The adventure begins...
Nathan should have known what type of day he would have when he was thrown overboard from the galleon as it sailed up through Niben Bay.
It was a great introduction to the Imperial Province.
He dragged himself ashore, grimacing as his wet clothes stuck to him and his armour started chafing, dodging the vegetables being thrown at him.
"Thanks for the supplies!" He called, as the ship sailed on, and one by one the jeering faces disappeared from the deck as the rain started to fall.
"Damn leather armour! Always shrinks in the wet." He grumbled to himself, beginning to remove it. He sat down on the ground to take off his boots and took in his surroundings.
There was a shrine of some sort not far away from him, but other than the road he sat on, there was no trace of civilisation as far as the eye could see. If his geography was correct, and he checked his stolen map to confirm it, he was in Leyawiin County, a little north of the small settlement of Water's Edge. That placed him not too far from the border with Elsweyr; not that he wanted to go there right now. Blasted cats were the reason he was turfed off the ship.
As he sat there ruminating, Nathan became increasingly aware of noises. They were odd noises, sometimes loud and violent, other times down to a small hum with the occasional demented dog bark.
With nothing better to do, he picked up his armour and began walking through the forest in search of the source.
What he came across at the top of the hill, was not something he would have expected.
He always thought cults gathered after dark, with fiery torches staked out around them, burning who knew what, and with a haze of hallucinogens hanging over. The cult in front of him seemed to favour standing around in the rain, half-naked.
Nathan ducked behind a tree to avoid their view and watched them for a while. They said nothing; just wandering the clearing around the massive statue, occasionally offering wordless praise but for the most part standing around. The noises occurred haphazardly and, most surprisingly, the barking came from an Argonian. The statue, itself, was of a remarkably well-dressed gentleman, leaning on a cane.
Eventually, he tired of standing in the shadows, and so Nathan entered the clearing and approached the only sensibly dressed person present: the Dark Elf in the white robe.
"Ah, excuse me? My name is Nathan. What is this place?"
"Place. Not place? Here. Not here? Welcome to the Grove of Madness, stranger. Or go away. Who knows? Time will tell."
"Okay." Nathan leaned away from him, hoping that whatever had induced this idiocy was not still in the atmosphere. "So, it's the Grove of Madness, then? So, you're all mad."
"Killed and ate a Bosmer there. But it made me sick. Saw Lord Sheogorath in the vomitus, so that's alright. Here to sacrifice? A limb would be nice."
"Sheogorath?" Nathan pondered the name, "Where have I heard that before?"
"He might appear. Because it's raining. He loves the rain. Because it's wet! Or because it's rainy."
"Yes, it is." Nathan replied, not really listening to the madman, er elf, any more.
"Of course, you'll need an offering. I think a lesser soul gem, a head of lettuce, and some yarn will do the trick. Yes, that's what Sheogorath wants."
"What do I need an offering for?" Nathan enquired, only to be turned by the Dark elf toward the statue and given a not so gentle shove forward.
"Ah! Alright then. So it was a lesser soul gem? I'm sure I've got one of those here." Nathan dug around in his pack, finally finding what he sought, right at the bottom.
"A head of lettuce." He paused as the Nord let out a high-pitch giggle. Nathan shuffled away from him, disturbed. "And what else was there? Yarn? As if you'd carry that around."
He closed his pack, glancing around the clearing again. The Dark Elf was standing nearby, back turned. Nathan's eyes narrowed as he scanned the robe.
Technically, it is yarn. He thought to himself, surreptitiously sneaking closer, still searching for a loose bit. He found one, near the ground, along the frayed edges of the garment. Sure, it wasn't white anymore, nor was it in good condition, but the elf had only asked for yarn.
He crouched down, waiting for his moment as the Elf turned to look behind him, then he swooped in and grabbed it, pulling it loose and leaving the hem all bunched up.
"AH HAH!" He yelled, falling over backwards in his excitement. The cult members didn't seem at all fazed by the sudden outburst
"Yes, well. Uh, now what?"
As if answering his rhetorical, undirected question, the imperial man with no pants on, stood up and approached the shrine. He hummed a little tune-less tune, turned on the spot and returned to his seat, mounting the bench sideways and pinching himself.
"Thank you, I guess." Nathan murmured, turning towards the statue, "Here goes nothing." He walked up to the pedestal and shoved the three items haphazardly at the statue's feet.
Nothing happened.
Nathan stared up at the statue, eyebrow raised in question, only to fall back in shock as the statue's eyes darted down to look at him, and the figure seemed to shake off a layer of masonry to view him properly.
Another mortal dares to summon me and already I'm bored. But enough about me. Let's talk about you.
