bosmeri female hunched over behind the counter, arms dangling. She wore a tan robe with a soft blue vest over her chest. Siena adjusted her glasses on her face and worriedly approached, tapping the counter and hoping in the back of her mind that this woman was not who she thought it was.
As the elf groggily raised her head to look at Siena, the dunmer’s heart dropped. It was Dredhwen, with bags under her eyes. She looked so exhausted; it almost made Siena feel energized. “Dredhwen… what happened to you?” Siena asked and the woman shrugged back.
“I… don’t know.” Dredhwen replied slowly, yawning. Her voice and tone were so sluggish it almost put Siena to sleep listening to her talk. “I got here to find the inn empty, and the town too… Sheldon was the only one living here, so I took over the Inn. Sheldon says he’s mayor.” She yawned again, and the sudden urge to do the same washed over Siena, but she fought it back. “Don’t believe him. The people who used to live here left plenty of things behind though. Do you need anything?”
Siena frowned, watching Dredhwen slowly droop as she awaited Siena’s answer. She prodded the elf awake once she had decided.
“I have no money, but I need food, some shoes-” She wiggled her toes on the damp floor and cringed. “-and a bow and arrows.”
Dredhwen seemed to be considering the situation, until Siena realized the woman was stooping lower with each passing moment, and prodded her again with an angry finger. The woman jumped awake and spoke slowly again, as if in a dream. “Wha? Huh? Oh, yes… Well, money isn’t really an issue here in Passwall; I mean, all my inventory I got for free. No one should be barefoot, or without a home and food. You may have the first room upstairs, and some food from the table. And some old boots. There should be a pair in the chest upstairs. Anything else?” She asked.
“A bow and arrows?” Siena reminded the Bosmer. Dredhwen frowned, the action making her face look more tired than usual.
“I have a bow, and arrows too… but those are mine and I do not wish to give them away. I’m sorry.” Siena grit her teeth at this. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Siena replied quickly this time, not wanting Dredhwen to start dozing off again. “Yes, actually. Jayred Ice-Veins, where is he?”
Dredhwen looked at Siena through narrowed, tired eyes before she answered. “He’s a little south of the town, before the ruins. Why would you want to find him?” She inquired.
“I need to kill the Gatekeeper and get through the Gates of Madness.” Siena answered, moving away from the counter to the small table in the room, and picking up a piece of surprisingly fresh bread. She already knew what she wanted from Dredhwen, so she wasn’t going to sit by the counter and withhold herself from eating any longer.
“The Gates of Madness.” Dredhwen repeated, looking at the countertop airily. “I feel like I need to be on the other side. I’m just not sure how to get in.”
“I’d imagine killing the Gatekeeper would work.” Siena replied with a shrug, biting her bread and chewing on it. She was consciously trying NOT to think about the Gatekeeper. Not with food in the area, not with a chance to eat and sleep so close.
“But the Gatekeeper kills anyone who comes near… anyone except Relmyna Verenim. She's staying upstairs right now.” Siena perked up at this, blinking at the elf behind the counter. She forced herself to swallow her bread before speaking.
“What did you say?” But Dredhwen was already bowed over and asleep again. Siena frowned, looking at the bread, and then at the stairs to the rooms. Up there was a woman whom the Gatekeeper did not attack. And a bed, and boots. Siena wolfed down the bread before rising.
The first room was the one Dredhwen had given her, so Siena entered it first. Like the rest of the inn it was musty and moldy, with a dank bed and stained furniture. There was a chest there, and when she cracked it open a cloud of dust came out to greet her. Forcing her into a coughing fit she waved the air clear before reopening it and shifting through the stuff inside. There were clothes and something that might have been a leather glove. When she finally found the shoes, she cringed. They were decrepit examples of footwear, damp and putrid, with threads missing in places. She tossed them back in, deciding to risk stepping in Goblin-fish-man shit rather than put her feet in that.
And Relmyna was in the next room, according to Dredhwen. A woman whom the Gatekeeper would not kill. But why would the Gatekeeper spare her? Siena’s curiosity took over as she moved into the small hallway and approached the second door, knocking on it. No one answered, so Siena grabbed the rusted handle and slowly cracked the door open. There was a desk, with a bottle of wine, a cup, a bowl, a scroll and…
A hand scythe, spots of blood, and a skull. Siena gulped, shaking as she looked at the empty sockets of the skull’s eyes. Could one of her past friends be staring back now? She shook the thought from her mind and opened the door further. What she saw made her recoil and grab at her chest with one hand in an attempt to steady her heart. There was a bloodied shovel leaning on the wall, and a mutilated corpse in the corner, blood pooling on the floor. She didn’t even want to look behind the door to see what horrors awaited behind it on the fourth wall. Instead she looked at the scroll on the table.
Just as her hand hovered over the paper, a voice made her jump into the air and land on the musty bed with a yelp. “Well, what have we here?” The voice came from a middle-aged Dunmer woman in a puffy, gold-embroidered black dress with flared sleeves and a low cut v-neck. The dress was beautiful, though she had never seen anything of its kind back home. She stared at the woman as she sat up in the bed, dazed.
“Another hopeful whose blessing has not fully taken root?” The woman -who had to be Relmyna- asked, stepping into the room and putting one hand towards the table as she regarded Siena with cold red eyes. “No… I don’t think so. You’re an adventurer?” When Siena didn’t answer, the Dunmer sneered. “How disgusting. Why don’t you come back the way you came?”
Siena stared at the woman as she picked up the scroll and calmly slipped it into the pocket of her dress, looking at Siena again with distaste. “Well… um… I can’t.” Siena replied, pulling her legs under her; away from the woman. “Are you… Relmyna Verenim?”
“Yes, I am. What do you want?” She snapped back, obviously agitated by her new intruder. Siena recoiled again, feeling a threatening air from the woman. Her hand subconsciously went to the dagger at her hip.
“I want to know about the Gates of Madness and the Gatekeeper.” She said defiantly, as if testing the woman’s threat. Her hand came closer to the dagger as Relmyna gave her a look that sent shivers down her spine. It was a look of morbid interest.
“The Gates of Madness? One leads to Mania, and one to Dementia. Two shades of madness.” Relmyna explained, telling Siena what she already knew by now. “You’re not getting in because you’re not Blessed by Sheogorath. You can try to get the keys; my Lord had them sewn into my child’s body.” She sounded almost proud of this statement, which only made Siena more uncomfortable about what the statement meant.
“I wonder if you’re a fast bleeder, or a slow bleeder.” Relmyna added as if in afterthought. Her face had taken on a dreamy glaze, making Siena wonder just what the woman was thinking about. Siena shuffled backwards on the bed into the wall.
“You’re child?” Siena repeated, her voice shaky. Could this woman be serious?
“Yes. The Gatekeeper is my child; the consummation of Sheogorath's wisdom in the womb of my genius. It was a painful and bloody birth, but well worth it. His brothers were less... successful.” She fell silent for a moment, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “He won't bother those blessed by Lord Sheogorath. You, however, will die trying to get the keys from my child.” Relmyna pointed out, and Siena felt challenge in her voice.
Siena shuddered as she thought of this woman giving birth the natural way to a thing like the Gatekeeper. No, it had to be necromancy that birthed it, nothing else would make sense. Necromancy; that foul art that perverts the bodies of holy ancestors and turns them against their successors, their family. That atrocity was her child. It explained why it would not kill her, alright, but did little to help Siena kill it.
“I have to kill it.” Siena muttered, forcing herself to stare back at Relmyna defiantly. Killing it was the only way to save her friends… if there were any left to be saved.
“Try him if you like.” Relmyna remarked coolly, as if she had no worries in the world. “Believe me, after you die, I can put your flesh and bones to very good use.”
This was the last straw; this woman disgusted Siena to the core, and she was through with speaking to such a devil. She came off the bed and drew her dagger in one smooth motion, her stance firm and threatening. She narrowed her eyes beneath her shaded lenses as she took another step forward, and Relmyna raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“I will find a way.” Siena snarled, her anger rising. “I will not become one of your unholy children!”
“I am bored with you.” Relmyna’s response was so insanely off kilter with the emotions in the air that Siena found her anger near boiling as a result. That hideous perversion of virtue was bored with her?! “Why don’t you go talk to Nanette? She likes talking. I’ll need to cure her of that habit soon enough.” Siena was caught off guard at the mention of Nanette, her face becoming blank wonder.
“Nanette?” Could Nanette possibly be-?
“There’s one sure way to stop a tongue from flapping; cut it out. Shall I demonstrate?” Relmyna asked, moving with ominous slowness towards her table, and the hand scythe resting on it. Siena tightened her grip on the iron dagger and got the message quickly. This woman was clearly out of her mind, and violent. If she was Redoran she likely would have stayed to defend her honor from the insults of the necromancer, but Hlaalu lacked that reputation for reckless fighting in the name of a reputation. They defended their honor another way.
Siena hastily made her way out of the inn, ignoring the soft earth beneath her feet and the hunger in her belly as she moved through the small town of Passwall. The dagger was still caught in her grip, her hand unwilling to release the weapon, which had become a source of control for her during the encounter.
There was no way Siena could have gleamed any more useful information from the woman. There was also no chance in Oblivion that she would be sleeping in that inn. With Relmyna a wall away from her performing her profane magicks and wanting to use Siena’s body for her experiments, and the Gatekeeper’s horrific image still burning in her mind, she would not be able to get to sleep from the nervous fear that would grip her. She had to find somewhere else to sleep. Coming up to a small wrecked dock, Siena flopped down and looked at her reflection in the small pool of water beneath her. Where could she possibly sleep?
Well… there was Jayred. She already had a reason to visit him, so maybe she could sleep at his place? Unless… unless he was as out of his mind as the others. But what choice do I have, really? I can’t very well sleep out here, and I am NOT sleeping with Relmyna in the same building. Reluctantly rising to her feet, Siena headed south of the town, and quickly made out a small building on stilts in the distance.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 21, 2008 16:49:24 GMT
Chapter 7: Skeleton of a Nightmare The house was a small shack, raised above the swampy marsh on thick stilts. It stood before the trunk-roots of one of those alien mushroom trees, which was as large as two of the shack. Siena looked at the home for a moment before approaching the stairs leading to the door.
She simply stared up at the door, a tarnished metallic colored piece with rust spots and bars over the small round window. Three awnings spread over the door, getting longer the higher up they sat on the door frame. Their triangular design seemed to point away from the door, as if pointing her away from the home.
It was a subtle sign from her sanity and reason, to turn now and leave.
But she had learned, in her day of being in the Fringe of this unholy realm, that she had not the option of obeying her reason. Logic was nothing in this realm of chaos. She could only plod along until she met Sheogorath himself.
And then, she’d take matters into her own hands. For now, Jayred was her only option. She placed one bare foot upon the wooden step and climbed, reaching the door. Raising one hand, she knocked softly on the door.
Light spilled out into the darkness of the night when the Nord opened the door, and if not for her shaded glasses she would have been momentarily blinded. She did a double-take when she finally could focus on the captain of the merchant vessel that stood before her. The Nord was in fur armor, and had a bow and quiver of arrows. I didn’t know…. Wait… he can’t shoot!
