The Game
An Oblivion Fan-Fic
By Chaslin
Disclaimer: I claim none of Oblivion's properties; I make no profit from the writing of this story.
Author's Note: This is just the prologue to the story I'm gonna write. I've got the plot and the like figured out, but not the main characters names. If you've got ideas, pm me. I'll have a character thread opened shortly after this. You don't need to read this, but if you haven't played the game, it's recommended you do. Throughout the story, you may need to go back here as all the Daedric Princes and Nine Divines are mentioned in this chapter.
Prologue: The Crossroads
-Twenty-Seven Immortals-
At first, there was only the eternal darkness of the void, ever-consuming and more dangerous than anything to ever be created, Sithis. Slowly but surely, gods appeared. This is how every creation story starts, but as they progress, they get further and further from the truth. Lorkhan either tricked or convinced the Gods into making Nirn and was punished for it, his heart thrown to its far reaches where it became the Red Mountain. Some of the Gods were disgusted with Nirn and left, while others were content, and decided to help all they had created.
Those who stayed were called the Aedra by the High Elves, which means 'ancestors', and those who left became the 'Daedra', which simply means 'not our ancestors.' Eventually the Aedra were worshipped as Gods, and they became the Eight, which became Nine when the great Emperor Tiber Septim ascended. The Nine Divines guided and watched over the Empire, but the Daedric Princes were fascinated by Nirn and its unpredictable inhabitants. Some grew to worship the Daedra and were treated as outcasts, while other cultures rejoiced with the Daedra. After the Oblivion Crisis, when Mehrunes Dagon, Daedric Prince of Destruction, invaded Nirn and was defeated by Akatosh, The King of Gods and Lord of Time, it was agreed their destructive war had gone on long enough. A meeting is called.
Azura entered the Crossroads ever so gracefully, climbing carefully from the Portal from her own Realm, Moonshadow. She had chosen the form of a beautiful woman, as she usually did, dressed in a blue gown with silver embroidery running along its sleeves, a hood rising from the back of the dress and clothed the top of her face in darkness, but her perfect chin and lips hinted at great beauty. She had a fondness for beauty and desire, it went well with manipulation.
Azura, the Daedric Prince of Dawn and Dusk, Mother of the Rose and Queen of the Night Sky, took her time to examine the Crossroads. No one knew what it was, it wasn't a Realm of Oblivion, yet it was separate from Nirn, the mortal plane. It was just two roads, crossing one another, at a powerful lamp. It would have a mighty light in any Realm, but it did little to stop the enormous darkness outside. Its light seemed so feeble against that darkness, flickering weakly. No one knew what it was, or why it was there, but Azura knew. Azura knows all, and tells nothing, was the old saying of the Dunmer in Morrowind. She despised the creatures.
Breaking herself from her chain of thought, she took her time to examine those who had beaten her here. She was never one to arrive early, or late, but she preferred making a dramatic entrance. It was too serious a situation to be thinking about that now. A tall, physically fit man whose whole head was obscured by a deer skull with long antlers was standing silently next to the lamp post, leaning on an enormous spear while a wolf patrolled gracefully at his legs. The Daedric Prince Hircine, the Huntsman and Father of Manbeasts. Across the road and dangerously close to the darkness, was an old woman with a wrinkled face, broken nose and forever frown on her face. She was speaking to a tall, darkly beautiful woman with hair down to her hips, black as a raven, and beautifully curved hips that seemed to move with evil intentions. The old woman was the Daedric Prince Nocturnal, the Night Mistress, who ruled over night and darkness. The woman she was speaking to was none other than the Daedric Prince Namira, the Spirit Daedra, ruler of sundry dark and shadowy spirits. Azura personally hated all three of them; Hircine was over-confident, always planning for his 'Great Hunt' he held every era, Nocturnal and Namira were always conspiring and always put themselves in as much darkness as possible.
Directly across from her was a heavily armoured man with a sword at his hip, a dark and beautiful face. He hailed Azura and moved with deadly grace as he went to embrace her. The Daedric Prince Boethiah, Lord of deceit, conspiracy, secret plots of murder, assassination, treason, and unlawful overthrow of authority. Azura embraced him like an old brother, giving him a small smile. Surprisingly, a small figure moved from behind him, darkness covering her like a cloak. It was impossible to tell if it was a woman, but Azura preferred thinking of Mephala like that. Daedric Princes did not have genders, but they did have forms they preferred choosing, Azura preferred being female, Boethiah male and Mephala, the mysterious Webspinner, chose random genders. The three of them were allies, in a way, none of them trusted one another, but they had experience together. They had crafted the Dunmer, having them rebel against their old masters, the Ayelids, and they lead them to Morrowind.
Suddenly, a 'whooshing' noise sounded throughout the crossroads, quickly disappearing into the blackness of the void outside. A silvery line cut through thin air and gradually parted, revealing a hanging picture of a red mist. The Daedric Princes stared at it a moment before a giant green creature stepped out of it, wielding a heavy axe and giving the others disgusted looks. Malacath, he called himself a Prince, but he was weak, created when Boethiah ate a hero of the Ayelids. He was the Keeper of the Sworn Oath and the Bloody Curse, the patronage of the spurned and ostracized. Malacath was a loner. The massive orc gave another angry look to the Princes before moving over to the side of the road, staring into the void.