"Alright, what do you…." Nathan was cut off as the Daedric Prince surveyed him with a wicked gleam in his eye.
I could turn you into a goat. Or a puddle, or a bad idea. I could make you eat your own fingers. Or fall in love with a cloud.
"Can I refuse now?" Nathan squeaked, backing away.
Perhaps I could make you into something useful. Let's find out.
Nathan breathed a sigh of relief, before stepping closer to hear the details.
There's a small settlement called Border's Watch. It's a nice, peaceful place… and dull dull dull. You're going to make their lives interesting. They're a superstitious bunch, everything has to be an omen or a portent. Let's make one come true. Find their shaman and ask about the K'Sharra Prophecy.
"Ok, so I guess the rest of the mission will reveal itself then?" Nathan asked, as the statue delivered one last wink and returned to stone. "Excellent."
Scouting has always been a strength of his, so Nathan set about doing what he did best: skulking around in the undergrowth. It didn't take him long to find the village in question.
He watched them for a little while, assessing the situation. Walking into a town without a little prior knowledge can be disastrous; he knew from previous experiences. Worse mistake of his life, just wandering into an Orcish village. (Though, to be fair, he had had to scale six feet wall to enter, so that should have been his first clue.)
This town, however, appeared to be home to a number of Khajiit, and though they all carried weapons and armour of varying sorts, they seemed peaceful enough.
Sure enough, the smiles they exchanged with each other remained the same as they noticed his entrance and he was quickly approached by a tan fellow in a dark robe.
"Welcome to Border Watch, Stranger. You are welcome here. I am Ri'Bassa, Shaman of our people."
How easy was that? Nathan thought to himself, before turning on his charm.
"Oh, you're the shaman? I wonder if you could tell me about something. See, I heard about this prophecy awhile back and I wondered if you knew it. The Kish Sharra? Did I say it right?"
Ri'Basssa's teeth grit for a moment, at the way Nathan mangled the term, but then he grew surprised, "You know of the K'Sharra Prophecy? How odd! Are you some sort of scholar?"
Nathan nodded genially, "I'm a travelling scholar, of sorts."
"Wonderful!" Ri'Bassa seemed genuinely pleased with this information, "I would be glad to tell you more."
He waved Nathan over to a bench, near their cooking fire and sat him down.
"It has been told from our fathers, and our fathers' fathers, that our time in this place will come to an end." Ri'Bassa began, settling into his story-telling mode. "My great-great-great grandfather, K'Sharra, foretold of a time when we would receive three signs from the gods, signalling the end of the world."
"Really? Three signs? What are they?" Nathan asked with false excitement, Ri'Bassa did not notice.
"These are the signs as they were foretold. First, there is the Plague of Vermin." Ri'Bassa spat the word, "It is said our town will be overrun by disease carrying creatures."
"Rats." Nathan said at the same time as Ri'Bassa.
"Yes, I would imagine. Horrible little things. I always keep a powerful rat poison around in case I see one of the little monsters."
Nathan filed that titbit of information away for later.
"Next is the Plague of Famine. It is foretold that our livestock will fall dead in their fields, with no apparent explanation." Ri'Bassa leaned over to Nathan and said quietly, "We have but six sheep in our pastures and we make sure they are well-tended."
Well-tended or not, they are going to die, unfortunately. Nathan thought to himself, though he maintained his look of interest as he asked about the third sign.
"The Plague of Fear." Ri'Bassa replied. "I will not speak of this. Not to an outsider. I'll answer anything else I can. Is there something more?"
Nathan was tempted to push the issue, using his personal affront as leverage, but instead asked about the town. It was unusual, after all, that the community be composed entirely of Khajiit.
"I'm glad you asked. I could go on all day about our little community. We are but a handful of Khajiit, as you can see." Ri'Bassa gestured around at the other cat-people, who all nodded a genial greeting. "Many are the evenings we spend around the cooking fire, sharing stories of Elsweyr. The smell of our food travels for miles!"
"Is that so?" Nathan filed that away for later as well.
"Yes. If you'd like to stay, I'd suggest getting a room at the Border Watch Inn. We don't get many visitors, but S'thasa serves a fine ale. She also has the finest collection of cheeses in the Empire! Her prized cheese has such a powerful aroma, she keeps it sealed in a case!"
"Wow, it must be quite… pungent, then, right?" Nathan said, struggling to hold in his mirth. They had all the ingredients of their doom just waiting around, and then they'd given him the recipe. This was going to be easy.
Thanking the shaman, Nathan headed into the inn, and was warmly greeted by the publican. She, too, was very forthcoming with information to aid his quest. Any other conscientious man would have felt more than just a twinge of guilt at taking advantage of their gullibility. Nathan made the most of the evening, enjoying the fine ale and listening to the various conversations around him.