“Yes?” Jayred asked, knocking Siena from her thoughts. She shook her head to clear her mind and then replied.
“Jayred Ice-Veins?”
“YES?” The Nord seemed more aggravated now than before. Siena would have to tread lightly. What will he more likely allow me inside for?
“I want to talk to you… about the Gatekeeper.”
The Nord’s demeanor melted into warm welcome, as he stepped aside to allow her through with a smile. Siena returned the smile weakly, only to stop in her tracks as Jayred closed the door. Her breath caught in her throat and she gulped it down to ensure it got in her lungs as she shuddered.
His home was a small shack of two floors, the first of which was centered by a fireplace. Two bookshelves and two tables –one larger than the other- made up the furnishings. The larger table had a bench as well and was to the left of the stone fireplace. The bookshelves were to the right, along with a small circular table. One bookshelf was by the entryway, the other by the small table and near a cupboard.
She didn’t mind the furnishings so much as what decorated the furnishings. As Jayred moved to the large table and sat on the bench, looking at her expectantly, Siena moved against her will towards one such decoration on the floor.
It was shaped like a head of the dragons of legends, but it was definitely not a dragon skull. Leather straps as thick as her pinkie finger held together femurs, tibia, claw/finger bones, and even pelvic bone sections. The pieces of bones had been mended together into a puzzle or sculpture-like skull structure. Siena knelt and looked closer at the skull-assemblage. Shuddering, she got to her feet and looked around the room.
At least five of those skull-patchworks were on the ground in this room alone, who knew how many in his bedroom. One leaned on a chest in the entryway she had not noted before. Another by the large table; two more by the cupboard.
But they were not the only bones. Skulls, pelvises, femurs, ribcages, littered everywhere; resting in bowls on the shelves, sitting next to potion bottles. Piled up next to the large table, they even covered the large table along with a pickaxe and bottles of alcoholic beverage. Siena became keenly aware she was surrounded by bones, and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, biting her lower lip as she looked to Jayred.
“Do you ever wonder why things look better without their skin on?” Jayred asked without prompting, and Siena shuddered, fearing the worst; he’d be like Relmyna.
“For instance, you can only really see the bones, when you take them out. You can hear them better that way, too.” He explained, and Siena shook her head vigorously.
Inhaling, Siena removed her arms from around herself, exhaling and placing them firmly at her sides. “Listen, all I want to do is get through the Gates of Madness.”
“The Gates of Madness? So do I. I can hear them… calling to me from the other side. We have to kill the Gatekeeper! He has the keys.” Jayred announced. Why did everyone think she didn’t know this?! Why did they always have to bring it up and make bile rise in her throat?!
“I want him dead. I need him dead! His bones are calling to me!” Jayred seemed to get really worked up about this and rose from the bench, pointing at Siena. “Rumor has it you want the Gatekeeper dead too.”
Wow… rumor travels fast here. Siena thought, reeling back from the bone-whisperer ex-captain. She hadn’t announced her decision to kill the Gatekeeper until recently and by then Jayred should have been in his home. So how did he-?
“If you’re good with a lockpick, we can help each other out.” Siena perked up at this, eyes sharp. She was a Hlaalu mercenary scout; she better be good with a lockpick, or she was out of a profession. “We can get into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone.”
Siena’s alertness became nervousness as she bit her lip again. Why? Why the Gardens of Flesh and Bone? What is wrong with a garden of mushrooms and marshmerrow?! She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and opened them again, pushing away her nervousness.
“The gardens… of… flesh… and bone?” She asked slowly, praying with futility she had heard him wrong the first time. Jayred nodded.
“They say the Gatekeeper’s magical. I don’t believe in magic. But I do believe in bones. And the best way to kill something is with the bones of its own.” Siena cringed. She didn’t like where this was going.
“I can see the bones of a dead Gatekeeper in the courtyard of the Gardens. The door’s locked though. You’ll pick that lock, and I’ll collect the bones. Then I’ll make some arrows, and we’ll kill the Gatekeeper. Sound good?”
All of it sounded wonderful. The picking of the lock, the killing of the Gatekeeper. The only thing she didn’t agree with was the bones. Against her will, her head nodded. But her mouth opened a moment later.
“Not right now though, Captain Jayred. I… need rest first. And some boots.” She told him, not thinking when she called him Captain. The Nord paused, casting her a skeptical glance.
“Captain?” He asked, and Siena nodded again.
“Yeah, you were captain of a merchant vessel, remember?” The Nord shook his head, frowning. “What do you remember?”
“I remember coming here. I followed the bones, and they lead me here. I moved in. No one seemed to mind. Everyone seems to be waiting for something.” Jayred informed her, shrugging.
Can’t imagine why they would have to wait for Sheogorath’s Blessing. I’d say they already have it. Siena thought.
“But I have some boots on the shelf here.” He changed the subject, moving past her to some boots lying beside two long, purplish things. Siena followed behind him, looking at the things.
She was suddenly reminded of tongues and nearly puked up the bread she had just eaten. Jayred handed her the boots, clueless as to why she was clutching her chest and facing away from the shelf.
She took the boots gratefully. “Where might I sleep?”
“There’s a bed upstairs. I’ll sleep down here with the bones.” He told her, pointing briefly at the wooden planks above them and smiling softly. Siena couldn’t help but return the smile, as she had not expected the modesty from the insane Nordic sailor. It was… touching, considering everyone else had been so far violent or gruesome towards her.
Her heart ached as she was reminded of Belmyne. He was always so loving towards her. Always so gentle, his caresses and his kisses feather-light and yet strong and powerful. If he had been alive right now, here with her, he would be laughing at Jayred, at Sheldon and Felas. He would have stood between Relmyna and her, magic flashing at his fingertips in anger at her threats towards Siena.
If he were still alive…. She wouldn’t be here.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and that cold line on her face made her realize where she was and what she was doing. Quickly she thanked Jayred and headed upstairs, only stopping when she was at the top of the steps. There she removed her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, setting the lenses on top of the dresser.
She saw two of the skull-creations sitting beside the dresser, and her back straightened, muscles tensing. Ignore them, Siena. Just forget they are even there. It’s just a skull… it can’t hurt you. She told herself, hands firmly at her sides as she closed her eyes and calmed herself.
The feeling of her damp pants on her hands made her wonder as to the state of the clothes in this dresser. She pulled it open, to discover déjà vu and shut it just as quickly. Then she looked at the bed.
It was somewhat musty, and old and rickety, but at least there was a Nord obsessed with bones -and not with cutting out her tongue- nearby. Siena wasn’t really sure which was worse.
Shaking slightly, she lifted her chain mail cuirass from her body, not caring that she was in her bra and tight pants now. She had a feeling Jayred was too modest to look. Tossing her armor with a clink onto the floor she collapsed into the bed, the day’s exertions having taken their toll. She was more exhausted than she thought, and even with two skull-things nearby she was quick to fall asleep.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 26, 2008 14:04:08 GMT
Chapter 8: Flesh of a Nightmare They’ll never find me here… it’s perfect! Siena thought to herself, hiding behind an urn. All around her were dim shadows and soft candlelight, as they cast their glow upon the stone walls and dirt floors of the crypt. Even torches could not pierce the gloom. The young dunmer’s skin was still that dark gray shade of youth, and would not brighten to a blue-gray tinge until she was of age, so she blended in perfectly. That and her small frame hid behind the urn easily.
Minutes passed, and then more minutes passed, and still they had not come for her. I can’t be hiding THAT well… where are they? Siena wondered, and crept out from behind the urn. No one was around.
Getting to her feet cautiously, she moved towards the door. “Helrin? Mincy?” She could hear creaking on the other side, and a rushing of air soft as a breeze. Frowning, she opened the door just a crack.
On the other side of the door stood a skeleton, air rushing between the gleaming teeth in soft whispers. Its shoulders rose and fell in a futile attempt to mimic the breathing it had performed in life, the ribcage expanding and contracting. Hollow eye sockets looked through the crack in the door at Siena, and her breath caught in her throat. Somehow, it was looking at her without eyes. She barely understood what she was looking at, but her gut told her it was unnatural and evil.
The skeleton stepped towards the door, that one motion causing its leather-fastened bones to creak loudly. The movement also revealed the glint of a steel axe in the torchlight. It was going to kill her!
Siena slammed the door shut, forgoing stealth. Now she WANTED to be found –by someone, anyone, just to save her from that thing! The young Dunmer ran through the burial room, reaching the other door and jerking it open before rushing through into the hall beyond. She came to a halt and looked to her left and right. Which way was it to get out? She had come in through the door the skeleton was now smashing with the axe. She’d have to find another way. Right was in the general direction of where she had come from, so maybe it would get her out.
Decision made, she bolted down the hallway, the air currents of her fast movement causing the torches on the wall to flicker and almost die. It only served to further her fear. She continued running, not looking back to see if the skeletal monster followed.
Without even thinking, she ran down the steps and further down the hall. Only when she came to a dead end with three doors did she realize where she had gone. Down, and not up. Deeper in, and not out.
One of these doors has to lead out! It has to! Her thoughts were frantic now, any logic she might have had at her young age being lost to fear and the need to survive. She grabbed the door to her right and flung it open.
It led into an empty chamber, with an ash pit before the wall and bones within the ash. She shut the door as quickly as she had opened it, and whirled around to face the left door, opening it as well.
While a similar chamber, this room contained something. A man, in dark clothes that looked almost like exquisitely flared thin leather armor, was crouched on the ground, holding his head in his hands and sobbing. Siena froze in place, curiosity wrestling with her fear and leaving her indecisive. Was he lost, like her? Was he scared, like her? Siena took a step forward, warily testing her grounds.
“I won’t go back.” The man muttered, and Siena felt a distinct wave of déjà vu wash over her. She had heard that before; that voice, those words. Something about them instilled fear in her heart. “I won’t go back!” Siena took a step back, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
Unexpectedly she felt cool metal on her hands, and two rounded, firm mounds on either side of her hands too. Then she looked at herself.
She was no longer the dark little dunmer, but a full-grown blue-gray mer in a chainmail cuirass. “You can’t make me go back!” The man screamed, and Siena looked up, childish fear still in her eyes as she recognized the man and his words. The man had fallen silent now, and was raising his head to look at Siena, wildness in his eyes and an iron dagger in his hand.
“I’ll kill you all!” The man lunged forward, but Siena was quicker, slamming the door and throwing her back on it. There was a loud thud and then silence. Until there was creaking.
Siena wasted no time in opening the third door, stepping through the threshold, and slamming it shut. But she wasn’t in a tomb in Vvardenfell anymore. She was standing before a structure akin to an Imperial marble wall, with two massive arches leading to doors shrouded in darkness. A bust of a man stood between the arches. And before the stairwell leading up to those arches were two figures.
One was a giant mangled mess of yellowed flesh and red muscle, clad in iron shackles and missing one arm, which was replaced by a massive iron-cast sword. No eyes looked towards her, but she knew the direction of that stare.