The Princes had barely started up their talking again when a similar display followed as the last of the Princes entered the Crossroads; Mehrunes Dagon, Prince of Destruction, a tall, red monstrosity with spikes and horns growing from his arms, Meridia, the mysterious bane of the necromancer and rumoured to be the daughter of the sun, dressed in a colourful dress while taking the form of a pretty girl with golden skin, Peryite, the Taskmaster, the weakest of them all, besides Malacath perhaps, as usual taking the form of a human-sized green dragon, Vaermina, Daedric Prince of nightmares and dreams, dressed in a black robe and a race eternally trapped in its last moments of life, even Mehrunes Dagon turned away from that. Then came Jyggalag, Daedric Prince of Order, once, long ago, the other Daedric Princes had been scared of his power and turned him into Sheogorath, the thing he hated most. But the Champion of Cyrodiil, no less, came and killed Sheogorath. Jyggalag was returned to his old position, while the Champion was turned into Sheogorath. And now, as the tall man clothed in flawless steel armour looked over them, Azura felt a chill. Would Jyggalag exact revenge for what they had done? She didn't know.
More Princes entered, a small man with horns growing from his head followed by a dog the same size of himself, Clavicus Vile, Daedric Prince of granting wishes and power. Hermaeus Mora, Daedric Prince of scrying of the tides of Fate, of the past and future as read in the stars and heavens, and in whose dominion are the treasures of knowledge and memory, a giant squid like creature with crab claws. Sanguine, Daedric Prince of hedonistic revelry and debauchery, and passionate indulgences of darker natures, a fat, drunken man with a whore under his thumb. The fearsome and dangerous Molag Bal, Daedric Prince of the domination and enslavement of humans, King of Rape and collector of souls, he appeared as a giant man with a fearsome crocodile head. He went over to stand with Mehrunes Dagon and Vaermina. Another portal opened, and a banker stepped out, dressed handsomely in a coat and breeches, a well-polished stick in his hand. He whistled a merry tune as the portal closed behind him, happily gazing into the eternal darkness. Sheogorath, the once Champion of Cyrodiil, vanquisher of Mehrunes Dagon, and now the King of Madness.
They were all there now, the seventeen Daedric Princes. Azura, Boethiah and Mephala. Clavicus Vile, Hermaeus Mora, Hircine and Jyggalag. Mehrunes Dagon, Malacath, Molag Bal and Vaermina. Meridia, Namira and Nocturnal. Peryite, Sanguine and Sheogorath. Daedric Princes, all of them, yet they fought like petty mortals. That's what they were here to discuss. They faced each other dramatically, carefully analysing each other. Mehrunes Dagon stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak, when they came.
A white, blinding light that illuminated the Crossroads that pushed the eternal darkness back. Nine shapes of light landed on the path, a massive golden dragon aspiring awe in even Azura herself. Akatosh, God of Time and King of the Nine Divines, stared Mehrunes Dagon down. The great Prince took more than a few paces backwards. Akatosh, Dibella, Goddess of Beauty, Arkay, God of the Eternal Cycle, Zenithar, God of Work and Commerce, Mara, Goddess of Love, Stendarr, God of Mercy, Kynareth, Goddess of Air, Julianos, God of Wisdom and Logic and Talos, the mortal man who ascended to god-hood, the Warrior God.
The Nine Divines stared at the Daedric Princes for a while, their eternal eyes piercing into their unholy skin. Azura hated this feeling, the feeling of being humbled, of fear, of a greater power. She was unused to it. Finally, Akatosh spoke, his voice boomed through the darkness of the Void, through Sithis himself.
"We have come to end the bloodshed, the constant feuding we have battled on Nirn, throwing innocent lives away," Akatosh boomed, his mouth didn't even seem to move. "It is eternal and will never end, unless we have an agreement."
The Daedric Princes, one by one, mumbled their agreement. Azura couldn't care less how many mortals died, she did not battle like Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon did, she used cunning and guile. She single handily pulled down an entire religion of the Dunmer for a wrong they once committed to her, and she still wasn't done with them.
Akatosh continued, "We propose a Game, Daedric Princes and Gods alike will be reborn on Nirn as mortals. They will be cut off from their Realms, if they die on Nirn, they will permanently end. The Game will end when one faction is completely destroyed, be it the Nine or the Princes. What say you?"
Azura was horrified, mortality? It was strange and unusual to her, the idea of actually dying, ending permanently, being thrown into Sithis was terrifying. Then again, if she could just hide and outlive the others, the Nine would be dead fairly quickly without any harm coming to her, and she would then finish her weaker brethren. It could work to her advantage. She raised her hand in agreement, and was surprised to find that the other Princes raised their hands with her, Peryite staring at them all blankly, then slowly raising his tail in agreement.
"Let the Game begin."