Before long, the Khajiit were quite inebriated and failed to notice his nefarious activities.
The lock on the cabinet of cheese was easily picked, though the smell that hit him when he opened it almost made him hurl. Breathing carefully through his mouth, and still gagging over the taste, he wrapped the pungent cheese and snuck out of the inn.
Slightly worried that they'd catch the smell of it on him (because the beast folk tended to have more advanced senses, right? They always seemed to know when he cheated at cards!), Nathan kept to the shadows as he approached the cooking fire. He needn't have worried.
It seemed that two of the Khajiit were in the midst of a courting ritual, one that was stalling and had captured the attention of all the denizens of the town. With them distracted, Nathan slipped up to the fire and dumped the cheese in, cloth and all.
It took less than a minute for the cheese to start cooking and the smell was so much worse for that. Nathan had backed away quite quickly to avoid detection, he now reversed further, but as Ri'Bassa had mentioned, the smell pervaded the entire area, not dissipating, indeed overpowering the smell of the river in the distance.
A strangled cry of fear and shock came from the edge of the village as hordes of dog-sized river rats swarmed into the village. The Kahjiit drew their weapons as Ri'Bassa ran for his poison. He dumped it in the centre of town and brandished his sword as the starving rodents attacked.
Nathan, once again utilizing his skulking skills, snuck down and swiped the rat poison, swerving through the battlefield the town had become to approach the sheep pen.
"What is the noise?" the Khajiit guard asked as he ran up.
"Rats! Rats in town! As big as Wolves!" Nathan cried, as he ran up, pretending to be panicked.
"Rats!" the Khajiit snarled, unsheathing his claws and baring his teeth. "Watch the sheep, friend."
"Yes, sir!" Nathan murmured, as the Khajiit raced passed him.
Nathan leapt over the gate, as soon as he was out of sight, and approached the feeding trough.
The sheep, tamed completely by their contact with the beast folk, and being such stupid animals to begin with, wandered sedately over to him.
He emptied the poison into the trough and stirred it a bit with the end of his sword.
"There you go. Tuck in."
The last sounds of battle were dying away from the centre of town, as Nathan left the paddock. He leaned against the gate as the guard returned.
"Any problems?"
"None at all." Nathan replied genially.
"Good. Thanks, friend."
"Not at all."
Nathan was just leaving as the Shaman ran up.
"The sheep? Are the sheep alright?"
The guard nodded, turning to show the shaman that he had not been lax in his duties, just as the sheep began keeling over.
The shaman tore at his hood, as the guard let out a keening wail.
Nathan turned away with a grin, only to dodge away from the feeling of someone whispering in his ear.
You've done well mortal. I'm amused, I think. Head into the centre of Border watch and make sure to duck!
Nathan walked through the decimated town, teeth gritted against the yowling cries of the devastated Khajiit as news spread of the sheep demise.
He shook, surprised, as thunder boomed across the sky and roiling red clouds rolled in. the Khajiit went berserk as large, flaming things fell from the sky. He dodged one himself, looking down to find it was an enormous dog, still burning as its entrails splashed across the ground.
He stared at it in horror for all of one second, before racing away, trying desperately to avoid being hit as more carcasses fell from the sky, and the sound of the Mad god laughing was heard above the crackling lightning.
He stumbled through the undergrowth, not really watching and directing his path, simply trying to escape the devastated town. Unknowingly, his steps were being guided back to the grove and the statue that waited therein.
He tripped over a protruding root and took several deep breaths before standing, only to find himself being carefully observed by the mad masses. One by one, like puppets, they raised an arm, directing him to the statue, which was observing him with unmitigated glee.
Good times, good times. The god spoke, as he approached the pedestal. I hope you had as much fun as I did. Here, take this. It's a fun little toy.
Nathan barely caught the staff as it was thrown at him. He stared down at it in confusion, lightly fingering the letters engraved along the length.
Now, go away, before I kill you.
Nathan turned from the statue, cradling his reward, the Wabbajack, in his hands, only to come face to face with the mob of sycophants.
"You've pleased the Mad god! You must be proud of yourself." Ravel said to him, while the other four stared over the dark elf's shoulders, making Nathan distinctly uncomfortable. "I, for one, would still like to eat your eyes."
The way they all stared at him had Nathan stepping back. Their madness was disturbing at the best of times; it was worse now, as he wasn't sure they were joking. Not even after Ravel slapped him on the shoulder and told him, "good for you."
He walked away from the shrine quite quickly, shooting the occasional glance backwards, just to make sure they had returned to the insanity of the grove and were not venturing into the outside world to catch him and eat his organs.
He set off at a run when he saw them all start down the hill after him.