The other was a Dunmeri woman in a royally adorned black dress that flared around her in a dome style, and was lined with gold. Blood red hair was done up in a tight bun that topped her sneering face, as she held a hand scythe before her.
The large flesh-construct strode forward, moving with deadly intent towards her. Freaking out, Siena sharply turned to the door and tried to open it, only to find it locked. She screamed as she turned around to watch the horrific thing come even closer with another step.
“There’s one sure way to stop a tongue from flapping. Cut it out…” said the woman, as she tapped the flat of the scythe blade on the palm of her hand. The massive creature of roughly assembled flesh raised its right arm as if the sorceress’ words had been an order. Siena continued to scream as the large iron blade came down.
“Its bones are calling to me.”
Siena was denied the satisfaction of actually dying as she was ripped from her nightmare, eyes popping open and springing into a sitting position in the bed.
Well, almost a sitting position. She ended up bumping into Jayred, who had been leaning over her. Her head fell almost naturally into the crook of his neck and she wrapped her arms around him instinctively as she began to cry. She needed someone to hold, someone to hold her, as she recovered from that horrid dream. Jayred seemed caught off guard by her actions, and hesitantly held the topless elf in his thick-furred arms.
“We have to kill the Gatekeeper.” Jayred whispered, as if it was the only thing on his mind. Unless he was referring to her dream, but how would he know the Gatekeeper nearly killed her within her own nightmare? Siena nodded, biting her lip and pulling away from Jayred to look at the Nord.
“Alright, we’ll do it.” She told him, though she looked reluctant to say so. The Nord nodded and rose from the bed. He was behaving with such normalcy and informality, as if he did not even notice that Siena’s small bosom was covered by merely a bra. Was he being chivalrous, or had insanity wiped away that part of his mind?
Regardless, Siena WAS embarrassed to be in such a state of undress before the husky Nord. She plucked the chainmail cuirass from the floor, slipping it over her body and finding comfort in the familiar cool feeling of the metal on her skin. The dresser was blurry from her position on the bed, but she walked over to it anyways. It got sharper as she approached, and now she could see her shaded glasses laying there. She slipped them on, the world becoming clearer in an instant. The dagger and furred boots were the final pieces of her current wardrobe, and then she headed downstairs to see Jayred again.
“You open the gate, I’ll kill things.” Jayred told her, and Siena smiled softly, reflexively reaching for her boots and the lockpicks hidden within. She was startled to feel only the fur lining of her new boots, before memory returned to her. She had lost everything in the crash. Her lockpicks were gone.
“I don’t have any lockpicks.” She muttered with mixed emotion. It meant they could not get in the Gardens of Flesh and Bone to get arrows to kill the Gatekeeper. But it also meant they could not get into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone.
“Here. Take this lockpick.” Jayred handed her one, which she reluctantly took from him. Perhaps her reluctance was the reason her hand remained holding his and the lockpick for more than a minute before Jayred released it. “Careful, though; it’s my only one.” He told her, and then moved towards the door.
“The sun rises soon. We must hurry.” He told her as he opened the door. Siena nodded, but remained standing in the entryway for a short time, holding that lockpick to her chest; trying to find the courage to follow.
Finally, when Jayred was a yard or so from the door and still walking, she closed her eyes, inhaled, and dashed out of the house into the early morning air, the chill biting into her arms and torso. But the fur boots kept her feet warm, at least.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 28, 2008 15:54:22 GMT
Author's Note: I know these two chapters were written pretty closely together and maybe too fast for you readers, but I do want to get the Gatekeeper quests done, and my plan for doing the quest means it will take a few chapters, so... here it is. Feedback is appreciated highly! Chapter 9: Gardens of Flesh and Bone The stone walls loomed over Siena as she looked upon them, standing at the foot of a stairwell that wound around a statue. They were dark gray in the dimness of pre-dawn, and mossy, like the gardener had not taken care of them for some time.
If there even was a gardener for such a horrific place. Siena moved up the broken stairs, coming to the landing and turning to the right, towards the garden proper. To either side of the next set of stairs were statues of demonic things. Thin and lanky with long fingers and tails and a mouth like a leech, she recognized these beasts from the teachings of the Temple. Hungers, minions of Boethiah, one of the Good Deadra. But it did not make his sinuous and lanky beasts any more appealing in Siena’s eyes. Especially since the statues were in a land of Sheogorath.
Jayred was already at the gate, standing there and looking through the bars. Siena approached the gate, which was ornamented with curving lines of metal in smooth, peaceful patterns. She could see through the bars as well, and what she saw made her gasp.
It was a ruin of pillars and steps, of ornate carvings and brazier-lit statues. She could see on the far side a tall staircase, two more hunger statues bordering it. The right statue had a brazier lit, the other, had none. There was a tower of stone -like the two she had seen before arriving in Passwall- to the left and nothing else she could make out in the gloom and shading of her glasses. But nothing like the Garden of Flesh and Bone she had imagined, and that made her heart beat just a little slower.
“Hurry, I need to get in.” Jayred told her in a rushed tone. Siena sighed, her shoulders dropping, before bending down in front of the gate and sticking her ear close as the lockpick went in. It’s so easy a Nord could open… well… maybe a Nord couldn’t. Siena thought as the pick clicked the tumbler into place, and the gate opened. It was one of the easiest locks she had ever encountered, and she slipped the pick into her boot without even thinking. Putting her fingers delicately into the grating, she pulled the gate towards her. It creaked and groaned as it moved.
Jayred bolted through the opening like a thing possessed, and Siena yelled after his fur-armored back. “Wait, there might be-!”
Jayred knocked an arrow on his bow and snarled, as Siena heard that familiar hissing clack of a skeleton angered. The Nord fired a shot from his position as Siena rushed into the Gardens.
The place was one large, dark courtyard, with a second flight of stairs to the right of the stairs she had seen from the gate. And in the center of it all Jayred stood over a large skeleton. He growled again as a second arrow flew at a skeleton charging at the Nord. The arrow hit the ribcage and bounced around before falling to the ground, making the skeleton stop but doing little else.
Despite her shaded lenses making the world darker than it already was, Siena could make out a second skeleton charging at Jayred’s left flank. And despite the fear gripping at her heart, a greater power drove her to spring into the air from the top of the steps and crash into the skeleton. She fell on top of the bag of bones with a painful crunch, both of them crashing to the ground and the steel war axe the skeleton held flying into the dirt nearby.
The skeleton was falling apart, some of the bones having been freed by the crash, but it still squirmed and thrashed grotesquely beneath her. A hard object hit the side of her head, dazing her and causing her to roll off the skeleton. The undead horror rose from the ground and picked up the axe with its left arm -it’s only good arm- before raising it over Siena.
Survival instincts surged through her mind, and she threw up both her hands, summoning the magic within her into the only spell she truly knew well. Fire belched from her fingers to bloom inside the skeleton’s ribcage, blasting it apart. Bones rained down around her, clinking off her chainmail and bruising her already tender arms, just before the axe spun down and dug into the dirt mere inches from her face.
Siena shuddered as her eyes wavered towards the axe nearby. She seemed to have lost all resolve to do anything, fear turning her muscles to stone, until she heard Jayred growl and a skeleton hiss in anger. Siena rolled towards the axe, one hand grabbing it and the motion of her body rising jerked the weapon from the dirt.
An arrow spun end-over-end to her left, having bounced off the hard bones of the skeleton Jayred was fighting. Siena watched as in the span of an instant Jayred knocked another arrow, fired, and hit the eye socket, ripping the skull from the spine. The Nord kicked the decapitated bones away, sending them shattering to the ground before standing proudly over the rotted corpse of a giant.
Siena walked up to him, relief washing over her as she stood at the feet of the massive skeleton. The ribcage alone could fit her body if she curled up inside it. Red flesh still clung to it and a horrid smell tickled her senses. If it was daylight the flies would have been buzzing with skooma-induced delight. With the danger gone Siena could no longer override her disgust and she dropped the axe, doubling over. Her only meal in the Shivering Isles became a new delightful feast for the flies when they awoke at dawn. Jayred did not seem to notice as he reached down and grabbed the skeleton’s arm, not caring for the grime on his hands as he twisted and sickeningly crunched the arm out of the shoulder socket.
Siena watched with a horrid fascination. That a man who had been so courteous and gentlemanly to her would be doing such a disgusting-
Her thoughts were interrupted when a sharp sting in her left shoulder made her cry out and grasp at the perpetrator. It was an iron arrow that had hit her chainmail, but had been unable to penetrate the metal rings with its large arrowhead. The sting had been from the tip piercing shallowly into her skin. She ripped out the arrow with a trickling of blood, noting many of the small rings in the mail were broken; a small hole, but still a hole.
When she looked up her mind instantly calculated the archer’s location from the direction of the arrow when it had stuck out of her shoulder, and she could barely make out the thin, gray form through her dark lenses. Snarling, she wanted to move but her stomach protested; it simply would not let her sprint after having expended its contents. She clutched at her shoulder and stomach as the skeleton knocked another arrow and pulled it back. The movement made it easier to see for a moment, and she threw out her hand, letting go of her shoulder to fling another ball of fire at the thing.
The flames lit the area as it traveled across the courtyard, towards the small corner nestled between the two staircases that had been in front and to the right of her when she had come in. So stupid! I didn’t make sure the place was clear! I forgot half the area!
The fireball burst behind the skeleton, having missed it, but the light the explosion afforded revealed to Siena just where he was. The second arrow did not hit her this time; she’d seen it coming as it went past her spellfire. She moved to one side in a half-crouch, magic coursing through her hand and sparking into fiery brilliance. Jayred had knocked another arrow and uselessly fired, the arrow bouncing off the bones. Siena swung her hand forward, extending her fingers as if reaching out to the skeleton.
The source of her fear, of her pain, of her anger and of her sickness. Like a resolution the fireball burned through the air to blast apart that skeletal archer, bones raining down upon the ground. Siena breathed heavily, chest heaving as she fell to one knee. She felt so tired; a fatigue caused by a combination of bruising crashes and bumps, a bleeding shoulder, inadequate sleep and an expenditure of magic. She had drained herself so much in her anger with that final spell. Worse, she knew her magicka would not restore itself on its own, and her loss of control might cost her later on now that she had little magicka left for spells. But she rarely used her magic anyways, since she knew so little and her birthsign was so restrictive.
Bones snapped and ligaments tore, prompting Siena to turn her head and look at Jayred, mouth agape in exhaustion. Some of her hair that had come loose in the fighting fell over her face, but she ignored it as again a horrid fascination overtook her.
Jayred broke the humorus from the rest of the arm, then took the ulna and radius and tied all three of them together with a string. She didn’t want to know where he got the string from. He then moved to one of the legs and picked up the axe Siena had dropped. Hacking at the knee cap, he separated the femur from the rest of the leg and ripped it from the pelvis in a brutish fashion. He added the femur to his bone collection and slung them over his shoulder.
“With these Gatekeeper bones, I can make some arrows.” The Nord told her, as if proud of himself. Siena simply smiled weakly.
“When will they be ready?” She feigned enthusiasm, her voice falsely sweet.
“I’ll only be a few hours.” Jayred told her, waving his hand nonchalantly. “Then we’ll kill the Gatekeeper.” Jayred told her, smiling warmly back before turning and walking out of the Gardens with his bones.
Leaving Siena completely alone, in a dark courtyard with a half-present skeleton of the most loathsome being she had ever seen, and surrounded by pieces of other skeletons. For a moment she simply gawked at his back as he proceeded up the steps and through the gate, but then pouted.
To be expected, really. All he cared about was the damn bones. Nice and all… but he’s insane and more in love with bones than a cup of mead. That’s not right. Her opinion of the captain seemed to drop in that one moment from attractive to not-so-much. But thinking of him kept the realization of where she was out of her mind.
I need that bow… Dredhwen won’t give me hers so I’ll have to use that one. I can’t shoot bone arrows to kill the Gatekeeper without a bow. Siena thought, moving purposely over to the scattered remains of the skeleton archer. She picked up the rusted iron bow, pulling the string taunt and then relaxing it before shrugging. Could have been better, but a rusted bow was better than no bow at all really. Grabbing the quiver of iron arrows from the ground she slung it over her shoulder and walked out of the Gardens with a pace that neared running.
She made sure to close the gate behind her, and never look back as she walked hurriedly down the hill after Jayred, the world brightening as dawn neared.
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Post by FC4 on Aug 21, 2008 13:38:40 GMT
Author's note: This chapter is a little longer than the others, but I really couldn't prevent that from happening. It's also the first chapter of fanfiction I have written since my hiatus when I left for California, so I hope I've gotten back into my groove quickly enough. Enjoy.Chapter 10: Kill the Gatekeeper"I'll only be a few hours." Jayred had told her, and yet those few hours seemed like eternity to the Dunmeri mercenary. She had to find something to do during those hours of early morning. She was too frightened to enter the inn, lest she encounter the crazed necromancer Relmyna again. And it wasn't like she really needed anything from there; well, minus food, but that she found by rummaging through a barrel near the door while Drewdhen was rocking in place in sleepy stupor. Siena felt sort of... guilty inside for stealing from her old friend and comrade, but she had to take it. And it wasn't technically stealing seeing as Drewdhen had practically given her the last meal for free anyways. So she managed to rationally eat the bread with a clear conscious as she sat on the thin balcony of one of the marble ruins. Climbing up there had been a chore, yes, but the view was spectacular. As the dawn greeted the vile realm of Sheogorath Siena found it harder to really call it vile at all. The soft orange light shone with such pure beauty upon the world, which was a gorgeous array of greens, browns, and blues from the vegetation around it. In fact, the more she gazed upon the dawn, the more she found herself at ease, at home. It was so much like Morrowind, with its rocky lands and mushrooms of giant proportion, and colorful plants sprouting here and there through hard ground. While the mushrooms might be more like trees than those of home, and while the colorful plant life may not be technically the same, it still held that rustic and homey feel. Until thinking of home got her thinking of home; of Belmyne and Drewdhen and Nanette and Felas and Jayred. Thinking of her old life, looting crypts and confiscating items at the whims of the Councilmen of Hlaalu. Thinking of Belmyne, and how right now the two of them would have been making wild, passionate love beneath the romantic soft glow of orange sunrise. A tear rolled down her cheek; she made no move to discard it. She sat there for another hour, before the dawn had come and gone and she felt it was time to meet Jayred again. Jumping nimbly down from the thin railing around the ruin, she returned to the now familiar shack and opened the door, not even bothering to knock. Her mind was elsewhere as she entered, closing the door behind her. Her mind made a quick trip back to reality, though, when she looked around. Bones... If it wasn't for the fact they held her together, she would hate bones to her very core. She looked to her left to find the fur-clad captain sitting at his table, a collection of arrows in front of him and one in his hands. Siena ran a quick count; nineteen, twenty counting the one he worked on now. She didn't want to begin to imagine how much of that bone he had used to make those arrows. Jayred was so absorbed in his work he didn't even notice Siena's arrival. She moved to the side of the table, standing there and watching him. With careful, loving precision his dining knife cut into the bone, shaving off a sliver there, and a sliver here. After a few minutes he seemed to take notice of the world around him, likely because he was finished, and set the knife down next to his fork and spoon, looking up to Siena. "You're going to eat with that knife still?" Siena blurted out, looking dumbfounded and pointing at the utensil. Jayred blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Yeah, why not? It's still good." He replied, and Siena reflexively cringed. Jayred shrugged and held out the arrow he recently finished. "Think you can shoot this?" He asked her. "Of course I can shoot it, it's an ar-" Siena snapped quickly, before her hand went to the arrow and she took it, looking at it. The tip was ragged and triangular, looking almost like those old stone arrows before the time of men's metalworking. The shaft was smooth and straight, though she could see signs of knife shaving and straighter-stone on it. The only thing that had her worried was the fletching. It too was made of bone. But as she looked closer she noticed the bone was precisely shaved to parchment-thin strips, and near the shaft the bone got thicker for support. It had to be one of the most expertly made arrows she had ever seen, and it left her at a loss for words. How could a man who was the captain of a merchant vessel make such a high-quality arrow? And out of such poor quality material? It was a burning question in her mind, just like how Jayred had seemed to just know she was out to kill the Gatekeeper, even though her intentions had not been announced but mere hours before. "Where did you learn to make such arrows?" Siena asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Jayred simply smiled, and moved to his shelves. "The bones instructed me." That statement pretty much ended the conversation on the spot. Jayred turned around and came back, setting what looking like an oversized quiver on the table. But it also looked like a skull. Two eye sockets, and the surrounding bone, had been removed from a skull and attached to bone plates. Beneath the eye sockets were what looked like two femoral bones stuck together, and then a kneecap of sorts as a base. Two horns sprouted just under the eyes and outwards a few inches while two more shot out away from the sides of the eyes. And two more sprouted from above the eyes, mirror images of below. Even the top of the 'quiver' was fashioned like the bottom, and that symmetry coupled with the dark eye sockets to send shivers down Siena's spine. Jayred began packing the nineteen arrows into this hellish thing, before Siena reached out a hand and stopped him. "Thanks, but I think I will use my own quiver." She told him nervously, casting a small, polite smile before taking off the rusted iron quiver and placing the bone arrows inside. Even though she was not looking at it, the eyes of that skeletal quiver seemed to burn in her mind, staring at her. There was no way she could use such a thing. She was surprised she could even bring herself to use the bone arrows. But at least they don't stare at me, and make me think I'm wearing a creature. She reasoned with herself as she slung the quiver back on her back. Jayred clapped his hands together, nodding to Siena. She looked him up and down, noticed he was already prepared, and nodded back. "Let's go kill the Gatekeeper. We might die, but there are worse things." He told her, exiting. Siena forced her lips shut to prevent herself from speaking her mind. There were plenty of worse things in Siena's mind, but most of them came after death. ~*~*~*~*~ When Siena and Jayred arrived at the Gates of Madness, it was already midday. The sun pounded down upon them in the hot, muggy air, but both ignored it as they walked up the last steps leading to the plateau of the Gates. Simultaneously they readied their bows and knocked arrows of bone, Siena trying hard to ignore the material they were made of. The Gatekeeper -that horrid giant of preserved flesh and cast iron- just stood there, in the center of the stone plaza with the curving stairwells at each side and the bust of a man as big as the Gatekeeper behind it. And then it moved, making Siena flinch. But all it did was strut towards its left, walking calmly. Almost as if it failed to notice two bows drawn and aimed at it. Or maybe it just didn't care. "We have to alternate our fire, Jayred. You fire, then I will, then you will. Each time it will draw the Gatekeeper's attention from the other and onto the attacker. It'll give us time to draw and make another shot, and possibly help keep distance between us and the Gatekeeper." Siena explained, her voice smooth and unnaturally calm. "You go to one side, and I'll take the other." Siena told the Nord, and the captain nodded and moved towards the wall of rock at his left. Siena inched herself towards the wall of rocks on her right. The entire time, the Gatekeeper seemed oblivious to their presence. If anything, that was what unnerved Siena the most. Not that it was undead, or rotting where it stood; while that unnerved her to the core, it was fear, and fear could be overcome. No. It was the fact that the Gatekeeper seemed to not even care, as if they were meaningless fodder. Anger was often more fatal than fear. A bowstring twanged and an arrow whistled through the air, snapping Siena's attention towards it. She watched through her shaded lenses as the arrow soared and struck true, impaling the right shoulder of the monster; the sword shoulder. The Gatekeeper emitted a disgusting wale of pain, turning with remarkable agility towards the source of the arrow. The ground rumbled as it lumbered forward unabated by its wound, sword arm swinging back to prepare to strike. In a panic Siena raised her bow and aimed, focusing her eyes through her shaded glasses and clearly seeing her target. Forcing her breathing to normalize, she steadied her aim and fired. The bone arrow whistled through the air before piercing into the left side of that faceless head, and the Gatekeeper tilted to the right only slightly before continuing on its path. Almost as if the arrow did not even affect it. Horrified, Siena cried out as the serrated blade swiped forward, clanging against the rocky wall that Jayred had chosen as his location. She couldn't see any blood, but her mind was moving too frantically now to realize that fact, and she drew another arrow, leveled her bow, and fired. This one she made sure the Gatekeeper would feel; if it even had -or had need of- a heart. The arrow hit its mark and the Gatekeeper responded, though not in the way Siena had hoped. The unholy beast reared back in pain, again waling, before turning to face her. Siena was about to knock another arrow when the beast reared back again, and she heard Jayred's voice. "Die dammit!" The Gatekeeper twisted in rage and punched the spot where Jayred was supposed to be. Siena could see when it turned another arrow was jutting from the back of its right shoulder. The rock around the location cracked audibly, and Siena closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from screaming. She opened them again, though, when the earth began to rumble. The sword came down, but Siena was already rolling out of the way. The moment she was out of the roll, she was running for her life. In her heart she knew Jayred was dead. She knew he'd been wrong and the Gatekeeper couldn't be defeated. She knew she wasn't going to let herself die, here in this Tribunal-forsaken realm. She cared only for running, only for saving her life. She didn't even care that she'd dropped her bow in her haste to avoid the oncoming attack. It was like a nightmare where you are unable to run quickly, and time seemed to slow around her. She could hear the rumble of massive feet behind her, but it was overcome by the thumping of her heart in her ears. The stairs to safety seemed to stretch for an eternity. She heard the rumbles again; the Gatekeeper was closer behind her now. Instinctively she jumped, hurtling herself towards the bottom of the stairs. At the same time she twisted her body in midair and tapped into her depleted well of magicka, flinging a ball of flame at her nightmare. The sword came within a foot of her feet, and if she hadn't jumped it would have been her waist, and not air, that met the rough metal. The fireball exploded in the Gatekeeper's face, but as Siena landed hard on her back she couldn't really gauge how effective it had been. Hurriedly she raised herself up on one arm, the other clutching her side as she tried to steady her breath. She'd made it! She'd reached that border where the Gatekeeper would venture no further, and now stared at the monster in defiance. Its face was slightly redder than before as it presumably stared back, and then turned and left. As it walked up the stairs, Siena couldn't help but notice the odd way its sword arm seemed to dangle at its side. Eyes wide with shock, Siena hastily began picking up the bone arrows that had fallen from her quiver while she was in the air. So... if they did work... they simply didn't work enough. I need something else. Something to augment the arrows and do even more damage. She felt a giddiness come over her that was -to say the least- surprising. All she needed was one more weapon against that thing, and the nightmare would be over. Nanette! Relmyna had mentioned Nanette. Didn't she say something about... instructing her or something? Maybe she knows a weakness! Yes, yes that was just what she needed to do. Talk to Nanette and find another weakness. But first she had to find Nanette.
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Post by FC4 on Sept 28, 2008 21:40:43 GMT
Chapter 11: Opposites Siena reached the town of Passwall rather soon, though she was somewhat limping when she did arrive. Her back was sore from her landing, and her heart had still not slowed from the excitement of the battle. She fumbled with strands of her hair to keep them from her face and make herself presentable to the townsfolk. It didn’t seem to matter much though, as she did not immediately see any of them.
Felas came out of the inn bearing a bag of food in one arm, and being the only being in sight Siena naturally headed for him, moving quickly and with arm raised to grasp at him. “Felas! Felas, I need to ask you something.”
When the Dunmer saw her coming quickly, he freaked, dropping the bag and thrusting out his hands. “Stay away! Away! Don’t breathe on me!”
Siena complied, halting in front of him. She huffed, her breathing short, and rolled her eyes beneath her shaded glasses. Tilting her head up so as to not breathe in his direction, she spoke. “I’m not going to breathe on you, Felas. I just want to-“
“No no no! Now your horrid adventurer diseases are all about the air, and falling on me!” He began to cower in place, holding his hands over his head. Siena growled, her patience in this stressed state of activity wearing thin. So, to make sure he heard her, she yelled down at him.
“All I want to know is where Nanette is, damn it all!”
A silence fell over the two, and the surrounding area, and for a moment they remained still; Siena snarling down at the cowering form of the past agent of Hlaalu. But his shaking grew less pronounced, until at one point he peeked his head out at the huffing maiden.
“Nanette? Darling Nanette?” He asked softly, bewilderment in his eyes. Siena was struck by an odd feeling of pity and perplexity. He looked like such a child now. But his words struck her as remarkably unusual. Darling Nanette? Wha- wait no… That can’t be. Nonetheless, Siena controlled the expression of her face, smiling sweetly and nodding.
Felas grinned, rising and slowly gathering the food he had dropped. “I was just about to meet her, coincidentally. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a visitor to tear her away from her constant reading.” He said in a cheery tone that sharply contrasted his previous childish manner. When he had the bag in his arms again, though, his face was stern. “But promise you won’t breathe on, or touch, a thing.” His tone had gone hard, and Siena found herself reeling back in expectation of a strike. She nodded quickly, and Felas headed towards the house across from the inn.
By the time she had entered the threshold after the Dunmer, her heart had slowed considerably, but she was still feeling the adrenal high. It was a rather large home, and well furnished with the finest of lower class wooden furniture. A bookcase sat to her immediate right, a fireplace in front, and to her left the rest of the house remained. Her eyes wandered, seeing the long staircase leading up to a small balcony with a door, and barrels sitting upon it. More barrels sat beneath the staircase, and it was these Felas approached to store the new food. In one corner was a table, and then on the far wall she noted two beds, one on each side, with a barrel and a chest between them. But if they really are… wouldn’t there be only one bed? She wondered, before turning back to the fireplace when a voice spoke up, sweet and effeminate.
“Hello, is there something I can do for you?” The owner of the voice was a Breton woman in a dress that sharply resembled Relmyna’s, with the tussled cuffs, golden trimmings, and v-neck. But the woman’s was a deep crimson, not the black that was the necromancer’s. Her hair was braided tightly back behind her head into a bun, and she smiled politely. “What was that?” She asked absently, as if she had not heard what Siena had said. Fitting considering Siena had yet to speak.
“Nanette?” Siena managed to stutter hesitantly. The woman closed her book, setting it on the bookshelf beside her. The firelight flickered over her face, and Siena released it was indeed Nanette. The structure of her face… her eyes… it had to be. Siena took a step closer.
“Don’t get to close.” Felas warned as he was putting away a loaf of bread, making Siena stop. Nanette giggled, and waved a hand at the Dunmer.
“Oh stop it Fel. She’s fine.” Fel? Nanette turned back to smile at Siena. “So, who might you be, and how do you know me?”
“I’m… um…” Dammit! Will she even remember me? “My name is Siena. We used to work together once.”
“Hmm…” Nanette contemplated her words, before shaking her head. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell I’m afraid. What do you need?”
Siena sighed, brushing her hair from the side of her face before speaking up. “I need to know about the Gatekeeper.” She said quickly, hoping for the best. Nanette looked stunned for a moment, before looking around Siena’s thin form to Felas in the background.
“Fel, dear, is it alright if she sits here at the table? I’ll clean it up later.” Nanette said gently, and Felas looked up, before smiling and nodding. Again with the nickname… and dear.
“Alright, fine; but only if you clean up after her.” He ordered, and Nanette grabbed Siena’s hand.
“Here, come and sit and eat. You look far too thin.” She told the Dunmeri maiden, guiding her to the table and sitting her on the bench. Siena eyed the bread sitting there, and when Nanette nodded she snatched it up and began to eat. It had been almost a half a day since her last meal –a similar loaf of bread- and with all the excitement of the battle she’d gotten hungry again.
And thinking about the battle made her droop, as the rumble of rock being struck rung in her ears, and she imagined the snap of Jayred’s bones under such tremendous force. She shuddered.
“Are you okay?” Nanette suddenly asked, knocking her from her day-mare with a hand on her shoulder. Siena sniffled, nodded, and bit the bread, chewing for a bit as she tried to regain her composure. When she swallowed, she immediately jumped to the question.
“The Gatekeeper?”
“Oh, yes, right.” Nanette smiled. “He's Relmyna's crowning achievement. The Gatekeeper keeps out people who don't belong in the Shivering Isles. She made him in the Gardens of Flesh and Bone. She's my teacher.” She said proudly. “She's going to teach me all her secrets.” Siena’s eyes bulged beneath her glasses, and she nearly choked on a piece of bread in her mouth. She knew Nanette was getting taught by Relmyna; but she hadn't expected her to be so giddy about the idea.
“Oh, and this is really interesting -- wait! Never mind. My big mouth almost just got me in trouble again.” Nanette giggled girlishly at this, prompting a quizzical eyebrow from Siena.
“What’s interesting?” She finally asked after a moment of silence.
“I’d like to tell you… but really, I shouldn’t say anything more.” Nanette replied; worry crossed her green eyes as she spoke. Siena finished the bread in the following lack of discussion, thinking on her next course of action.
I could threaten her but… Felas was always better with a blade than me, and quicker. And she’s a sorceress. I doubt I could. But maybe… well, I’ve never really tried to trick someone that way before. But it’s the best I’ve got.
“Tell me about something else then… like you and Felas. What’s up there?” Siena asked after she swallowed the bread. She reached back and grabbed something -an apple- and began to bite into it, hunger still gnawing her insides.
Her attempt at small talk worked, and Nanette eagerly moved on to discussion of Felas. She remembered waking up on a plateau surrounded by mushroom trees, and being with the others of Passwall there, lost and confused. They’d banned together for safety and had begun to follow a stone path, fighting off strange monsters as they did. She recalled vividly watching Felas scout ahead atop stone rises, disappearing with grace into shadows and moving in on beasts that he could before they reached the group.
By the time they had reached the desolate town of Passwall, they’d lost one Dunmer man, who ran screaming back the way they had come. Belmyne… Siena thought instantly.
The town had been deserted, but when they continued on they found the Gatekeeper standing there, and in fear retreated back. Felas had comforted her in her fear of the beast, and offered to live with her to protect her. From there, Nanette left things to the imagination.
Siena was stunned by the story, not so much the tale of her companions in Passwall but of Felas and Nanette. Their minds really have been changed… “You two… used to hate each other you know.”
“Did we?” Nanette asked, blinking owlishly. “Why, I never recall such, do you Fel?”
“Nope.” He said simply from beside the fireplace, reading.
“Well you did. Back when I worked with you. You two were always at each other, insulting this way and that.” Siena replied, grinning. “Sometimes it was annoying.”
“I bet it must have been.” Nanette agreed. “But we’re better now.”
“I stood up for you back then though. Just about everyone made fun of you.” Siena added, and Nanette paused, perplexed. “You’re afraid of the Gatekeeper, right?”
“Well, yes, but-“
“I can stand up for you, help you, and stop him. I’ll stop him from haunting your thoughts.” Siena’s voice had leveled, as she grew more serious. In her mind, she was replacing ‘you’ with ‘me.’ “I’ll put a stop to the nightmares he caused.”
Nanette stared blankly at Siena for a time, before suddenly breaking down into tears. Felas got up quickly and rushed to her, embracing her. Siena watched the scene solemnly.
“Siena! Siena where are you?! If you can hear me say something!” The voice… it was distant, so distant, but it was familiar; male, young, and with an Ashlandic, hoarse accent.
“SIENA!” The decibel of the voice had risen drastically, and in fright she curled herself up tighter. His voice was so loud. If he kept this up he’d wake them up. They’d rise, slowly and creakily from their tombs, they’d slay and chase and never give in.
“Siena!” The cry was joyous now, and she forced her head up to see a young Dunmer lad with a torch in his hand and a chitin short sword in the other. He smiled, and rushed to her side, dropping the blade. “Found you. I got worried when you didn’t come back home for dinner last night, and your father started a search party. Come on, they’re just down the hall.”
Elation washed over her horrified body, and she thrust herself at the boy, embracing him tighter than ever before in their lives. “Oh Bel… it was terrible.” She sobbed. Belmyne patted her back reassuringly.
“It’s okay now, Cici.”
“I’ve been dying to tell someone.” Nanette’s choked voice cut into the memory, opening Siena’s eyes. The world was liquefied, and for a moment she was unsure what happened. Then a ripple ran through the world and coolness ran down her cheek. She’d been crying. She took her glasses off and cleaned them, looking to Nanette.
“You seem trustworthy enough… But don’t tell Relmyna I said anything!” Nanette ordered frantically, escaping Felas and rushing to Siena’s knees. She nodded. “Her Gatekeeper is flawed! Her tears hurt him!”
Siena thrust her head back, unprepared for that information. She hadn’t even realized Relmyna was capable of crying… “How the-“
“Her tears somehow agitate the Daedra bound to the Gatekeeper’s body.” Nanette explained quickly. “Her tears make it really restless, and it starts to strain harder against the warding magic.”
“But… Relmyna… crying?”
“She may seem like a tough woman, but the Gatekeeper makes her all weepy.” Nanette remarked. “Go see for yourself. She visits him every night around midnight.”
There; that was the key! Excitement bubbled up in Siena slowly, and she rose from the bench. Finally, she had a way to kill the Gatekeeper, and put an end to the nightmares! Relmyna’s tears! Now the question was how to go about getting them.
She was stopped half way to the door though, by a still frantic woman. “Just don't tell her I said anything. I might get another lesson in the nature of Pain. I don't like those lessons very much.” Nanette’s eyes were watery as she tried to speak calmly, and Siena stared back into them, her own emotion hidden behind the shaded lenses. She nodded.
“Thank you. Thank you!” Nanette cried out, and in her celebration Siena left the house, only one thing on her mind.
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Post by FC4 on Oct 24, 2008 1:33:32 GMT
Chapter 12: Tears of the Womb Siena crouched in the nook of the rocks, watching the plaza where the Gatekeeper stood with nervous shuddering. It was so close, so unbearably close; if it noticed her, it would charge, and in her spot of hiding she would be powerless against its rotten muscular force. But she had to hide here, and wait until midnight. So far the atrocity had yet to notice her, or maybe it had but did not care, as she had yet to set foot upon the polished white stones of the Gate. Either way, she could not risk leaving this spot to search for Jayred’s body; she wasn’t even sure she wanted the conformation of his death. This close to that horrid thing, she needed some form of hope, even if it was the slim hope Jayred was still alive. The only thing she had done was grab the bow she had dropped on the way to her hiding place. Time passed without Siena’s immediate awareness, and soon she heard the step of feet upon stone. Tensing, she pressed herself even closer to the rock, trying to become one with it. In the darkness, she made out a form small above, and large below, moving swiftly towards the Gatekeeper. In the light of the moon golden hems caught the light, and further revealed the dark form. “Well, my child-” The voice was undoubtedly Relmyna’s. “-how are you this evening?” The Gatekeeper lumbered towards her, and Siena watched as it knelt on one knee to be closer to Relmyna, and gave a garbled groan. “I am so proud of you, my child.” Relmyna’s voice had dropped, and Siena found herself unconsciously leaning forward to hear better. “You crush our Lord’s enemies to dust.” She sounded proud indeed, and the Gatekeeper made a noise Siena had never heard from it before; like a happy whine. She blinked in surprise, mouth dropping. “You are strong like Him.” Relmyna replied, raising a hand up to caress the sandpaper flesh of the undead being, cupping the massive cheek in her hand. “I made you for Him.” She spoke even softer, and Siena narrowed her eyes. The Gatekeeper titled its head to one side quizzically. Maybe it too had detected the somberness of her tone. “But despite that… still He refuses me. Why? Why?” She withdrew her hand, plucking at something near her bodice. Siena heard a sniffle. Relmyna was actually crying. Siena never thought she would actually be witness to such a moment, when that vile witch of a woman actually cried, revealing femininity beneath her disgusting hide. But here it was; and she had to get those tears. She was tempted to dash out and take the handkerchief now, and run. But the Gatekeeper stopped her. Not with a physical confrontation, but with its action towards Relmyna. Its hand actually reached for the necromancer, and it emitted a low whine. Despite the gruesome countenance of the thing, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking of a small child, reaching out to a crying mother and seeking to comfort her. Relmyna broke this image when she stepped back, dropping the handkerchief on the white stone in her haste to get away. “No! Remember what happened last time, when you touched my tears? Keep away!” The Gatekeeper emitted a pained whine as Relmyna turned and ran, dress fluttering behind her in the night. Siena was paralyzed with amazed confusion. Had she just witnessed an expression of emotion… of love… from that abomination? Was it even possible for the undead to have emotion? There was no doubt something emotional had occurred, but was the Gatekeeper’s reaction truly emotional? A soft moan made her jolt, and she looked at the Gatekeeper as it sat down on the stone floor, staring without eyes at the stairs from which its ‘mother’ had come. Siena balked, a cold tingle washing over her. It was emotional. And such a discovering was disgustingly horrifying. She’d actually instilled true soul into that hunk of flesh. It wasn’t just an abomination of the body; it was an abomination of soul. How long she waited, Siena forgot, but the Gatekeeper finally rose and turned its back to the stairs, looking at the large bust of a man between the two gates. It was now or never, and Siena had no intention of sitting there a moment longer. The agile Dunmer thief dashed to the edge of the white stone plaza, reaching out her hand and snatching up the handkerchief before throwing herself to the side, to avoid landing on the plaza. When she stopped skidding, she got up and started running, not bothering to look back and see if the Gatekeeper followed. ~*~*~*~*~ When Siena arrived back in town she moved straight to Jayred’s hut, having no trouble getting there as no one but Relmyna would be up. The image of the necromancer sniffling in a heap on her desecrated bed made Siena smirk, and she entered the hut without even flinching at the boney décor. She set the handkerchief down on the table, and moved through the hut with a purposeful vigor, looking through the barrels for something. She apparently failed to find it, as she ended up staring at the chest by the door instead, before pulling Jayred’s lockpick out of her boot and kneeling before it. When the lock clicked and she lifted the lid, she smiled sinisterly. She had found her quarry, and lifted the remains of the Gatekeeper femur from the chest, setting it on the floor near the table. The best way to kill something is with the bones of its own. Jayred’s words echoed in her mind, and she sat on the bench, looking at the femur for a moment. Slowly, her iron dagger –the one Belmyne had tried to kill her with- was removed from the sheath, and she got up, sitting on the floor next to the bone. She had the arrows, she had the tears. But there was one thing in her arsenal missing; one weapon against the Gatekeeper she didn’t have. She needed the best weapons possible if she were to fight that thing alone. And as Jayred said, the best weapon was a bone. Siena closed her eyes, pushed her glasses up her nose, and exhaled slowly. I’m doing this for them… Belmyne, Jayred, Nanette… All of them. I can’t afford to take chances. I have to do this. She brought the dagger to the surface of the bone, angling the edge. For them.
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Post by FC4 on Nov 2, 2008 21:15:15 GMT
Chapter 13: Kill the Gatekeeper, Part 2The sun peaked in the sky, sending rays of light upon the denizens of the Shivering Isles. A few rays pierced the windows of Jayred Ice-Vein’s hut, the dust in the air sparkling like magic as the light cast itself upon dank, dirty wooden floorboards. It served to illuminate the home in a soft light, though still manifested as those intense beams upon the ground. The only other light source was the weak glow of the embers in the fireplace, the flame long dead to the chill of night. It was in this dimness that Siena awoke, silently lifting herself with one arm into a leaning posture and looking through her hair at the surroundings. It was all a blur, but an organized blur, and she could make out the stairs and fireplace, and the dagger in her hand, but everything was fuzzy, like she was drinking. Where am I? She wondered, looking around and then searching the ground for her glasses. After putting them on, she registered where she was, and frowned. It wasn’t a dream… She had been hoping fervently it was all a dream. But for naught, as she still awoke to her nightmare. Siena further looked about the area, grimly picking up a collection of ivory shavings on the ground. She let them fall like sand through her fingers before reaching for her creation, picking it up. The shortsword was a child’s production in quality, but it would have to do. She’d managed to make it marginally balanced and sharp, and that would have to be good enough. Reluctantly she rose and went to the table, sitting down with a sigh. She ignored the food and mechanically began to wipe the neckerchief on the blade of the bone sword, her eyes distant. It had to be done. I can’t allow myself any disadvantage. It has to die! I have to kill it! Have to… Siena cried out in frustration, flinging the sword at the archery target Jayred hung on the wall by the stairs. The sword spun and stuck in the wood perfectly. Siena slammed her fists on the table, plates and food jumping, before sagging her head and breaking out in tears. “I can’t do it… I can’t kill it…” She murmured hopelessly. “It’s… It’ll just kill me, like it did Jayred…” “Then how are you supposed to get revenge, Siena?” A male voice broke in, and caused the Dunmeri maiden to blink, fall silent, and look up hastily. Sure enough, Belmyne was there, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, smirking. “How are you supposed to bring us back to Tamriel and help us, if you’ve given up?” Siena blinked again, staring at Belmyne. She didn’t even register that he was dead, only that he was there. She stared at him teary-eyed for a while, contemplating his words and then sighing in defeat. Reprimanded, she stood up and walked to the target, pulling the sword out and polishing it with the tear-soaked neckerchief again as she moved to the table. Tears still came down her cheeks, but she bit her lip as she worked. “You’re right, Belmyne. I can’t give up. Then that bastard would win.” She muttered, setting down the sword and drawing arrows from the quiver on the table. “Of course I’m right. When have I been wrong?” Belmyne asked, and Siena cracked a smile. “Oh, I remember the time when-” She began, only to stop when she turned around and found Belmyne gone. Her lips quivered as tears welled in her eyes again, and she brought the neckerchief close to her chest. “Belmyne…” Her voice was a crackled whisper. “Thank you… For everything.” ~*~*~*~*~ It was a belief firmly ingrained in her heart and mind from the days of her youth, a part of her culture and who she was. The ancestors of her people, the spirits of those loved ones dead and passed on, would always be there for her, to help her and guide her. And so it was with confidence Siena placed a furred boot upon the final step to the Gates of Madness, and slipped her bow off her shoulders. She felt in her heart that Belmyne’s spirit was with her, to guide and protect her. And of all the people in the world, she would never let her beloved down. Smoothly she knocked the bone arrow, her consciousness so focused that her queasiness was ignored, her determination overriding her fears. Face set for battle, she leveled the bow, glaring through her lenses at the giant blubber of rotted flesh that was her foe, her fear, her obstacle. Through the special glass she could see it clearly, make out those unholy symbols that kept it alive, and grit her teeth in anger at the atrocity that it was before firing. The arrow sailed forth and struck, hitting the Gatekeeper in the right shoulder. It stumbled as a harsh, grating cry of pain emitted from the mouth-less ogre, and its left hand reached up to grab at the arrow. The being shuddered as it ripped the arrow out, tossing it to the ground, and turned towards Siena. The Hlaalu agent’s eyes went wide, and that determination began to slip, her fears fighting back. It… failed… The fleshy horror lumbered forward, its sword arm swinging back sloppily as blood oozed from its shoulder. Siena braced herself, before launching to the side and rolling into a crouch as the massive cast iron blade slashed down, not a moment too soon. Holding her pose she drew another arrow swiftly and knocked, aiming the bow at an awkward slanted angle and firing. This arrow didn’t quite hit the mark, but still nicked the shoulder and stuck to the flabby skin, barely puncturing at the bad angle. The Gatekeeper let out another tormented wail, turning towards her and swinging with its fist. Siena leapt to dodge, but ended up directly in the swing-back of the backhand. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs and she felt magicka surge through her, before she was flung across the plaza to the ground. Siena had certainly not expected the Gatekeeper to use magic, but it hadn’t helped the Gatekeeper much. The dark glow of destructive energies sparked over her skin, only to be absorbed in pinprick flashes of light by her body. Silently thanking the gods for her birthsign, she picked herself up as the Gatekeeper lumbered towards her and reached back for an arrow. But the quiver was empty; they’d fallen out when she was flung across the plaza, and were twigs strewn over the ground. Panicking, Siena dived, narrowly avoiding the sword chop as she rolled and grasped one of the arrows on the ground, knocking and pulling back. She didn’t have time to fire, however, and that nuisance hand sought to slap her again, and she had to leap backwards, releasing the bowstring and holding the arrow to the bow with her left hand alone in order to catch herself and complete the flip, landing on her feet again. She hastily pulled back again and aimed, firing at the giant chest as the Gatekeeper righted itself. The behemoth stumbled back, falling onto the large statue between the two stairs, before collecting itself and lumbering forward drunkenly. Its entire body was shuddering violently as it moved, trying to get to the woman that tormented it so. Siena stepped back, reaching for her shortsword; all the remaining arrows were on the ground near the Gatekeeper. She was running out of options fast. Another step, and the Gatekeeper roared, throwing its sword arm into the air and seeking to divide the Dunmer in two equal halves. Siena gulped, tensed her legs and prepared for the worst. An arrow whistled in the air, before a soft groan echoed from the monster. Siena took the chance offered in the moment of hesitance, and jumped at the Gatekeeper, slamming her sword into the rotted gut. As she impacted against her foe and the blade pierced, the giant tottered backwards, before crashing to the ground on its back and sending Siena rolling out of control to the ground near its head. She remained there, legs splayed out and arms flopped, catching her breath in a daze. Siena brushed her hair behind her ears and pushed her glasses up her nose, looking through the grey lenses to see a man standing on the plaza, holding a bow in front of him. She was stunned into silence as the man stumbled to her, sitting himself on the ground. “Jayred?” “Congratulations. The Gatekeeper is slain.” Jayred replied with a smile. He sounded like he was in pain, though, which made Siena worry. She looked over her shoulder to the Gatekeeper, as if to check it was indeed dead. When she looked back she got on her knees and moved towards Jayred. “You’re hurt.” “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Jayred waved her off, looking at the Gatekeeper. “You did well; the honor of taking the keys from his corpse is yours.” The Nord told her, changing the subject without hesitance. Siena bit her tongue, recoiling. She’d actually have to… Jayred looks like he’s near death. He can’t do it. And the keys are the only way… but where are they? She wondered, slowly rising to her feet and stepping towards the corpse. She approached the head –nearly as large as she- and rested her hands hesitantly on the sandpapering flesh, looking at the face. She gasped and gagged at what she saw. In the wells of its eye sockets the flesh was bulging in the shape of a key. One of them was in there. Why does it always have to be the WORST possible outcome?! Siena snarled as she forced herself to draw Belmyne’s dagger, and jabbed at the eye. Well, it could be worse actually… But this is hardly any better! The entire time she had her eyes shut as she cut out the flesh around the bulge, and tossed it aside. She opened them again to look at the result. The key was there, sewn onto muscle loosely. Lower lip quivering and stomach about to flip, she wrapped her fingers under the key and against the flesh, and pulled. Blood sprayed out and speckled her body. Groaning in disgust she dropped the key, and moved to the other side of the head to repeat the process. When she was finished, Siena was a gruesome polka dot painting of blood, and had two keys in her hands, flesh still dangling in small shreds from the thread that held it on the corpse. She’d left the bone sword purposely along with the bone arrows, unwilling to continue using them now their purpose was served. She stopped as she was heading for one of the stairs by male voice. It was a familiar bretonic voice, and the tone was sarcastic at first, then moderately disappointed. “So, you’ve managed to kill the Gatekeeper. Pity.”
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Post by FC4 on Nov 5, 2008 17:55:43 GMT
Chapter 14: Mania and Dementia Siena turned in place, her shoulders rotating towards the speaker, but her hips remained in place, still about to take another step. She finally moved one foot towards the man, to better her balance.
“Yeah, I did. So?” She snapped hotly. She’d not forgotten the irritation Haskill had given her the last time they met.
“Well, you'll now be able to enter the Realm proper. You'll notice there are two doors. One leads to the lands of Mania. The other to Dementia. Enter through either one.” Haskill told her dutifully, reciting a script line for line. He’s a terrible actor.
“And what’s the difference?” Siena asked, now turning fully to face Haskill and folding her arms, arrogantly jutting out one hip and slouching.
“The lands of Mania are bright, vibrant, and full of color. You'll find its inhabitants reflect the land itself. If you wish to meet the residents of Mania, you'll find them in the settlements of Hale and Highcross. Take care, though. Though the citizens and creatures of Mania are colorful, they can often be quite deadly. I'm sure you can handle it, though.” The compliment came dryly, lacking interest or conviction, and made Siena feel as special as the multitude of dead adventure bones around her.
“The lands of Dementia reflect the darker side of its residents.” Haskill continued carelessly. “It is easy to get lost among the tangle of roots growing out of the ground. If you wish to meet Dementia's citizens, seek them out in Deepwallow or Fellmoor. I'm sure they'll welcome one such as you with open arms.”
“What is that supposed to mean?!” Siena snarled, reaching for the iron dagger at her belt. Just like last time, she paused, unsure if she should strike, or let this man carry on.
“It means whatever you make of it.” Haskill replied, shrugging in a courtly, elegant fashion that only made him even more pompous and haughty. “You may enter through either one. Really, it depends on which aspect of the Realm more suits your disposition.” The last word was spoken slowly, and he had narrowed his eyes disgustedly at her. “As I've said, all choices have consequences, but don't trouble yourself too much with your decision. All those that enter the Realm are forever changed, but some believe it is for the better. A good portion of them, at least.”
Haskill suddenly seemed to remember something, and reached into his buckled blouse, pulling out a delicately folded piece of parchment. “Here.” He told her curtly, and Siena snatched the parchment from him with a glare. “You'll want to seek out Lord Sheogorath. I believe He has plans for you. Try not to disappoint Him.” Haskill sighed, and Siena looked up at the man, frowning.
“More of this champion stuff, huh? Where is he?” Siena inquired, her aggravation lowering as Haskill proved even more useful.
“You will find Him in New Sheoth, in His palace.” Haskill explained, before tilting his head to one side a small degree. “It is best not to make Lord Sheogorath wait. His whims are fleeting, and should He decide you are no longer necessary, it would be to your detriment.”
“Yeah yeah whatever. I’m his guest and he should account for travel time. I’m no god after all. Can’t appear wherever I bloody well wish.” She shot this remark dryly at Haskill, who raised one eyebrow with supreme eloquence before sighing.
“My work is never done.” He retorted, and right before her eyes began to deteriorate. Dark purple light swirled around him as he faded, becoming transparent. Siena snarled, snapping out one hand to try and grab the man by the collar and give him a piece of her mind. She grasped thin air, flexed her fingers, and growled.
Shoving him from her mind, Siena unfolded the parchment he had given her, looking at it. It was… a map. She stared at it, looking over the details. So… this is the Fringe… And New Sheo is here. From this map, the most direct route to New Sheo seemed to be the Low Road, which ran through Dementia and ‘The Hill of Suicides’.
“Peachy…” Siena muttered, folding up the map and sticking it in her boot along with the one lockpick. Hearing steps behind her, she looked to see Jayred standing there, stalwartly holding his bow and waiting for the Gates to open.
“You get them gates open, and I’m going in. They call to me.” Jayred muttered, and Siena nodded, sighing.
She had to get to Sheogorath; that much was certain. She had to find him, and either beat the royalty out of that Daedric Prince –and his irritating Chamberlain- or convince him to give her back her comrades, somehow. Both were about as impossible as her being able to fly, but Siena didn’t care. All her life her superiors had advocated her determination, to never stop no matter the obstacle. She wasn’t about to ignore their preaching now. Pushing her glasses up her nose again she moved up the stairs, chainmail cuirass clinking softly. One of the two doors, the southern one, stood before her, and she stared at it.
It was less of a gate, and more of a tunnel into infinite darkness. Even the sun as it angled towards the horizon on its afternoon descent failed to pierce into the darkness of that tunnel. Siena looked up and saw the ceiling of the gate, which towered over even the Gatekeeper. With Jayred behind her, Siena began to walk into the tunnel, her fur-lined steps damped by the sheer size of the gate.
Somewhere within the dark depths, Siena was forced to stop as her hand began to shake, and she looked at it with horror. One of the keys, the dark blue and spiked one, had begun to glow, and she dropped it and the other key. Both began to glow, and then lifted into the air in front of them, before disappearing in a flash that blinded Siena.
Once the light faded from her vision, she looked around, uncertain. There was a stone platform ahead, so she walked onto it, emerging from the gate to the afternoon sun. Even in the daylight it was dank and foggy, and she couldn’t make out much beyond a few yards, glasses or no. Cautiously she tread forward, taking step after step and growing a little more confident with each one.
She girlishly squealed when a trail of sparkling green lights danced in front of her and then weaved off ahead in the air. Hands on her heart, she sighed, head dropping to the ground. Get yourself together Siena. It was just… whatever that is. She looked up again at the dancing lights, curious. A hand nervously reached out, but just as she was about to touch the lights they skittered off, swerving into the air in wild yet elegant motions. And then Jayred ran off ahead.
“Wait… Jayred hold on!” Siena took off after him, trying to keep up with the athletic Nord. After a minute or so she gave up, plopping herself down with a huff in the grass and leaned her head back against a tree. “Just like all men, gets what he wants then up and leaves.” She grumbled, and then laughed softly at her own joke. She stopped laughing when there was a creak of wood, and she opened her eyes, looking up.
Looking back down were eight eyeballs, attached to wood by small stalks that sprouted from a mangling of branches and trunk. The tree was carved in places, the bark removed to reveal smooth wood in a fashion that resembled a skull. Through the teeth of this skull emitted a soft glow of green light, and a wisp of emerald smoke curled out.
Siena tensed up, and slowly turned herself around so her back faced away from the creature. On all fours, she began to stalk backwards, slowly moving away from it. The thing tilted its head to one side, the eight eyeballs watching her, before what she once thought were roots lifted off the ground; they were arms. Three thick claws of carved wood protruded from the ends of the branches, the arms double jointed and tree-like. Siena froze, but it made no other move, and she began her retreat once again.
Another set of roots shifted, and the entire ‘tree’ rose off the ground, held up by three double-jointed legs in a tripod fashion. The creature lifted its front leg and leaned back, reaching out and taking what looked to be a very off-balance step. The two back legs jolted forward as the entire creature lurched toward her, arms reaching to skewer her flesh. Siena screamed, balling herself up and rolling away.
Getting out of the roll with one hand and drawing the iron dagger with the other, she looked at the tree creature as it righted itself and turned to face her, those eight eyes staring and never blinking. Siena shuddered and turned away as it lopsidedly charged. Coiling herself she sprung up onto a rock cliff running along the left side of the road, pulling herself up and turning to see the tree run into the rocks, stumbling back.
Going on pure instinct Siena jumped, landing on the thing’s shoulders. Bracing her feet against its inner elbows to prevent it from reaching back to her, Siena frantically stabbed at the skull of the tree, swaying with the beast as it went this way and that and tried to dislodge her.
After what seemed like an eternity it fell backwards, pinning Siena to the ground with its head on her stomach. Siena gasped in pain, but on a good note… the beast stopped moving. Siena just stared at the sky as she laid there, a mutant tree being between her legs and pinning her stomach to the ground. Vivec help me… even the trees are murderous… What is this place?”
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Post by FC4 on Nov 29, 2008 1:44:59 GMT
Chapter 15: Please Don’t Feed the Grummites ”Siena! Siena wake UP!” A youthful male voice called out to her, echoing as if far off. Siena frowned, aggravated at being disturbed in her sleep. ”Siena, you lazy n’wah! You’re going to miss the ceremony!”
Siena opened her eyes, partially at first, then fully. The world around her was blurry but she could make out Belmyne’s fit young form, his handsome young face. He was leaning over her, close to her and clearer than the world behind him. He looked to be ten, maybe twelve years old. ”They’re swearing your papa into the position of Councilor today, remember? Don’t you want to be at the ceremony?” Belmyne asked her with a jesting scowl. Siena smiled.
“Yeah, I’ll be ready in a second…” Siena whispered, and raised herself onto one elbow before pausing, perplexed. It didn’t feel like a bed beneath her. It felt hard and unyielding, like rock. And the light around her was soft, like firelight, the colors blurring into splotches of browns and mold greens in her fuzzed vision. This wasn’t her house, and as she looked around, she could not find Belmyne either. What she did see made her tongue knot up and nearly choke her.
Through a thin wooden gate she could see the blurred form of a hulking humanoid beast roughly half her height, with spikes on its back. It reminded her of a fat goblin, and it stood between a small campfire and a pavilion of sorts fashioned from wooden poles and an animal skin roof. In the firelight Siena saw a glint of dulled metal. The surrounding area was new to her, but the form was familiar. It was that same sort of hideous monstrosity she had first met when entering this realm. Apparently, the goblin analogy wasn’t too far off; it was as primitive and intelligent as a goblin, and equally getting on Siena’s nerves.
The thing was holding something, inspecting it. Siena could only guess what thanks to her glasses missing. This brought the question of where they were, where she was… and how the hell she’d gotten here. She shifted her position slowly to try and find the spectacles on the ground, but a surge of stinging pain made her bite her lower lip and stop moving.
Still biting back the urge to cry out, she looked at herself, and found the cause of the pain; her right thigh was gashed, and it looked like a wolf attack. She tried to wrack her aching brain for the cause of this sudden injury.
She walked down the path cautiously, looking around the cliff that flanked her left side for an enemy in the distance. The grasses to her right shifted, and as she turned a form charged her, hitting her thigh before she could even register what it looked like. She hit the cliff wall... And that was as far as she could remember. Frowning, Siena tried to take inventory of her situation further without moving. Her chainmail cuirass and furred boots were on, along with the pants. She could still feel the lockpick in the boot, along with Belmyne’s iron dagger in the other. Siena smirked wickedly; the thing was indeed as intelligent –or less so- as a goblin.
She needed to escape. Needed to heal, needed to find her glasses, needed to get out of wherever she now was. Slowly dragging herself towards the gate of her confinement, she bit back the throbbing pain and reached into her boot for the lockpick.
The lock was as primitive as the prison ‘bars’, and in half a minute Siena had cracked it open without issue. But she knew the gate wasn’t going to be an obstacle; killing her captor in her state was the true obstacle. But unlike before, she could not see any source of water in the area; one point in her favor. The other was the element of surprise.
Siena closed her eyes, searching within herself for that large pool of magicka common to those of the Atronach. While it was still dwindled, unable to recover from the more recent uses, there was enough for her purpose, and while still lying on the ground, she delicately pushed open the gate.
The other hand was pulsing with magicka, and Siena lifted herself using the gate, weakly thrusting this hand out at the offending blur-monster. The magicka ignited and shot forth, fire rushing through the air. The impact was not largely explosive, but sent the beast stumbling.
Right into the campfire.
The resulting cries of agony made Siena shut her eyes as the thing began to flail about, only fanning the growing flames. She couldn’t erase the feeling that a frog being burned alive would make a very similar noise, and those unease-inducing cries echoed in her mind long after the toad-man-thing had collapsed and died of third degree burns. Grimacing at her bittersweet victory, Siena crawled towards the campsite of the now prone form, searching the ground. Finally she felt thin, cool metal on her fingers, and scrambled to put on her lenses and see the world clearly once more.
The sudden shift from dull, dim, and blurry to dimmer, duller, and clearer induced further headache in the Dunmer. Groaning, she reached for Belmyne’s dagger, crawled to the bedroll the creature had slept upon once, and began to shred it. If she was going to make it out of here, she had to properly tend to the wound. It was dried and scabbing, but if there were more of those frog-faces, it wouldn’t remain that way. Siena sincerely hoped there weren’t, or there could possibly be healing potions somewhere in this place.
There was only one way to go when she’d managed to get steady on her feet, and that was through the hall beyond. Grabbing the spear-point dagger of the burnt corpse for extra armament, she proceeded to stumble down the hall, her clumsy steps softened by the moss of the tunnel floor. Navigating was even more difficult because of the tint of her lenses (which, ironically, was supposed to help her see; the craftsmen had not accounted for dungeon dives) dimming the already low lighting given off by the bulbous blue flora she occasionally passed.
Thankfully, the tunnel was relatively level; unfortunately, it also led right into a four-way intersection occupied by not one, but two of the beasts. Their skin glistened like slime in the light of two torches erected at the entrance of the tunnel to her left; a tunnel going down. The tunnel opposite her went up. Siena frowned as she carefully crouched into a nook in the rock wall of her tunnel, shrouded in shadow and soft, dim blue light.
Torches mean encampments. Encampments mean more of them. Uphill slope means it is likely to lead to the surface, out of here. But it could also be a dead end. And I am in no condition to fight even two of these, let alone more… As she was musing in the darkness, the two beings had wandered towards separate halls. Snapping at the opportunity to get at least somewhere, Siena dashed for the hall to her immediate right, remaining close to the wall and barely maintaining poise. When she’d made it into the hall and around a bend without incident, she thanked Vivec for the moss beneath her feet, collapsing to rest.
After the pain in her thigh had begun to dull, and no further danger was imminent from either direction of the tunnel, Siena rose and carried on, a tight grip on both daggers making her dark blued knuckles turn white. She slowly made her approach, hiding her slim form behind a large mold-green blob with mangrove-like roots before coming out in full view to find a dead end.
She did frown, but she did not turn away. She found her attention grabbed by a certain thick root that came from the ceiling and continued into the floor. It was blotched in bright spots of hardened sap, and those strange lights she’d first seen when passing through the Gates of Madness danced now in front of the root. Only now they were orange and danced far more frantically. Slowly, she stepped up to the root and brushed her fingertips over the smooth amber, before smiling.
Hlaalu minds thought primarily of three things; survival, political strength, and wealth. Siena raised the crude spear-tip dagger she’d confiscated, and began to carve at the amber, wedging the blade between crystallized sap and hard wood. Small, light chucks came loose, and these few chunks she pocketed. The beautiful amber looked valuable, if the Shivering Isles proved to have a market; and if it had guards, Siena would not be able to pilfer for her meals. And wealth meant influence; she’d need all the leverage she could get against the Mad God, any diplomatic or aggressive might she could grasp.
Siena gasped as a strange gas spewed from a tree trunk, the thick cloud of green suffocating her with a weak stench. Pinching her nose, Siena looked at the twin stumps of hollowed wood. In the hallow shell, a mass of green gelatinous matter had taken up residence. Siena leaned close curiously. Was that-?
Her reaction was instantaneous, her arm plunging into the blob without hesitation. She ripped it back out, clutching a bottle victoriously in her hand; a hand which was now elbow-deep in aqua blue slime.
Siena ignored this fact as she looked at the bottle, staring at the contents. Seeming unconvinced of the safety of the potion, she opened it and sniffed it. Satisfied, she became a Nord with his first mead in a week, not even stopping to breathe between gulps. Finished, the bottle fell to the ground as Siena slumped against the amber root and sighed.
The potion was weak, and took a little time to take affect, but when it worked to heal her wound she felt the difference quickly; the cool, soothing touch of magic upon her intensely tingling thigh. A minor healing, but it would be enough for now; until she could find another potion. The other trunk was sadly empty.
Before she got up, though, she looked at the spear-point dagger inquisitively. Then her grip shifted to the tip of the blade, and she chucked it at the wall. It stuck. Good… a better throwing knife than the iron dagger, though somewhat off balance. If I can get one critical shot though, I can make it. She reasoned with herself, going over to the dagger and yanking it out, before turning towards the tunnel entrance soberly.
Of the two, the first one didn’t even get to know what it was that buried itself at the base of his skull, but his comrade knew quite well when he slumped to the ground. The slimy humanoid hissed anger as it turned towards the killer, seeing the shimmer of steel chain links and a glint of red eyes in the torchlight. The being sloshed forward on its webbed feet, charging at Siena.
Unlike her first encounter with the thing, Siena was more accustomed to it, and better prepared for the battle as a result. This preparation was evident in the simple fact that the beast’s charge was cut short by a small advance by the Dunmer, followed by a vicious stab to the face when it was open to attack. Apparently, they weren’t quite intelligent enough to understand blocking with those daggers of theirs. Siena plundered the bodies, taking the daggers and spare gold. To her delight, one of them was also sporting a lockpick. That fit nicely into the boot with the other, but the four daggers wouldn’t fit in a boot quite so nicely.
A little disturbed by the idea of it, she decided on taking the thick black leather belt off one of the corpses, and holding onto the daggers with it. Once armed comfortably, she looked at the last two tunnels. One went down –the one with the torches- but the other went up. Reason dictated that in a cavern up was good if one desired escape, so she took that path.
The uphill slope proved unforgiving to her thigh, which wasn’t happy with her behavior of late either. But she made it, and around the bend found herself looking at another small ‘camp’. The fire cast an eerie, unnerving light on the slick, fat bodies, but it also revealed another form beyond them. Taller, thinner, and three-legged. She could barely make out the silhouette, but shuddered nonetheless. That living tree…
There had to be another way. Siena had been sticking close to the wall, and now in frustration leaned against the bubbly wet-
What the-?! Siena realized it too late, however, and fell through the sea green membranous screen onto hard stone. Frighteningly turning around, she watched the membrane close itself back up, removing all trace of her ever passing through the ‘door’. Now the cavern was beginning to unnerve her. Slowly, she rotated and headed down the new tunnel.
This one opened up into a vast underground chamber decorated with massive roots that ran along the walls, diagonally like ramps from the upper to the lower level, and even across the gaps between plateaus above. Most of the roots sported protrusions that were sharp pointed and large; either root branches, or really large thorns. More of the fluorescent flora abounded the cavern, but Siena turned her intention instead to the poorly made stake barricade made at the tunnel entrance. And the animal skin roofs she could see on the above plateaus. The torches, and three large crimson statues, did little to dissipate the idea that she’d just stumbled upon a full scale encampment.
Inhaling through her nostrils, Siena clenched her fists, and hoped her leg would hold up to the coming battles. Getting out of here was not going to be easy.
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